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theimaginariumofastranger · 4 years

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Lia the famous youtube start threesome extravaganza

I am a long time friend of lia, aka sssniperwolf. the other day i went her house when her bf was not there because that is usually when she wants to have sex. she doesnt have sex with many people because she is famous and cannot trust videos or pics of her being leaked then she will no longer be rich. so as i was saying i went to her house and usually we go straight to it and this time was different which is why i am releasing this information about her. my name is rob and i do not care if my name gets out there or my image. i want to share this story.

So as i get to her house she opens the door and we begin making out and go straight to the couch and start kissing to she gets wet then we went to the bed room and as we were laying in her bed full of her bf's back hair the bell rang. she went and got it in her underwear and you can see all her wetness leaking through the cloth. i was hard and ready and as i waited two guys came into the room. they were Dukante and Jerome. i never meet them but knew about them they were two friends of her who knew her as long as i did before she became famous and they too were having sex with her and getting paid by her to keep quiet like me. as they came in the room she jumped on the bed with me and they stood there fully clothed and me and lia were just laying in out under wear with her wet pussy and my dark dick. she was rubbing my dick and told her two friends that she wanted to try something different. she said "i want all three of you inside me, i've got all day, my bf wont be home to tomorrow" i immediately got harder and started to precum because i always wonder how many dicks can fit in her pussy. its just a random thought i had thinking about her when she called me over. i was down for it but the two other guys were not. they put up a little argument that they weren't gay and that she just thought they were gonna have sex with one on one. so i tell them, " hey guys if you want ill throw in 500 bucks to both of yall if yall fuck her with me, she wants to get fucked so lets fuck her" lia then followed with "yeah ill give yall both another thousand if you both stay and you too rob" i said "no i don't want any money just give me the usually amount and ill be good, i just wanna see how many dicks can fit in one pussy." "oh my god you just made my pussy wetter saying that" lia said. she jumped on top of me and began sucking me of good and i can feel the whole wetness of her mouth and the lips around my head, i began precumming. the two friends stood in the corner talking, i'm assuming about their sexuality. after a few minutes of sucking me off the guys interrupted us and said they were willing to follow through so lia got up and began kissing them one by one and slowly undressing them and i watched and jerked off to her ass in her panies as she did her thing. after a few minutes the guys began to get hard, it took them about 20 minutes to be honest and i guess they hadn't done this kind of thing before so it took them awhile, me on the other hand i was hard as a rock, ready, prepared, anxious for the destruction that was to come. after she got them on the bed with me and her i began undressing her as she rubbed the other guys dicks and i was kissing her neck and her back all over and she rubbed both their cocks and from there it began as i got undressed as well and i bent her over and spit in my hand and rubbed it all over my cock and stuck it in her ass. i wanted to be the first in her ass before any of the guys did so as i fucked her she rubbed one of the guys and had the other one in her mouth and i felt bad for the other guy so i told him to come and stab her pussy from the bottom with his dick.

Ten minutes passed in the same position, then i began to get bored so i grabbed the other guys dicks with my hand and took it out her mouth and took my dick out her ass and as i did that her ass came out, literally her anus popped out and was sticking out like a waffle cone. i said fuck it and let the other guy figure it out i thought with my hand still on his dick and told him i wanted her to suck me off and for him to fuck her ass now and i let go of his dick and he ran behind her. i got up and went to her face and shoved my dick in her mouth and i as she sucked it i looked at the other guy and he was freaking out about her protruding anus and i looked at him and winked at him. he kept looking at it and didn't know what to do so he got up off his knees and walked away and began dressing and i watched him walk out the door without his money because me and Lia hadn't paid him yet. Lia was so focused and didn't know that no one was in side her ass any more. so as she rode the other guy and he was fucking her pussy from the bottom, my balls were all over his face along with my ass and she was sucking me and i was about to cum and just like that one little thought that i had about how many dicks would fit in her ass i thought about, what would this guy do if i just started cumming and took my dick out her mouth and cummed on his face, the look on his face would be a million dollars, i would have to leave right away and take off because he was stuck under lia. so i did it, so as soon as she made me cum with her mouth i pulled out and jerked the rest of th cum all over his face and he just shut his eyes and was turning his head side by side like he was a torture victim tied down on a flat bed and getting water boated. i started to laugh like a maniac and ran and got my pants and took off with no shirt right out the bedroom and ran outside and as soon as i was out the door, her bf was driving up the driveway and saw me and just stared at me and did nothing about a shirtless man running out his gf house, that is when i knew he was bitch so i jumped in my truck and drove off and came straight home and drank a beer and began thinking what the hell just happened and began laughing hysterically outside my house on the back porch and knew i had to share this crazy then so itook another sip of beer and laughed away with no shirt typing this story.

