Johanna Rae (Author): Author Interview - Jas T. Ward

Johanna Rae (Author): Author Interview - Jas T. Ward: Please welcome Jas T. Ward for this week's interview! 1. Have you always had a passion for writing?  Always. Started since I...

OUR BROKEN SHINE- Chapter Three

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CAN BE FOUND HERE: 
INTRO/CHAPTERS 1 & 2

CHAPTER THREE

A week later the car was gone. Lauren had no idea why it was a surprise this morning when she woke up on another snowy wintry day to find it gone from the driveway. It had been expected and feared for months, yet, she had hoped that perhaps it would never come to be.  Even now, as she stared out the icy hazed window in the space it had occupied with its empty tank of gas fumes in the driveway, her mind was finding it hard to believe.

“No.” She slid down the wall to land on her rear as her knees came up to wrap her arms around them. “Please no.” It was just another blow to her downward spiraling life, but it was a shot right to her soul. Without a car, she couldn’t make it to town. Without a car she couldn’t look for a job. Without a car, living so far out in the low mountain country—she was a prisoner of her own despair.

As tears cascaded down her face, she angrily reached up to wipe them away in refusal to give in. Give in to what? Facts? Reality? The truth?

“No.No. No. No no no no no.” She just kept saying the word over and over again as if its utterance would somehow rewind the events to a place in the action she wanted to stay in. But that would have been months ago when her life and marriage had been a lie without her knowing it. And there had been no pause, replay or stop button.

(Two Months Ago)

Lauren had no idea why she was folding his clothes but she was. She was being careful with each crease of the sleeves, each bend of the pants legs as she placed them neatly into the duffel bag that rested on their bed as if he was once again leaving on the many business trips that spotted their marriage. He moved efficiently around her as if he was already in a different orbit than her world; one that used to spin around him. Like the silent small moon around the brighter, big sun.

“You don’t have to do that.”

She nodded as she smoothed her palms over the material, trying to get them to stop shaking. “I know. But I wanted to…” her words trailed off. Help seemed like acceptance so it caught in her throat refusing to be spoken. Acceptance was something she wasn’t quite prepared to handle as of yet.

“You’ll call me?” She knew her voice sounded shaky and weak as she glanced over at him, but she didn’t care. Did he?

He nodded and gave her a smile, one that she recognized as the same one he used at company functions with strangers. The one that he had practiced to perfection--welcoming but not committal in a pleasant façade of dismissal. “I said I would. Right?”

Yes, he had. But he had also said till death did they part, in sickness and health and the all important three-little words “I love you”, so his words weren’t always the best indicator of what he really meant. Was that smile a better one? She shut that down fast.

“Yes you did. But I need to know everything is going to be okay.” She turned to face him and he pulled her close, with her hands pressed on his chest and his arms wrapping around her. This she could find some reality in. Always could. When she was encircled in his arms the world seemed not too scary, less big and able to be dealt with on all levels that mattered.

He sighed and placed his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed her back. “I know. But if you can forgive me for what I did, then I can make a new start for us. It’ll just be a few weeks, I promise. You trust me right?”

She felt her brow crinkle into a frown as his question settled into her misfiring thought processes. Did she? Really? Yes, she had found out his secret. About the other women and the double-life of lies. But they had gotten past that right? They had decided to try again and make things right. So she had to trust him to be willing to do that. Right? Of course she did…it’s the only thing that made sense.

Pulling back to look up at his face, she gave a smile, though her eyes were filled with tears to nod. “Yes. I do. Just no more lies okay?”

He smiled and kissed her forehead before stepping away from her, leaving her feeling once again as if in a void far outside his personal orbit. “No more lies. Best way to be.” He walked over and grabbed his duffel and the keys to the rental car in the driveway and paused by the door. “I’ll call you every night. And soon I’ll have a job and I’ll get us a house. Brand new start. Just take care of things here and before you know it baby, brand new life for both of us.”

He had kept his word about the calls as he had called her every night. For a week. Then it was every few days and then none at all. She had started calling him and at first he would answer until that even stopped being the case. Then she was only granted access to his voice mail to leave a message kindly asking for a call. Then crying asking for a call and finally, not calling for a call at all.

So three weeks later, she hadn’t heard from him and reality was starting to whisper in threatening tones to her heart. He had lied. He had played her to make a clean get away. He had never liked confrontations and always did his best to say whatever it took to avoid them. But he had never been that way with her, just business associates and…strangers. People that didn’t matter.

Like her now?

It was two weeks before Thanksgiving and he had promised her on one of the calls that first week that he would come home for the holidays, even if it was for a few days. Trying to convince herself that perhaps he had been really busy getting their new life ready for them so found a small foolish spark of hope that perhaps she was wrong. Picking up her phone, she squeezed her eyes tight as the call went through. One ring. Two rings….

“Hello?”

