my hair is looking rather Beatles-y, lately.
Rough Draft of Mah Third Fiction Piece!
Infidelity and the Autopsy
Amalia Herp-Derp
[2271 Words]
The dull scent of latex crept into his nose as Dr. Gregory Adams secured the surgical mask about his face. His drab surroundings accentuated the aqua scrubs he wore. Through the protective goggles around his eyes, he saw a man’s body beneath a sheet, and a tray covered in glistening scalpels. Dr. Adams snapped gloves onto his arthritic hands and examined the man’s toe tag. David Nevill, age 89. He steadied his scalpel against the subject, and began the autopsy with a Y-shaped incision across the abdomen.
Dr. Adams dealt better with his patients than he did with his living contemporaries. David Nevill’s heart rested in the doctor’s bloody, latex-bound hands longer than any woman’s ever had. Before he could reflect on this profound notion, the doctor had already switched it out for the man’s right lung. He continued the autopsy without missing a beat.
Novella Back Cover
Like most pathologists, Dr. Gregory Adams is accustomed to the sight and smell of his postmortem patients. By determining and recording causes of death, he earns a decent salary and leads a comfortable, albeit lonely life. Eventually he crosses paths with Christy-Ann Walters, the young and radiant geology professor at the local university. The stoic pair become more emotionally involved, despite her reasonably satisfactory marriage. Smitten, Gregory Adams seems to have found happiness. However, when Christy-Ann’s husband Bruce’s lifeless body is found floating in a nearby lake, a peachy reality quickly sours. Dr. Adams is the first to discover the truth behind Bruce Walters’s untimely demise. The decision between the American justice system and the love of his life proves more difficult than the objectively-minded doctor had anticipated.
Hehe <3
I’m going to save this one for someone special…I can’t save my virginity, but I can save the special purple condom!!
My Heart Reopened
I was wrong.
In December, I broke up with the guy I had been seeing. Despite his being everything I’ve ever wanted and more, I was afraid. I was afraid to fall in love for the same reasons that many young women are:
- Being young, and unsure of one’s self and desires.
- Fear of commitment.
- Anxiety about creating an emotional attachment to another person, no matter how trustworthy they are.
We went our separate ways, and I decided that I needed to rebuild myself from the ground up. My plan was to get closure from my first love, then to regain a true understanding of myself. I hate to say that it’s more complicated than that, but it is.
Anonymous asked: DTF?
Diabetes Trust Foundation? I’ve heard of it, but you have the wrong tumblr. I suggest looking at their website. :3
Anonymous asked: You're never alone as long as someone cares about you. I care, so you're never alone. Remember there's at least one.
Thank you, anonymous person. Y U NO SHOW UR FACE?! XD
Really, though. I appreciate that. I apologize for the crazy emo kid post, last night. I was like, PMS + bad day = I don’t stand a chance. Lol :)
Alien
You know…sometimes I feel so fucking alone in this town. I mean, I can be a pretty solitary person. I’m a writer, a dork, have social anxiety…etc. But…I don’t know. I feel like in my immediate group of friends, I’m always the last to know. Like, if this had just happened once, I’d be okay with it. But…it’s not just once. It’s been happening the whole time I’ve been a part of it.
I love them. And, they say they love me too. I believe them, but still feel so alone sometimes. I guess I put this upon myself, by needing alone time in large quantities…and, not knowing how to say that I’ve had too much. I’ll try to work on that, I guess.
The First Draft of my Second Fiction Piece!
The Sheep and the Strawberry
Amalia Herp-Derp
[3345 words]
An abrasive buzzing startled me awake, as it did every morning. I groped around my nightstand haphazardly in search of the snooze button. Even after disarming the shrill alarm, the lingering shock rendered me bemused. I mumbled obscenities half-consciously as I reburied my face.
“Get up, you lazy twat!”
I resisted the urge to pull my pillow over my head, as it was no use. I stirred, rubbing my eyes and stretching an arm over my head. The subtle scent of mildew crept past the clutter strewn about the room. Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, illuminating a few of the abstract paintings on the wall. The figures I’d painted over the years would keep me company in my grungy single apartment, for now. I drew in a gargantuan yawn, like that of a sleep-deprived lion.
