Spikeblue79-blog - BL@GGING IT !

The creative person is both more primitive and more cultivated, more destructive, a lot madder and a lot saner, than the average person.

Frank Barron  (via wordsnquotes)

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I’d do each one over and over

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I just want to be me—I just want to be useful and… content. I want to stop wondering if I’ll ever feel whole and just be whole. I want to have a purpose, one that I can look at without feeling like I’m less than I was.

Eilis O’Neal, The False Princess (via wordsnquotes)

Wasn’t that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted.

Abraham Verghese, Cutting of the stone (via thequotejournals)

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Debut novel - coming soon

From high above the main amphitheatre, Satan sat drumming his fingers in boredom. For the fifth day running he’d presided over the usual lashings, disembowelments, brandings and general mayhem. He was sick of it and his dissatisfaction was evident to his snide lackey.

               Alongside him, Jeffery sat clutching a big red book. He was a weasel of a man, greasy hair, small eyes and pointed nose – detested by many down in the cavernous underworld including Satan. He personally enjoyed the trips down here, taking a perverse pleasure in the horror that greeted the ‘regulars’. Cheering and hollering, he was a bit taken aback that his master wasn’t joining in.

               “Something wrong my lord?” he asked.

               “It’s hardly good cabaret, is it?” Satan sighed. “I’ve been sitting watching this crap for the last five days. So, pardon me, if the repetition is getting a little irritating.”

               “We have a new bunch of investment bankers arriving at 3 o’clock. Turns out they were having an orgy, there was a slight gas leak and after they were done, they lit their cigars. BOOM!!!” Jeffery laughed heartily.

               “Oh, bankers. How am I supposed to enjoy the torture, when they enjoy it even more??”

               Satan rose from throne and walked off in the direction of his office. Jeffery scurried after him, still holding the big red book to his chest. His little legs moving twice as fast to keep up. Others flung themselves against the walls to avoid him knocking them down.... (TO BE CONTINUED)