Incomplete Analysis – A new novel

I wrote this novel in March of 2023 and have finally been able to publish it. I’ll post the first five chapters below along with the summary. I hope you guys like it, buy it, and share your thoughts. Thanks!

“Do you want to play a head game?”
When a handsome psychologist invites Johanna to a special meeting as an educational experience into the how-tos of becoming a serial killer, she finds herself in the middle of a game designed by a psychopath and tailored to her.

Jo doesn’t know who to trust or who to believe as she is drawn into a swirling puzzle involving an increasingly brutal string of homicides. Aided by two police detectives while attempting to live a normal life between dating and dragnet, the story unfolds.
Part mystery, part puzzle, mostly murder.

Will you solve it?

D3: Second Sight First 6 Chapters

1
Twenty-six years ago

It’s dark in my room and there’s no light coming from the little 1×3 window above my bed.  The moon must not have come out tonight, I think to myself.  I’ve been told that I must go to bed without any lights on tonight so my mother must also control the moon.  Kevin, our babysitter, told us that my mother didn’t want any lights on tonight so we had to shut them all off.  My brother was okay with this because he hates it when I have the bathroom light on so that I can sleep.  Kevin let us stay up until way later than my mother would likely allow so I decided that I would try to handle the darkness for one night.  My brother fell asleep while we were watching movies so he was carried to bed.  That left me alone and awake just after midnight to be sent to carry myself off to my room.

   Covered up in two blankets on my twin-sized bed, I feel like a fly; freshly caught in a spider’s web and writhing with anxiety to be free.  I pick at the edges of my thin quilt and look uneasily into the darkness of my room.  Blackness and vague shapes stare silently back.

   Think of something else, I tell myself.  Just change the channel!

C’est la Fucking Vie

With Nicholas “Felix” Hursh

I knew on Sunday that this I outgrew you,

I knew that sad day that I out threw you
Love was done and that was catch
We’d met our day,
We’d met our match.

T’was Sunday that autumn was over, please right the crown of the shining October, I miss you more than before I knew you, because I didn’t know how much of me was in you.

Your beautiful face, your wily grace, your laughing gaze
The smile in your eyes that kills me
You are, to me, that uncertain sun in springs bipolar face.

Such fucking Shakespeare…

To be graced with that bright light so shining bare
After many a wintery day
The cold cuts hardest to the quick
When yon light is cast away

I love your beauty and your fire
But protect myself if I may
Lest I melt in your dark spire
Of past love that’s gone astray

My Saint Nicholas says to me: ” I hear a gallop.
A thunderous heart beat, pulling and flowing tumultuously”

You are not under-evaluated, denigrated, you have not been attenuated
Your words, your passions,
… thoughts run deeeeep

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss meee and I will sleep. …

I want to be evaluated, touch un-attenuated, feel your lips on me

Textile-dilated

While I feel your hands on me

Give me, give me, give me this unctuous song

I know that we’re not wrong

We’ve been inside each other all along

I want everything that’s wrong

Give me, give me, give me everything that’s wrong

We’ll turn it into song..

Textile dilation, Mocking sterile sensation

Our course of summation belies our elation

Leaving sensitivity, mocking our entity, we are all ins be, the end of our longevity.

We are seeking salvation from this dynamic nation and everything that we create is making us itch and grow and tow and throw and what we really need is to learn from our foe

it’s this cosmetic industry
this nasty dark into me

this horrible place that we allow to invade our space and it makes me itch, literally

scratch

and this is the catch

of what we are doing to our own bodies our own generation

that sterile sensation

is lacking because we continue to do the fracking

and we are ruining ourselves and our world and our souls within it and let us not take a divine moment and seek ourselves in it

And a tambourine crrraaaaaaaaashhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Tripping Through The Kudzu

Tripping through the kudzu

Following my way to you

Floating falling failing like a a feather from the sky

From the top of our lighthouse,

Reaching spinning seeking

The light that’s in my mind

Let Them Be Reflections Of Your Past

You pass them by and stand in front
Casting down your gaze
The eyes that judge most harshly
You create a clouded haze

You know what you will see
You’re afraid of what you might find
Shame and guilt and wounded pride
The wrecking tornadoes of your mind

On To Virginia

Someone requested that I write them a short story giving me only a few items to go off so, here it is.  It’s a little twisted and dark.  Fair warning.

The beautiful greenery of the Chesapeake Bay was a shocking change from the barren, sage brush covered landscape of the desert from which I’d just come. Only three days ago, I’d been standing in the dry and soft dirt of an Idaho wasteland, wary of the lava rocks that pocked the landscape and what may lay coiled beneath them. Knowing full well that I am just as dangerous – maybe even more so –to any man that stood under the same hot sun in such close proximity. Unfortunately for the gentleman that lay at my feet, he wasn’t quite as aware of that fact as I am.

An FB status update because why the hell not…

There’s no time and there’s no place. It’s undignified in the human race. You want but you must hide, you flaunt what you can’t abide. Fortune seems to favor the movers and shakers but fate brings the punishment for the unrepentant. Turn your face to Hell, heed that reckoning bell, make right on Earth what you have destroyed, and may fortune turn her kind heart to your lascivious deeds.

I really kinda like what I did there.  No easy explanation for it but that’s kind of the idiom behind art.

Alfalfa Ego

Ride down a dirt road to the edge of town
Coffee and cigarettes, just to look down
Up at the stars and away at the moon
Your strength was your bait and I took it too soon

Up on the counter and twice down the hall
Waiting all day for your voice on the call
Shower and shave and back in my room
That Alfalfa Ego, my impending doom

Friday The 13th & Clowns

In Discernment, I write about a dream I had with a clown, a large house, a great expanse of grass, and being chased on playground equipment. I think it was in volume 2: Touched. My mom always said that my bad dreams came from scary books I read or scary movies I watched and I always told her that wasn’t the case.

 

Well, that dream occurred sometime after the year 2000 but mom was right. Season 1, episode 1 of Friday the 13th when it aired in 1987. If you’ve read that chapter and want to see what I was describing in the dream, I can now literally send you a link to see the exact location in which it was set.

 

I’m watching this old tv show because it was my favorite as a kid. Kinda blows my mind to be old enough to understand how my thoughts and feelings (at such a young age) were connected to the scenes and explains a lot about the psychology behind that particular dream.  Neither after dreaming about it or writing about it did I recognize the surroundings.  I’ve been chased by that particular demon clown in dreams before and in different locations but only once on that particular property.

Ever fallen asleep in a dream?

I was so freaking tired.  I went through the house, trying to find my kids.  I wanted to tell them to go to bed but the house was silent and pretty dark.  I walked down a hall to the right and found a door open.  It was being used as storage but, by the placement of some of the items in the room, my memory said that it used to be my room and some of things were mine.  I remember where my bed was in this room.  It might still be there if I just moved a few things.  I could maybe lay down and sleep in this room.  But, the kids weren’t in there.

I retreated into the hall and went the other direction.  I figured they’d be playing in the room at the end.  I start calling their names but the house remains silent.  Reaching the door, I listen and hear absolutely nothing so I swing it open.  Only, instead of a room, there’s another wall made of a series of locked safes behind the door.  I know that my children are in there and that this can’t be possible because there’d be no way to get them out.