#sssniperwolf #youtube #irl #truestory #crazy

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.

f. scott Fitzgerald, love letters

#love #love letters #writer

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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You and I have been happy; we haven’t been happy just once, we’ve been happy a thousand times. The chances that spring, that’s for everyone, like in the popular songs, may belong to us too – the chances are pretty bright at this time because as usual, I can carry most of contemporary literary opinion, liquidated, in the hollow of my hand – and when I do, I see the swan floating on it and – I find it to be you and you only…. Forget the past – what you can of it, and turn about and swim back home to me, to your haven for ever and ever – even though it may seem a dark cave at times and lit with torches of fury; it is the best refuge for you – turn gently in the waters through which you move and sail back…

Scott Fitzgerald, Love Letter to Zelda Fitzgerald

#f. scott fitzgerald #love letters #love #letters #truelove

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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The Young Boy On Military St.

The young boy on Military Street selling candies

Everyday when I see you I wonder, why?

Why at 4pm are you here everyday selling candy?

Why are you not out with your friends?

Playing video games or wreaking havoc?

Why are you out here to 12am?

Why do you sell the candy for less when someone says no to the first price?

“Two for a dollar?”

All right, give it to me I say

I give him a $5 and ask

“Why are you out here everyday Monday through Sunday from 4pm to 12am?”

“I am trying to make money so I can buy my moms medicine, sir”

“Why does she need medicine if you don’t mind me asking?”

“she’s very sick and she does not work or can work, she cant buy her medicine so I want to help her”

“how old are you?”

“I’m 13 years old, sir”

I hand him a $20 and tell him to keep his candy’s

I start my truck up with my full tank of gas, turn the A/C on and drive off with my twelve piece chicken wings from Wing-stop and suck on my DrPepper in sonder

When I was 13 I was skateboarding in the ditches, flipping over potter potties, getting into fights, burning trash, destroying properties, Kissing girls, stealing, breaking into places, smoking, and getting arrested with friends

I was making memories, I was having fun, I rebellious, I was free—

And here was this boy being robbed of all that, not by his mother, not by her sickness, not by his kindness, and not by his will

But by life

Life gave his mother the sickness

Life chose this for him against his own free will

He was being punished for nothing

Maybe he enjoyed being in the street maybe he loved his mother, maybe he didn’t want her to die and end up alone

What I do know is, a year from then when I saw him again sitting at a bus stop on military with the same cloths, same backpack and same glasses

I asked him how his mother was

He looked down at his feet as he sat down with his chubby stomach and told me

He told me she passed away and he was living with his grandmother who he was on his way to the hospital to see, he told me she too was sick and dying

He kept his head down and I gave him a $20 and some $1’s, it was all I had

I didn’t know what he was feeling at the time so I had no words but I soon learned the same pain when my grandmother passed

I have not seem him since but I hope he is well, that is all I can pray for, is that he is alive right now somewhere and he is doing well and is doing what he wants to do

So much death can ruin anyone of the purest heart as his

I respect him and hope one day to pass by him with a girl around his arm, a stomach full of food, a heart full of love, and a life full of happiness

This goes out to him, the young boy I meet 8 years ago

#poem #poetry #writing #thoughts #memories #writer #fate #life #death #sadness #sickness #sick #young

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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Where did Papa’s sanity go?

Hemingway and his many wives and his hunger for adventure and life could never fill that void he had until he had the balls to paint the walls with his madness with a shade of wine

A man that could not enjoy one woman and would indulge in his narcissism of being addicted to the “in love” feeling with another, in all his affairs

The love of just one is enough to fill that void, with happiness, trust and security

He was a writer, what can you expect? Most are clinically insane, some make it out alive and some come out mad

He was one hell of a man though, a man of guts, balls, heart but lacked sanity

#poem #poetry #thoughts #thinking #reading #pondering #papahemingway #ernesthemingway #suicide #for whom the bell tolls

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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I Miss Her

I miss her so much, my heart aches for the warmth of her soft skin finger tips

I miss her more than the trees need their oxygen

Than the orphans of war

The widow at the wake

The motherless son surrounded by strangers

The homeless under the black tar bags hiding from the rain

The pups on the street dying of hunger

The slave feeling the morning sun on his toes in his cage

The poet without his muse

The divorced husband with his empty bottle

The bald man in the barbershop

The chained dog in the long yard with 8 feet of rope

The writer with no words

The couple with no soul

The whore without hope

The pregnant bride at the alter with no father

The flowers with no water

And most of all

A cigarette with no lighter

#poetry #poem #love #missingsomeone #iloveyou #iloveyoumore #imissyoumore #loss #lost

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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Loss of Love

My love for you is that of a

Wolves first great love

No desire to share that great love

I had for you after your

Death or disperse

No second love will be as meaningful

As mine shared with you until my death

Mates for life

Wolves of the restless night

Scattered lost into wilderness

Blind looking for the light

Our love is gone but mine still

Lingers with belief yearning for

A second chance with you after

This life

#poem #poetry #love #truelove #matesforlife

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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Alone on New Years, Missing her Scent

The summer nights

Full of rest, nice and cool in the palace

Where the food and beds are the best

but this lone new years night, ill wake up full of sweat,

my heart cold, without the warmth of

your loving soul

You were here, but I have driven you away

Down my own road you’ll be with me as I walk alone

Not physically but spiritually

My road of regret

Always I know ill have a good part of us in me

and me in you

My distant lone muse you’ll be

My beautiful brown eyes full of life

don’t look back at the times of

pain but the good times we cried

in bed making love

Innocent tears of love, hurt, and soul

#poem #poetry #love #newyears #loss #muse

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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Drunk in a Barrel

Chapter 1

It was 12am on a Tuesday, I had just ran out of whiskey at the house, all I had left were three 16oz beers, it was not enough for me to get a buzz. So I made my way to the closest bar on foot before 2am, I took a Twain book and wanted to just read, smoke some cigarettes, and catch that good o’l sweet buzz I was sweating for. It was only maybe a mile away that I had to walk and on the way there I sipped on one of the beers I had, to I got there.

