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10/13/2022 11:36 PM
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deepest desire.
i thought my compass was
broken, until i realized it
always pointed towards you;
six months have passed
since the last time i had
seen your beautiful face,
& i knew that i should
let go . . . but i craved
the warmth of your skin
as it pressed into mine . . .
the taste of your lips &
how they fit perfectly
with mine . . .
maybe our journey was
supposed to be this way,
unimaginable twists & turns
that would always lead us
to the one that mattered most . . .
six months is a long time
to be away from the one that
you love, but darling, this love
has only grown stronger, &
i know my compass will
always guide me back to you.
--- my deepest desire;
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10/13/2022 11:35 PM
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big city dreams ii.
* writer's note: hi friends, thanks for following this journey with me. i think this is where i'll end this series (for now) untl i get my life together enough to maybe plan an event? not sure lol. but anyway, if you haven't read parts one and two, please feel free to do so here to catch up. ok thnks ily bye! oh, and thanks to Miri's writer for allowing me to mention her, 🖤.
Varying shades of green covered the walls, breathing life back into the once vacant and empty building. I almost didn’t recognize the place, and probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been the one renovating it; in a way, I was grateful to have had the time to myself to restore it just the way Fergal and I had planned on in the past — but the tiniest part of me hated that I had to do it alone . . .
A sigh exhales from parted, chapped lips as my hand reaches up to wipe the sweat – and paint – from my brow as I admired the work in front of me. A freshly painted logo surrounded by flowers adorned the wall farthest from the entrance; for not painting in years, I was proud of the creation. It wasn’t perfect by any means, small drops of paint running down the wall from where I gobbed on too much product, but to me, it was everything. A sign of hope. A new beginning. A chance to see if I had what it takes to fill my husband’s shoes . . . I doubted myself daily, especially with the last one, but I knew that I’d be making him proud, and that was really all I could ask for.
In a way, I was grateful for his absence . . . it allowed me to grow. To become a stronger woman as I faced my deepest fears head first. It was terrifying, and I hated every moment of it, but knowing I could survive without him here, and knowing I could take care of two kids on my own without feeling like a failure, made it worth it.
And maybe it was stupid of me to hope for his return, so he could see all of the things I’ve accomplished while he was away, but ever since the day he left, I knew our journey wasn’t over.
Dipping the paint brush back into the opened can of paint at my feet, I stand straight and allow myself to stretch, the exhaustion of renovating hitting all at once. I still had so much to do before the opening a month from now, but I was too sleepy to want to finish it tonight.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------
“I have something I want to show you,” I mentioned to my best friend Miri, though she didn’t have much of a choice – I had taken her hostage for the day, as a way to clear my head and get out of the house. I had promised her tequila and tacos, and that was still on the agenda for the day, but this felt like an important pit-stop on the way.
“Okay . . . You’re not pregnant, are you?” She asks, and I can’t help but laugh.
“No,” I say, shaking my head as I pull the car to the backlot of the building. “That would require me to have sex,” I tease as I put it in park and unbuckle my seatbelt.
She scrunches her face in a way that mimics that of a child saying ‘gross’, and laughs before peeking around my shoulder. “An abandoned building?” Her brow quirks up, and I follow her gaze to the outside of the restaurant.
“I know it looks bad on the outside but… Just trust me!” A dash of excitement ends the sentence as she unbuckles her seatbelt, amusement hidden on her face as we head to the back door. “Okay so . . . This was going to be a surprise, but . . .” I turned the key into the doorknob, the smell of fresh paint smacking my senses as we stepped inside. “Ferg and I had plans to turn this into a restaurant . . . It’s just been sitting here for months, and since I was paying the rent on it, I decided to fix it up . . .” I watch as she wanders around slowly, slow panic setting in my belly – as much as I loved it here, I knew it wouldn’t be everyone else’s cup of tea, and the fear of judgment sat heavy on my shoulders. “I know it’s kinda stupid, to still hold on but . . . I guess part of me did it so if he shows up again, he can see that I didn’t forget about him . . .” It was a confession I hadn’t admitted out loud to others but I trusted Miri, and knew that if anyone understood, she would. Her husband was away a lot with work, and sometimes it was nice to have someone that related – though our struggles were different, she still understood the sadness I felt.