She stared at the phone and even moved it away to stare at the number. She had hit his name in her contacts and the number confirmed it was the right one to call. He had the same number for over five years. She brought the phone back into position to ask for him in a voice that sounded as if coming from anyone else other than her—soft and frightened, unsure and lost.

“Who is this?” the voice on the other end of the call asked in a tone that was the opposite of hers. Strong and in-control.

“I’m his wife. Can I talk to him please?”

The woman on the other end started laughing and responded with snide and rude dripping from each word, “You have got to be kidding me. Bitch? You really need to take a look at reality. Or are you as stupid as he says you are? I didn’t believe it possible.”

Lauren then heard his voice in the background and the woman told him who was on the call. The phone apparently was grabbed and two simple words were spoken, disgust and annoyance in the tone.

“It’s over.”

Then the call was ended.

And so was her hope.

Our Broken Shine (Chapters One & Two)

**As promised, an online blog novel. All these chapters will be logged/kept in order on my facebook page which can be found here:

www.Facebook.com/AuthorJasTWard

I plan on posting 1-2 chapters weekly and I STRONGLY encourage readers to comment. What you say and what you ask determines how this story unfolds. YOU have a say-so in it and you get to see it all adapt to such. Please keep in mind this is completely raw writing and has not been edited. If i it is published due to demand, then of course it will go through my usual proofing and editing prior to publication.

I hope you enjoy this journey with me.**

Title: Our Broken Shine
Format: Screenplay/Blog Novel

About: This is actually a screen treatment that has been requested by a production company. But scripts don't make for the best reading form. So I decided to adapt that to a readable format novel and show you a chapter at a time. If desired, may publish for purchase when completed. As my fans know, I always work on two projects at a time to prevent getting burned out on one. This is the perfect way to do that with four books coming out in 2014.
I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know these fictional characters. They are not the usual for me as its drama/fiction with a hint of romance but it also deals with a wide spectrum of social issues for both sides of society: poverty and fame, the have and the have nots. And how both have very similar problems albeit different wrappings. And what happens when the two worlds merge. Warning: Its very blunt and honest with the social issues it deals with and if you offend easily--you may not want to read.

Description:
Lauren Mathers had always had it hard. Life and fate had never been her friends. But when she loses it all, she must decide how to have something from nothing. And if its even worth it
 
Brad Collins had it all. Fame, riches and respect. The dream come true of so many. Or so it appears. But he's hiding so much from the world and had done so for so long that he can't even find himself. Can he handle what he finds when he's forced to do so?

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OUR BROKEN SHINE

By

Jas T. Ward

© 2013 by Jas T. Ward

CHAPTER ONE

“You don’t understand. Please.” Lauren Mathers had dumped her purse out on the conveyor belt at the check out counter in a desperate move to find change enough to pay the small bill of twenty-seven dollars for a meager selection of groceries. No sweets or treats but the bare necessities of the cheapest variety in hopes of getting her through just one more week. She always told herself that—just one more day then one more week and things would be okay. Though she had no idea how.

“Ma’am. Either you have the money or you don’t. But you’re holding up the line.”  The clerk didn’t seem to have patience even before Lauren had held up the line, so the lack of any now came as no surprise. Sympathy did not seem to be in the woman’s nature either due to too many years in a non-thankless service industry.

But Lauren always thanked and always appreciated so as the woman became rude, the sting of her words caused a burn of tears to feel like warm acid behind her eyes. She frantically looked at the small grouping of food. How could she have counted so wrong? She was usually so good at calculating the total as she went. She knew her mind was distracted. Whose wouldn’t be? She had lost her job, lost her husband and now was most likely going to lose her home.

Calm down Lauren. Task at hand. Task at hand. Lauren always heard that mental mantra in her mother’s voice. The tone chastising as she encouraged Lauren even as a small child to keep her mind focused on what needed to be done; when all it wanted was to frolic away on some mental jaunt of escape.

Closing her eyes, she opened them once again to count the crumpled bills and change. There simply wasn’t enough to pay for the small bill and those tears that had threatened before made their appearance as they dripped off her long lashes to join the sad collection of funds. “But I need all of this.”

Her eyes went to the groceries which consisted of Ramen noodles and luncheon meat as well as some butter and cheap day-old bread. It was just her now with the dog and her loyal canine had adapted to getting whatever she gave, but she still felt guilt of there not being a bag of dog food resting with the pile.

The cashier blew out a frustrated, aspirated blast of air as she flicked her register number to blinking before grabbing the handset to call over the loud speaker. “I need a manager on aisle three. Order cancel.”

Lauren grabbed the funds as her mind was too jumbled to even try to do the math to get a partial selection of the goods. Her fingers shook as she shoved the money and coin into her old messenger bag, those damn tears having no shame as she herself was swallowed up by it.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Lauren didn’t think she could handle one single more grain of humiliation as she glanced at the couple that stood behind her. The rest of the long line had moved to other registers making their feelings well-known with louder comments directed her way of “stupid woman” and “pitiful, just pitiful” but this couple seemed to have remained; why Lauren had no idea. Perhaps they liked a fine showing of the bottom of life with a tada of soul-eating humiliation.

