The 72nd Delusion

FREE STORY: Fitful Sleep

Last year I had to take a cold, hard look at myself, my place in the publishing industry, and how I conduct myself on social media. Book sales sucked. The constant feeling of being left out and ignored loomed over me—and was probably mostly in my head and not even a reality. A string of releases with subpar response from readers destroyed me. I made a self-loathing post on Facebook then went out on a day-long yard sale binge—the 411 Yard Sale that spans several states twice a year. When I got home and looked at my socials, I saw a ton of responses on my post. I was being called out for acting like a little bitch . . . in the nicest way possible, I might add. I had a few private messages from friends letting me know I could always message if I needed to vent. It all made me take a step back and think about how I was conducting myself. It forced me to reevaluate how I was managing myself and my writing career. I was doing it all wrong. That was clear. On that day I told myself I will never make a public post about my negative feelings and self-deprecation. I decided above all that I need to remain positive. If I had nothing good to say, then I would just piss off until I was over it. And so that’s what I’ve been doing. Since then, things have been going better than ever. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not selling books like hotcakes or anything, but I’m definitely finding a consistency that seems to be reflected from a serious change in demeanor and attitude. So, to those who commented on that post last year or reached out to me privately, thank you! Your suggestions and commentary and friendship made a serious change, and I’m better off for it.

A couple bits of housekeeping and then the free story—I write that as if you can’t just skip this part and go straight to the story.

Books and Brews 2 is happening Saturday August 2nd at Wyndham Noblesville, Indiana. The list of authors is truly staggering and just downright amazing. And I’ll be there, so if you would like to meet me and all the other awesome writers attending, get everything in order and get to the show! There are also fun things happening on the nights leading up to the show, if you plan on staying at the hotel. Get more info HERE.

The Traveling Movie Show is coming out on June 3rd. I’m very excited for this book. I hope my readers enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’ve always been a big horror movie fan, so it was about time I wrote a book that reflected how much horror film means to me, and how much it meant to me in my formidable years.

This is a never before published story, which is a rarity in my newsletter. I typically recycle an older story, but this one has been hanging around on my hard drive for a few years. I’ve submitted it a couple times with no luck. It’s one of those stories that doesn’t seem to fit submission calls that I see. It’s a quieter story and the horror is subtle. It’s not a long read. I try to keep ‘em fairly short in the newsletter. Enjoy!

Fitful Sleep

Going to sleep next to someone you loathe has got to be one of the worst ways to end your day, everyday. Julianne wasn’t sure, but suspected her sleep was fairly deprived due to this very tragic reality of her life. A marriage that was not on the rocks, but completely ground into indistinguishable sand. Loveless. Sad.

She lay there with her back to Matt. He hadn’t turned around in what seemed like years. There was no snuggling, no talk of the future, no sharing concerns and dreams, no gentle kisses that would escalate into the throes of passion. No touches. No caresses. Nothing.

These days, that was fine with Julianne. She had learned to detest Matt. Frankly, at this time in their ill-fated relationship the touch of his fingers were like icicles on her skin. Were he to turn around and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, she would cringe at the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. Hold her breath so as not to inhale what had to be a feted odor emanating from the gulch of his mouth. It wasn’t that Matt had particularly bad breath. He didn’t, and he always brushed and flossed before bed. When two people who had been so connected to one another drifted apart but were forced to remain so close, the resentment began to alter perceptions.

Julianne sighed. Sleep did not come easy these days. Her mind always went down that rabbit hole of where she went wrong in life and why the hell was she sleeping next to a man she had so little in common with. How did she get here? Why couldn’t she get out? Because divorce took so long? Because she couldn’t bear to be alone, separated, even though she couldn’t stand to be with this man snoring so uproariously beside her? Because even a life in misery became something almost comforting opposed to the thought of loneliness?

Because Matt wasn’t abusive. Because he still loved her even though she couldn’t stand him. He was distant. They lived like strangers. Like roommates who slept in the same bed. He told her he loved her, but infrequently, and only when he actually realized that she was distressed, which was pretty much all the time, though he only really noticed on a most infrequent basis. His pleas of love were anchors for him to keep her around, but they didn’t do any more than that. As of late, they weren’t even anchors. More like inflatable buoys that could be popped at any time.

I should just leave. File papers. Get a little apartment, a flat if I have to.

She thought those words every night as she lay there listening to Matt's ragged thundering snores. But she didn’t have a job and she was undereducated. The jobs she was qualified for did not pay livable wages. Of course, there were assistance programs she could take advantage of, if she could swallow her pride. Alimony? That would be the big fight in court. They lived frugally as it was. Though she sometimes hated the man lying beside her, asleep minutes if not seconds after laying his head on the pillow like he was pleased with a life of misery, she didn’t want to see him struggle for her sake. If she were to get out of this marriage, she didn’t want to be beholden to Matt in any way, depending on his monthly checks.

Pride. Julianne was chock full of the stuff. She’d been called an old soul, which was a polite way of saying she wasn’t hip to the times. She believed in marriage. At least she used to. These days she wasn’t sure what to believe. Things didn’t just work themselves out like in an old thirty-minute sitcom.

Matt shifted and Julianne froze, breath held as if it was natural that she lay there in bed motionless like a corpse.

Shifting onto her side and facing away from Matt, Julianne attempted to banish all thoughts. It was the only way she would find temporary solace in sleep. The drone of a fan helped. They had a fan at night regardless of the temperature. In the winter the fan was turned around to avoid freezing them out of bed. Julianne would suffer terrible sinus headaches were the fan to be on her in cold weather, but she had to have the sound. It became a focal point for her turbulent mind on nights such as this when thoughts collapsed upon one another in a maddening loop.

