When Nobody is Watching

When nobody's watching doesn't exist anymore.

Adware spyware google Microsoft NSA CIA FBI and all the other acronym organizations watch us all the time.

Cameras on the street corners to keep us safe, neighborhood watch to snitch and gossip on the greenest of your lawn.

When nobody's watching hen you really alone in those moments of darkness where the darkness lives and our anger lets loose, our perversion tips out, the mind goes numb.

How much do they kno, how much can we get away with, when everybody is always watching?

Who You Are Isn't a Weakness, It's Your Strength

 Sometimes strange things happen. You call out to the universe and the universe responds. 

Is this apart of Non Local intuition? 

Non Local intuition is tapping into universal intelligence. A source of information art of the ether.

A type of mystic epiphany that appears when you need a solution to a problem. 

In my last post about Self-Loathing, I focused on my weaknesses and wallowed in self-pity that I wasn't born as beautiful as I see many others to be. And then a podcast episode appeared from The Gary Vee Audio Experience on Monday, April 5th titled: 4 Words for When You Feel Like You're Not Good Enough.

In the episode, Gary talks to a man who is a real estate agent in Florida. He describes himself as being fully covered in tattoos and has turrets, a medical condition that plagues people with involuntary movement or a tick. Ticks can be head shaking, rocking back and forth or blurting out words or sounds at an uncontrollable volume.

The man explains how these parts about him make it difficult to be taken seriously in his profession. And what Gary tells him to fuck all that. Those aren't your weaknesses, they are your strengths.

And he's right.

I focus a lot on how I'm not like other people, but I don't want to be like other people. I want to be me. I want to be my authentic self. And that includes my devil smile and body of moles.

Gary goes on, there are people out there just like you. And they need you. They need you to show them that having a condition like yours isn't a weakness, it's a strength. That the bullies, the haters and the ones who are put off by it are wrong. Because if there's something you don't like about yourself and think you can't achieve your goals because of them, remember: Everybody else sucks too.

Even the most perfect of people have their troubles. Things they don't want, things they want to improve. And that is a good thing, to want to improve. 

Exercise, healthy diet lifelong learning and creative outlets help us improve and feel better about ourselves. It doesn't get rid of the things we can not change, yet to feel good in who we are is to seek constant growth into who we want to be. No matter how old or where you are in life. Having a growth mindset is more valuable than anything else other than the your loved ones of course.

So I don't know how it happens. How the universe knows. I don't believe in Non Local intuition. I believe all intuition is based on your own knowledge, records and observations of the world. And Non Local Intuition is the sharing of ideas in the world that we pick up on through reading, listening, watching, doing and experiencing without knowing we are picking up on them until one day we need them.

This isn't magic or a muse who speaks into your ear. This is you searching and asking questions while your brain processes the information and presents you the answer. This is why one answer is often different from another, yet sometimes are the same or similar enough to give you chills.

Which means some of us are absorbing the same information, asking the same questions and coming up with the same answers. And shows us how we are all living in the same world. A shared reality.

A reality that that I don't deny has mystical qualities and strange occurrences. I've seen and experienced first-hand strangeness for myself enough not to put my foot down in condemnation of what Non Local intuition is or isn't.

I'm just skeptical in believing that it is one thing and not anything else. And skepticism is a strength, otherwise I could believe, like I think some people do, that Non Local intuition comes from God. And thus, people believe God is speaking to them. Then convince others God is speaking to them and create a cult based on this belief that is really your brain telling you the answers to the questions you are asking that you have all ready decided, but needed Non Local intuition to beam into your brain as a supernatural event before you can act on it. 

And this is when it becomes dangerous. Because that important epiphany that you were waiting for is probably something evil. Something you couldn't act on alone until you had justification, the message from God, to act on it. And these messages always end up doing harm to specific groups of people through their race, gender and age. And always require you to give your money to them as they do God's work.

Is this strength? Not to me. Blind following isn't strength. Blind belief isn't strength. Manipulation is weakness, given or received. 

This isn't a condemnation on religion or belief. If through reason and evidence you come to the conclusion of belief in higher power, you've made a thoughtful decision.

This is a condemnation on manipulation. If a person convinces you through nefarious schemes, lies and dirty tricks, then you've been manipulated. People often say, "it's how I was raised." I'm sorry to say, your parents have manipulated you. And school has manipulated all of us.

The argument that we don't see true reality because we don't need all of it to survive is becoming my reality. I can smell many smells, but my dog can smell a thousand more. There's a reality hidden from us that nature has decided we don't need to see. And if we let it, society can do the same. History and science can be hidden from us because the authority in charge can decide we don't need to see it.

The difference between Authoritarianism and Fascism is Fascists will use violence and force to make you submit to their beliefs. Authoritarianism will manipulate you into believing using their ordained truth and hiding everything else by silencing and restricting news, journalism, media, communication, internet access, technology or anything that can make you believe anything other than what they want you to know.

So Authoritarianism is hard to do. It's hard to cut off from the entire world and only present one worldview for everyone to believe. But Fascism is quite easy, if you have the stomach for it. And most people do, which makes most people fascists whether they know it or not.

To steal Jeff Foxworthy's You Might Be a Redneck routine; if you go on the internet and make fun of someone because you didn't like their outfit, you're a fascist. If you believe your opinion is better than everyone else's and should be followed no matter what, you're a fascist. If you start a sentence with, 'I just think ...', you're a fascist. If you're unable to accept a person for who they are and insists that they conform to their way of life and standards, you're a fascist.

