Sink or swim. Pull your head out of your ass and look around you. Life’s a bitch. Nobody’s gonna tell you this better than her. Who is SHE exactly?
Her words cut right through you like the sharpest blade. You don’t see them coming at first, because you wouldn’t believe a sweet gal like her could cause so much damage, but then you look at yourself and you see blood dripping from your throat, you unable to speak and observing the world with glassy stupid eyes, then you understand she’s done her deed. She’s the bounty hunter of your shallow dreams, she severs your favorite pony’s head and tucks it in your bed while you’re asleep. The rest of the body she hides in Ziploc bags in your fridge. She fears nothing, not even the puke foaming on your lips after you finished one her novels and want to know no more about heartless mothers, deadly bowling pins and all kinds of sick pervs. They’re after you, moron. How can you be so blind to the beauty of the tales she kindly wrote for you? You have no taste if you don’t like them.
She’s smart, no brilliant’s the right word. She knows how to make your skin crawl inward and as your flesh recedes into the hole it came from, you finally measure the intensity of the torture she subjects you to. There’s no begging. No praying. She stares at you and you watch her doll face, you still think she’ll take pity on you but she doesn’t give a damn about your sake. She wants you scared. She wants you grossed out. She wants you to toss and turn for hours until you decide to stay up all night because your nightmares are too powerful to let you find rest. She plants a seed inside your brain that grows and grows until it completely gets rid of your sanity and you want to escape but you can’t. You’re stuck there, hammering the padded walls of your asylum, the room where you thought you were safe. Wrong! She got you, she got you good. She’s the sly one. Not you. Your name will maybe be remembered once it’s engraved on your tombstone. That’s about all you can afford once she’s taken care of you.
So you’re sure you still wanna meet her? I warned you. She’s quite a phenomenon. Her name is Jessica. Jessica McHugh. “Jess The Unforgiving” for closer friends. Let me introduce her to you. She’s sitting right there in the corner, sharpening the ball of her pen.
Check Jessica’s fabulous prose at http://www.jessicamchughbooks.com/ and if you too want a horrific bio drafted by yours truly, please enter your comment in my contest at http://themanicheans.blogspot.com/2011/12/creepfest-new-contest-light.html
And don’t forget the hop ends on the 24th! So hop away while you still can!