A glass of the past. A fictional story by me Jessica Singleton

                                                          A  Glass  Of  The  Past  ;
                                                                       By;
                                                          Jessica  Anne  Singleton
                                       A fictional story that will never happen anywhere.


Once upon a time there lived a man who loved art and design in all aspects.  He was a very wealthy man.  He was always building a new home and then selling it before he could live in it.  Then one day he wanted to try something new.  So he bought an old Victorian house that sat on a Virginia Country landscape.    The house was just beautiful.  But because of the time that it was built, there was no in door plumbing and he had to re do the whole house.  He took his time with the house. Just to make it picture perfect.   When he was working on the house he saw that it had a grave yard behind it.  It was a private family plot.  The grave yard sat by a white pumpkin garden and a white rose garden.  He had most of the graves moved in town.  But he forgot the one on the edge.  It was the grave of a ten year old boy.
Once the house was finished, he wanted to throw a Halloween fall party for all his friends. Once his friends saw how lovely the house was, he'd tell them that it was for sale.  
The night of the party, the man had a 1920's theme and everyone was dressed up in flapper costumes.
During the party, the man was looking out the window.  Everyone at the party had commented on the rain.  The rain was a frosted fall mist that made the world look like something out of a snow globe.  He saw the pumpkin patch.  He hated that pumpkin patch. He told those workers to get rid of it. But they did not listen.  That made him very mad.  He was drunk.  He had been drinking red wine all night.  Before he could stop himself he walked outside to the wood shed.  He grabbed the first ax that he could.  He ran out into the driving rain to hack up the pumpkins.  Then he looked down and he saw blood all over the place. The roses and pumpkins were bleeding blood.  When he bent down, he saw that the blood was wine. He'd thrown up all over the place.  It was on his bow tie as well.
He walked back into the house. He went to the tiny bathroom inside of the office he made.  When he was in there he looked up in the mirror and he saw the reflection of the room behind him.  There was an older man sitting at his desk. The man had grey hair and he was going bald.   The man was not in the right costume for the evening.  He looked a few hundred years before the 1920's.  The man was drunk and he did not want to make a scene.  He had so many friends, heaven only knew who this older man was.
The older man was writing in an old leather bound book at the roll top desk.  
The older man looked up at him and he said in a soft but stern voice;

" Sir, I believe it is time to settle your debt.  You own me 5 dollars and 79 pennies. I will take that price now."

" If you are looking for five dollars then you are so cheap that I'd think you did not deserve it. Why do I owe you five dollars? "

" Sir, this is my home.  It has been in my family for two generations. That out back there, is my pumpkin patch. My wife wanted a rose garden. My boy is ill and he wanted pumpkins. My boy died last winter of scarlet fever. So the gardens wall in his final resting place. I will need money for the seeds and replacement of destroyed property.  Your debts mean no more to me then your insults. "

" Here if it is that big of a deal. "
Then he threw a hundred dollar bill on the table.  The older man stood up and he said;

" I do not need that price , hell boy you did not hack up my home. "

But the younger man walked out of the room.
He went back to the party.  A few minutes of looking out the window and he had to go to the bathroom to leak out all that wine.
This time he went to the hallway bathroom. 
When he was in there he could smell roses again.  He turned and he saw the vase that sat on the counter. It had fresh roses in it.
They were bright red and bright orange. The garden only had white roses.  That is when he was going to walk out of the bathroom.  One of the party goers were walking in to the bathroom.  It was a woman.
She put her hand to her mouth and nose.  

"Oh my what is that horrid smell? "
It was The flowers.
They both looked over.
They were white roses after all but they were covered in red wine and shrimp throw up.  The smell in the bathroom was too much.
They both left the bathroom.
He apologized.
When he went back to the party, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
It was the old man again.
The old man handed him the hundred.
The younger man looked over in the mirror and through the view he saw the old man did not exist.
But the crowd had turned into vintage people that did not exist either, just in a reality kind of way.
So he looked out of the mirror and just at the room.
His friends were there again.
That night he went to bed.
He awoke in the middle of the night.
There was a thin ten year old boy standing at the end of his bed.  The boy had a blank look on his face.
Then he raised the ax that was leaning against the end of the bed.  The boy began to laugh hysterically and he threw the ax at the mans head.
It split open like a pumpkin.
When they found the dead man, the police took finger prints off the ax.
It had not been used for some time.
It had the finger prints of a child that died over one hundred years ago and the man who bought the house.


                                                                          The End



Happy Halloween everyone.

Happy Halloween

                                                      Have a dark and safe Halloween to all.


I love the fall. I also love Halloween. It is such a fun time of year. It is my favorite Holiday.  I do not have anything good to say. I could write a story.  I think that is what I will do.  I will wait and put it in here later today, that way it is proven that I wrote something.

Blue Violet Magic Marker Hair Dye job again

I dyed my hair again.    I put two different colors of blue on top of the blonde job that I did the other day.  I left the roots and the bangs blonde.  It is a regular blue color and then a violet blue color.  It reminds me of those Rainbow Brite dolls that I like.  My finger tips are blue too.  I do not have much to say. 
The quote for today is ;

S . S . D . D . =  Same Shit Different Day.  It is from a movie that I like called Dream Catcher.  That is not about this but it will sum up everything that I am feeling right about now.