This doesn't mean you have to like everyone or love every person you meet. But, you have to respect them and acknowledge their right to exist. Because if you don't, those people are going to get together and deny your right to exist.

And as the Beastie Boys sing, "You got to fight, for your right, to party!" Find strength in your authentic self. Moles and all.

This blog post was brought to you by Snot Hard Seltzer. It's not disgusting. It's SNOT disgusting.

Self-Loathing

I hate that I can't smile. Not literally, physically I can smile, and I do smile a lot. Things are funny to me. What I mean when I say, I can't smile, is in photos. Every photo of me smiling looks like I just finished committing a horrible crime.

I hate that I can't wear short sleeves or take my shirt off in public. I have and been met with the gasping chills of my burden of a body riddled with moles. Big moles, small moles, flat moles, popping out mountain moles from the top of my head down to my toes and everywhere in between. I'm a prisoner in my clothes looking out at the world of beautiful smoothed skinned people enjoying themselves.

That's probably while my smile is grim. I know I'm going to hate myself when I look at it. 

I'm getting old and this self-conscious feeling is getting real old. When does a person wake up and stop caring?

I want to love myself, I want to care for myself. I don't hate myself. I didn't ask for this body, but I have to endure it. Everyday, every hour, every minute, every second I look down and see them plaguing my skin.

It's not that bad, it could be worse. Yeah, one grew into a tumor and they had to cut my face open to dig it out and slice my cheek to stretch the skin over to graph it back together leaving a giant scar that irritated the skin around it leaving constant redness and bumps that haven't healed after a year and a half.

And another one could show up any day.

But it could be worse.

A Bit of Thinking on the World of Consequences

 

We know everything we need to know, we live and we die. Everything else is indulgent. 

I say this because I feel it may be a waste of time to think otherwise. We wake up everyday the same. As people, not the same because we learn and grow, make mistakes and make corrections, change our hair, change our job, change our location, but we can't change our skin, bones or blood. Unless we survive a horrible accident in which the surgeons had to skin graft new skin and do a blood transfusion. And all this for our outward appearance. The things that are easier to change are on the inside. Our knowledge, our hearts, our perception of who we are in the world.

But it is in the world. The external world is all around us. When we go to sleep and wake up it is in the external materialistic world. A world full of trees, rocks, bugs, animals, and other nature side by side with the world we have built for ourselves. The world of buildings, roads, houses, huts, factories, cars, mills, trains, and semi-trucks not to mention other people and their emotional turmoil. The world of consequences. 

This world of consequences is where we can die. Where a car crash can leave us dead. A tree can fall and destroy our home. Too much rain can flood our town and we can drown. The external world where we have to go and make a living. Do a job to have money because that is also apart of the world we have built for ourselves. The world of money, economy, politics and war.

These are the things we have to worry about everyday. Not if the world is a mirage, or a simulation, or if it is even real or not, because it feels pretty real to me.

A place where people say to live your best life, but also fear the unknown. A place where the best things in life should be free, but aren't and the things that are ruin your day like rain at a picnic. And so the people cry never thinking for a moment that they didn't pay a thing, because if they did, they would pay for sunshine and let the world dry up and die, because we don't owe nature a thing.

That nature that brought us to life. How I think many people inside their hearts and minds hidden away from the conscious selves condemn the day are ancestors became human. It would of been easier to stay animals. I wonder if they tried, but intelligence was too much for them to hide away from and thus the wheel was born forever leading us into the future where we are right now together. 

A place where many want to stay while others want to run far away to a place that is today for some, but is yesterday for them and others want farther ahead on the surface of Mars married to a robot named Irene-867-9 who uploaded their new software Shitake 15.7 this morning with new and improved sexual performance that have kept the two of you in bed all morning. That place WE will never be, that place YOUR children may never be, and THEIR grandchildren have a chance if we don't all die before the year 2084.

I realize this has gotten Sci-Fi, but it all happened in the external materialistic world I mentioned before. That world where climate change is real, for better or for worse, yet people would rather solve the puzzle of the universe rather than educate the undereducated on the fact that we owe nature everything, and the more we believe we don't and our true alliance belongs to 1's and 0's that never show themselves to us, is dumb. 

Yet as I said, we can learn and grow. It's not too late to bring back our focus on the world of consequences, OUR world, the one where we live, the one that we created, the one that we molded into our image and no one else's. A world that would be easy to say, "We found gold on Mars and it will pay for everything." Because that's what half of this all is, Make Believe.

Money serves important functions for motivation and progress. But you can't force life to be born then deny it the essential needs it has to have to survive: Food, Shelter and Health Care. It's like saying, "Land of the Free! Except for all these rules and regulations you have to follow because we said so or were paid to say so." Fascism and Corrupt Capitalism: There's no freedom in that.

No wonder why we wish for more supernatural events to occur to save us from ourselves. To return us to our animal state of murder and mayhem with disregard to moral obligation, conscious guilt or empathy. Just as people wrote the Bible, they will also write The End of society. Of us? Who knows, but as long as the world of consequences exists, we will all be gone one day. So do as they say and live your best life without worrying what history will say, because it to will be long gone into the void of decay.

Writing A Knife vs. The Knife

 In mystery and horror writing, sometimes the little things matter. Consider these two sentences:

I walked into her holding a knife.