Once I got to the bar, I finished the beer, threw it into the ditch close by, hid the bag of the last two beers and went inside. I ordered two beers and a double whiskey dry, went outside and found a cozy spot in the back where I could be alone and just read. I lit a cigarette, sipped on the whiskey, popped open the beer and cracked the book open to where I left off, The Mysterious Stranger by Mark Twain. I was near finished with the story, so far it was amazing and I was on edge waiting for the end to see how it all played out, it made me interested in the Devil. As I sat reading, minding my own, one of the barflies from the bar came outside, it was John. John was a really smart guy, I met him more than a couple times there at the bar when I’d go last minute to get my fix on alcohol. Sometimes when the bar would close, him and couple of other people who hung out at the bar regularly, would drink out in the back of the bar drinking the rest of our beers, thats how I first meet him and had a intelligent conversation with him. He sat on the table next to me.

“Whats up, Charley? What you reading there?”

“The Mysterious Stranger by Twain, read it before?”, I asked.

“Yeah, thats the one about the Devil, right?”

“yeah, its so good, man, I’m almost done with it”

“its pretty good, read it back in high school”.

John pulled out a huge ledger book, you can see all these names and numbers. I said nothing and continued puffing on my cigarette and reading. Another guy came outside, went by the name of Big T, I knew him too, he sold coke and weed, always had different women with him when I’d see him there at the bar. He approached John and gave him some money. I didn’t want to eavesdrop but they were sitting so close to me, they were betting on the Super Bowl, T gave John a large amount of cash and John put it in his suitcase he carried with him. T took off and John stayed there writing something down in his ledger.

I got on my phone and messaged my friend, Sara who lived closed by to come have a drink with me, she messaged back and she was on her way there to meet me. Once she got there, she met me outside where I was siting and sat across with me.

“Hey! Sara! You made it, let me get you a drink!”

“hey! Ill just get a whiskey coke, please”

I went inside and ordered the drink and came back outside, she was sitting in the same spot looking at my book.

“here you go, so whats new Sara?” I placed the glass in front of her and sat down.

“same o’l same o’l, just work work, what you reading there?”

“its Mark twain, its about the devil and some children who get influenced by him and how he changes their perspective on life and human nature”.

We talked a bit about one of my trips out in the country to John got up and approached us.

“Hey, Charles, I’m gonna have a after party at my house after the bar closes, I’m moving so I’m going to have some people from the bar over and some other friends. You should come, brother”

“Sure, I have some beer for myself and some weed for some joints to pass, this is my friend Sara by the way, Sara this is John”

They shook hands and made their introductions. I don’t think she could tell but me being a man, John had that look in his eyes like he was attracted to her. I did not mind but the last thing I want is for her to get freaked out by people who knew me.

“Ya’ll can both come, your’er both invited, message me and I’ll send you my address, Charles”

“sounds good, John, thanks”

“I live down the street, its not far”

“See you until then”

John went back inside the bar and I continued talking to Sara while sipping on the beers to I got another round. I bought three beers and it was already going to be 2am, I stuffed the beers into my pockets and walked out the back of the bar with her. We stood out in the back talking to another guy from the bar I knew came, Randy.

“Hey! Charles! Where were you at? I didn’t see you inside the bar?

“I was outside talking to my friend here, Sara this is Randy, Randy this is Sara”, She shook hands with Randy, another barfly I knew. We stood out in the back of the bar talking for a bit to about 2:30am, all three of us.

“I’m going to head out now guys, I got work tomorrow”, Sara said.

I walked her to her car and asked one last time if she wanted to go to Johns but she was tired so I let her go.

I walked back to Randy and told him I would be back. I made my way to the ditch where I hid the other two beers in the bag, now I had five beers. I did not want to drink any of the beer at Johns house, something about drinking someone else’s alcohol made me feel bad. I don’t mind people drinking mine but just asking or just taking someone else’s beer really got to me. It made me feel like a leech, sucking what is not yours. I got back to Randy and he was there still.

“You going to Johns?” I asked

“yeah, are you?”

“if your’er going then ill go too so I wont be alone”

“Follow me, I know how to get there”.

Chapter 2

Randy lead the way to Johns house while we sipped on the beers, I had bought from the bar. It was only four blocks away to we finally got there. The whole street in front of Johns house was covered with cars, we came up to the door and knocked, John answered.