The man was in his mid-fifties with a round figure and receding hairline and the smallish woman standing with him had kind eyes and wispy grey hair. He gave Lauren a soft smile as he spoke, “We’d like to pay for your things miss. If you don’t mind?”

For a moment Lauren thought she must have heard the words wrong so she frowned and looked from the man to the woman. “What?”

The woman reached forward to place a calming hand on Lauren’s arm, but Lauren flinched away from the touch as if it had harmful intent. The woman had a momentary frown before a smile replaced it and said in a voice gentle and soft. “We don’t mind. Can we pay your order?”

Lauren’s words flew away like swallows on the winter wind outside as she had never expected anyone, much less a stranger, to offer kindness. It was as foreign to her as Greek. She blinked as the tears blurred her vision and moved almost automatically as the man stepped forward to hand the cashier a debit card to pay.

Lauren should stop this. She didn’t want charity or pity and had done all she could to prevent both. But her pride was crumbling fast as the cabinets grew empty and her house grew dark. The tears increased as the man took the now bagged groceries and handed them to her. “Here you go miss.”

Lauren looked down at the bags as if they were alive and some sort of token from fantasy, watching as her fingers, still shaking, reached out to take them. Her voice found its way back then though weak and amazed to whisper, “Thank you.”

The couple gave her an understanding smile before the man started unloading their groceries from the cart and the woman then helped. Lauren stood there as the world seemed to slowly kick back into its rotation of time, holding her small bag of goods.

Finally getting her feet to move, she kept her head down as she walked past the same judgmental patrons that had watched her show of shame just minutes before. The day was cold as the wind kicked up snow from the parking lot as she made her way to her car.

A car that was destined to join the ranks of the repossessed any day now as Lauren couldn’t pay for it any more than she could have paid for these groceries. Every night she lay in bed waiting for the repo-man as if some boogie man with chains to take the car away. It plagued her sleep until there was none and she would jolt out of bed every morning if a car drove by on the road or a sound was heard from the yard. Each time she felt dread and fear to look out the window to see if the aging sedan still sat where she left it and almost sag with relief to see that it was.

Unlocking the driver’s door, she sat the bag in the passenger seat as she started the engine, eyes avoiding to look at the fuel gage that hovered above the ominous red E. Laying her forehead on the steering wheel, she turned her head to stare at the storefront and wished her small Kentucky country town had more than just one store. She’d have to brave that same business with those same people again next week. And next week would most likely be as bleak as this one was. Tears halted by the kindness of strangers in shock, found their way back as she felt sobs joining in on the pity party. She was so tired. And feeling more defeated than a team of one in a game of twenty. Beaten and broken but still trying to play yet knowing there wasn’t a chance for victory to be seen. And no help in sight.

What was she going to do? Even her once strong resolve to handle whatever came in a positive way was cracking under the pressure of all that was contrary. She had cried—sure, who wouldn’t? But she always hated when she did as she once prided herself on being strong. Handling it all with a smile and a ‘can do’ attitude; which had been squashed weeks ago by really crappy luck and even worse fate.

Sobbing hard now, she didn’t care if the same people who had watched the spectacle inside saw the after-effects now. Sometimes you just needed to cry. Even when you knew it would do no good. The windows of the car fogged up as she hugged the steering wheel with her arms and let out an almost silent, resigned course of sobs with her eyes flowing in sorrow and her nose running and going red. She was an ugly crier. She knew that for he had always told her so. Would get mad when she cried telling her it was so unattractive and he couldn’t stand the way she looked with she did it.

Oh well, he wasn’t there anymore, was he. No. It was just Lauren and her dog. Even the mice at her once cozy country home had abandoned them for better accommodations.

As she finally got herself under control, the heater of the car blasting her with air that felt now far too hot against her heated cheeks, she brought her hands up to wipe her eyes as she flicked on the defrost. Blowing out a ragged breath to help calm, she sat back and stared at the bleak parking lot in front of her as it appeared through the moisture frosted glass. Part of her didn’t want to go back home. It was far bleaker there. But she had no where else to go. All their few friends had been his friends and when the split happened, they had chosen their sides. A side she wasn’t on.

She now realized she should have made a life that didn’t revolve around him so that maybe, when he was no longer in her life, she would have had something to hold on to in the absence. But she had never imagined a life without him in it. Not a single time. It had all hit her blindside and left her reeling as it all collapsed and failed.

Hindsight was bitch like that.

Her family was dwindled down to cousins, uncles and aunts that she had not spoken to in over a decade and in fact didn’t even know how to reach them; she would be so embarrassed to do so now that her life was in the shitter. Her parents had passed on when she was young, barely out of high school from a tragic car wreck but she had her husband to cling to then, both of them so young and in love. Now…no longer young. And no longer in love.

“Enough.”