I walked into her holding the knife. 

Each one seems similar and depending on the preceding sentence can make all the difference. 

But alone, 

holding a knife - seems accidental

holding the knife - seems intentional

Consider:

I fell into her hands holding a knife. - This seems accidental, a coincidence that I fell and she was holding a knife. 

While:

I fell into her hands holding the knife. - This seems intentional, on purpose that I fell and she had the knife in her hand. 

A knife could be any knife, one that she was holding to chop up vegetables or cut slices of cheese. 

The knife gives the indication that it is important, one that she was holding to commit murder. 

What do you think? Does a and the matter? Without the rest of the story will we ever know if it was an accident or intentional?

Dead Man's Curve The End

Read:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

And now the finale to Dead Man's Curve

       The arm pulled her up and out through the window. Joyce's dad turned and in a flash stood crunching on broken glass. 

"Joyce."

The banging started to stop, and he watched as the horde started to head back towards the road with one of the ghouls dragging Joyce by the waist. 

"Joyce! I'm coming."

Joyce's dad kick the remaining shards of glass out of the window, but the ghouls were still gathered on the front porch. 

“I can't get out.”

Joyce's screams got farther away and soon the knocking stop. Joyce's dad looked out and saw the horde begin to follow Joyce's voice. 

“Nows your chance. Go and I'll be right behind you.” Mr. Rob said.

Joyce' dad tightened his jaw and leapt through the window. Mr. Rob and the other troops started pushing the table and books away from the door until it was clear enough to open. David still stood motionless in the middle of the trading post. He watched Mr. Rod run out into the night followed by Freddy, Richie and Will. 

“Wait.”

David shuffled across the floor towards the open door. A figured moved outside on the patio and David stopped. 

“Mr. Rob?”

He took another step forward before the figure appeared in the doorway. Shivers ran through David’s body as he saw the burned remains of the man's face. The man turned to fit through the door swinging his eyeball back and forth hanging by his chin from the long vein still attached to the socket.

David tried to step back, but fell hard on his backside. The ghoul turned its head to look at him with its good eye half covered by melted skin off its forehead. A shrill scream rang out across the camp. The ghoul pivoted and twisted itself around flinging its eyeball all over the place towards the sound. It stood bobbing back and forth straining to see then limped off towards the scream's direction. 

David watched it stumble off towards the hill then gasped for air. He put his hands down to lift himself up, but felt a wet puddle of liquid then looked down over his urine soaked pants. He jumped up and stomped on the puddle before taking off out of the trading post. 

Joyce kicked and screamed, scratched and pulled, but the ghoul held her tight under its arm. She looked up to see shards of glass sticking in its face and a long gash across its neck. The ghoul turned its head and she saw a larger piece of glass fall out from behind its ear. Blood began pouring out of the wound splashing onto Joyce. She screamed once more and began her regiment of kicks and punches to break free. 

The horde swarmed around them in a tight formation, walking past the hill to the camp site towards the tree line by the camp's entrance that led to the road. They were moving much faster than before, but Joyce's dad was behind them trying to break through. 

"Joyce."

She could hear the voice of her father, but they began moaning in a unison chorus, "Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve", squeezing themselves closer and closer towards her until she almost couldn't breath. 

They went through the trees trudging through long grass until they stepped onto the road. A small group stayed surrounded around Joyce while the others marched onward in a singe file towards the curve in the road. 

"Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

Joyce continued fighting to get away as the surrounding ghouls flesh began to peel at the edges, blood bubbled from open sores spurting down on Joyce. She flailed her body to get loose, yet another one of them grabbed her legs to hold her still. She tried to kick it away, but felt her foot get stuck between its exposed organs from a wide rectangle cut across its chest down to the hip.

"Daddy!" 

Her father ran through the line of grotesque bodies calling her name when he felt a weight latch onto his leg and cause him to fall on the road. He looked down and saw a child digging its nails into him. Its face sunken in between the nose and eyes with sharp points of cracked skull tearing the skin around its cheeks. 

Joyce's dad grabbed the hands and pulled them off, but more ghouls started to surround him. One leaned over and an eyeball hanging out of the socket dangled close to his face. 

Mr. Rob came charging in and knocked a number of them down. Joyce's dad stood up still holding the child's hands and let go dropping it to the ground. He took a last look and felt empathy for the child.

"Where's Joyce?" Mr. Rob asked. 

"She's up in the front."

"We won't make it going in this mess. Cut through the trees to get around them."

They both climbed up the short hill into the trees.  

Joyce pulled at the ghoul's arm until the bone cracked and fell off dropping her to the ground. Her palms skidded across the pavement as the other one still had her legs and dragged her down the road. 

"Dead man's curve, dead man's curve."

She kicked her legs back and freed herself from the ghoul. The small horde surrounding her started to close in, but one of them was missing a leg and she darted through the hole on all fours. She stood to run then froze as a bright on coming light came straight at her.

Tires squealed and Joyce jumped to the other side of the road landing hard on her hip. The car swerved, but was traveling too fast around the curve and drove off the road CRASH! Straight into a tree. 

Joyce sat up to see the front of the car demolished, yellow blinking lights filling the darkness every half a second, the faint sound of music playing in the air. 

"Joyce!"  

She looked over and saw her dad followed by Mr. Rob. She got up and limped towards them feeling the pain in her hip where she landed on the hard concrete road. 