“Hey, you guys made it” John greeted us

He opened the door and let us in, inside the house were about fifteen people sitting on a table and on the couch, the house was cluttered with boxes and containers. He did say he was moving I thought. I greeted everyone with a wave at the table and just said my name out loud to over lap the loud music and as I stared at everyone waving I saw them passing a mirror around, on that mirror laid a large stack of white powdered lines. In the center of the table was a huge mini mountain of white powder, they were doing coke I thought to myself. I sat down next this this beautiful Mexican woman with jean shorts and a tank top, trying to show as much skin as she could, it was a hot night but not that hot for a skinny woman herself of that weight.

“Hey, I’m Monica…”

“My name is Charles, nice to meet you, want a beer?”

“No thanks I’m good”

I pulled out another beer and began to drink it, the mirror was half way around the table and I can see Monica’s eye fixated on it like a falcon ready to attack it like prey, she was high on whatever she was on. I saw down just listening to everyone and asked John if it was okay to smoke because he was smoking hand rolled cigarettes and there were two ashtrays on each side of the table. He was okay with it, so I smoked and watched everyone snort that baby powder into their nose with a half cut straw. It came to the time when the guy next to me handed me the mirror next.

“I’m good, just drinking and smoking tonight, I got work early” I passed it over to Monica. She snorted two lines and passed it over. I began rolling a joint on the table with papers, perfectly packing it and making a filter out of paper from the rolling paper box. I asked John if it was okay if I smoked and again he was fine with it, I lit it up. I took three good hits and passed it to Monica but she denied it, I stood up and asked if anyone wanted to hit it but all fifteen people in the whole door denied it, thats when I noticed that no-one of them were even drinking beer or liquor. Everyone was just snorting gasoline, chemicals, trash, shit, blood, dirt, junk instead into their brains.

“So you don’t like ice?’ Monica asked.

“is that was that it? No wonder it looked like crystal rainbows were beaming off it”, I said.

“its really good shit, we’ve been here for two days just crashing here and getting high, John said if we help him pack, we can get high as much as we want off his stash.”

“how many of ya’ll have been here packing?”

“well theres me, Ashley, Rico, Julia, Yvonne, Tony, and Henry. “We’ve been here getting fucked up and packing.”

“wow, y’all did an amazing job”, I said.

I was pretty freaked out at this point, what I thought was a normal party house, was now a crack house and John was paying these people in ice, to pack everything up for him while he went about his day. I continued drinking, I had just gotten there and did not want to leave right away, I could feel the whiskey and beer finally creeping on me as I grew tired and my head became fuzzy. I stayed talking to Monica and drinking my beer, smoking my cigarettes to she came up to my ear and told me.

“You want to go to the back and fuck? You're really cute”

“I got a girlfriend, I’m sorry.” I lied.

As the time went on, I woke up. I was on the chair sitting down with my neck hanging and I had pissed all over myself. I got up and everyone was asleep on the floor, the couch, the bed and in the kitchen the two girls, including Monica were in the kitchen passed out. The floor below me laid a large puddle of my beer piss. I got up, took one of johns shirts from the box and placed it on the piss and left it there, I opened the front door, locked the door knob from the inside and closed it, it locked. I walked home and got ready for work.

Chapter 3

I worked for the past five days and kept thinking if John found the large puddle piss where I sat. I kept looking at my phone waiting for a message with some cruse words for me but nothing ever came. I hadn’t been to the bar either since then because I got off around 2am so I had to buy beer in advance because the store stopped selling at 12am. I didn’t want to go the bar either way because I feared of seeing John there and I hated confrontations but on Monday I had ran out of beer and I needed my fix like always, I needed that buzz so I said, fuck it.

I walked to the bar Monday night around 1am and when I got there, outside stood one of the barflies that was always there everyday, his name was Abraham but everyone called him Ab. He called me one when I was going inside.

“Hey! Charley!”

“What's up Ab?”

“I’m glad to see your’er alive dummy, I haven’t seen you since you went to Johns that night and left the bar.”

“I worked this whole week and weekend”, I said.

“I thought you were in that barrel, knowing you and the way you drink to you black out. You were gone the whole week so I thought you were a goner”

“What barrel? What are you talking about Ab?”

“you didn’t hear?”

“hear what?”

“John came out in the news, he paid some crackheads in crack to dump a barrel in his truck at a river, the dummies kicked it off and a body popped out, they called the cops and they picked John up for murder”

I stood in shock and began looking up his name and there it was, he killed a man and had some crack heads dump it at an abandon river, the body fell out, they freaked out and called the cops and he was in county prison to his hearing.

“You’er lucky you’er alive, you drink like a dummy and no-one seen you since his party and we hadn’t seen you here like we always do so we all thought it was you.”

I went inside, got the usual, came back outside and thought about the whole thing. It would of really sucked to be killed that way, i’d rather be remembered as the killer than the victim. People always remember the killer better by name, height, weight, hair color, and killing technique than they remember the victims or victim. I wondered if he found that puddle of piss in the living room and the piss I left in the restroom. I wondered what happened when I blacked out. I finished my drinks, went home and wrote about it.