“Babes,” she says softly, taking in her surroundings before stopping at the freshly painted logo. “I love it, HE will love it. Did you do this yourself?”
“Mhmm,” I say as I take a step forward to join her, admiring the way the sun hit the letters on the wall. “This morning . . . I plan on opening in a month, maybe two. You’re the only person that knows about it aside from Lilah and Apollo, but they don’t count,” I laugh.
A smile graced her lips as she adjusted her gaze my way, an arm wrapping around my shoulders as she pulled me in for a hug. “I’m proud of you, Len.”
My panic subsides, and I feel myself relax, a shaky breath exhaled. For the first time in a long time, I smile, too. “Thanks . . . I’m proud of myself, too.”
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10/06/2022 11:27 PM
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big city dreams
A building sat vacant on the corner of West Hills and Main, its future dim and nonexistent as Mother Nature began taking its course, vines entangled amongst themselves along the sides of the building. I had purchased it seven months ago — well, we had purchased it seven months ago, in hopes of turning into a restaurant. A space where my husband could cook and I could bake, a place where both of our hearts, love, and souls bled into every piece of food prepared for the customers. A place that we could call our own.
I hadn’t stepped foot in here since my husband's sudden disappearance, and I hadn’t planned on coming around anytime soon, either. It hurt too much to remember all of the plans we had to make this place feel like home. But I needed to feel close to him somehow, and I was running out of places and things that brought me comfort and joy like he once had. I thought that maybe back here would make me feel something other than dread, but as I pushed the key into the doorknob and unlocked the deadbolt, I felt exactly that.
I prepared myself before stepping inside, a breath filling my lungs to their capacity before it’s exhaled into the air around me. It didn’t so much to calm my nerves, but in all honesty, I wasn’t sure that there would be anything that would. I had avoided this place for so long, and I knew that once I stepped through this door, I would be opening a can of emotional worms that I worked hard to stow away for another time. But I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever, either.
A shaky hand rests against the doorframe as the other pushes on the wood, a loud CREAK ! echoing off the empty walls as I take a step inside. The sun was setting so I couldn’t see much, and it had taken me a moment to find a light switch, the bulbs crackling to life and illuminating the space. Emotion hit me all at once; my gaze shifts from the piles of dust that coated every visible surface to the big red heart drawn in sharpie on one wall that read:
‘WE DID IT
LENNON & FERG 2022’
in the center . It stung more than I thought it would, seeing his name etched in his sloppy penmanship. I allow my feet to carry myself closer to the wall, fingers reaching out to trace the letters with precision as I felt the memory left behind. I could still hear the laughs that we shared after we had drawn it.
Dropping my hand, I walk slowly around the room, examining every inch of the vacant space in hopes of remembering what made us fall in love with it in the first place. The building alone was large enough to host a large crowd like we had once dreamed of, and I recall the first walk-through we had done, where Ferg had pointed out where he wanted the ovens to go, and where the booths would line the far windows. He had always wanted to own a space of his own, and though he had success in running Zucc Bros with his family, he wanted something that was his.
I hated that he wasn’t here to get it.
A lump had formed in my throat as I continued my solo walk-through, and I tried swallowing it down to avoid allowing the tears that formed in the corners of my eyes to fall. “I wish you were here . . .” I say aloud as one slips down my cheek, my hand reaching up to wipe away the evidence almost as quickly as it had appeared. I didn’t want to be weak anymore. I didn’t want to be sad.
Exhaling a sigh, my arms slip off my jacket, and I throw it onto the nearest chair before rolling up the sleeves on my shirt. “Well . . . I better get to work,” I say.
I was going to make this a place that he and I would love, one that we could both be proud of. I would pour my heart and soul into these walls, patching up the holes in the drywall and refreshing the paint, picking out furniture that we’d both like. I would make this the restaurant we had always dreamed of owning someday . . . and hope that whenever he comes home, we can follow our dreams together, side by side. It took me three days to declutter the building, pile after pile of junk thrown in dumpsters and to the side of the road in an attempt to clean the place out. Admittedly, I felt like I was biting off more than I could chew on my own. I knew that I could ask my friends for some help, but in a way, I was afraid of looking weak. These walls hid many breakdowns in the last three days, shielding me from the judgment that the outside world had always seemed to push on me when I cried over missing my husband. At least — that’s how it felt to me; I didn’t want anyone else’s pity, and I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me, either. But this sadness . . . it consumed me so often, and a person could only hold on for so long before they broke.