"Dad."

He ran out to meet her and wrapped his arms around her. 

"Are you hurt?"

She tried to speak, but only tears came out. The passenger side door opened and a man fell to the ground.

"Help me."

Mr. Rob rushed forward. 

"Sir, don't try to move. We are here, we can help you."

He took one more step and stopped. 

"Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

The ghouls were all there, swarmed around the man chanting in unison. 

"Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

The man screamed as they picked him up off the ground. 

"No. No. Where are you taking me? Help. Help me!"

"Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

They carried the man off into the woods and soon everything went silent except for the faint music coming from the car radio. 

"That's the song." Joyce said. 

Her dad looked down at her.

"What song?"

"The song I heard, when I woke you up about the car. That's the same car."

"Stay here."

Joyce's dad walked to the end of the car. He waved his hand for Mr. Rob to follow him over. At first he didn't move, but finally took a few steps forward. Joyce followed a little bit behind until she reached the end of the car. The sound of crunching leaves came from behind them.

"Stay back."

The other scouts; Freddy, Will, Richie and David following behind them came out out of the darkness.

"What was that?" Richie asked.

The rest of the scouts followed with questions and stories of what they had just witnessed.

"Everyone quiet. I told you guys to wait under the light. Those things may still be out there." Mr. Rob said.

They all went silent looking around in every direction. Joyce wanted to say something, but couldn't speak until she saw a movement inside the car.

“There.” 

Dad and Mr. Rob looked and began to move with caution towards the car. The scouts all watched as they made it to the passenger door and FLOP! They all jumped in fright as the man fell onto the ground.

"What? How did he--"

Joyce's dad squatted down next him and put his hand on his neck.

"He's dead." 

Joyce swung around and glanced down the long stretch of dark road past the camp entrance, then back towards the dramatic curve in front of her half lit by a streetlight high in the air. Three square signs with black arrows against a yellow background all pointed in odd directions from their metal posts being bent and re-bent back into position. The line of trees behind them had missing bark, deep scars in the trunk and burns around their trunks. Some smaller ones were broken in the middle with limbs and branches scattered all about. Deep ridges where the grass grew lower than the rest revealed tire tracks that lead straight towards them. 

She wrapped her arms around herself, cold from the horrific encounter they had experienced, and a sudden understanding of the events, she whispered under her breath, "Dead man's curve. Dead man's curve."

The End

Dead Man's Curve Part 3

Click to Read:

Dead Man's Curve Part 1

Dead Man's Curve Part 2

And now, 

Part 3

"Is there a key hiding under a rug or something somewhere?"

They looked around the porch in the mailbox, under the steps, they lifted the rug that said Welcome, but there was nothing. 

"They're coming." David said.

Members of the horde were picking themselves up off the ground and continued coming towards the scouts.

"Over here." Richie said. 

They looked over and saw him standing in front of the window. He jammed his pocket knife underneath and raised it up enough that he could squeeze his hand between the small opening to lift it up. Mr. Rob put his hand inside and helped Richie push it all the way open.  

"Inside everyone." Mr. Rob said. 

Richie climbed in first, followed by Will then Freddy.

"Joyce, go."

She put her knee up on the ledge and fell face first through the window. She twisted her body landing shoulder first onto the hardwood floor. David was lowered down by Joyce's Dad next to her. He followed stretching his long leg through the window and bending his torso underneath to clear his head and saw Joyce on the floor. 

"What happened?" Dad asked.

"I fell on my arm."

Her dad helped her up while she rubbed her shoulder. He took a look at her and only saw a small bruise forming where she landed. 

"You'll be all right."

Mr. Rob came through the window and did an immediate turn to shut it and flip the lock.

"Everyone into the middle." 

The troop gathered in the center of the large room near a long rack of camp souvenirs. It was dark inside the trading post with no way to tell if the horde was coming or not. 

"Are they gone?" Will asked. 

They continued to stand together in silence, listening for a sound. Joyce hugged her dad around his hip, David hugged him on the other side. Mr. Rob stepped forward trying to listen from behind the door. 

"Maybe they--"

BOOM! BOOM! And another BOOM! Then more BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Rumbled against the door and walls. 

"Secure the door. Grab everything you can and put it in front of it." Mr. Rob said.

Joyce's dad followed his instructions and went for a table full of folded camp T-shirts. He slid it across the floor in front of the door. Mr. Rod grabbed a deer head off the wall and wedged it underneath the table. Freddy and Richie began taking books off the shelves and threw them on or under the table. 

The banging kept getting louder and louder, never stopping. David was still paralyzed with fear while Will started helping throw the books. Joyce saw a box full of walking sticks by the window she thought would be able to hold the door shut. She ran over to take one, SMASH! Window glass flew in all directions as an arm came crashing in and wrapped itself around Joyce.

"Daddy!"

Dead Man's Curve Part 2

Read Dead Man's Curve Part 1

Now for 

Part 2

The crunching of metal and shattering of glass rang out over the camp site. The blaring of a horn sounded and -

CRASH!

Then -

CRASH!

And another -

CRASH!

Joyce flew out of her tent. This time her dad was struggling to get out, Mr. Rob unzipped his tent. The muffled voices of the boys groaned in their tents as they woke up in a panic. Soon everyone was centered around the smoldering fire. 

All our voices merged into one as we asked about the noise until Mr. Rob spoke up. 

