Family Snapshot


English: Looking northwest at Collyer brothers...

English: Looking northwest at Collyer brothers Park on a cloudy late afternoon. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She had gone to the park out of curiosity.  Here in her city, was something of legend, a mental and emotional thing that captivated people across the lines of time and here also was a place that sat in monument to that. The events were not great, they were in fact quite monstrous, but the powers that be felt that they should catalog and memorialize this thing. So she went to the little pocket park out of curiosity. Or that is what she told herself at the time.

It was collier’s park. It was the site of the infamous and famous Collyer brothers and the first massive and publicized case of extreme hoarding. The phenomena now seems to be part of everyday life for some people, spawning TV shows and jokes but then , at the first part of last century it was an oddity. People barely had enough, less on more than enough to the point of extreme excess. But here in her city was a monument to the most extreme.

She sat in the pocket park, thinking of what could have made these two men, college educated yet shiftless and unemployed, stay in this home, amassing tons of garbage and although having the money to do so, not ever paying for the simplest of “luxuries” like electricity or food. She sat there until she was roused from her reverie by a cat. He was scarred in some long ago cat battle for food to territory, having a squashed pan flat face and dirty bedraggled tail the creature was not of the cuddly kitty variety. Something about the knowing way that it looked at her gave her the creeps and she suddenly realized that she was, in fact, on the site of not just one bad death but two.  Suddenly she was in the need of hasty retreat, and a bath.

That first night she dreamed of the cat. She dreamed of it looking at her, marking her and watching. Following her all over the city, this largest of all cities, her and one cat in a battle of wills. She awoke feeling sick and scared.

“Where were you, yesterday” Emilie asked when she came to work the next day

“Collyer’s park”

After an odd little beat of time that rendered the throw away tone useless she asked “Oh, why did you go there?”

“Curious I guess”

Curiosity killed the cat, you know”

“But satisfaction brought him back,” She replied

“Yeah, pretty sure that part is bullshit” Emilie said matter of factly.

“So I guess you do not like Collyer’s?” She asked

“No, I don’t” Emilie said, though not unkindly

Still she was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement towards such an innocuous subject. “Why?

“There was something wrong with those men, something very wrong and eccentricity does not cover it. They were wealthy enough to pay off a mortgage with one check, but they lived without heat and electricity. That is not normal in any sense, and understand that this was in New York City, this wasn’t some brushy little back water where they weren’t exposed to things. These were college educated New Yorkers and they … it is just creepy. Something is just very very off on this.”

“They were just hoarders,” She protested

“That’s another thing, “Just Hoarders” is not a normal sentence either but you see, there was something very wrong with those men and I don’t know, it seems to be catching. Hell it seems to be catching fire these days. “Emilie went silent, “How much do you know about the story?”.

 

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What is Sexy


I am in the beginning stages of my novel . I am enjoying the writing and it is moving forward but I have found that the first chapter is almost lurid with the detailed sexual scences and I am gaining fear that it may send the wrong message, or it may be seen as titillating for the sake of titillation.   I have decided to allow an except of the text to be viewed with the hopes that people will critique it. I am going to do a larger piece in the company of writers but since those who read this blog are my first readers I thought that I should begin here, with the people that I hope to touch in future

 

He had loved her in white. Her body in the taut fabric stretching across her body threatening to expose her naked flesh beneath. He loved her in white. She was so sexy in white, her tanned skin shone against it so well. She was wearing white everyone she came to him, she was in white when she died. The next time he saw her they had become the ruined grey of funeral vestments.

She liked to tease him, he knew that. He would watch her at the bus stop, stretching unnecessarily. He tried not to let her know that he was watching, she was in white then too, a tee shirt, with blue jeans and a bra visible through the light cotton of the shirt. The bra was the soft pink that he had come to most associate with the color of her nipples. He had seen those nipple. She had seen him passing in the backyard of her house and she had looked at him then removed her bra, she looked at him, she wanted him to see

She wanted him, she had finally told him as much one day when he was working at the store. She had entered with the gaggle of her friends, all giggling and loud girlish voices. It was odd to him that they always seemed to be yelling or giggling, or both. She had stayed behind, having manufactured some pretext or another, forgotten soda, or incorrect change.  She had come into the aisle and looked at him. She had gotten close and in her breathy little girl voice she had asked if he thought she was “hot”

He hadn’t answered, he wasn’t sure why she was doing this but he was sure that she was playing some game. Then she leaned in and said “I think you are smoking hot, I always have,” She gave him a smile of infinite slyness and sweet sexy desire and said “I want you, I don’t know why but I just do”.

She ran from the store after that, taking her place among the giggling swarm and more than likely covering for her friends having seen her talking to him by expressing that she thought he was “weird”. She had tossed her hair and walked with her friends but she had spared one glance over her shoulder, giving the store and him inside a slow, sly, sexy smile. That smile was genuine. It was all want. A week later, she had shown him her naked breasts and her nipples, the soft bubblegum Pink color of them.

 

This book is not going to be for the faint of heart or the prudish of nature but I would like to not be associated with porn.  I mean , there is definitely an aspect of this that will be fully sexual and it is about a serial killer ( did I ever say that before , not sure) but I don’t want it gore for gore sake or sex for fuck sake .