The last time I post about this:
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Under this cut, you will find my epilogue. It is laughably short, because you shouldn't need anything else at this point. What I have created is a rough draft of what will eventually be a full length novel. I forgot to put in that extra stabbing for Nate, though I do know just where it goes. There is lots more to tell about the Cavendish family, the Pagan Farm, the Murtry's and even that sonofabitch Valentine Lockston. All this and more will be found in the rewrite, which i will not be posting.
Epilogue
It was a long time before they took me off the suicide watch. People have been doing nothing but watching me ever since, it seems. Can’t blame them, I guess; I suppose it is pretty interesting, horrible, but interesting. My Dad and the Lady Lawyer worked out some kind of deal where I could stay in the hospital until I felt better; I thought that was pretty cool of Dad, considering…everything. He still hasn’t been to visit though.
You might even say I’m glad to do my time here. It’s only right after what happened to poor Miss Flynn. I’ve already met some amazing women here. The stories they tell, you just wouldn’t believe it.
They say you can find Jesus in here. A lot of people do just that. What I want to know is, if Jesus spends his free time lurking around this hellhole, waiting to be found, why would anyone want to follow him anywhere? Seriously. Of course, I am not looking for Jesus, or anyone else for that matter.
I get a lot of letters from people, some nice, some really weird. Young people have told me I inspire them; although I have never asked just exactly what it is that I inspire them to do. I’ve even gotten some letters from people I went to school with, talking to me about Miss Flynn. A few of them were sorrowful and sad; most were downright nasty. I mean, why take the time to write a letter full of mean, hateful things? Besides, Miss Flynn wouldn’t have wanted any of them to be mean to me. She was against people being bullied. If she knew I was getting those letters, she’d put a stop to them right and proper. She was a good one, that Miss Flynn.
There was an article about me in a magazine that said I’d bring about a whole generation of mother killers. I can’t imagine that’s the case though. I mean, a lot of mothers are good and kind, but no Monsters are. That’s why they’re called Monsters in the first place.
As I look around the day room, I see mothers who have hurt their children, women who have killed boyfriends and husbands, even schoolteachers who drove drunk and hurt children. Suddenly, it came to me like a bright light thru a window: fast, hot and a little painful.
Monsters were here…all over this hospital. When you looked at them in just the right light, you could see them. That must have been why I was sent here in the first place. Why I had survived all those many times people had put me in harms way. I had suffered, and I had killed. Now I was trapped in this place until my work was done. I looked around at what I once thought were women. Monsters, every last one. I smiled me sweet smile at them, and began to make a plan.
Fin © 2004 WednesFri
Some of you may have noticed that I have taken this project very seriously. I'm actually going to go ahead and sign up for National Novel Writing Year in a few weeks. It seems that the only way I can really produce anything substantive is to have someone constantly riding my ass to do it (not literally of course). In December I'm going to finish my screenplay, which I will Email to anyone who wants to read it and is not a total wanker. Then I'm going to see about salvaging something from my old zombie story i've been working on and off on since 1995. Damn, that's a lotta zombies. I also have some short story ideas and another novel idea in the background.
If you do plan to read the draft that I have posted chapter by chapter, I ask that you do two things: One, please read it in order. There are some cool surprises. And two, please give me feedback on anything except typographical and gramatical errors. I'll have an editor for that eventually. I would love to know what parts you like best and least, what is most disturbing, and what and who you want to know more about. And of course, thanks to everyone for all their support. As usual, you have all been awesome.
Now I'm off to eat a Chocolate Thunder From Down Under. FYI, that is not some kind of sex joke about H; rather, it's a dessert from the Outback Steakhouse. That's where the witty and charming
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sudrin took me to nosh for my birthday. I had a fantabulously good time conversing with him. He opened the car door for me, kept the meal cheque out of my view, and was a complete gentleman at all times. And ladies, he's single!
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I don't have any heat because the fucking furnace stopped running. Sorry to swear at you, I think you can tell my anger is directed at it and not you. The problem is somewhere the fuel line is picking up air, preventing the burner from running smoothly and consistently. Dean showed me how you do this thing to try to bleed the air out of it (you can tell there's air in the line when the fuel that comes out is white because there's air bubbles in it.. the last two days, when i've tried this, the fuel that comes out has been white and foamy from having so much air in the line), but that hasn't been a working remedy so far. All I have is an electric heater that is currently sitting to my right but which will soon be joining me in my room with the door closed (*rawr!*).
Despite my best efforts to flirt with people on AIM in hopes of getting them to come over and keep me warm, I am soon going to bed cold and alone. I was *mostly* kidding about that flirting part, though. Mostly.
Anyway, tomorrow I'm getting some kerosene, because I have two kerosene heaters up in this bizzy. That should do 'er.
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Stay safe, cutie!
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