Stories

Old Mrs. Creet

creet

Once there was an old lady
Who looked like my grandma maybe

Every night
She’d take a bite

Of children’s toes
And a nose

If it’s past your bedtime
And you hear a chime

It’s old Mrs. Creet
Looking for something to eat

Don’t let her catch you
Awake or she’ll chew

Your toes and maybe your nose
So hurry and doze

Off to deep sleep
And as you count sheep

Out will creep
Old Mrs. Creet

Tale of Two Genres

sandrasilberzweig

I love running errands in the morning.  And, now that fall is finally here, I love it even more.  There’s a sense of renewal, nostalgia, anticipation, and reflection in the air.  Fall has always been my favorite season.

We’ve been traveling for the past couple weeks.  We went back to San Francisco to unwind and then to Portland for a wedding.  It was our first time in Portland and, yes, it is a bit like Portlandia.  If I were to describe the city to someone who’s never been there, I’d describe it as a very clean city for the wash-and-go set that has a fantastic public transportation system.  The uniform of choice of many there is cargo shorts or jeans, tanks, and T-shirts (all with no makeup).  In other words, you can roll right out of bed, head out, and you’d blend right in with the crowd.  There’s a Nordstrom (which meets my minimum requirements for a “real” metropolitan area–there are exceptions such as New York City) but no Saks or Neiman’s.  Although Portland isn’t exactly my kind of town, I fell in love with its public transportation system, TRIMET.  It’s a tram or above-ground electric train system.  A hybrid between a city metro bus and subway (but so much cleaner [not a whiff of exhaust fumes] and smoother [didn’t get motion sickness even once]).  Every major city should have a tram system like TRIMET (it is worth every tax payer dollar).

As for the wedding, it was beautiful.  My first Sri Lankan wedding.  It was full of traditional customs, colorful grandeur, and rich culture.  Perhaps I’ll wear a sari for my and D’s renewal of vows in a couple decades :).

In other news, I recently joined the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and the Horror Writers Association Are there many (successful) writers out there who write in two (or more) genres?  Many of you know that I have such a blast writing thriller and horror works.  As for the children’s stories, it’s still fun but it’s more to leave a legacy for my son (and, fingers crossed, subsequent children).  The children’s book is still in the works and the scary stories are still on the way.  And, as I head into the third trimester of my pregnancy, I will likely be doing even more writing.  So stay tuned!

Little Piggy

bloodyfingers
This little piggy went to market
Damn, this girl has spirit
 
This little piggy stayed home
Found her as I did my roam
 
This little piggy had roast beef
Told her the pain would be brief
 
This little piggy had none
Ravishing her was fun
 
This little piggy went
Still smell her blood’s scent
 
Wee, wee, wee
On to my next killing spree
 
All the way home
Smiling at her mouth’s foam

Two Books

crowdfundingIt’s been quiet for the past few days because I finally started writing my children’s book and started an Indiegogo (crowdfunding) campaign to assist with the publishing of it and another book in the works (in addition to hunting for illustrators for the two books).  So feel free to check it out!

In other news, D and I have our next doctor’s appointment on Tuesday and, hopefully, we’ll be able to find out the sex of the baby via an ultrasound.  As long as he or she is healthy, I don’t care about the sex.  It would just make planning (code: shopping) for him or her easier.  In the meantime, I’ve been adding gender-neutral things (i.e, stroller, car seat, play pen, and other gear) to the registry.  My sister’s throwing a baby shower for me in the next couple months so I wanted to make sure that the registry had at least a few basic/must-have items.

Mom (in-law) is coming in for a visit tomorrow and that means lots of cleaning today as well as making sure the fridge is fully stocked.  The place still looks like a warehouse (even though it’s been a full month since we’ve moved in) so my first order of business today is to finish clearing up all the boxes.  So much to do, so little time…

Touch

klimt
 
They say a picture is worth a thousand words
Not for me and you, two love birds
 
The feel of your skin and hair
How I love when we’re all bare
 
With every breath I take
I’m overwhelmed with a sweet ache
 
Covering you with endless kisses
Enthralled to be your missus
 
Forever my love you’ll be
You fill my being with glee
 
There is no sensation
Or exhilaration
 
That comes close
To the love that flows
 
Between me and you
One from two
 
A high that is so much
Just feeling your strong touch

The Ripper

jacktheripper
I made my debut
When very few knew
 
My taste for lust
And a hooker’s bust
 
It was 1888
Money was easy bait
 
East End of London
England’s dungeon
 
First was Mary Ann Nichols
The thought of her still tickles
 
Plucked out her teeth
Right under the night’s wreath
 
Tore out her tongue
To the pleasure I clung
 
Second was Annie Chapman
To her, I was a captain
 
Cut her throat
Like a slaughtered goat
 
Ripped out her intestines
To do this I was destined
 
Third was Elizabeth Stride
She was a special prize
 
This one I did not feed
Plump one she was indeed
 
I did her body what I did the others
But hers reminded me of my mother’s
 
Fourth was Catherine Eddowes
To her I gave several blows
 
Temper, temper, Miss
Cutting her was a bliss
 
Then was Mary Jane Kelly
How I opened her belly
 
As fair and sweet as she was
Slashing her gave me a buzz
 
You see, my day job
Saw women as snobs
 
But at night
Some let me bite
 
And to them I gave my thanks
Down by the river banks
 
As a physician
I was on a mission
 
To show them
They’re to be condemned
 
Never have I been so chipper
To be called Jack the Ripper

The Door

lightdoor

Six days and four hours
It is I whom he devours
 
Drunk one night
Under the club’s lights
 
I accepted a ride home
Too intoxicated to roam
 
First came the sweet talk
So I wouldn’t baulk
 
Then came the hand holding
Vicious plan unfolding
 
A lock of the car doors
Inside the voices roar
 
A knock on the head
Felt as if I were dead
 
When I came to
Dread was all I knew
 
“Surprise,” he said
“My name is Fred”
 
I cried and pleaded
At home I was needed
 
“Too late for that
You be good, you little brat”
 
Dark, damp, and cold
A loose door is outlined in gold
 
Screams go unheard
My vision has been blurred
 
Covered in urine and blood
And shackled in this mud
 
Hope is not lost on me
Should I ever set myself free
 
Up from this slippery floor
And out of that locked door