Asking for help meant being vulnerable.
It meant coming to terms with the truth.
Sweat drips off my brow as I look around the room now, and though I should be excited that I’m one step closer to a fresh start, I can’t help but to feel a little lost. This was supposed to be a new start with my husband, and doing it alone felt wrong . . . Exhaling a sigh, my hand reaches up to wipe the sweat (and a possible tear) away, and I pull my phone out of my pocket, snapping a photo of the room before pulling Ferg’s text thread up in my phone. The last fifty messages went unread, and I knew this one would too, but I felt he deserved an update.
ME: I got the restaurant cleaned out . . . I wish we could have done it together, but I wanted to surprise you. I hope you’ll like it when it’s done.
ME: I love you.
I hit send before I could second guess my decision.
—--------------------
“Do you like it?” I ask Lilah, a sliver of a smile creeping across my lips as her little hand squeezes mine, her blue eyes doubling in size as she looks around the building.
“Uh-huh!” She giggles, hand dropping from mine. “What is it??”
Her question makes me laugh, and I find myself kneeling at her level as I explain it. “It’s going to be a restaurant. Daddy and I bought it a little while ago . . . I was wondering if you wanted to help me paint it?”
Her lips form a smile, but I see it fall almost as quickly as it forms. “Mommy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
I watch as she exhales a sigh, her gaze falling to the floor as she shuffles where she stands. “Do you think we’ll ever see Daddy again?”
Heartache.
Lilah was so young, yet she knew more about heartache than most humans did. When her dad died – her real dad – she was too young to really understand anything. But their bond was unlike anything I had ever seen. Stone was so tentative, so loving and caring with her . . . I hated that she had to grow up without him. And I hated it even more that she’s growing up without Fergie now, too.
“I think so, baby . . .” I say hesitantly, unsure how to navigate this conversation. I would always be hopeful that Fergal would come home to us one day, that he would walk through the front door and we could all forget about the hurt and pain that was left behind in his absence. But I didn’t know if it was possible. I hated the idea that I was filling her with false hope, but she looked so sad . . . so lost . . . “I know you miss him,” a hand reaches out to rub her cheek, moving it slowly so I can grab her hand. “I miss him, too. And I think he misses us. I . . . I don’t know why he left, but Daddy was sick. He had some things he had to handle, and I think when he’s okay, he’ll come back.”
“He was sick? Kinda like Daddy number one was sick?”
Nodding my head slowly, I say, “Yeah baby. Just like Daddy number one. And I think Daddy needed some help so he could come back and be better for us so he doesn’t end up like your other Daddy. Does that make sense?”
I can see her going over what I had said in her head, her lips forming a pout before nodding. “Yeah . . . makes sense . . . Mommy?”
“Yeah baby?”
“I think we should paint the walls green. For Daddy.”
A smile tugs at my lips as I pull Lilah into a hug, my lips peppering small kisses to her blonde hair. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”
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09/18/2022 02:47 PM
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visitations.
i rely on the nights where you
visit me in my dreams, your voice
sweet & slow, as you whisper words
i need want to hear.
you tell me you love me, & i know
to some degree, that’s true . . .
when i’m asleep, i can feel it so
deeply that it radiates through
my bones & courses through my
veins like a rush of excitement.
but when i’m awake, it becomes
harder for me to know for certain.
i’d like to believe that our love
was a one in a million kind of love,
the kind that people write
stories about – but you’re not
here anymore, & i’m left to
wonder if you feel the same
way you once had.
when i’m asleep, i don’t have to wonder.
when i’m asleep, your love is
warm, vibrant, & real.
when i’m asleep, your love fills me
with a peace that i haven’t known
since the day you left . . .
i hope one day i won’t have to rely
on dreaming to feel your warmth
once again, but until the day you
come home, i’ll cherish those
nightly visits & pray that they
bring you back to me once & for all
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05/29/2022 10:33 PM
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unfinished business ii
* I please check out part one if you haven't! I'm v proud of this small series, and hope y'all like it just as much?? As a reminder: all towns mentions belong to Vic. This is her world and I'm just living in it!!