Straightening in the driver’s seat, she put the car in gear to slowly pull out of the icy lot and merge into the light traffic of a mid-winter’s day. Home. She would get home and find something good about it. The fact that she had some food for a few days thanks to a stranger. That she could curl up and handle one more cold night alone with only her dog Lucy at her feet. And be grateful for all of that. Because what choice did she have really?

One more day. One more week.

Focus Lauren and just survive.

CHAPTER TWO

He woke up with his brain still fuzzed out from the drugs and drink from the night before. He was lying on his stomach as he cracked open one eye against the bright California sun pouring in through the wall of glass that looked over the valley above Los Angeles. His eyes went to a lovely rear view of a woman with long, brown curling hair cascading down her creamy skinned back. He assumed that perfect ass was most likely ‘enhanced’ by a well-paid doctor somewhere in San Diego. He already knew that the front side sported perfect breasts most likely designed by the same hands.

He had no fucking idea what her name was. Just another starlet wanna-be that his manager had set up for the flashy, networking press party the night before. A woman who hoped to be caught by the paparazzi on his arm, or better yet—coming out of his house this morning like every other female he had been set up with.

The memories of the night before were an odd collage of bits and pieces of moments. Laughing, drinking, socializing with the ones that mattered and a smile to those that didn’t. Fine drink and dinner followed by a ride in the limo back to his place here in the hills. They had done a few lines of finest Colombian cocaine, finished off a bottle of whiskey and fucked until they both couldn’t move. She screamed out his name as if doing so would get her points. Fuck no.

They all did that. And he knew they didn’t know anything more about his real self other than his name. They knew his earnings of several millions a film and he was an a-lister bachelor known for his charming, boyish looks, blue eyes and easy smile. She didn’t know him. None of them did. And he was glad for that. Because he didn’t trust a single one.

You didn’t need trust to fuck.

And he didn’t want any of them to get to know him. He had a reputation to keep. He had an image to maintain. He had a heart to hide. A role to play and a character not to slip.

Rolling to his back to stare at the ceiling, he heard the woman getting into the shower and calling out to him to join. Sorry beautiful, he thought. The drugs had worn out, the glare of a day sizzled his brain and he never wanted to get too cozy or attached. Or have them to do the same.

Hearing the front door open and then close, he knew that had to be Jimmy, his manager. He was the only one that knew the gate code and had a key. Not bothering to pull covers over his long lean form, he turned his head to look at the short, pudgy man who walked in as if it was his money that paid for the damn place and not Brad’s. All the money was Brad’s but he was sure Jimmy had his claws in it. He just didn’t care enough to find out how deep.

Jimmy stopped by the bathroom door to take in the sight of the woman in the shower unabashed and raised a brow. “That’s very nice female in there. You owe me Brad.”

Brad snorted and rolled to sit on the edge of the bed to level his eyes at Jimmy. “She was decent. Make her gone for me?”

Jimmy nodded and walked straight into the bathroom. The woman squealed in surprise as her arm was grabbed to be walked out of the bathroom. “Get your shit and leave sweetheart. Ride is over.”

The woman yanked her arm away to look over at Brad. “What? I thought last night meant something?”

Brad stood and stretched as he yawned. “It did. But not enough to last till morning because I can’t remember what it was.”

He turned to go to the bathroom as she protested. They always protested. They all cared. They all were different. They all felt something special. Whatever. They were all just distractions from the pain and the pressure. Just a wet, moist hole in a dark night of the numbness of the Hollywood grind.

He headed for the shower while Jimmy showed the woman the back entrance and the waiting limo always on stand-by at their beckon-and-call. No photo ops for you sweetheart.

When Brad walked out of the steamy shower found Jimmy now sitting on the previous vacated bed. Giving the man a casual look as he strode over to the closet called back. “Why are you here? Do I have something scheduled?”

His hands shuffled clothes in which 90% of them he did not purchase nor did he pick out. His fingers lingered for a moment on a faded Monty Python t-shirt and jeans that were his own, long ago deemed unworthy of a “star” to be seen in. He missed their soft worn feel and the comfort of just kicking back. Another luxury no longer given the time of day on the schedule of his celebrity existence.  Fuck he just missed relaxing.

His manager joined him and picking out an ensemble of clothes hung together on a hanger, held it out. “Here. They love when you wear blue. Makes those beautiful blues pop.”

Glancing over to sigh and take the hanger from the man, began to dress in the appointed attire like a good client. “Doesn’t answer where I’m going. Or what we’re doing.”

Jimmy pulled out an expensive cigar and lit it. “Foreign Press luncheon for nominees. The usual bullshit. You smile; you shake hands and let the press see why everyone loves you.”

No one loves me. No one knows me.

Brad nodded as he sat down to tie his expensive loafers trying not to fixate on the used condom that was tossed on the floor with the trash can missed by mere inches. It and the rest of the house would be spotless when he returned by a maid kept on his dollar. Didn’t know her name either, just knew she was old. Most likely chosen for that reason alone—not good to dip your wicky-doo in the help. “Sounds good. And after that?” He looked up at Jimmy who was flicking through his I-Phone for the schedule.

