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This work of fiction was written exclusively by Stacey L. Moor. All resemblances to actual
This work of fiction was written exclusively by Stacey L. Moor. All resemblances to actual
This work of fiction was written exclusively by Stacey L. Moor.
All resemblances to actual persons; living or deceased, is strictly
coincidental. All rights reserved. No republication of this
material, in any form or medium, is permitted without express
permission of the author.
Cover Design & Photography: Stacey L. Moor
Cover Models: C. J. Hinckson, S. Braxton
Edited by: Susie Henry
Contents

‘Relapse Mishaps’ ‘Dumb Sometimes’

‘Relapse Mishaps’

‘Relapse Mishaps’ by Stacey L. Moor Copyright Stacey L. Moor 2011©® www.staceylmoor.com
by Stacey L. Moor Copyright Stacey L. Moor 2011©® www.staceylmoor.com
by
Stacey L. Moor
Copyright Stacey L. Moor 2011©®
www.staceylmoor.com

On any other day the rainbow never touches the ground.

It’s only when I’m high that I see your true colors. (FREE) I see her
It’s only when I’m high that I see your true colors.
(FREE)
I see her when I close my eyes and stare at the sun.
Her image dances about like lightning bugs coming
out of the shade in the daytime. Her scent carried on
the cherry blossoms when they blow by, her favorite
flavor is fresh rain from summer showers. I hear her
in the birds and the bees and in the rustling of the
trees…
But I know she’s not really in front of me.
I just want her to be…

- 'Lucies' vol. 1

W e only fight when the sun goes down. Arguments made over concrete plans that were never laid find cracks in the sidewalk

we walked on and separated us by our beliefs. Never step on a crack, I say. She looks back and walks leisurely on them rubbing in the insult of the rest of the statement that went unsaid. We only fight when things she wants to do at night have been set aside because I’ve been too tired from doing all that she wanted to do in the day time. We only fight when my phone rings too loudly when we have our date nights in the house. Questions about who’s who and what’s what linger in the air after timers have spun down and hourglasses have lost their patience for being ignored. We only fight when… We only fight when… We only fight when my heart gets the best of my thoughts and feelings win out and what can’t be said sits on the tip of my tongue before it’s washed away by the bottle tipping up once again. I love her. So I stay. She is the only woman that can make me smile on cue.

STACEY L. MOOR

She is the only woman that can run her hand over my leg and rouse my heartbeat to keep up with her intentions. The only woman that has seen my bad side and not left because of fear, and I love her for that. I love her… For that…

fear, and I love her for that. I love her… For that… We had checked into

We had checked into the W Hotel somewhere around nine and while she went on and on about seeing the city, trying new foods and dancing the night away, I could only see the pain in our relationship. The bruises left on my ego had finally started to cauterize while driving under the summer sun with the top down. When they finally began to heal themselves, she called my name and rubbed sugar into my wounds. She found my weakness with her hand on my crotch and my name covered in wine on her lips. She cradled my civilization to grow to new heights when I forget why we had come here in the first place. It seems…that she only likes me, loves me, when we are nowhere near what we are used to. In those flights of fancy she is the woman I remember. In those solitary moments of shared solitude, she is mine. Like she used to be. Exclusively.

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Relapse Mishaps

And then again she is perfect. After having the last pain in my neck soothed away with her sitting on the couch above me as I sat on the floor, JJ had worked my last nerve so hard that I became numb to everything but her pleasure. A gift if you will… Or maybe what she gave was an offering of truce Either way, when her pleasure was set free to roam my body like her own personal countryside, she moved herself as if she rode horse back bareback along the shore and until she had come more than the sun last millennia. Proud of her journey, she brought cool waters to the horse that had carried her so far and allowed her to see something she had never seen before. Though her name is Holly, sometimes also Mine, I call her JJ, because like the old TV show that my mother used to watch, she was Good Times. That was before her drinking got out of hand. And before I chose to follow her down that well, in the hope that I could save her. The sounds of whispers in the dark pushed what we had into the light by force. Drunk words were regurgitated verbatim for her while she crowned a new throne with what she had thrown up in the morning to her disbelief. At first, I thought that with all of the sex we had been having, that it had turned into love that we were

disbelief. At first, I thought that with all of the sex we had been having, that

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STACEY L. MOOR

making, and that with no birth control, no condoms, no spermicides or even pulling out, that she was baking. Morning sickness was usually one of the first signs of