"Everyone calm down. Me and Mr. Stephen will go check it out. You kids just stay here and wait for us to get back. Ok, just wait here."

They both took off with their flashlights through the trees. From the camp, Joyce could see bright headlights lighting up the woods and flashing yellow lights like she had seen before, except now it was much brighter. The other boys, now awake and with their coats on, walked towards the lights. 

"We're suppose to stay here." Joyce said. 

"I just want to see." Freddy said. 

The other boys followed in agreement. Joyce was hesitant, but followed along with them.

"Just to the tree line." she said. 

"Ok." 

Will stopped at the first tree and the rest lined up next to him. Joyce stood over Richie's shoulder. 

"Do you see your dad?" Richie asked. 

"No. Do you?"

"I think that's him, there."

He pointed to a shadow down by the road. 

"Dad!" 

The shadow crept up the hill crunching on dead leaves, twigs and sticks up towards them. 

"Dad, what's happening?"

The children focused on the figure until it stood in front of them. It leaned down into the light and they saw the  out of a hole between two ripped open pieces of skin across his forehead dark red blood oozing down his face. 

  The children screamed in unison that echoed off the trees and rattled their eardrums as the bloodied man reached out towards them. They ran back towards the middle of the campsite by the dying the fire. 

Will jumped through the front of his tent, then returned with a powerful D battery flashlight. He clicked it On and raised the light beam onto the man's face. Blood continued to flow out of his injury all the way down his neck and soaking into his shirt. 

The leaves rustled and Will shined his light towards it. A second man and a woman came out from the trees behind the first man. Each with similar deep cuts across their face, each spilling dark blood down their shirts and onto the ground. The woman walked forward at a crooked angle to point her eyes in the direction of the children. Will shined the light into her face and she turned away, but they all saw the bone sticking straight out of her neck. 

The couple pushed past the first man into the camp. Through the trees more men, women and children came walking out. All bloodied with some missing limbs, some dragging broken legs across the ground, but all of them charging towards the campsite where the scouts stood petrified in front of the oncoming horror. 

More leaves rustled in the trees and through the horde of ghouls the two scout leaders came running. 

"Dad." Joyce shouted. 

She jumped into his arms. 

"Everyone alright?" Mr. Rob asked. 

He counted the scouts and wrapped his arms around Will, Freddy and Richie as they ran to his side. David stood motionless, still staring at the growing number of bleeding and broken bodies continuing their descent onto the camp. 

Joyce's dad sat her down to one side and reached out for David.

"Let's go. Go! Go! Go!"

Mr. Rob pushed Joyce and the children forward to put them in motion. Mr. Stephen wrapped up David and followed them down the hill. Freddy took the lead as his long legs carried him down the hill faster than everyone else. The horde stomped through the camp knocking tents and supplies all over the ground. Joyce didn't dare turn around for fear they would be right behind her. 

Freddy stopped at the bottom of the hill under the tall lamp post. 

"Which way? Where do we go?"

Mr. Rob pointed to a wood cabin a short distance away. 

"There. The trading post. Go there."

Freddy took off as the rest of the scouts reached the bottom continuing to run as fast as they could. Joyce's dad still carried David in his arms with his head resting on his shoulder who then screamed a high-pitched squeal. Joyce told herself not to look, but her head turned before she could stop herself. The horde began falling and tripping over each other, hitting the ground and started rolling down the hill after them.

Freddy pulled on the door. 

"It's locked." 

Mr. Rob and the other scouts arrived at the trading post. They all pounded and pulled at the door trying to get it open. Joyce's dad sat David on the ground and began searching for a way inside.

To be continued...

Follow The Rules, To Break The Rules

As I was listening to the amazing authors speaking at the Gen Con Writer's Symposium over the weekend (Aug. 1-4, 2019) about the rules of Show, Don't Tell, a topic I have written about a lot over the last few years: What Does Every Book On Writing Say

I suddenly had an thought occur to me when Melissa F. Olson said, "Follow the rules, to break the rules." about the treatment of criminals in fiction.

Follow the rules, to break the rules applies to criminal behavior as the best criminals break the rules while also following the rules. That is why high level gangsters or politicians get away with crime because they are so good at hiding in plain sight. They follow the rules of society and law while breaking them at the same time. These types of criminals are usually leaders of the organization.

Criminals who don't follow the rules, but just break them are the criminals who end up getting caught or worse, being killed right in the beginning. They go straight to breaking the rules without ever following the rules setup in the first place. Learning the ins and outs of society and how to strategically break them. Instead they go for the top the first time.

Even though each type of criminal can engage in a plethora of criminal activity including tax evasion, robbery, bribing, or even murder. The rules follower might have a chance of getting away with it, than the rule breaker.

Popular Follow the Rules criminals in fiction include:
Tony Soprano
Micheal Corleone 
Lex Luther
Gordon Gekko
Most Bond Villains

Not many popular Break the Rules criminals exist in fiction, or any I can think of, because they usually die early on in the story. Plus, this doesn't include henchmen which are a different type of criminal all together.

A straight to Breaking the Rules criminal might be popular because he/she is caught in the first act and through a road of trials is returned to the ordinary world as a better person or rehabilitated from a criminal to a hero who helps others not go down the same path.

If you are writing a mystery, thriller, suspense, paranormal detective or any other type of genre fiction involving crime and criminals, think about the different types of criminals and how they are committing those crimes so you will be able to organize them into one of these two categories.

