Short story by me

Pure Pallet

By

Jessica Singleton 

Diary Entry 

10-13-2018

7:45 PM

I walk in the silent hours. 

It's the only time I feel relieved. Being in solitude by a mechanical hand-

Can make the most reclusive person beg for an escape into society.

But the bipolar split comes frojm being cornered and abused by someone else's opinion.

That will make the same victim want the alone hours-

To feel relief from the trap. 

As though the injured animals escaped the lab. The  chance arose. By the ignorance and neglect of the mad man behind the curtain . 

I drink enough coffee. But I still get visits from my headache friends from time to time. 

They linger on the edge of society as well. Although I think they are insane. 

Unlike me-

I have that walking in a straight line thing down. 

At this point you would think that I just got pulled over on the highway after last call.

Nevertheless I am not committed yet. 

So there is hope.

Yesterday I found an apartment building. 

Well it was a vintage building that was turned into a set of homes for sale. 

I bought one of them.

There are only 4 in all. 

The bottom floor is owned by an elderly woman. She is sharper than most people half her age. 

She is twice divorced and once widowed.

She must be rich. She wears broaches that have real diamonds. 

She wears scarves made of silk and her door was partly ajar one day and I would swear that I saw a Baby Grand Piano. 

The second floor is owned by a Spanish artist named Pablo Sanchez. He is a painter in his spare time and tattoo artist on Monday through Wednesday. 

He has a weird dog. 

The third floor was left empty for the longest time. Then a lawyer moved in with her yoga instructor husband. They are always busy and gone. 

I live on the top floor with my cat. 

I have a Burmese cat named cinnamon. 

He guards the windows and sleeps. 

I stayed busy for the longest time.

Keep my mind away from what I forget to mention. 

I can't deal with what I know sometimes. It hurts and echoes throughout me. Like a resonating bell to break the silence on a Sunday afternoon. 

---

Monday morning-

I woke up early for no apparent reason. 

Cinnamon was on the counter in the bathroom trying to drink water out of the sink. 

He has a clean bowl of perfectly good water in the floor. 

I drank coffee and I ate a bagel. 

After I got ready I went to work. 

---

Tuesday night-

I met a friend Marie for a drank at a bar that is down the street from my house. 

When we were halfway done drinking- 

A new crowd of clowns walked into the bar. 

We finished our drinks and we left the noisy crowd. 

They were wild.

They were not bothering us or effecting us.

We were both just not into the obnoxious crowd.

We walked a block to a vampire piano bar. 

Not the kind where they take joke requests for silly hour. 

It's like a gothic jazz club. 

There is a pianist. 

The players only play symphony, vintage 1920s, or Phillip Glass.

The place is dark and lit by candles. 

The center piece on every table is a pewter looking cocktail glass that is molded into the table. It holds candy, but all the wrapping looks vintage. As though it should be from a Rockwell picture. 

The candies are an assortment of butterscotch, mints, salt water taffy, hard candy and caramel.

They don't serve dinner. They have drinks and nuts. The only food they offer is candy. 

Like it's Halloween. 

I was talking to Marie and I got up to go to the bathroom. 

I accidentally bumped into a man. He was stunning in the glow of the ambience of amber and golden light. 

Maybe I was alone too long before I met him, 

Maybe it was the sweet whiskey scent from his charming lips but I fell in love with him. 

He was my witching hour delight. 

He was tanner than me and taller. 

He worked in antiquity and history. 

He could not have been more perfect. 

He was a phantasmagoria mirage from a fairytale. 

And that is what he became. 

But not until sometime later. 

I never stopped to question how you can go through life nonexistent.

Then BOOM out of no where-

Everything is perfect.

But nothing is perfect.

So why would it be?

Perfect?

The night I met him was like a cliche or old wives tale-

Do not stay out after dark.

Don't take candy from strangers and don't talk to monsters.

They will break your heart.

He became a chimera after the lies faded away. 

He became my damnation. 

But like everything in life-

Dark vs light 

Sand vs sea

Everything has a counter point. 

Water and sunlight makes rainbows.