a bun in the oven. Though no one I knew had been having dreams of
a bun in the oven.
Though no one I knew had been having dreams of
fish, with me being a Pisces, there was little I could do
to concentrate on the surreal for what was right in front
of me.
When I let go of her hair, I touched my side and
winced. The bandages would need to be changed soon,
because there was blood on my hands.
Last night she was dancing on speakers in the club in
a

dress too short to even call a skirt - or clothing for that matter - when flocks of people started migrating toward her. Only when I returned with our second round of drinks did she come down, guzzle both hers and mine before she kissed me and climbed back into our reserved space in VIP. Though I wanted the waitress to take our orders so I didn’t have to leave her side, she insisted that I be the one to handle her drinks. She said something about someone slipping something into her drink before and something else that she mumbled when her eyes rolled back in her head. Little did I know that she had slipped her own self a little something extra when in the Ladies Room.

8

Relapse Mishaps

JJ screamed at the top of her lungs, “This is my sooooong! Baby, hurry up! I wanna suck your dick in front of everyone!” She kissed my lips as she moaned and told me to hurry once again. A bottle of sangria in our room that was meant for two was necked by one who had the majority share,

there were a few shots taken in the hotel lobby as we ate appetizers at the tapas bar they offered to guests, and we had already been to two other bars before coming here.

I I
I
I

watched the woman I love make her way back to the

speaker she had coveted as her own when none of it made sense any more.

The feeling of sadness coiling around the excitement ignited by her words; a wave of soberness rushed over me as I looked out to her.

put the glasses down on the ledge along the wall and

went to her. I made my way to her with ‘pardon’s and ‘excuse me’s until I was eye level with her ankles and had to look up to her like everyone else that flocked around pointing, laughing with their cell phones out and aimed up; some made disgusted faces, others begin to salivate. “JJ, come on! Get down!” I screamed over the music that blared my senses away.

faces, others begin to salivate. “JJ, come on! Get down!” I screamed over the music that
faces, others begin to salivate. “JJ, come on! Get down!” I screamed over the music that

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STACEY L. MOOR

The vibrations coming from the speaker pushing against my chest made it hard to catch my breath when I started to inhale again in order to command her down. My hand out to her, she ignored me, while people who didn’t know her cheered her on, telling her to stay. Anger building in my shoulders, my hand balled into a fist before stretching back out. The pain in my arm

from waiting so long for her to take my hand only intensified the feeling that
from waiting so long for her to take my hand only
intensified the feeling that I had to get as far away from
her as I could.
But then memories of her walking through a field of
sunflowers at dawn reminded me that love is not simply
something you can walk away from.
I couldn’t leave her.
I called her name again. With more authority in my
voice and more determination in my eyes, she weighed
her options carefully before she stopped dancing and
took my hand as she climbed down.
“You’re no fun,” she said with her arms folded.
“Where are your panties?”
“What?”

“Where are your panties?” “I can’t hear you! Let’s go to the bar!” JJ started to walk away from me when I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back into me. “Yo, where the fuck are your panties? Your ass dancing up on a fuckin’ speaker? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

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Relapse Mishaps

“I didn’t wear any,” she said as she reached underneath her dress and moistened her fingers. “You don’t want another drink? Here, taste this then.” She put two fingers to my lips, and though it was a flavor I have savored many times, now it felt like poison had hit my system and my grip got tighter. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She grimaced before she tried to pull away. “You’re hurting me!” “I’m tired of your shit! I’m really fuckin’ tired of your shit! If it’s not one thing, it’s five! We’re leaving! Now!” “Let go of me! You’re hurting me!” she whined as she tried to wiggle out of my grip. “Yo, holmes, the lady said let go.” I look to who stood next to us. He was closer to her than to me, yet his eyes never left mine as he repeated himself. “Yo, holmes… Let her go.” “This doesn’t concern you, bruh.” But the short, stocky man dressed in black told me that if I have my hands on a woman that doesn’t want to be held, then it was his concern. “Let me go, Tracey!” This place was so loud… So many distractions… So many witnesses…

it was his concern. “Let me go, Tracey!” This place was so loud… So many distractions…

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STACEY L. MOOR

I thought twice about reaching for the holster strapped cleanly under my blazer and lighting this guy up.

