All post by R.J. Garcia
Welcome to this leg of the Filles Vertes Publishing MASKS blog hop!
If you somehow landed on this page and haven’t heard about the blog hop, click: here
If you haven’t already, add MASKS to your Goodreads: TBR
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Enjoy glimpses of intriguing stories awaiting you in MASKS.
My story, The Axeman Among Us is inspired by true events: In 1918, two young teen boys encounter the deadliest serial killer of their time, The Axeman of New Orleans. Fearing he will return to kill them; the boys implore the service of a voodoo priestess.
The cries dwindled to nothing by the time we set foot on the Romano’s yard. Then I saw something: someone exiting from the Romano’s back door. My heart pounded furiously as I better contemplated the figure dressed in dark clothes, wearing a slouch hat and clenching an axe. Heat spread across my chest and Mikey’s mouth fell open like a trap door. We froze like two idiot deer in the path of an oncoming locomotive. Mikey muttered a “What the…?” I wanted to run but still stood there. The man drew closer; the bloody axe gleamed in the moonlight, and a chill ran down my spine. I shuddered but remained rooted in my spot.
The man dropped the axe to the ground and lifted his index finger to his mouth, and I swear a smile flitted across his lips. We watched as he ran away, jumping a white picket fence in a seamless bound.
“What just happened, Vincent?” Mikey shakily asked.
“I think he killed them,” I replied. The rapid beating of my heart hurt my chest. “He got away.” For a second, I thought we should have chased after him.
“Did you see? Oh, God. He had an axe.”
Both our eyes shot down to the bloody weapon on the lawn, which had nauseating hairs and pulpy matter along its edge. “Of course, he had an axe. He’s the fucking Axeman.”
I hope you check it out <Because> (keyword) truth is stranger than fiction.
Now hop to the Next Blog
The Lovely Awful Thing
I thought I’d repost my blog on depression in case someone who stumbles on it needs to hear it.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer once revealed a great truth. The truth is the hardest thing to do in this world is to live in it. Buffy had to battle vampires, demons and prevent apocalypse on a regular basis. What almost destroyed Buffy was depression.
What is depression? It can be a lack of serotonin to the brain, which can now be treated with an antidepressant and that’s okay. It can be situational, including but not limited to regular teenage angst, like a break-up or the feeling you don’t belong.
Years ago, I even wrote a poem about my depression:
THE LOVELY AWFUL THING
AT FIRST, I FOUND IT MOST ATTRACTIVE LIKE A FAMILY PET.
IT UNDERSTOOD ME,
AND LICKED MY WOUNDS
WITH ACID SPIT.
MY MOM ONLY SAID,
“YOU’RE LOOKING TOO THIN LATELY.
EAT YOUR PEAS.”
THE LOVELY AWFUL THING TOLD ME
NOT TO TELL A SOUL, AND WHISPERED, “YOU’RE USELESS AND ALONE.”
BUT ONE DAY I DECIDED
TO SEND THE LOVELY, AWFUL THING AWAY.
I GATHERED AND COLLECTED
ALL THE WORDS AND GARBAGE IT GAVE
AND DECIDED TO JUNK THEM.
Depression doesn’t have a type. It can happen to you if you’re pretty, young or old. Although there is no blood test to diagnose depression, it attacks us from within like a disease. It can be fatal. There are well-established symptoms. If you’re depressed, you know you’re depressed. Tell someone. You won’t want to, but make yourself. You’re worth it.
“Everything will be okay in the end.
If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”
She moved with the ease of a person who knew their place in the world. She joined all the clubs. She even started a few new clubs. Almost everybody liked her. Okay, that girl is cool, too, but she’s definitely not a wallflower.
What is a wallflower? A wallflower can be male or female. They are thinkers and have a lot more figured out than many of their peers. They don’t have the confidence to announce it over the PA system. They stay back and prefer to blend in. They only have one photo in the yearbook. They aren’t big on social media but might have an interesting, anonymous blog. A wallflower is a type of loner but may have one, or two close friends. They are never the bullies and are even interesting if you take the time to get to know them. They possess the trait of being good listeners which is very rare among the masses of high school kids.
If you are a wallflower you probably write poetry, or maybe haikus, hardly anyone ever reads. He might be the boy who sits in the back of the room in your visual art class and never says a word and wears the same hoody every day. He doesn’t really do anything to his hair, but it remains perfectly tousled. She may be the girl with the shy smile, you pass in the hall. For Charlie Brown, she was the little red-headed girl. The conception of a wallflower has a little mystery, angst, and allure to it. Do you know a wallflower? Are you a wallflower?