“I don’t want to sit,” Stone said, heavy footsteps moving closer to where I stood in the living room. The air around me felt heavier. It felt thicker. I was afraid of him getting too close, and part of me wanted him to shrink down and evaporate into a thin cloud of nothing. “Where’ve you been?” He asks again, and as I attempt to turn away from him, ice cold fingers grip my chin.
This felt wrong. Coming here… it was a mistake. It had to have been. “Stone…” finding words seemed a lot harder than it should have been, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the jolt of electricity his touch sent through my body, or if it was the way I had always felt inferior to him. I had never been good with words, I’m not sure why I thought that would change now. A lump in my throat made it hard to speak. “You died..”
His hand drops, but I can still feel the burn on my skin as I watch his brows furrow in confusion. “I… I went to bed and you weren’t here,” he said angrily, though we both knew that wasn’t exactly true. “I woke up and you were gone.”
“You overdosed. I found you in our bathroom with a needle in your arm…” A shiver shot down my spine at the recollection. “Stone, it’s been years.. I stayed here for months without you,” I felt crazy explaining my life choices to a ghost, but he pulled me here for a reason. And maybe that reason wasn’t to find out the truth about his demise or why I took Lilah and ran, but I had a new life now. One with a husband, and a child that didn’t belong to the dead one standing in front of me. I couldn’t come here and play house the way I knew he so badly wanted me to. “You never showed… i guess, i had hoped that you would have wanted to be here. For me, and for Lilah. For Indi, too. But… you never did, so we.. we moved on.”
He had moved away from me by now, though his gaze lingered on my face. I wanted to back myself into the corner, avoid eye contact at all costs, and go home.
But in a way, I was home.
Malvada would always find its way back to me. It was like an STD that wouldn’t go away, the annoying itch that couldn’t be scratched unless your feet stepped into its sandy deserts. And he knew that. He knew that I would always scratch the itch, and find myself back here.
Stone’s gaze drops to my hand. “That’s not the ring I gave you,” there was a hint of disappointment in his tone, mixed with something else that I couldn’t put my finger on. Jealousy? Regret?
Blue orbs shift to the ring in mention - a beautiful square cut diamond that rests upon a rose gold band with smaller diamonds surrounding it. An engagement ring from my husband. My current husband. “I couldn’t just wait anymore, Stone…” The lump in my throat doubled in size by now, and I thought I was going to vomit all over the dusty floorboards. “I loved you with my whole heart, and… I waited, but then I just… couldn’t anymore.”
“Lennon..”
“Let me finish.” I say, finally looking him in the eye. He looks so different now, older almost. “He’s a really great guy, Stone. He’s great with Lilah and Apollo, and he even tries with Indigo. He tries, because he doesn’t want her to feel like she doesn’t have a family..”
“Who’s Apollo?” His brow raises.
“Oh… He’s my son. We have a son together, Ferg and me. We named him after Indi… Apollo Moon.” I tried to avoid the hurt in his gaze, but guilt sat heavy on my chest. “I really loved you,” I repeated. “Losing you was so f***ing hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever endured. We weren’t good for each other, but you… you were a f***ing drug and I was addicted. When you died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I almost lost the kids. But.. I got better, and I saved up some money, met a man, fell in love, and moved to New York. And it’s been wonderful. You're always in the back of my mind, Stone. I had so many things planned for us, and they got ripped away. Seeing you here today… it f***ed me up. Not because I want to turn my back on my new life, but because you were robbed of yours.”
He walked closer to me now, a sigh exhaling his bearded lips before he pulled me in. He still smelled the same as I remembered. “I didn’t want to leave you, Len.”
Slender arms snaked around his cold torso, and I accepted his embrace hesitantly before answering. “I know you didn’t.”
We held each other for a while, time seeming to stop in those moments we shared. In a way, it was the closure I never got. “Are you happy?” His voice broke the silence.