I didn’t do it for him. I did it for her. I only let my
I didn’t do it for him. I did it for her.
I only let my woman go to punch this wanna-be
Captain Save-a-hoe on the chin, which buckled him and
pushed him to the floor with his feet in the air.
JJ tumbled even harder to the ground when I let her
go mid-struggle to get free.
I rushed to him and took out all of the anger I’ve been
holding in and had set aside over the past seventh
months.
The nights she stumbled in after dawn and also the
days she never came home. The nights when sleep was
not allowed for either because care had to be given. The
cracked mirrors and broken bottles, the shouting and
the crying
I had put up with so much without even

knowing it. I thought I would be able to get over the issues we had, but when she drank, it only reassured me that there was nothing left to be saved. The tip of my shoe found his liver as he curled into the fetal position and the bouncers rushed over. Two of them got to me at the same time, but both went down before the third one running my way could join them. Quick hits to temples and throats left even the biggest of men tearing up.

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Relapse Mishaps

JJ looked to me as she scampered back across the

floor, pushing herself against the base of the bar.

I was caught in a bear hug from behind by another bouncer and lifted off
I was caught in a bear hug from behind by another
bouncer and lifted off of the ground as the one I saw
coming my way pulled back and unleashed a mean
right hook.
If I hadn’t hit the one behind me in the nuts with the
heel of my foot, he wouldn’t have doubled over and the
punch that dropped him probably would have put me to
sleep.
I crouched down and punched the boxing bouncer in
his pelvis and he went down stiffly with a strained face,
as well.
Holly had since made it to her feet and ran for the
door as screams followed her, like echoes caught in gas
chambers.
When I went to step over the pile of bodies that
surrounded me and to follow her, the man who started it
all grabbed my leg and tripped me.
When I fell, I fell on him.
During the tussle on the ground, my holster came
unhitched and my .9mm fell to the ground. I punched
him as he spit up blood, still reaching for what was
mine.
One more punch should do it, I thought.
And it did.

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STACEY L. MOOR

Unbeknownst to me, when I pulled back and aimed my elbow for his face, he had a hold of my weapon, and already had his finger on the trigger. When the blow landed, his face cracked against the linoleum and his entire body shifted to his right. When I sat back up and looked at what I’d done, I saw his hand tremble from side to side before he spat up more blood and I saw all of the lights. Flashes of fire found flesh and bone in the dark.

lights. Flashes of fire found flesh and bone in the dark. Lights turned on all around

Lights turned on all around and as people fled into the remaining darkness, the music stopped, but the screams did not.

I saw… her when I closed my eyes and stared

I saw

upward as if the ambient lightning mocked the sun. Her

I I
I
I

image danced about like lightning bugs coming out of the shade in the daytime and I remembered the smell of her.

tasted her mixing with the blood in my mouth as I licked my lips. Pain I had never felt seemed more awkward than hurtful.

The sticky maroon goo coating my fingers after I touched my shirt only amazed me more. It didn’t seem real that this, all of this, came out of me.

tried to make it to my feet when more fires were sent my way.

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Relapse Mishaps

I stood on shaky legs until my resolve found watching

my death come more exciting than running from it. The little man, still bleeding on the floor, continued to

pull the trigger until only clicks were heard. The remaining seven shots he sent my
pull the trigger until only clicks were heard.
The remaining seven shots he sent my way only
outline my body on the far wall behind me.
Nothing else hit me.
Maybe he was planning on connecting the dots later.
I grimaced as I put one knee next to him and reached
for the gun with both hands.
I grabbed the butt and the searing hot muzzle and
wrenched the piece backwards sharply before
wrenching it forward just as quickly.
His finger was now also broken.
His tears and his cries confirmed that.
I made it to my feet and looked at everyone that still
remained watching what should never have happened
while I held the gun with my left hand and put pressure
on my side with my right.
I tried to catch my breath, but the adrenaline flowing
through my system hindered me from making any sharp
movements because all I could see- were colors.
Images of her running to the end of rainbow found
my mind as I made the labored steps to follow the
woman I love.

The pain ignored for the time being, I just had to find her…

I just had to find her…

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STACEY L. MOOR

People who did not scatter and hide, flattened themselves against walls as I made my way into the light of the night.

Dizziness found me as I screamed her name in my mind. I couldn’t muster the
Dizziness found me as I screamed her name in my
mind.
I couldn’t muster the strength to lumber on and still
call for her…I felt sluggish and lightheaded.
I looked down to my torso as I made it to the final
step and dropped to my knees at the door.
I called her name softly before the sirens I heard
began to fade and the lights that blinded me went dim.
I had been shot four times, center mass.
Hurt beyond belief
All for a Good Time.
As I trudged my way into a nearby alley, I spat and
hissed, grunted and cursed her for leaving me.
For getting me shot.
For the pain she caused me.
I cursed her like a wolf howled at the moon.
That’s when I saw headlights jump the sidewalk and
heard my name called in the sweetest of ways.
She yelled as she reached across and opened the
passenger door, “Tracey, get in the damn car! We gotta
go!”
I smiled before I hobbled to her side.
Good Times.