Well darkened corners wipe away lies.

It did not take long before I realized what dangers lurked around.

And I got my life back 100%. 

It did not take years, he was a crush. Just a person who knew that I loved him and he smiled at me for one second. Then he lied to me. He pretended to love me. In hopes of using me. But it never got that far. The truth was to abundantly obvious.  So I never had to go through hell or a waiting spell. 

I was not at a loss. 

And I still received my entire life back.

I was given back what I deserved. 

I don't ever want to be rapped again

For the rest of my life-

I do not want to be rapped.

I do not want to be put in any position 

To where I have no other choice but to consent to sex. 

If I say no.

It means no.

I don't deserve to be rapped just because I am a mixed nationality.

I don't want to live in strife and constant persecution or neglect.

I am not suicidal.

I'm sick of being abused and punished.

I feel so alone and I am not lonely.

I have no one to turn to.

I'm not obsessed

I'm never talking again for the rest of my life. Not unless 

I 

Actually 

Want to. 

And 

I don't.

I'm not ever saying that I am sorry to anyone in Hollywood California either. 

I hate pathetic piss ignorance and self righteous morons. 

I want to find a really good lawyer who does not take money from other people-

Just to screw his clients over. 

I'm not exposed to chemicals and I'm not going to abruptly die in the next 20 years for no apparent reason.  I do not have a.i.d.s.

I'm not gay. 

I do support free choice. 

I understand that. 

I can't make myself accept a lot. 

So I know how it feels when you can't change your mind at will just to please others. 

If they need you to change your opinion just so they feel like they are not wrong. Then-

They are probably pathetic and wrong. 

If anything they are obnoxious . 

I feel like I went for a walk and I bumped into a scene from night of the living dead. 

The dumbest people on earth walk around in a dream like state of complete ignorance. Don't approach them. They bite and they will infect you as they try to eat you. 

Also I cussed out a person named Laura. Okay I'm sorry for that. 

Dimly announced room

grās

By 

Jessica Singleton 

Another time and a memory that has time 

travel through age.

My mind is an old soul.

Not as young as my body 

It's from all 

the wear and hands of time.

But the reminder of your grace 

and your kindness is a dimly lite room.

So inviting from the winter painting hanging on the wall.

I keep that pain locked away. 

And I close my curtains to the sight.

Thank you Lord for giving me the control 
to over come my own emotions 
And to get through this .

You are my only strength. חֶסֶד

חֶסֶד



חֶסֶד

I was out and about today in Bartlesville Oklahoma

I got a car ride into town today. 

I went to the Arvest Bank in Bartlesville Oklahoma. I went to Circle K. I bought some groceries at United Super Market.  It waited to pour rain and hail until we were ready to leave the grocery store. 

No problem. 

I'm home alone now. Someone asked me about my tattoo when I was at the gas station. 

I left my house in Dewey Oklahoma around 2:03 pm. I got home about 30 minutes ago or so. 

What is going on with me

Well this is not a happy blog.

This is reality.

What is going on with me lately?

I have depression.

Most know me and know I battle with anxiety, ptsd, paranoia and depression.

I have not been able to have my medication in a while.

So the dragons of my spirit have been taking control.

Not really that bad.

But I stay in bed a lot. 

I eat

Bathe

Clean my house 

And sometimes read.

No need for the straight jacket just yet. 

I would love to get out but I doubt it would do me much good. 

I heard a rock star died in the news. 

That is not good.

I don't know how to talk to where I will not sound like a sarcastic ass.

Look for what it's worth-

I don't have a problem with Vinnie  Paul.

I never knew him.

I have a hellyeah cd. 

I am sorry for his family and friends who survived him because that is hard to deal with.

I would know what death is like.

And I'm sorry.

But I don't know the right thing to say.

I write fiction and poems. 

And my personal problems make me come off horribly rude. 

I am a big geek.

I love rock and roll and horror movies.

Or I did when I was a kid.

R. I. P 

🍀

I have talked about this before

I do have a port wine stain birthmark on half my face. I have had few laser treatments in attempts to remove it. 