“Yeah… I really am.”
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05/06/2022 05:53 PM
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empty promises.
“Mommy, why hasn’t Daddy come home?”
The question stops me in my tracks, the dull ache of my husband’s absence forming into a full-fledged, undeniable heartbreak as soon as the words leave my daughter’s mouth. I didn’t want to put her through this again; at the tender age of four years old, Lilah has suffered an unreasonable amount of loss in the parent department. Her father, her real father, had died when she was one, and Ferg… well, I didn’t know what was going on there. A sigh exhales from my lips as I bend down to her level, my hands rubbing her small arms in an attempt to comfort her. I can see the sadness in her eyes, the confusion on her face. I didn’t have the answers she was looking for, though I so badly wish that I had. “Daddy is sick, baby..”
It wasn’t a total lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. I can see her ponder my response, her brow raising as she places her hands on her belly. “Sick? Like when I get sick? Did he go to the doctor?”
Her innocence tugs the corners of my lips into a small smile. “Yeah baby, he went to the doctor.. He may not be home for a while.” The admission of the truth twisted the ache in my heart with a knife, and it seemed harder to accept that there was a chance he may not come home at all. I knew my husband struggled with his addiction, that it ate at him every single day just like Stone’s addiction ate at him. Maybe I was naive in believing this wouldn’t affect us the same way my ex’s sobriety struggles had. Maybe I was naive for thinking he would be different… He was different. Is different. But the monster still chose him, and it pulled him away from us.
And now I’m left picking up the pieces.
“Do you think he misses me?” Lilah asks, a small frown on her little lips.
“Oh baby…” I sigh, pulling her into my embrace, lips brushing the top of her head. She was too young to feel so much heartache, and in this moment, I hated my husband for putting her through it. “He does miss you, and Apollo and Mikey, too. He’ll come back, Lilah. I promise.” It was an empty promise at best, but I didn’t want to disappoint her any more than he had.
I hate this part of addiction.
I hate that it stole my person from me. That it stole my heart. That it stole my children’s fathers and showed no f***ing remorse. I hate that it left me sitting in silence wondering when things would get better. I hate that I had no answers, and all I have left is hope that maybe he’ll come back to me.
To us.
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03/29/2022 11:01 PM
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Mona
Hey, hi, hello - welcome to ‘When Life Hands You Lennon’s’, the podcast where we talk about anything and everythin, and aim to bring you an hour of laughs, good music, and dumb jokes. We have a very special guest this week, and I’m very excited to introduce her to y’all. She’s a local celebrity in the state of Malvada, is rumored to be Satan personified, and the owner of ‘Mona’s Ranch’, MS. DESDEMONA LOVELESS! Thank you for joining me today, Ms. Mona! How are you?
It's a little chilly in here, have you ever considered turning up the heat? I'm just not sure I can have this conversation under these really uncomfortable conditions. Other than that, I'm just peachy. Thank you for having me.
a brow raised from Lennon Chilly..? I don’t think I noticed but.. hm. I’m sorry about that. I can definitely turn the heat up. I know you have a pretty busy schedule back home in Malvada, so I do appreciate you finding some time to talk to me. How have things been over at the Ranch?
It was a hop, skip, and a jump away, really . . . no trouble at all. Business at the Ranch has been booming lately and we're in the process of getting ready for some major changes and renovations. My girls have been working very hard to meet our quota, business died down for a little while. I guess for a period of time, the men who visit the Ranch found comfort in their wives instead.
That’s amazing! Happy to hear that things have been looking up in that aspect. I’ve always wondered what went on behind closed doors . . . Unfortunately, you know how rumors spread faster than chlamydia in Malvada . . . The talk of the town seems to be that your ranch is involved in sex trafficking. Girls gone missing, and such. Any truth to that rumor?
I have heard of these unfortunate rumors and have been questioned multiple times by authorities on the matter, but I can safely say that none of my girls have come to the Ranch unwillingly nor are we involved in such heinous acts. I have plenty of beautiful women working for me, I have no need to seek them elsewhere. The trafficking issue, in my opinion, is far more suited for someone with a god complex than me.