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Relapse Mishaps

(FREE)

Relapse Mishaps (FREE) You can't force it. When the water flows over your toes, you'll know

You can't force it. When the water flows over your toes, you'll know it's time. She looks back while the waves creep high up her leg as the sun sets before her smile tells me that she's mine. I don't move because I'm taking it all in hoping not having to move again. She makes me feel like Shakespeare on 8mm, minus Tybalt holding a .9mm as a piano plays softly in the background. Her love like the national debt, I hold my side contemplating what it cost me. I think about the what-ifs that come with passion and while blood drips down my side, what was once so clear becomes fractions. I fall to pieces trying to keep the peace. No one told me that love would hurt this much

so clear becomes fractions. I fall to pieces trying to keep the peace. No one told
so clear becomes fractions. I fall to pieces trying to keep the peace. No one told
so clear becomes fractions. I fall to pieces trying to keep the peace. No one told

17

‘Dumb Sometimes’

by

Stacey L. Moor

‘Dumb Sometimes’ by Stacey L. Moor Copyright Stacey L. Moor 2011©® www.staceylmoor.com

Copyright Stacey L. Moor 2011©® www.staceylmoor.com

Dumb Sometimes

Dumb Sometimes Stop trying to pick up what you asked God to help you drop. You

Stop trying to pick up what you asked God to help you drop.

Stop trying to pick up what you asked God to help you drop. You have your

You have your instincts for a reason…

Just let go.

Stop trying to pick up what you asked God to help you drop. You have your

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STACEY L. MOOR

I

STACEY L. MOOR I (FREE) watch the couple across from me play pitty- I look the

(FREE)

watch the couple across from me play pitty-

L. MOOR I (FREE) watch the couple across from me play pitty- I look the other

I

look the other way; it'll be dark soon

pat while the sun sets. I guess them to be about seventeen or eighteen,

wrapped in each other's joy without a care in the world or a person on this train being able to tell them different. That all changes when her phone rings and Drake sings. He stops playing when he asks who has that ringtone. Coyly, she diverts the argument by starting another. After ten minutes he apologizes and reaches for her. She pulls away jokingly when her phone rings again and a man telling a woman he misses her the same way she misses him, sings.

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Dumb Sometimes

H e stops, realizes the mistake. His hands still gripping the sheets, his body is unmoved. However, his eyes say different.

He gently releases his hold and twists into a sitting position on the corner of
He gently releases his hold and twists into a sitting
position on the corner of the bed. She turns softly
almost as if she wasn't there at all.
He sits, legs straddling the edges, feet square on the
floor, head hung low.
She sits, knees coming to her chest, left hand grasping
for the sheets to cover her shame, right hand reaching
out for him.
“Baby, I-”
He retorts a sound of interruption, a short “Ahp!”
while throwing his hand up not wanting to look up
because they are surrounded by mirrors.
He laughs a little, then stands and goes to the
window.
There’s a full moon and only two stars peeking out of
the cloudy night.
He stares and stares and stares out into the distance
without saying a word.
It seems like days to her, but it feels like years to him.
Wasted.
“Honey, it slipped, I don’t know why I said it, but I’m
sorry.”

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STACEY L. MOOR

He turns his head to face her briefly. She can see the stars in his eyes just before he returns to his previous position. She scoots to the foot of the bed to get closer to him, but she’s wary of the retribution. Emotions carry deeper scars than anything physical. She knows, because it’s been done to her, also. But for some reason, she loves the man that hurt her the most. Different from what she feels for Shawn, but she loves him just as much if not more. Eriq was her son’s father. Shawn knew that Eriq stayed only because of his son, but when EJ died, Eriq left without saying a word to Lauren. It was Shawn that was there with her when she couldn’t handle it and broke down. Not Eriq. He was there to help her bury the son he had hoped to someday have. It’s been four years, he thought, but she calls his name? It couldn’t be out of the blue… or could it? For the first time, he looks at her, deeply and with purpose. He sees the woman he loves, the woman he would live for, the woman that he would rot in a cell for, looking weak, tattered and ignorant. How could she think that he would still want her?