Happy writing!

Joshua

Dead Man's Curve Part 1

Dead Man's Curve

by 

Joshua J. Wood

1

Joyce laid in her tent following the stitching up and down the grey walls. She had picked it out because of its green color, but that was all on the outside. On the inside was all grey, no green, just grey. And each of those grey lines of stitching formed triangles, so instead of counting sheep, she counted triangles to fall asleep.

The wind blew and rustled the leaves right outside where she laid her head. Camping is the only reason she wanted to be in the Cub Scouts. Her and her dad, who was already snoring in his tent next door, had gone camping together a lot. Then, when the scouts allowed girls to join, his friend Mr. Rob convinced him to sign them up and become a troop dad with him.

They're first activity together was the Fall jamboree at Camp Harris. The other boys, who shared tents, were Will and David next to dad, Freddy and Richie next to them, and Mr. Rob, Richie's dad, on the end. They were the smallest troop there, but had all agreed to do their best to be this year's Fall Jamboree Troop of the Camp. 

Camp Harris was big, with woods and trails covering about five miles along Mud Creek, squeezed between two winding roads on both sides. One of which was Scout road that ran along the front entrance of the camp. A long stretch of road that ran straight into an almost ninety-degree curve when traveling North towards town, right next to where Joyce's troop was assigned to pitch their tents. A curve a lot of people thought they could take at high speed, a curve that gained legendary status as Dead Man's Curve after those people didn't.

The counting of triangles started to work. Joyce started to close her eyes and listened to the lullaby rhythms of the crickets when a bright yellow light filled her tent, flashing on and off and on then off again. Joyce sat up and tried to peek through the small screen on the back of the tent. She couldn't see a thing until the yellow shining light flashed back on brighting the trees down by the road. She grabbed her flashlight, put on her shoes and unzipped her tent. 

Outside, the campsite was dark. The fire pit that still had burning orange embers when she went to bed were now just black and grey ash. She turned and faced towards the road. The yellow lights blinked again bouncing off the hill leading down to the road, then off again. Joyce clicked on her flashlight and started walking. 

        On her way down, she started to make out the shape of a car stopped on the side of the road. The closer she got, she could hear the faint sound of music. The passenger door was open as she shined her light onto a white SUV. She stepped out on the edge between the gravel street and the damp grass behind the car that she could now see was smashed against one of the trees right off of the curve. 

"Is there anyone there? Do you need help?"

She listened for an answer, but only heard the music that she now recognized as one of the songs her mom sang to in the kitchen. She walked towards the open door and stopped. Her heart began to race when she shined her light on the ground and saw a man lying there.

A weak voice came out, "Help me." 

"Oh crap. I'm going to get help, ok. Just stay there, and I'll be back with help, ok."  

Joyce took a step to go back when the man pushed himself up off the ground. He moaned as he sat up on his knees and raised to his feet. 

"You just stay here and I'll go get help. Do you understand?"

The man moaned again while turning his head towards her. She tried to hold the light down, but it crept up farther and farther until it was in the man's face where it reflected the crimson red of blood smeared across it. Joyce screamed in terror just as the man lunged towards her growling incoherent words. She darted up the hill, around the trees and didn't stop until she fell on top of her dad's tent. 

"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up."

Joyce scraped on the front of his tent with one hand, looking for the zipper with the other. 

"Joyce, was is it? Was is it?"

The front of the tent zipped open and Joyce fell into her father's arms. 

"A man wrecked on the road. He's really hurt. It's awful."

Joyce couldn't hold back her tears any longer as they began to stream down her face. Her dad rushed to put his shoes on, took the flashlight out of her hand and leaped to his feet. 

"You wait here. Don't move."

He ran off towards the road. Joyce crawled into her dad's tent and tried to forget the man's blood covered face. Footsteps came back up the hill as Joyce's dad appeared in the doorway. 

"Where did you say he was?"

Joyce sat up.

"Down on the road."

"On that road?"

"Yeah, right there, by the curve."

"I didn't see anything honey."

"His lights were flashing. You didn't see them?"

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't. I didn't see anything.

Joyce couldn't believe it.

"You didn't have a bad dream did you?"

"No, it was real. I'll prove it."

Joyce crawled back out of the tent and headed back down to the road. 

"Joyce, there's nothing down there. It's late, let's just go to bed."

She continued on forcing him to follow her with the flashlight. He caught up to her just before the hill reached the road. There was nothing. 

"I swear. There was a car crashed right over there and a man, a hurt man, and he jumped at me."

"He jumped at you?"

"For help, I think. But it scared me, and, I ran. To get help."

She looked up at him to show she was telling the truth. 

"That was smart, but, there's nothing here now. And thankfully no one is hurt."

Joyce looked around at the dark street. She took the flashlight from her dad and shined it at the tree the car had smashed against. Nothing. No sign of any damage at all. She turned back towards him. 

"You're right. No one was hurt, and maybe it was just a dream. It just didn't feel like a dream, I don't know what it was."

Footsteps came from the top of the hill. Joyce pointed the light up into the face of Mr. Rob. His arm shot up and covered his eyes. 

"What are you guys doing? Is everything alright?"

Joyce's dad pushed the flashlight towards the ground. 

"Everything is fine. Just a bad dream."