No I don't need to be caught on fire. 

Fire would distort the face more than the discoloration of my birth mark. 

I do not want anyone putting fire around me. 

I'm sorry if I sound paranoid but I feel like that I have to constantly point out the obvious. 

I want my life back. 

For the mockers of my writing and my paranoia- 

No I will not turn into a hard times cobain story because stupid girl bands get jealous. Their talent is to sing. 

My talent is to write. 

End of story. 

Fame is nothing compared to the humiliation that life has taught me. 

I'm good. 

I want my freedom back 💯 % permanently. 

Stationary disbelief

I keep seeing the news written here and there. I don't put my name to it like a self righteous bigot celebrity who we know could careless about anyone but their breed of shit.

But I do have an opinion. 

I don't understand some tactics. 

I will read the news a little more before I open my mouth and talk about something I know nothing about. 

Besides I am not the president of the United States. So my opinion is basically a bazooka on a ten hour car trip. Thank goodness the radio went staticky for that tidbit from the backseat. 

Happy Father's Day

67  Ford

By 

Jessica Singleton 

I don't know why he kept her alive for all those years. She was just a chunk of metal. 

He looked at her with praise after she had been washed and waxed.

He looked at her with concern after a storm. 

You would think they had , had a fight and she was a real person who might leave.

I think I saw frustration in his face when he would have to pull over to fix her.

But he stayed with her for longer then anyone would think she was worth.

Years later after she was not even cool vintage . 

He treated her like a prize that could only be shown off on a weekend. 

She stayed in the garage during the rest of the week days, while he drove a newer model of her. 

But he never had the hart to give her up. 

I guess that is what it means to love someone . 

Happy Father's Day.

Sapphire Seahorses by Jessica Singleton

Once upon a time there lived a great king. His kingdom was near some of the most beautiful waterfalls on earth. Between the mountains and the river beds - his opal kingdom looked like a oil painting of labradorite, azurite, and aragonite.

The sea outside his castle was the home to magical seahorses and dragons. 

The King only had one child. A girl named Jessica.

Jessica was small for her age.  She looked like her grandmother. 

The great king owned a rare stone . The stone had been in his family for years. The king also owned a book that had not been seen since the days of the ancients.

The book was the a treasure in itself. The book had only been handled by some of the most influential people in history. 

The age of the book and the fact that it was in perfect condition gave it a value of being priceless by that alone. 

Although the reason that the book was sought after was not because of it's age alone. That alone was its worth in antiquity and desire. 

But the book had three characteristics that set it apart and made it a coveted desire.

1. It had a smudge on one of the pages. 

The smudge was rumored to have a drop of blood by Christ himself. 

2. The book was the history of the Jews and it contained real magic.

3. The book had very rare information that no one had seen in thousands of years. 

The book had a map in it that lead to a tomb. 

The tomb was a crypt of wealth and power. 

The king and his daughter were the last of their kind. 

A rare bloodline that not many knew about. Most people assumed that the king acquired the book by his wealth alone. 

One day the king was in his personal library. He was with a priest and a rabbi. 

Not a joke. 

Two of the kings closest friends from childhood had grown into religious leaders. 

On Wednesday morning they got together for coffee and an intellectual conversation on stamp collecting, maps and travel ventures and history.

They had never discussed the ancient map. 

They loved to talk about world Atlas coordination. Literally a king , a rabbi and a priest discussed how long it would take to get from one end of the world to the other. 

It was a passion that they shared. 

On that Wednesday the king received a word from one of his advisers that the war that was plaguing the country besides their country-

Was moving towards their border. 

The king had only heard of the problem in the papers. 

He knew that an evil army was going around the globe and picking on smaller minorities. 

The jester cobbler stones were what the press called the army of the damned.

The world always has something going on. 

World hunger in small undeveloped countries is not news. 

Sadly it's fact and injustice.

You would think someone would care enough to fix the problem. 

But what is worse than no leader to lost sheep, is a leader who allows his own people to be slaughter house kibble. 

It took the world a little while to figure out that there was something else wrong.