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theimaginariumofastranger · 5 years

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The Suicide

Chapter 1

Joe was going crazy at home, he was having anxiety all day to the point where he had to leave the house and walk to clear his head. Only twenty-four years old and he was already losing his mind. It was 12am on a Saturday so he was going to walk to the bar three miles from his house to the city where he liked to sit and watch people. He’d sit around at the park, chain smoking, looking at all the tourist, locals, and city workers all walk by and sonder. Where do all these people go after work, after the night is over, do they like their jobs? Do they have secrets I cannot see? All these thoughts and questions would wash over him like a tsunami to the point where he would forget what he was worrying about, what was causing his own anxiety.

Once, less and less people stopped walking around and the people would disappear, he would then begin to start thinking why he was having so much anxiety, he tried to avoid it for so long but he also wondered about himself. All the people he was looking at were all going somewhere to someone or something, but where was Joe going to? Not home, but in life? Should he just give up on trying to become a writer and just work an ordinary job like all his high school friends? Have kids, start a family and hate his job and life everyday?. That thought made him more depress, he wanted to write, write away all his thoughts and form them into stories, all the events he’s been through, make them all into stories, poems, novels and just change a bit of it to make it more exciting. It seemed like a wild dream to him, a pipe dream, something unattainable, impossible, stupid, and plain wrong. He had it set that he had to do what his parents and everyone around him wanted him to do. Live a boring dull life, as long as you finish school and have a job. Joe started to walk, his heart was racing again for staying stuck in his head so long, hung up on his thoughts, he walked to the nearest bar.

Chapter 2

Drinking always helped him, it helped the heart from racing so fast. The dependance people had on him was too much for him, sticking around and living a boring life scared him, or sticking around and keep writing forever to something picked up but he felt his stories, poems, ideas, and thoughts would never be good enough. Not like the great Hemingway, Twain, Faulkner, and Steinbeck. Then he think of suicide, it was a cowardly way to go but it was an instant answer to his problems, once he is gone then all his problems would be gone too.

Joe ordered a beer and shot when he got to the bar, he’d take the shot first, slam it on the bar, then walk outside to smoke the last few cigarettes he had left and just sit, pull out his little note book, and write down his thoughts. He wrote down how he thought of suicide like it was normal. He would ask himself, which way is the best way out? Pain did not scare him, nor did death, so he wanted the fastest way. He had two ideas in mind, go out the poetic way like Russian poet, Yesenin, who wrote his last poem/suicide note in his own blood before hanging himself or— take a bullet to the head the fast way like novelist, John O’Brien. Getting rope was not a problem, doing the noose knot, looking for a good place to tie the rope, then write a note that would mean absolutely nothing to him because he cared not for who found him or who would miss him, should it be in blood? Or feces?. He began to laugh to himself outside with his cigarette in his hand, alone, how funny it would be to write a note in shit? Would anyone touch it and take it serious? With his body hanging in the corner, he thought. Then the thought of the gun seemed to hard, he’s been committed three times, no way could he buy a pistol at a gun store, unless it was a gun off the street. His friend, Alex, knew people who sold illegal guns, should he get a pistol or get a shotgun and blow his brains out like Papa Hemingway?. He chose the shotgun. It is quick, easy, couple hundred bucks, and he can have a closed casket so no-one would see his dead face covered in make up if who ever wanted to bury him or easier, cremate him.

Chapter 3

Three days later, Joe had his notebook with all the pros and cons if he should do it or not. All answers pointed to yes. Things would be easier this way, for himself and everyone else. He called, Alex that morning to meet up at the bar when he was free, Alex told him to meet at Zoe’s Bar down the street at 8pm that night. Hopefully, Alex still had his connect, and he would get to meet up the person. He kept thinking the whole day about how his face would look with a gapping hole.

Joe stayed home most of the day writing short stories about people dying by murder that would involve love triangles, drug deals, and domestic abuse. He even wrote one about love. It was about man who fell for a woman who was on a death trip when the man meet her at a bar, she was always on pills or psychedelics, the man would listen to her saying she saw nothing else after life, even though she was successful, she just wanted to go, every time he listened to her, it felt like listening to a motivational speaker or a philosopher. She was really motivated and convincing, to one day the guy asked her if she’d ever fallen in love and she said no. At the end of the story the guy and woman fell in love and he and her moved and lived together happily ever after. Really good story, Joe had talent, he really did, he was just unmotivated trying to push his writing further. He just felt some of his stuff was too dark for the simple reader or human being. It was the works of a psycho, he’d say.

After four short stories and eighteen poems later just sipping on scotch, Joe remembered he was going to kill himself soon, he wondered if he should destroy all his writings. Do I want people to find these and think I’m crazy? Or should I leave them here for everyone to find? He thought long on hard but he put too much work into them so he decided he didn’t care if they found them or not, next to his body. He had about 200 or more poems about whatever a sick minded person would come up with and 100 or less complex short stories ranging from love, death, loss, drugs, stories from people he’s meet along the way in life and some personal stories he went through and he had two novels he had not finished yet, about love and one about a serial killer. All these he left on his desk where he’d sit and write. It was a pile of papers piled up, he preferred the pen and paper to the type writer, something about the pain in his wrist from hurting so long would push him to keep writing and ignore the pain and enjoy it. He placed them in separate stacks for who ever was crazy enough to read them or even touch them.

