Hi Everyone,
I want to tell you about my new book that I just published
called Mattie. It is on
Amazon. The idea of Mattie came to me when I
was watching a cute little girl in a television commercial. She was going door-to-door in her
neighborhood trying to persuade her neighbors to purchase an item from
her. When her neighbors opened their
doors she greeted them with a big smile.
Her hair was in two cute, neat little pigtails. She looked adorable. But even her adorable looks could not hide
the devious side of her seemingly innocent personality. Her neighbors’ expressions indicated that they
picked up on it too. This was part of
what went into Mattie. The rest of Mattie
came from inside my head from previous readings and observations.
For example take this quick short story:
“Coming Home”
I put my key into my apartment door and turned it. I opened my door and walked inside. The apartment was dark. It is always dark at night. I do not leave a light on. It wastes energy. My security alarm went off. The way it was supposed to. I closed my door and turned the deadbolt
lock. I then walked over to my alarm to
reset it. My light switch is ten inches
away from my alarm pad. My routine is to
reset my alarm and flick my light switch to on.
That is what I was doing. But
when I reached for the light switch someone or something grabbed my wrist. I am almost positive it was a hand. The hand was enormous. It covered my wrist and a large part of my
forearm. I tried to yank my wrist
free. The hand was like a vise grip or
blood pressure cuff wrapped around my wrist and part of my arm. I was not going anywhere.
The hand yanked me into my living room. The force was so violent and fast that my
feet left the floor. The next thing I
felt were many sets of hands all over my body.
They tore my blouse away. At the
same time they ripped my pants off. I
struggled hard. But they had me pinned
to the floor. The sound of my clothes
being ripped away was so loud that I feared my appendages would be torn off
with my clothes. Within seconds I was
completely naked. My socks and boots
were even gone. I could feel cold
settling down onto my body. Then it felt
like a group of people piled on top of me.
Like the game played when you were a kid where more and more kids jumped
onto the pile. But this was not one at a
time. Everyone all at once piled
on. My first thought was rape. Then I must have fainted or passed out from
lack of breathing.
The next thing I remember was someone pounding on my
door. I was too exhausted to stand up
and go to the door. Next I heard a loud
crack. Light poured into my
apartment. Shadows rushed in with the
light.
I later saw the pictures of how I was found by the
police. They were the ones who broke in
the door. Someone had called the police
and reported loud noises coming from inside my apartment. It was not a neighbor. That person was never identified. But the police said the person who called left
details of my condition.
The pictures showed me lying in a large pool of blood. I agreed to a rape kit. I was examined by several physicians. I had not been raped. There were no cuts or bruises of any
kind. But it gets even stranger than
that. The blood found in my apartment
was not mine.
Physicians said that if I would have lost that much blood I
would have died. Weeks later I was asked
to go down to the police station again.
They had the report on the blood.
It came from several different animals—bulls, pigs, wolves, and some
could not be identified. They were as
baffled as I still am.
I did not go back to my apartment. I moved out of that state.
Initially I knew the police were suspect of me and my story. No other evidence was found at the
scene. No witnesses or friends had come
forward. There were no leads to
follow. I knew what they were
thinking. Thirty-year-old woman comes
home after a party high on some illicit drug.
Does something she wants to forget about. So she creates a fictitious scene to appease
her conscious. That theory could have
allowed them to ignore me. But in the
last twelve months fifteen similar cases have occurred in that city. Women my age have been the victims. This is hard to ignore.
I hope you enjoyed the short story.
Love, Joan
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