“Dinner. Casual with friends.”

Brad scoffed at that and snorted. “Friend’s you chose I assume?”

Friends are right on that same fucking list as loved ones. Zero jotted down.

Jimmy smiled and threw out his hands. “Baby? I so take care of you. Don’t I?”

Brad narrowed his gaze for the briefest of moments and Jimmy tilted his head as if waiting for a protest to be issued. Some facts or perhaps comments to the contrary but Brad knew better. He needed Jimmy to buffer and contain everything that bombarded him daily. Jimmy was his manager, his pimp, his drug dealer and his assistant; all paid at a very high rate.

Standing, he straightened his cuffs and then flashed a tight smile, that ache already starting in his sinus from lacking its usual dusting of fine numbing powder; the pain causing him to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Here.”

Dropping his hand, Brad looked down to see Jimmy holding a small, brown glass vial. “I figured you and your sweet thing from last night used what you had.”

Taking the offering, Brad unscrewed the lid and dipping his pinkie in, pulled it out to snort what was captured under his nail. Repeat to other nostril and the ache in his head faded away. The anxiety of the day melted gone as the pressure of all that his life now involved vanished.

Rolling his head as he tucked the cocaine in his jacket pocket, he let out a laugh and wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s shoulder. “Great. Let’s go show them my shine.”

A Rose by Megan Eggers

If you know me, you know that reading and writing are my havens, my RX and my go-to salvation. I love when I'm given something that someone poured emotion and concern into. The following short was sent to me by a fellow writer and friend- Megan Eggers. She's such a sweetheart and a bright literary talent I have no doubt will shine bright in the very near future. She sent me this short-story to--to me--show not all roses wish to shine in the garden.

Some just wish to be left alone to flower in the dark.

Thank you Megan. It's beautiful.

The greatest gift of all is words inked from the heart and penning from the soul. 

A Rose
By Megan Eggers
For Jas T Ward

She had always likened herself to a rose.  Not in a conceited or selfish way.  A rose didn’t ask to be beautiful, just as she didn’t ask for her beauty.  And the fate of that beauty was to forever be sought out, plucked from her home to be displayed as a trophy, then to be discarded when the beauty faded.   Like any rose, she had thorns, had to have some protection against those willing to use her for only her beauty.  The price of protection was to be alone, a solitary rose, untrusting of the world around her. 
Lila pulled her mind back from the melancholy thoughts and focused on her work.  Leaning over the drawing table, her long red hair fell forward, hiding her face as she preferred.  The house on the blueprint in front of her was coming to life, its base drawn in dark, straight lines.  Now she focused on her favorite part…the details that made this house stand out, made it extraordinary. 
The office bustled around her, but she paid no attention.  Her philosophy since childhood was still her guiding principle.  If she ignored them, they would ignore her.  It didn’t always work, so she helped it along by dressing in baggy, drab clothes, wearing her hair long and glasses she didn’t need to hide her eyes.  She walked with her head down, hoping that one of the snakes in the garden wouldn’t notice her.  It was a lonely life, but she preferred it to betrayal and pain.  Hiding in the weeds would protect her and her aloof, impersonal attitude would work as thorns when someone got too close.   Lila tried not to let anyone too close…except one.
Adding a second sloped roof that gave the house an angular feel, she set down her pencil and shook out her hand.  Opening and closing her fingers into a fist, she stretched her fingers out, but kept her head down.  She longed to lean back in her chair and stretch, but worried that too much motion from her would incite someone to speak to her, to notice her.  Packing her bag, she put it over her shoulder and slipped out of the office, no one noticing her in their hurry to get home.
The walk home was short, planned on the quickest and busiest route, the idea to get lost in the crowd, to be just a part of the ever moving wave of people.  Her building was secure, but with no doorman, chosen for that very reason.  In her apartment, she locked all the doors, paranoia forcing her to secure herself and her home before she could relax.  Lila dropped her bag, pulled off the glasses she didn’t actually need, and hung up the ugly, baggy sweater she detested.
Cooing to her kitten, Jack, she poured food into his bowl and scratched behind his ears.  Lila re-heated leftover spaghetti from the night before and then sat down at her computer.  As she ate and waited for it to boot-up, she smiled.  Now was her time to talk with the one person that could make her smile, the one person she could be open with.  This was the person she loved.  The one with which she could dream.

 

Zombiepalooza Radio and Me

So, tomorrow night (Friday December 20th) I am going to be on the air via live stream with the lovely Jackie Chin at Zombie Radio. (Okay fans at other places--So I got the night wrong, but when I arranged all this, I was battling the flu--apparently when I made that picture too..sheesh). I haven't done radio air time in years.