In the drone of the fan Julianne could momentarily forget about Matt and their shared life mistakes. The gentle hum was comforting. Soothing. Sometimes in that dream-like state between lucidity and slumber, thoughts would attempt to breach the fan’s monotonous droning. Thoughts would often merge and mutate, eventually becoming the substance of dreams. That odd state between the waking and sleeping world was a place to behold, and Julianne was well aware of that. She liked that place. It was like a drug, being able to consciously wander into her dreamland. She fought to stay in that state, but it was difficult. The sleeping world wanted her completely and bringing too much attention to her consciousness could yank her from that delicate realm, oftentimes causing her to jerk awake all heavy breathing and sometimes even lacquered in sweat.

Having those moments between were like living in a dream, or at least as close to that as Julianne was going to get. Dreams had always fascinated her. As a child she dreamed up whimsical worlds of fantasy like something out of her own private Disney movie. Over time, dreams changed, often involving people from real life in incomparable situations. Dreams drifted away upon waking, but Julianne actively made efforts to retain as much of her dreams as possible. Thinking about them over and over they became ingrained in her mind like memories. Her own personal memories that no one else was privy to and couldn’t be ruined like real life memories.

Floating through the chambers of her mind, Julianne finally felt at ease. Comfortable. Images flashed and became altered in the most magnificent of ways. She smiled, and she could feel that her lips had indeed shifted into a crescent. The first smile in the last twenty-four hours? The first smile since she last dreamed. But then Matt’s snoring became erratic. Julianne tried her best to ignore the sounds that choked out of his throat, tried to remain in her happiest of places, but the inconsistency of his breathing drew her out of her in between state.

There was a time when Julianne had been concerned about Matt’s irregular breathing patterns while he slept. She told him to see a doctor, that he probably had sleep apnea and if he would get it treated he would feel better after finally getting a good night's sleep. He wouldn’t sludge around the house after work and fall asleep on the couch the second he sat his ass down. That irritated the hell out of Julianne. She would say things like “here comes the walking dead” when he came home. It started as a joke, but nowadays there was an underlying bitterness in her voice when she said that particular phrase.

She didn’t push him to see a doctor anymore. He didn’t want to. She didn’t care. Frankly, at this point, the idea of him sleeping next to her with a contraption on his face to help him breathe gave her the willies. What was worse, the snoring or sleeping next to Darth Vader? She could hear it now, the heavy whoosh of air followed by “Julianne, I am your husband.”

Soon enough Julianne was back in her fun zone, playing with the time warp her mind achieved as sleep threatened to take her under its dark embrace. Matt’s inconsistent snoring blazed a trail through the uneven corridors of her most pressing thoughts, but she was good at blocking him out. At times, her laser focus at blocking him out was enough to suspend her frolic through the dreamscape. It was wonderful. It was better than life.

And sometimes there was an extra perk. Not always. Not even very often. But sometimes as she swam through this mishmash of dreams, thoughts, and memory, her body would respond.

When Julianne met Matt she had been immediately attracted to him. He was lean and fit, though not overly muscular. He had a nicely trimmed beard and perfect hair that must have required a gallon of product a week, and this did not bother her at all. A man who took care of himself was something to be treasured and respected. It was after they were married and living together that he changed. His gut expanded at such a rate she thought he must have been wearing girdles back when they were dating. With his weight gain everything started going downhill. It wasn’t so much that he’d become a larger man, but that everything about his being changed. His temper shortened by the day. Fatigue plagued him. Somewhere along the line he’d become hyper-cynical, which was something Julianne despised. The guy wasn’t fun to be around, and so their sex life had withered. She wasn’t even sure he could get it up anymore.

So, at times such as this one, when her body gave off all the signals that she needed relief, Julianne would ease herself to the edge of the bed and reach her hand between her legs, silently massaging herself to the harsh braying of her gluttonous husband. In those moments his ragged breathing didn’t bother her one bit. The semi-euphoric feeling of wading between awake and asleep heightened her senses.

Rubbing her finger in a circular motion on her clitoris, Julianne’s body responded in sweet shivers and jolts as endorphins were released. It was all she could do to stop herself from moaning as pleasure enveloped her.

Her fingers rubbed quicker.

Matt’s staccato snoring reached a new plateau of wheezing highs and lows, almost enough to disturb Julianne out of her much deserved orgasm, and it was close. Oh so close.

The backs of her eyelids were tattooed with an acid trip brilliance, streaked with colors that matched her sensations. Vibrant blues that snaked through her spine like the tingling of ice. Reds that warmed from the vortex where her fingers worked at reaching blessed climax. Violet waves radiating like beaconing halos.

The closer she tread toward sleep, the colors intensified. Her body seemed to float as each and every nerve went into overdrive, preparing her for the final showdown, the very reason she so enjoyed these irregular but oh so anticipated deviations from a life that had become a drag, a torture, a thorn so deep in her spine she felt crippled.

Choking sounds issued. Like Matt was gagging on his own tongue. Like a drunk who needed to be rolled on his side to avoid choking on his own vomit. Gasping. Sweet, sweet gasping.

A struggle for breath.

A struggle to breathe.

As fingers rubbed her moistness, Julianne let a moan slip. It was like the heavens opened up. She’d done this before, even worked herself into a bit of a frenzy, all heavy breathing and sweating, but this time was different. This time she let it all go. Who cares if she woke Matt? She didn’t.

As the throes of the orgasm rippled through Julianne, her body jerked like she was seizing. Her voice broke the still night, and once she had been freed, there was no going back. Low moans of pleasure bellowed out into the bedroom taking purchase over the drone of their fan.

Her body trembled in the aftermath of what was the most exquisite climax Julianne had ever experienced. Her breathing was heavy, exasperated. Eyes closed, she remained in her happy place, ready for sleep to take her.

Beside her, Matt was dead silent.