Chapter 4

Eight o’clock rolled around and he got dressed and made his way to the bar to meet Alex. As he walked he’d look at all the cars passing by and the people walking the streets and sonder. None of these people knew what was on his mind, that he was going to kill himself, will he come out on the news? He thought.

Local man kills with himself with a shotgun to the mouth, letter found at the scene prove the man was mentally ill and he planned his death from 1989 when he wrote his first letter about death. Mental illness is at a sky high and no-one talks about it, come back at the 10 o’clock news night beat where we will have psychiatric professor who will sit with us and talk about mental illness

Joe laughed really hard, he could hear the old news woman’s voice in his head while her turkey neck wobbled left to right. He did not want to have his name in her mouth, it was disgusting to think about. He stopped by the store to buy a carton of cigarettes so he would have enough to the time came and he can enjoy his last one before his brains hit the ceiling and the blood filled the floor with new paint.

He opened the door to the bar and everyone greeted him, he was a regular there, it was right down the street from his house and he like to go there and enjoy his whiskey and write or read outside alone where everyone would approach him and ask him what he was reading or writing, some of these barflies found him strange and down right weird but they all had something in common, drinking late nights to being drunk off their asses.

Alex was sitting at the bar alone talking to, Denise, the bartender. Joe approached him, asked the bartender for two beers and two shots, shook hands with Alex and gave him the bottle and glass and asked him to meet him outside for a smoke. Joe paid for the drinks, tipped Denise $4 for each drink, as he was walking out, he stopped, took out a $20 and gave it to her, told her it was a tip, she exploded with happiness and thanked, Joe. He made his way out and Alex was standing there, sipping his beer, Joe lit his last cigarette from his box with his match. This would be the last time he’d smoke at Zoe’s Bar and drink his last round with a good friend. Joe went straight forward and was blunt and asked him if he had his connect with the guns still.

“Do you still have that connect with the guns?” Joe asked

“I don’t, man.” Alex said

“What happened?”

“My buddy killed himself with one of the guns and all the cops confiscated all his guns”

Shit, Joe thought to himself, his heart dropped, he started to think what to do now, Alex was still talking about his friend but Joe was not paying attention, all sound was drowned out, he was just thinking what to do now.

“I gotta go…” Joe said

He swallowed his shot and gulped the beer in eight-seconds. Then walked out through the back door and made his way back to the house to think. He opened the carton of cigarettes he bought, took a box out, peeled off the cellophane and reached for the matches in his pocket to light his cigarette.

Chapter 5

At home, Joe, smoked about three boxes already, and finished an eighth of scotch, his mind was racing, he kept thinking if it was a sign to wait or maybe to continue with the plan, but the only thing left was to use a noose or not do it at all, just stay alive, but that thought of staying alive made him mad. He had his mind set already that he was going to do it, why go back? Just because someone told him that someone else killed themselves? Maybe they were on the same road as Joe.

Time passed and it was already 1am, Joe had to make a decision now or never so he left the house to the corner store for some rope. “Fuck it," he said to himself. On his way to the store he went in, bought some rope, the thickest he could find and walked out the store with it after paying. Walked home in the dark with his cigarette in his hand when a woman approached him.

“Can I have a cigarette, please?”, she asked.

“I’ll pay you $1 for it”

“Don’t worry mama, I got you," Joe said and gave her four cigarettes from his box.

“Oh my god, thank you so much, you don’t know the day I’ve had, I really needed one of these, all I have is $1, now I’m gonna just go home and drink myself! Thank you again!”. She continued on her way.

She was a beautiful woman, a little older than Joe but she was pretty, why not ask her if she wants a drink, one last one with a stranger, he thought to himself.

“Hey! Miss!” Joe yelled out

“Yes?”, she walked toward Joe.

“Would you like to have a drink with a complete stranger right now? Meaning myself, I have a carton at home and a gallon of scotch?”

“Really?” She said as her face glowed up.

“Yeah, sure, I’m down on my luck too so, I’m going to just drink at home, smoke, and listen to some blues," he said.

“You live close by?”

“Yeah, just right down the street, I came to the store to buy something.”

“All right sure, why not, I can go for some blues," she said.

“You like Muddy Waters?”, Joe asked.

“Oh, yes! and Bessie Smith!”

“All right, lets go, I’m Joe by the way”

“My name is Cassie, nice to meet you Joe.”

They shook hands and smoked on the way to Joe’s house, walking side by side.

Chapter 6

Cassie was a beautiful caucasian woman, with blonde curly hair, slim body with nice long legs, she wore a tan coat and a scarf around her neck to protect herself from the cold wind. It was below 40 that night, Joe had the heater running at his house, he was wondering if she was fat under that coat maybe.

They got inside the house, the door swung open swiftly, the wind made it hard to close the door. He took her coat off for her, took her scarf and placed it on the coat hanger by the door. And there it was, her beautiful body it was just as he imagined it would be, those legs had to match that body, he thought.