The world was not a flat empty void for the 13 th dimension. 

Bad people who were in power were robbing the poor of what they did not know that they had. 

Only to use the money to murder and  cover up the deaths that they caused.

The media called the evil soldiers 

" jesters" 

Then the world leaders who kept having to fix the void with their own funds called the soldiers cobbler because they were cheap and simple. 

A cobbler is a simple dish. Flour and water with fruit. 

These idiots stole enough funds to feed the world. 

But they acted like they deserved more. 

They had killed more people than it was worth. Mostly considering that the money and wealth was not already in a person's hands. 

So why bother killing anyone.

They were a joke in the press. 

The problem had never went to anywhere where anyone would say enough is enough. 

The king was not interested in a war but he was appalled by the jokes in the press.

He did not want his people to be next. 

Someone had to put a stop to what was not soldiers but criminals who did not deserve anything for what they did.

The king told his advisers that he would send in real law and real soldiers to get rid of the jester criminals. 

The kings men rode on black horses  in the night to sneak up on the criminals. They captured them all and put them away. The king took the wealth that was recovered and he took it himself back to where it originally belonged. 

When the king came back home he was visited by a man who did not stick out to him at first. 

The man was tall , thin and wore a black robe. 

The man had a strange marking on his wrist as though he had been branded.

The symbol looked like old script from a long time ago.

The man stepped into the light. 

His eyes were different in some way. 

He spoke with a clear calmness that was haunting in itself-

" Your majesty, I don't think we have been properly introduced. My name is Jeremiah. I'm lost for words. You see I started out with an army and then .... well it seems that they are in prison. And my wealth along with them are gone. You seem to be the gate keeper here. Maybe you could explain this travesty to me. "

The king was exhausted from his journey home and he was thirsty. 

He held up his hand and he turned to his maid,

" Please bring me a cold glass of pure water and something for this man. "

The maid ran off.

The king walked over to Jeremiah and he said,

" Sir, my name is Charles. And you are right we have never been properly introduced. Anyway I will save you a speech that will waste both our evenings. You are not a king. You are not a soldier. You have no authority to build an army. In fact what those men were doing was criminal and sickening. Frankly it was pathetic as well. I am a ruler of a kingdom that sits next to an undeveloped country. Those people are screaming for help. Your idiots were dragging that insanity into my borders. That makes it my business. That money, though it maybe stolen, does not give you the right to keep it. Unless you are insane on top of being an obnoxious asshole. "

Jeremiah looked shocked and enraged.

He cleared his throat and he whispered his next words. Though soft they resonated clear as a chapel bell during mass.

" And you will know this dear king. By the next full moon- you will dig into whatever you will find to restore to my hands what I have lost or your daughter will die a cold Dark death that will make angels weep. And one other thing. I want the book of magic that you hold dear. " 

" Are you serious? Do you have any idea who you are speaking to? "

Jeremiah walked as close as he could to the king. 

" Oh I know exactly who you are. But I doubt you know who you are. Which will make this so much more easier and fun. "

Jeremiah pointed his finger and the thorns on the rose bushes turned to snakes. The seahorses jumped out of the water and they turned into wild creatures. 

Jeremiah spun around and just like that he evaporated into thin air.

The king did not sleep well that night. 

The next day a historian came to visit the king.

The book of magic was in question. 

How did the king own it if he did not have a sales receipt?

The king said it had been in his family- 

But where is the proof?

The king realized that for a book like that to have been in his family and that would probably indicate that he was related to all the previous owners of the book. 

So the king did a DNA test.

He was related to every person in history who had written a part of the book.

The king knew nothing about magic. 

But by exposing his situation it brought the truth out.

No wizard could do anything about this. 

The wizard was magical and he could do tricks. 

But the wizard could not actually make the king do anything.

That was mind control in the power of subliminal suggestion.

The king waited and when the next full moon arose-

So did Jeremiah the wizard.

The king told Jeremiah that he had no grounds to affect anything in the kings court. Jeremiah and his spells were over. He could never harm jessica. 

Jeremiah was captured and punished for his part in the destruction of the world.

The End