The last time was almost 18 years ago when I did my own radio show on FakeRadio.com and it was an adult sex advice show. I gave advice to newbs who were curious about S&M and BDSM. Yes yes, we even gave away a sex toy to a caller with trivia. It was a lot of fun. There was the one night that we had a caller who got his ___ stuck in a portable..well...vagina. We advised a hammer (in jest) and he took us seriously. On the air.

And apparently had very bad aim. It was both hilarious and grimacing to listen to.

But anyway, as I got my bio and background ready for Jackie to ask questions, she wanted to dive into the person behind the writing and how writing saved me and helped me. The "meat and potatoes" of the author. I froze. I sat there with my Word in front of me and had a minor anxiety attack.

I can talk about my writings all day long. I can chat up about the characters for hours. But me? I usually shut down.

But then I had a realization--my past made me. It got me to this point in my life where I write these stories. These tortured and pained characters that other people seem to love. A past that taught me about pain, heartache, suffering and the true darkness of the nature of human kind.

I am no longer ashamed of my past. I am not afraid for people to know it. In fact, I'm damn proud of my past in the fact that I survived it. I survived it and I grew from it. I used it to mold myself into something I always dreamed of being- An Author. And one that people want to read the writings of.

So...I typed away and went very much into depth about my past. And as I sat there and hovered over the send button (not knowing if they'll use any of it to base their questions on), I realized I just got over a huge hurdle.

My past....deciding my present and my future. No more.

And it feels good.

If you want to tune into me tomorrow night at MIDNIGHT FRIDAY (Eastern), there here is the link. They have a chat room and you can even call in. Hope to see you there.

http://ztalkradio.com/listen-live-chat/

Thank you as always and take care.

Whispers to the Writer: Jace Camden - Function

SERIES: SOUL BOUND SERIES

BOOK: Book One: Warrior

RELEASE DATE: Fall 2014

Jace Camden is the main protagonist in the Soul Bound Series: Warrior. This is the first book of the series and Soul Bound is very dear to me. Book one deals with  manic depression, the tragedy of suicide and the victims the pain leaves behind.

  Jace is a man whose haunted by a love still wanting him despite the darkness of death due to bonds of love. He's a tragic figure. Very rough childhood due to being gifted with second sight that was thought to be "from the devil" when he was very young. His own family wanted nothing to do with him and he was committed to a brutal asylum to be "saved" at the early age of eleven. It wasn't until he found some peace as an adult as he tried to come to terms that he was "insane" when he met Laura Camden. The youngest daughter of a prominent man in his home town, Jace finally found happiness and his soul mate. But things became twisted and pained as his beautiful new wife's soul was overtaken by something sinister. 

The insight below is a year after Laura's tragic death. A death that almost all believe Jace was the cause of. A murderer that got away with a murder. 

Our hero isn't doing very well. He's still trying to convince himself he's just insane, that he's just one RX from coping and what he sees and hears and feels...cannot be real.

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"Function. That's what I keep telling myself. Just function. Wake up, get up, do what you have to do and function. It's what every fucking shrink tells me to do. It's simple Mr. Camden, just function day to day."

Lets out a bitter laugh and rubs hands over his face. "That's such bullshit. No matter how many times I tell myself to function? I know it's a lie. It's a lie when I'm sitting in meetings listening to the blah blah of this or that and can feel her. It's a lie when I really want to enjoy just watching mindless blather on the television and she speaks to me. It's a lie when I try to sleep and she won't leave me alone. When I can feel her wanting what I can not give. It's all a fucking lie."

Drops hands and lets out a desperately long sigh. "I keep telling myself I just need to up my dosage. I just need to see about more sessions. Maybe run more. Sleep less. Eat healthy." More laughter and a pained sound. "I know that's bullshit too. I was supposed  to go too that day. Both of us. I know that now. I know that Laura never meant to spend eternity alone. That she had a plan. And it failed. But she's still trying to succeed. Sometimes I wish she had."

"I tell myself that failure is a good thing. That I'm still alive. I'm still able to wake up" curls lip in disgust "and function. Function. Function. Function." Smirks and spins copper bracelet on his wrist. "Fucking function. What does that mean really?"

Pins with a haunted hazel gaze. "Does it mean you get up? You get dressed? Toss some food down your gut? You smile when spoken to. Respond when asked a question? Yeah. That means everyone is fooled. They all think you're fine. They all can easily be tricked into not worrying. To assure themselves you're okay. You're no longer a danger. You're out of the fucking woods. Because they really don't want to think otherwise. It's easier to believe a lie than try to see the truth."

"Function. I hate that word. There's some days I want to just stay in bed. Refuse to function. To just lay there, let her come to me and beg and cry for me to go with her. To just close my eyes and cease to function. Would it end it? Would this fucking nightmare finally run its course and it can just...be...over?"

Drops his head to stare at the floor as he slowly shakes it. "Function. Did you know that no matter how hard you try to will your heart to stop beating it wont. No. It just keeps thumping along in your chest. That no matter how much you tell yourself not to breathe, your lungs betray you and will do what they want?"