Fair enough. I wouldn’t assume you’d be that evil in nature, anyway. You always seem to look out for those that do right by you, and I’m sure your girls are no different. It’s unfortunate that people run their mouths the way they do - lands them in bad places, you know? How long have you been in Malvada anyway?
Evil is relative anyway, isn't it? Everyone has a different definition of evil because they are always looking for someone else to blame. So, we take an example of a man who gets drunk every single night and decides to come home and beat his wife because his steak wasn't cooked just right, vs a mother who is struggling with postpartum depression that smothers her child because her symptoms were ignored. Which do we consider more evil than the other? The woman who murdered her child, right? Because we relate people who are not mentally sound to evil because we don't want to accept blame for our part in it, or lack thereof. But then you have the people who are playing god and put on a pedestal doing evil things just because they can and they're worshiped. So, who do youconsider more evil? A man with a god complex who wishes to control, or a sinner who lost their way? My whole life, darlin'. Born and bred. I wouldn't change it for the world, either. Malvada is a beautiful place to live.
That’s . . . Very fair. Personally? The man with the god complex. Though it’s incredibly sad that a woman can only silence the voices in her mind by smothering her child, and it certainly doesn’t make it right, she’s not inherently evil. Many people aren’t . . . But some are born into it. They eat, breathe, and sleep evil. It runs through their veins. I say f*** the patriarchy and let them rot. her shoulders shrug as she shifts in her seat, a sudden uncomfortable feeling surrounding her. It is very beautiful. Sometimes I miss it, but I don’t think I’ll ever stay away for too long. What are some of your fondest memories of living in Malvada?
And if you consider the people who eat, breathe, and sleep evil ⸻ they generally have one thing in common : it always has something to do with the church, or their upbringing because of the church. Frankly, I think the world has a skewed vision about who is responsible for their misfortunes. she smiles, then, noticing the uncomfortable shift in lennon's body language. You've heard all the rumors surrounding me, but not the one that tells you once you step foot on Malvada soil, you will never be free of it? It will always be there . . . lingering like the memory of a dead loved one, or a tapping on your shoulder that reminds you where your home is.
Oh, the list of my fondest memories is a bit too long. I suppose, like any mother, no fond memory outranks the birth of my sweet son, Malachi.
Lennon’s head twists over her shoulder as if she feels the tapping that Mona describes, shaking her head slightly at the sight of nobody Huh . . . weird. I suppose you’re right though, it doesn’t ever seem to leave. It pulls at me. Almost as if there’s an invisible shackle around my ankle, and it’s telling me times up. a small, hesitant laugh leaves her lips. I’ve considered moving back, but . . . There’s too many memories there. I don’t think I’ll enjoy it all the same.
What about your daughter? Wasn’t her birth important too?
Too many memories? That makes sense. It can't be easy living with the guilt of putting that needle in your ex-husband's arm. No big deal though, it seems you have made quite the transformation for yourself with the new one. My experience with Malvada is that it . . . makes the memories of our wrongdoings more bearable. Where you suffer here, you will thrive there.
Juliette has a mind of her own. You should know very well that the first born has a bigger place in your heart than those born after. Isn't that how it is with your daughter?
Her brows furrow as a result of Mona’s words, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, Mona. I didn’t . . . I didn’t kill Stone. Or shove the needle in his arm. He chose that for himself. I would appreciate it if we changed the subject . . .
I love all of my children, but yes, I do have a stronger bond with my daughter. She’s been around longer, but that doesn’t mean my son has less of a hold on my heart.
Oh, have I offended you? I figured we were getting to know one another. I mean, all those nights of you both shooting each other up and snorting lines of coke didn't help, I'm sure. But, you're right, that's not my business.
Stone was around longer than Fergal, do you . . . you know, love him more, too?
My relationship with Stone was far from perfect, and I know that we both had a problem. We shared the same demons, drank from the same cup. But my relationship with him is far different than the relationship I have with my husband now. Far different. I will always love Stone, but that doesn’t mean I love him more than Fergal. I don’t think it’s fair to compare the two since one of them is dead.
a sly grin pulls her lips I guess the rumors of you being the personification of Satan are true, then? You sure seem to know an awful lot about me . . . Or do you just like keeping tabs on the residents of Malvada?