I read all those William Blake poems that I bought.  He was good at what he did back then.  I guess I respect him.

Blake is not in my top five favorite authors but he was great.  I will give him that.  I wanted to clean my room.  Meaning I will finally fix my bed and spray it.

I would like to not think about it right now if that is okay.

His friends in his mind

I do not know what I'll do with this but I think that I'll use it somehow.

A little boy walks home from school.  He goes into his room and he lines up his stuffed animals. He proceeds to tell them the events of his day but he makes up most of it so it makes him look like his own hero.  It sounds like sawser boy but I had taken a picture earlier of a path that leads to a cliff.
It looked neat.
I am going to call that a dark hole.
It is his fear.

Blonde Magic Marker

 I dyed my hair blonde. It really is a ray of sunshine. It is kind of cute but I'm putting blue in it today.  I dyed it on 10-26-16.  It is now the 27th of October.  I did not put the right time zone in to this blog.  So it post the time of my blogs a little off key.  The time right now is 1:43 AM.

I should put something in here to prove that I am me but at this point... I have no idea what that would be. It does not seem to matter.  The one they have now is supposed to be special. She is acting out a roll.  I have no idea why I need to know this.  I don't think it really matters. If it happens, then nothing that I say will ever change that. I made a few new friends on Face Book. They text and they call my cell phone.  One is named Michael Joel. The other is named Daniel. They are nice to me so far.  They act like they like me.
I guess that is good.
I was looking at dolls again.
No I'm not shopping.
I am guessing that I'll sell three of my own.
NOT any more then 3.
It is not that I do not like my dolls.
It is that I do not need them.

Who knows?
I want to clean my room.
I do not know why but they act like I should be afraid of this one.
I do not like the taste of the pop that I tried today.
I will not try it again.
YUCK.
This really belongs in my diary rather then my blog.
It was to personal.

Free Breath A Fictional Story by me

                                                           Free  Breath
                                                By;  Jessica  Anne  Singleton
                                            A    fictional   story that will never happen.





                       If it is my hand that is connected to my own arm, then give me a reason why I have to have your permission to do anything with it?   You did not make me.  You cannot buy me.  I do not owe you anything.  I have debt in your name.  So who gave you the right to think for me, when you do not even think for yourself?


                     She sat on the park bench and she watched the fall weather chase the dead leaves through the streets like school children in a hurry to get home.
Home is something to ponder.  The idea of feeling at home.  To have the idea that you have a place to go.  Somewhere that belongs to you.  And then the fear that it can be taken from you for no other reason then someone just wanted to watch you sleep on the sidewalk.  There is this hollowness in it.  To be completely alone literally in ones self and in mind.

              Nothing can change the way an animal looks at the person who hit it.  The fear that leads to pleading.  Even when the animal kisses the person's ass and sits by them,  even then it is only out of fear.  Don't mistake that.  No one can love you after you have raped them of their own soul.

She knew that time was flying out into the streets with the wind, but even if she acted upon it, it would go no where.  There was no changing what was already going to happen anyway.

If fear and pain sat side by side on either sides of a balancing scale, then they would tye in their game of tug of war with the poor soul that they decided to devour.  The mind would just linger on the thread of void forever.  Until the person shot themselves in the head or one of their own emotions just gave up on its own.

When she got up to go home, it was only because she did not have a choice.  It was late and cold and she did not have a coat on.  She walked to her box and she turned on the light.  It was so dim that she had to have reading glasses for the simplest of things.  She went to the bathroom to refresh herself, and then she made herself a glass of ice water.
She sat with a book and she put it all way for a few chapters.  It was the only release that she could find from her own hell.
The day that just wouldn't take no for an answer.  Then she decided that she would go to bed, but the bed felt like a stranger to her body.  Her mind was not at ease.  She was so cold and her back hurt so bad.  It felt like a rusty staircase that was bending backwards into her mattress.
Finally by 4 AM, she took a sleeping pill.  But only to cause her more ware and tare.  She'd have to be up by 9 and now she'd feel drugged and broken.
The day would not give her a bed to rest her mind on.

Life would grip at her throat until the day it took her life away from her.  And for no other reason then it just did not care and it had nothing better to do.

In my own pain, I found you there.  You were never there but you were there.
Thank you for giving me closure.  
Even when it broke me, I finally knew where you stood and it gave me a bitter sweet peace.  Just to know..... Better then not knowing.  Breath is a given right to life.  And you need a price from me.  And you kill me before you let me go free.

                                                          The End

Then and Now

I was taking pix last night and today. Of myself.  I even put different older pictures side by side to show that even though I still look the same, I have aged.

These are random pics.
And the side big face one was taken with my phone just a few minutes ago.
There is my senior pic from 98.  It was taken in the summer of 98.
There is a picture of me in Dec of 1987.  I was 7 in that picture.
Then there is a pic of my drivers lic; My drivers lic was issued in 2013.  I have aged to. I will be 37 in Dec of 2016