Closes his eyes and rubs his palm over a ear that is forever ringing. Forever reminding. "That no matter how much you tell your head to give you a fucking break? It never does. How much you beg your heart to just stop hurting. To give you some peace. A minute would be nice. A day would be amazing. It just hurts more?"

Sighs and stands. "That no matter how much you say you're going to be okay. That one day it will be better and you'll be happy? You'll be able to function?" Looks back. "You know it's a lie."

Looks down at Laura's cold hand wrapping around his own. "And she knows it too. It's just a matter of time."

 

A Holiday Gift - The Ward Way

So, it seems like everyone is doing holiday books, novellas, stories and the news feeds and Amazon are packed with them. Holiday's are not my thing and in years past--I've been a down-right mean person about them. They are getting better, but still don't match when you used to have a houseful of kids, family get-to-gethers and all that to add up to holidays. With me?

It's me. And the dog. And a cat (that tries to eat me when I give her love...). But in the spirit of Christmas and all things Falalalala, I've decided to write a Holiday story of my own. And in the spirit of being lighter and more joyful for the holidays, I've filled it with love, laughter and joy. 

Well....The Ward Way.  ENJOY!

A Holiday Gift- A Love Story. No Really. Okay...you got me. It's not.  

"Come on. Move it!" Craig had sweaty palms and his leg kept tapping on the floor board as he tried to coax just a little more speed out of Ole Blue (aka the 20 year-Chevy he was given by his dad). It was Christmas Eve and he had rushed out of the Foster family Christmas dinner way later than he had wanted. But Aunt Deja was there. And Aunt Sara, Aunt Susan, Angela, Andie, Ariel, Megan, Missy, Wendy, Lisa, Trisha, Kristal, Charlotte and sooo many more. All of them wanting to pinch his cheeks, pat his ass and tell him how grown-up and handsome he had become. Sheesh, he was seventeen, what did they think happened in all those years? Not to mention he had just seen that whole same gaggle of women last year at Christmas. The whole bunch of them were so...well, them.

Turning down the road to Jessica's house, the sweaty palms doubled in their effort to make him look like an idiot. Beads of the same stuff was tickling down his back. Just two more blocks. Two more blocks and he would be at Jessica's house.

Sweet, beautiful, perfect in every way Jessica.

They had been sweethearts since Junior High and now they were seniors in High School. All the guys were jealous of him and all her girlfriends thought she was lucky, because he totally and completely spoiled Jessica like crazy.

That last part was probably because she hadn't put out. At all. Sure they kissed and made out like the horny teens they were, but she had never let him have the hallaluhaha I'm in your pants and you're in mine celebration. She wanted to wait. Wait till it was right. Until it was just the right time. Special.

Yeah yeah. Whatever.

But she had called him last night to let him know that her parents were heading to the coast for the holiday and she had to stay here due to volunteering at the soup kitchen to help there (see, totally good girl) and that meant.

"Oh god. I think I'm going to be sick..."

She was all alone. And....

It was time.

"I'm gonna get laid. I'm gonna get laid!!!"

"Hello Craig."

Craig looked around. "Wait. Where am I?" Clouds were misting around his feet and there was Christmas music playing in the air. And in front of him? "Who are you?"

The pretty girl in the soft white robes smiled gently. "My name is Holly."

Craig narrowed his eyes and looked around more. "I was on my way to Jessica's house. How?"

"Oh that? You were broadsided by a truck. You died." She smiled that sweet smile again as if she just told him he dropped a candy cane. 

Wait. DEAD??

Craig lost it. No way did he just hear that. Maybe it was all the loud-ass music that was playing. "What? No! I can't be dead. No no no!" he spun around and slapped his hands over his face, "This can not be happening. I need to be with Jessica! You don't understand! This so isn't fair!"

The, well he guessed it was, angel just blinked at him as she spoke with a confused tone. "You are not happy to be in Heaven? Most are quite happy to be here rather than" she pointed down with a finger as her face got a grimacy look, "other places."

"I'm really going to be sick now." Craig dropped to sit and wrapped his arms around his legs with his head going to his knee in total don't-pass-out-and-look-like-a-wuss pose. "I don't want to be here. I want to be there." Holly gasped and he waved a hand around. "Well not that far down. But you know, back there. On earth. So I can see Jessica." He lifted his eyes. "It's really, really, really important that I see her. It's Christmas. She" his voice squeaked "has a really good present for me. One I've never gotten before. One I've dreamed about. Thought about. Wondered how it would be wrapped. If it would come with bows. Or maybe other accessories that would be fun to undo. See" he let out a huge sigh "I've never had anyone give me that gift. Even though I've told all the guys I've gotten that gift like a ton of times. It's a lie. This was going to be my very first gift ever. And now" head dropped back to his knee "I won't be able to even see it. Do all kinds with it. Because" threw both hands out with his head still on his knee "I'm dead."