“You can go to the living room, I’ll get the bottle, the carton and some records”, Joe said

“All right, I like mine dry, please”

“Sure.”

Joe grabbed some glasses, some blue folk records, and the rest of the cigarettes in the carton, along with an ashtray from the kitchen, then made his way to the living room.

“Did you write all these! They are so amazing!”, Cassie yelled.

“DON’T READ THOSE!” Joe yelled, he ran fast to the room, his heart was pumping, he wanted to at least have a drink with someone before freaking them out with his writings and hanging himself.

He got into the room and Cassie was already on her 3rd poem that Joe wrote, he saw her face and she was just reading with glow, enjoyment and a face full of strangeness, as if she could not get enough.

“I’m sorry I yelled, those are some of my writings, I’ve never had anyone read them before, they are private to me”

“Joe… these are really good! Are you a writer? Did you write all these piles of paper on the desk?” She asked

“They are mine, I want to become a writer but, I feel they are scribbling of a mad man, I don’t want to scare you off or anyone who ever reads them”

“I write myself as well, mostly poems and in my diary, it helps me with my anxiety”

“You really like them?”

“Oh yes, Joe, I want to read them all!”

“Fine, go ahead, I’m going to just pour the drinks and listen to music”

“If you want I can stop, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get into your’er personal belongings, i’ll put them down.” Cassie placed them on the same stack where he had the poems separated.

Joe thought maybe to just let her read them, it’s not like it’s gonna change anything, he’s still going to hang himself after she leaves.

“You can read them, Cassie, I don’t mind”

“Really? Can I ask you a question about this one? What you were thinking or going through?”

“Which one?”, he asked.

“This one” Cassie read it out loud.

I cannot remember her face

For the life of me

But her death

I remember

Very vividly

“That one was for my grandmother, she died not to long ago and its hurt me for a long time, still does, I wrote that trying to remember her face in my head and hear her voice but its too hard, all I could think of is her dying, so I wrote that for her, it's a littler dark but it means a lot to me, even though its seventeen words.”

“I really like it Joe, I’m gonna get the whole stack and read them, if you don’t mind”

She got up and got the whole stack of poems. Joe poured two scotches, put on Etta James on the record player, lit a cigarette for himself and Cassie, sat back down and watched Cassie read his most personal belongings in the world. He did not care, she enjoyed them, he wasn’t even surprised, maybe she was as mad as he was.

They sat in silence and let Etta James do all the talking, Joe just enjoyed the nicotine high, as it went from his brain to the bottom of his spine. Good music and a cigarette always gave Joe that euphoric feeling.

“So, how you doing over there?”, Joe asked.

“Im sorry, I’m so into them, I’m already on the 15th one, you have to have hundreds here.”

“200 or more to be exact”, Joe said.

“Here, hand me one, ill read it to you how it sounded in my head during the time I wrote it”

Cassie handed him all of them.

“I want to hear you read all of them, please—“, Cassie asked.

Chapter 7

Cassie fell asleep on the couch listening to Joe, she only had four glasses of scotch and twelve cigarettes. He read about forty poems to her, to he noticed she was comfortably asleep, laid up on the couch, with the pillow and the cigarette in her hand still, also a full glass of her 5th scotch. Joe covered her up, it was 6am and the sky was nearly bright blue with the sun almost peeking through the curtains. Otis Redding was playing the record player still. He got up and covered her with a blanket.

His night was not supposed to go on this long, he went to the kitchen with his cigarette and scotch, opened the bag up with the rope and thought if he should do it still. Should he do it while she’s there asleep, he thought. He promised nothing was going to stop him so he finished the scotch, looked around the house where would be the best place that could hold the rope long enough to asphyxiate himself. He didn’t want her to find him so he went to the bedroom, saw the coat hanger in the closet, tested it with his weight, and it was perfect. He tied the noose then tied the rope on the hanger, sat up on his bed one last time, smoked the rest of his cigarette, then went into the closet, closed the door, put the noose around his neck then let his weight loose. It tighten perfectly and he let the rope tighten around his carotid artery. He let his weight hang as his feet touched the ground, he thought nothing but just wishing he had the gun to make it faster. After a couple of minutes he felt his face finally begin to bloat up and go cold. He felt no pain, just the pain of having to wait so long. Then at that very second when he felt his eyes begin to feel like they were going to burst and his vision go black, CLING! THUMP!. The damn coat hanger fell and hit him right in the head and he fell right on his ass on to his back, he gasp for air. “Son of a bitch”, he said, with his voice cracking. The coat hanger had came loose when the wood holding it up broke off. All his cloths had fallen on top of him and covered him him like a blanket. He gained back his composure, got up, lit a cigarette but it was too hard for him to inhale the smoke.

“Joe?”, Cassie opened the door to the bedroom and Joe still had the noose around his neck, she looked at Joe and saw all the cloths in the closet on the floor and the pole that held the cloths on and Joe also.

“Wow, you really tried it, didn’t you?”

“I knew by your writings you had something planned, I could tell last night too when I asked you for a cigarette”

Joe said nothing.

Cassie walked up to Joe, gave him a bottle of Xanax.