I have eyes and ears all over Malvada, darlin', it doesn't take a whole lot for word to travel. But you would like me to admit that, wouldn't you? It would give you a lot of good publicity to say that you've had an interview with Satan. Do you even believe in Satan? Or of a higher power? What would be my motivation here, if I were? How could you help me? Why would your soul be worth anything to me? What have you done that's so bad, that it would give me the satisfaction of torturing you for the rest eternity?
Fair, but I think we both can agree that there’s also been a fair share of people who have claimed to see someone that fits your description before moving to Malvada. Myself included . . . Though, to be honest I was probably high out of my mind when that happened so you can’t really take my word for anything. a shrug I don’t believe in a higher power, just as I personally don’t believe that you’re Satan . . . I think you’d have to believe in something greater than this life in order to believe in the devil. But , I do know that life has an odd way of twisting and turning, and somehow you’re a common denominator for many people in the state of Malvada. Always showing up at the ‘wrong place, right time’ . . . I’m sure you can understand why rumors began circulating.
My life was, and still is, far from perfect and I’ve had my share of sins. I’ve shed blood and laughed about it later on. I’ve thought about doing it again, too. Because it wasn’t fun the first time around. I’m not claiming my soul is worth your torturing because I killed my father in cold blood and felt no remorse afterwards. But I do know that I’ve sinned, like most people have, and I somehow found my way to Malvada because of it.
A blonde with a nice rack being seen in . . . what? Fantasies? That is something that should be speculated? Who doesn't wanna f*** a blonde with big tits, or have one save them from their inner turmoil at their worst moments? she pauses for a beat, contemplating Lennon's words. Truthfully, it sounds like you and the masses are just looking for someone to blame. Stone must have saw me too. Maybe this whole time I was the one who put that heroin in his veins. Rumors are just that . . . rumors. Stories that people make up to make their lives interesting or to excuse their poor behavior.
What do you think Malvada is, exactly? Aside from a state . . . like California, or Ohio. You think you were pulled there by some malevolent force? Did that malevolent force just pull that confession on a live podcast out of you, too?
I’m not looking to blame anyone for anything, Mona. I can take accountability for my actions. Not that it’s any of your business, but I killed him in self-defense. No punishments for something like that. Lesser of two evils, like you mentioned before. another shrug As for Stone.. Stone had his own vices so it wouldn’t surprise me if he did let you shove a needle in his arm. I’m sure he would’ve enjoyed it, in fact.
I don’t necessarily think anyone was pulled here, but Malvada isn’t on any maps. Mostly no one knows it exists, except for the people that have lived there. Don’t you think that’s a little peculiar? That an entire state just shows up out of nowhere? There’s gotta be some sort of magic involved here, or maybe we’re all f***ing crazy.
You're very defensive. Have I hit some sort of nerve? I thought we were merely having a conversation.
Do you believe in magic, then? The kind that could make an entire state appear out of thin air. Maybe what we're witnessing here is a decline in your psyche. Maybe this entire conversation that we're having right now isn't even real, maybe it's magic. Maybe you are going crazy.
her eyes narrow, not wanting to give the other woman any sort of satisfaction that she had irritated her. No, you haven’t. I believe in something. Magic, alternate realities, whatever you want to call it. Your gaslighting tactics won’t work on me, Mona. Perhaps your avoidance of answering the question tells me all I need to know, she shrugs. Anyway, all I’m saying is that you know more about Malvada and it’s creation than most people do, and I think it’s only fair of me to ask questions the people want to know.
Where did you learn that word? Gaslighting? You seem to think you’re so woke, that a gal like me could have a hand in the building of an entire state and it’s mystery. What about me has given you the impression that I know any more than you do?
I didn’t say you were responsible for it’s entire creation, but you’ve been around forever Mona. You’ve gotta know some of Malvada’s secrets.
Ah, the ageism in this conversation alone. massages her temples. I know that you feel his presence, I know that you’re uncomfortable. I know that I remind you of everything that feels like home to you. Your defensiveness tells me as much, so why don’t you just come home.
I don’t know what you’re tal-
the microphone cuts out, static crackling on the listeners end for 15 minutes before the podcast finally ends.
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