"If you say so. Come on back up here and try to get some sleep."

Joyce walked back to the campsite followed by her dad. She went straight for her tent and went inside. Her dad leaned over and peered in at her. She found her towel and wiped the tears from her face.

"You sure don't want to sleep over in my tent. No one is going to think it's weird. I promise. It's how we always go camping."

"No, I want to be able to do this on my own."

"That's right, you're a Cub Scout now. I get it. But, no more late night walks alone. If you hear or see anything again, you come get me right away. Got it?

"I got it."

"I'll see you in the morning my joy."

"Ok." 

He walked off as she reached out and zipped the door shut. Outside she could hear dad and Mr. Rob whispering to each other before going back in their tents.

After several minutes of her father rustling to get comfortable, everything went silent except for the crickets and echoes of croaking frogs down by the creek. Joyce took some deep breaths and tried to forget about what had happened, she'd be able to try and make sense of it all in the morning. She looked around at the triangles, and soon felt the world of sleep wash over when -

CRASH!

To be Continued ...

Steven Wright Job Interview Truth

I was watching Steven Wright and he told a joke in an interesting way. He was in a job interview and pulled out a book. A clear sign he is bored with the interviewees questions, and obviously the interviewee is offended, and asks, "What are you doing?"

So Steven asks, "Let me ask you a question, if you were in your vehicle going the speed of light and turned on the headlights, would they do anything?"

The interviewee said, "I don't know." 

Then he said, "Good, cause I didn't want to work here anyway." And that is exactly how I feel. 

I want to ask perplexing questions and brainstorm answers, not hear, "I don't know" from business leaders. 

Here is my answer:

What would happen is, the lights would turn on and you would see in front of you. 

If you are in the vehicle traveling the same speed, then nothing would change traveling as fast as the speed of light as traveling 55mph down the highway. 

Because time is relative. It happens at the same time as you. Objects that are stationary, as in Star Trek or Star Wars would blur at warp speed, but everything you experience inside the object moving that fast will seem the same speed. Even the headlights. 

Although, if you would have time to turn them on going the speed of light in the first place, is a different question?

The Death Of The Store

People want to learn, they don't want to be told, they do want to be entertained, but to sell to someone is to teach them how to use it. That is why Sears went out of business. A company use to hire salespeople who knew how to use the tools, those salespeople taught the customer how to use the tools, and then the customer felt comfortable buying the tools. People made a living at doing this. When that went away, when Sears just hired people willing to work for nine dollars an hour, take the tools or leave them, I get paid regardless attitude. They lost their customers. They sent them to learn how to use those tools on the internet through How-To blogs and YouTube videos, and while there, on the internet, they were a click away from buying them online, with no need to go to the store. And this how stores still hire people today, and that same attitude persists, thus they want to lower wages because they think, "No one works hard anymore." So one day when you look around and ask yourself, "What happened to all the stores?" You will know, the store is dead, because all the teachers found a better job on the internet.

Aphorism

Eugene Thacker says, "the pessimist is understood to be the complainer, forever pointing out what is wrong with the world without ever offering a solution."

I think this a correct observation, but it is wrong for the neutral or optimist to perceive of the pessimist. As a pessimist myself, I believe the source of my pessimism is that I do offer up the solution, but no one listens, and so the world continues on the wrong track towards its inevitable tipping point of doom. 

Give The Gift of Four Roses Bourbon This Valentine's Day

     During a slow hour at the store, a customer came in looking for a specific brand of Bourbon called Four Roses. She needed three bottles as a house warming gift for a friend. I asked, "Why three?", and she answered, "To make a dozen roses." Brilliant! 

     I urge you to steal this lady's idea, I'm sure she won't mind, for this Valentine's day and give that special Bourbon lover in your life, maybe not three, yet at least one bottle of Four Roses as an inspired Valentine's day gift. It is the type of roses they really want after all. 

     Four Roses has three different types of bourbon that you could buy to make as the perfect gift. 

     The first is the standard Four Roses that runs around 18.99 on average with a crisp and smooth tast of pear and apple flavors.

     The second is the Small Batch Bourbon that runs around 26.99 on average with a mellow and well-balaced flavor of dried spice and ripened red berries.

     The third is the Single Barrel Bourbon that runs around 36.99 on average with a robust and full-body flavor of ripe plum and cherries.

     Valentine's day doesn't have to be all about cards and candy, or real flowers anymore. With Four Roses bourbon you can celebrate with good whiskey and a dash of cleverness. Happy Valentine's Day!

Visitwww.fourrosesbourbon.comto learn more. 

Advice for Storytellers by Sam Simon

Sam Simon is best known for co-creating The Simpsons, but also worked as a writer, director and producer for many television and radio shows from 1979 to the 2000's such as Barney Miller, Taxi, The Norm Show, The George Carlin Show and a list of others. He died in March of 2015 of cancer, but before he did he appeared on WTF with Marc Maron and gave this wonderful advice for people interested in telling stories:

1. Story above all

2. Don't be afraid of the quiet moments

3. Love your characters

I could sit here and tell you everything that I think they mean, but really, you have to find the meaning for yourself. Meditate on these three rules, philosophize about them in the shower, use them as writing prompts in your journal, or tattoo them on your body. Whatever you have to do to find the meaning from his advice: DO IT!

To find out more about Sam Simon and his legendary career check out his Wikipedia page.