“These are enough for both of us to sleep forever, its painless and I heard you get the best high before you sleep”

“Are you sure you want to do this with me?, I didn’t want you to find me, thats why I did it in the closet”

Cassie kissed Joe violently but yet passionately, as if she and him were long time lovers. He kissed her back and held her face and his other hand behind her head with his fingers entwined in her hair. They fell on the bed, Cassie got on top of Joe and undressed herself for him then undressed him, they made love even though they were complete strangers but it was the act of making love with the person you love for so long and so many years.

They laid in bed together naked after, with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. They had stayed up talking to the afternoon. They were both as miserable with life, not scared of death or pain, felt they both be better off without anyone thinking about them and just wanted to die. She had lost her job that night and felt like a failure, she was going to go home that night, drink the Xanax and die.

“I don’t think I want to die, now that I’ve meet you, Joe, I think we can be together and help each other but if you really want to go, then I’m with you. Your’er a beautiful writer, I want to help you and support you, to get it all out and stop hiding it from everyone”

“I don’t think I have what it takes anymore, I am happy to have meet you but I promised myself I would do this, to kill myself. I feel the same about you, you are the first person to read my writings and like them but, I think I’m better off dead, Cassie”

“Fine, I’m with you Joe, we have enough to sleep forever.”

“Are you sure you want to do this? there is no turning back, Cass”

“Yes”

They shared the pills together and feed them to one another with the rest of the scotch. The whole bottle was gone as they counted them all. They took the same amount of pills, laid back down together under the blankets with her on top of his arm, he lit a cigarette and they shared it together, taking puffs, back to back to they finished it to the filter.

Cassie threw her arm around Joes chest and he held her tight as they laid nude. They closed their eyes as he told her a story on the top of his mind to his voice became faint and she slept on his chest. Joe closed his eyes too and fell asleep with her. He then had a dream. The dream was him in a forest, where the sun was shinning through the tall red trees, he began walking, trying to find out where he was at, to he came to a clear path, he walked along it. The path took him to a giant opening of land with a large boulder in the center, he walked towards it. Once he got to it, he began to climb it but it was difficult without shoes as he was bear footed. He got to the top and his feet, hands, knees, elbows, forearms, chest and, ribs were covered in scratches. He bled very lightly and he started to explore the top to he saw his grandmother standing there with her back towards him, she was in a white gown, she was bare footed as well but unscathed like Joe. He approached her slowly, he could feel the hairs on his neck standing and that same euphoric feeling from his cigarettes. He could feel the bottom of his spine burning. A few inches away, his grandmother turned.

“Why Joe? Why give up that easily? Did I not teach you better than that? You know suicide is a sin, you have lost your way. That clear path you walked to here is yours and you strayed away from it and gotten lost but now you're here, that’s all that matters”

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I lost myself when you died, I’m so lost”

“You are not, now that you have found the path and have seen me, you can continue, you just have to let go, let go of all your fears. You are never alone, I watch you everyday. I have seen the good, sadness, and loneliness you hold on to like a trophy, you have happiness in you but you hide it, don’t.

“I cant find it, I’ve tried to but it's not there. I need you”

“Once you step off this ledge and let go, let go of hope of ever seeing me then you will find it”

Joe looked down the ledge, it seemed like a boulder he climbed but now it was thousand of miles down like a mountain, his heart dropped and his throat felt like his heart was going to burst out his mouth.

“Go, walk off it, and you will see”

“Is this a dream? Or am I in the afterlife? I don’t want to leave you again, grandmother”

“Go, Joe, you have seen me now, just let go and you will find the happiness you hide. This will be the last time I see you, if you stay then you will never see me again either way.”

Joe let one leg over the ledge and closed his eyes, he could feel his stomach dropping, his heart racing, his throat ready to pop.

“No, I’m going to choose my way, I choose death and thats where ill stay”

He turned around and his grandmother was gone. He looked around but saw only the top of the cliff he was on with the clouds floating and the white caps across the trees in the ocean

“Fuck it,” Joe jumped.

Chapter 8

He awoke, it was the afternoon of that following day, Cassie was gone. A note laid on the pillow.

If you wake up, call me, 793-6583

-Cassie. P

A kiss was on the note with a soft pink lip stick. Joe woke up happy for once for the longest time in his life. He would call her right there and then, she then answered after the 2nd ring, they would make plans for coffee downtown which would follow with shared cigarettes, long kisses and hugs.

From then on, most of his poems turned from dark thoughts to love poems about Cass, his love for her, poems about getting over loss, depression, obsessions with death. She helped filter his mind and drained it from its dark place and its pure mad insanity.

Cass helped him publish his work, get his writings out there. Once his writings hit book paper and shelfs, most of his dark writings were a hit than his new found love for life with his new woman. Everyone is in a dark place or has been in a dark place in their life. Everyone loses their way, its either up to you to change that or open up to someone to help you out because we all need a helping hand. He would then reply to all his fan mail with the help of his new wife, Cass. All the young adults, adults, and all who thanked him for help them for getting the words on paper that they could not. Joe would continue with his writing with Case by his side and wrote a novel dedicated to her and his grandmother.

The End

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