Holly let out a little sniff, touched by his words as she wiped a tear from her perfect cheek. "Oh. It is Christmas Eve, isn't it." She knelt down to touch his knee and said softly, "That is very sad. So this gift, from Jessica, you've never gotten a gift of such love before?"

He looked up and shook his head, his lip jutting out for impact with his eyes filled with sadness and loss. "No. Not once. Dreams don't count do they?"

She let out a consoling sound as she rubbed her perfect little hand on his jean covered knee. "You have touched me Craig. I am going to give you a gift. We are only allowed to use it once. It is very special and once it is gone, it can never be used again. Or returned. It is saved for only the special of people and is never to be taken lightly. And once I've given it I can never take it back. Oh sure, I could lie about still having it, but being an angel, I am not very good at lying. The other angels would know. They would know I gave up my most precious gift. So I must choose wisely. Am I choosing wisely with you Craig?"

Craig blinked and his mind did wonder if the hot little angel babe was about to give him the gift that Jessica was going to give him. But as he listened he wasn't so sure so he shrugged. "I think so. It's a very special gift. So maybe that's what its used for?" He had no freakin idea "Maybe?" he couldn't help when his eyes wondered if the robe made her boobs look big. He hoped not. Jessica had really nice ones. But he did wonder about all the Victoria's Secret bags in his girlfriend's room. Gosh, she loved to shop...

The angel stood and smiled. "I'm going to trust my instinct Craig. I believe in love. I believe in the eternal light of the heart that can shine through the darkness. Can give hope the the needy. To give song to the silence!" She threw out her hands and Craig thought for sure she was going to break out into that whole Sound of Music crap like in the movie his mom made him watch every Thanksgiving. But then the angel looked down and held her hand out. "Yes Craig. I am going to give my gift to you." She lifted her chin and then her hands and Craig smiled. Angel booty. Death might not be so bad after all. "I am going to allow you to return to Earth. To see your beloved as my gift to you. You will have just the hour of midnight. And it the only time I am allowed to do it to celebrate this most wonderful time of the year. But I believe it is right. Is that what you wish Craig?"

His head shook so fast it was like a bobble as he jumped to his feet to take her hand. One hour? Heck, he'd probably only need 10 mins. Okay, maybe 20 mins if he wanted to be romantic about it. But one hour? Plenty. "Yes. I so wish that. Like that would be" stopped himself from dropping the F-bomb. Heaven probably frowned on that. "falalalala fantastic!"

She bounced with joy. "Yes. Fantastic yes." She threw her arms around him in joy and Craig thought that yep, robes were so deceptive. Maybe she should check out Victoria's Secret too. She pulled away and kept his hands in hers. "So Craig. Are you ready? As I give my gift to you in the spirit of Christmas in the name of love."

He smiled. "Oh you have no idea how ready I am. Years and years this has been building up to getting this gift. It was so bad some times, I thought I would go blind. Or grow hair on my palms. Or wear it down to a nub."

The angel blinked in confusion, her smile wavering. "You human say things that make no sense to me. But I don't get out much. So is that a yes? You have to say- Yes. Please give me your gift and it make it so." She got a serious look, "And know, I have given this gift to none other. And I can never give it again."

Craig smiled, so wide he thought his face was going to never be able to do anything else. "Sure. Yeah. Whatever. Yes. Oh you betcha. Yes. Please give me your gift. Make it so."

She smiled. "Then Merry Christmas Craig."

And just like that, Craig was standing in Jessica's bedroom. The moonlight was shining in through the window and Jessica was laying on the bed. She must have fallen asleep waiting for him to get there. Stupid aunts.

Rephrase for epicness--Jessica was laying on the bed...Naked. Except for a wide satin ribbon tied around her waist. Craig's jaw dropped and would have hit the floor if it wasn't hinged to his face. He swallowed so hard he probably hurt himself as he looked down on a body he had fantasized about for years. Slender waist, long legs with a soft brown little tuff of happy fuzz between them. His eyes went to her breasts and he frowned. Wow, he had really thought they'd be bigger than that. How could clothes have made that different? Oh well, they were still pretty nice and he couldn't wait to get his hands on them. And his mouth and any other parts that Jessica would let him put there.

It was Christmas after-all. 

Standing there, he whispered out her name softly. "Jess. It's me. Craig." She stirred a little bit and rolled to her stomach, still asleep.

"Oh.My..." he stopped himself considering the gift from heaven and all as he stared at her pretty much perfect backside. He couldn't wait any longer. He only had an hour and he was pretty sure Jessica wouldn't mind being woke up with him unwrapping his gift. He moved towards the bed and then....."Hey? What the hell?"

He had moved through the bed. As in, he was now on the other side. He panicked and looked at his hands and he could see them. But now that he looked? "Oh no. No no no!" He reached out to desperately shake Jessica awake but his hands went right through her too. Without a single feel of touch. He couldn't touch her. "Oh no no no!" He couldn't feel her. And she didn't seem to hear him. He was...

"OH COME ON!"

A ghost.

"Merry Christmas Craig!"