Google+ Is Dead

Back in 2011, Google created its own social network, Google+ (aka Google Plus). Everyone with a Gmail account automatically got a profile whether you wanted one or not. Many just ignored it and kept using Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. 

You couldn't blame them, the major flaw of Google+ was its lack of a user friendly mobile interface. It worked better on your desktop or laptop than it did on your phone, which made it difficult for people to stay in touch when they were away from their computer, and thus didn't have as many users as they wanted. 

For those of us that did though, it was pretty cool. What Google did right was they created communities. Users could create a community, say Nature Photography, and let people join who took or enjoyed nature photography, and share their pictures and joy. 

Through the years I was on Google+, I joined many street photography and writing communities and participated in them. Some were better than others, but they all had interesting stuff in them. They let you connect with others without having to Friend or Follow them. Although, Google+ did have a somewhat complicated Circle that you could pick and choose what people in your network saw what you wanted them to see. A direct response to the number one complaint on Facebook, "How do I keep my mom from seeing my posts?" Well, most of our moms weren't on Google+, or never any heard of it, so their was nothing to worry about. There also wasn't a lot of opionated garbage or harassment, or if there was, I never experienced any. 

For most of us, especially creative types, it was our own personal salon. A place we could put our work and share it with others who would appreciate it. A place hidden away from the trolls who like to tear your down, and was instead inhabited by people who liked to lift you up. 

Yes, you're right, the trolls were probably out there, and any community moderator you talk too probably has a lot of stories about horrible people saying horrible things, but like I said before, this was not my experience as it has been on other social media sites. 

One of the best experiences I had was in one of the writing communities. Every week they would post a picture as a writing prompt and have participants write a 600 word flash fiction story based on it. Because of those, I started writing again. 

Every week, I looked forward to the new prompt and would write short short stories based on them. Many I reread recently and were almost all written in the present tense. Yet, no one ever badgered or overly criticized me on the matter. They took my story for what it was worth, and moved on. The only person who was embarrassed was me. So I have revised and edited them from their apparent first drafts, which are currently on Blogger. 

Speaking of Blogger, another free Google product unless you decided to buy your domain name so you don't have to use the .blogspot in the web address, was synched with Google+. Any time you made a blog entry, all you had to do was hit the share button to have it posted to your Google+ profile. A convenient feature for writers to publish their content for their readers. But according to Google, there are no users, so that means, there are no readers. 

On that note, I have to be honest, I haven't used Google+ for the last three years. Although, I don't use any social media for personal use that much. I have accounts on all the popular sites except Snapchat, I use them to stay in touch with people I have met around the world or to promote my creative content, just as I did on Google+. 

One of the best communities I was apart of was the street photography community. Seeing pictures from different photographers from places I have never been, seeing how people lived, and sharing my own experiences while living in Japan was a lot of fun. An experience I never had on any other site. 

Although Instagram has won the best social media site for photos, you still have to use hashtags to find content that you are looking for inside their app. Communities worked a lot better for people to find others interested in the same things without having to follow every photographer you found interesting. The size of the community also allowed for people to not have to share all the time. When you're building your Instagram profile, you feel pressured to add continuous content to stay at the top of everyone's feed. It is not for the casual user, even though it is the only one I use anymore. 

In all, I think it's a shame that Google is getting rid of Google+. People didn't like it as much as their other products, and that's ok. Knowing them, from what I've heard and read, they will work to make something better with desktop and mobile friendly interfaces. They will be patient not to release it until the time is right, which will be right after Facebook destroys itself. Then they will strike with their new platform, something similar to the old, but new and shiny to attract the masses. And hopefully that place will be called: Google Community.

Flat Earth Theory Is Killing Me

I read article about how Flat Earth theory followers explained the lunar eclipse that occurred last week on January 20/21. And, I have to say, it's the craziest thing I have ever heard.

In their theory, an unseen object sits in font of the Sun, it is unseen because of the powerful light radiating from the Sun hides it from us. When that object hit a certain spot in front of the Sun, it casted a shadow on the Moon causing the eclipse.

1) We have camera technology that can take pictures of the Sun with dark lenses or use computer software to remove the blazing radiation so that we can see the Sun's surface, and there is no object.

2) Yes, Mercury and Venus sometimes cross in front of it, but they are not big enough to cause an eclipse that would cast on the Moon.

Why is it easier for them to create unbelievable fantasy of how the Earth interacts with the Sun and the Moon as a flat disc, then to believe the centuries of astronomy from scientists such as Galileo, Copernicus, Newton and others who faced prosecution for what the undeniable proof that we revolve around the Sun, our planet is a sphere that also rotates on an axis, eight other planets also revolve around this one Sun, they also have Moons that are spherical that revolve around then, and beyond that there are millions more planets and stars scattered across the universe?

If it were fiction for entertainment, I would be thoroughly entertained, yet it is not. The scary thing is they are trying to pass this off as truth. That we are all on a flat surface and somehow there is day and night. I actually don't know how they explain this because the idea is so absurd, I don't want to know. Because at the end of the day, they don't have proof. They have no evidence that any of this true, yet astronomers and astrophysicists do have proof that the universe works in the way we have all been taught that it does in school.

Don't fall prey to this false information because of some sort of intellectual rebellion, or need to be different or part of a group. There are plenty of conspiracy theories and even more human drama playing out fulfill any and all of those needs. Believing in a flat Earth should not be one of them.