he would rot in a cell for, looking weak, tattered and ignorant. How could she think

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Dumb Sometimes

How could she think that after all that’s happened… Her using the child as a bartering tool, not letting him see EJ, or trying to fight him if she saw them out with another woman, how can she think that? He remembers that when they started dating that she had prayed for an answer, a way out of the despair that she faced daily. The man she loved, always right in her face, would never love her back. She said he had the nerve to say she tried to trap him… Shawn at first thought it just some silly response to Eriq not wanting to be a man. But now that he thinks about it… He sighs and turns the light off as he leaves the room. Shawn heads down to the kitchen and opens both doors of the refrigerator while he stares vacantly into it. Once his stomach makes a decision for him, he grabs a pint of Dulce de Leche ice cream from the freezer, a spoon from the drawer and a bottle from the liquor cabinet. With all of the items on the counter, he makes fists as he hears her moving around upstairs. His eyebrows furrow as his jaw tightens and an anger he had not known he could own finds him and offers him ways to invest it. As he shakes loose the feeling of having something crawling on him, he wipes his hands over his arms, his neck, his stomach and his legs.

f eeling of having something crawling on him, he wipes his hands over his arms, his

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STACEY L. MOOR

Reassured that nothing was, he carries the items out to the patio and waits for the rain. It’s coming. He can smell it. Shawn taps on the top of the bottle three times before he pours out almost half of it. He finishes the rest without coming up for air. Lauren walks out onto the balcony, looks over and begs for Shawn to come back inside; her neighbors might see him. He scoffs at her, he doesn’t care. He tried to think of anything that could have made this happen. Did he not spend enough time at home? Did he work too much? Did he comfort her too much? Not enough? Did he even love her? Did he love her… He did. I tried my best, he thought as he ate the ice cream while watching the tiny droplets of water lighten his skin. He laughed at how ironic this was. He was in love with a woman who was in love with someone else. “I should write a book,” he chuckled to himself. When the smile disappeared, though, Shawn walked to his car and popped the trunk using the spare key he kept soldered to the inside of the rear fender. While he rummaged through the duffel bag and wondered where it was, he finally saw what he searched for laying in the corner of his trunk.

the duffel bag and wondered where it was, he finally saw what he searched for laying

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Dumb Sometimes

It must have slid out. Or maybe he had tossed it aside and not noticed. Either way, he looks over what he holds, wondering if

it is worth it. While standing there until the sky became darker and began to
it is worth it.
While standing there until the sky became darker and
began to open up, Shawn makes his decision.
It was worth it.
He closes the trunk and carries the piece of metal
back into the house and starts screaming her name.
“Lauren! Lauren! Where are you, babe? I know you
hear me! Answer me! Lauren!”
His voice seems to shake the shadows around him.
He stops yelling in time to hear a door click closed
somewhere upstairs. He grips what he has even tighter
as he squares his shoulders and tightens his chest
grimacing at the cracked door to the living room.
He thinks to himself…trying hard to remember if he
closed it or not.
He stalks toward the door checking every corner,
every shadow for an intruder, and for Lauren.
The storm that rushed in and pummeled the roof leant
a

surreal eeriness to the silent, darkened house. The type of feeling the dark would give a small child. Weariness and fear give life to his worst thoughts. Then his heart speeds as he tries to concentrate. He hears voices. Two, maybe three men and a woman.

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STACEY L. MOOR

His hands clench around the cold metal as he stands at the living room door. And to his surprise and disdain he walks toward Eriq, who has his back to the door. Bad move, Shawn thinks. With his hatred quickening his step and his rage building so intensely that his dick gets hard again, he rushes. “Mutha’Fucka!” What he drops hits the floor with a reverberating clang as his hands reach for the throat of his rival. This man who he can never be. This boy hurting the woman he loved. He curses and screams as he loses his balance due to his feet still being wet and ends up underneath this smothering mass. He fights for what he values, what he loves with whom he despises. Then he pauses, sees his reflection in the patio door. He can feel the hate heat his eyes to an unbearable temperature, the fire in his gut smoldering, and he can now smell the candles Lauren always lit when she had something major on her mind. What is she thinking? He releases his grip and takes a second to collect his bearings before standing the coat rack back up. He laughs as he picks up all of the coats, until he gets to the last one. The leather he bought her last Christmas was placed on top.

up all of the coats, until he gets to the last one. The leather he bought
up all of the coats, until he gets to the last one. The leather he bought

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Dumb Sometimes

The scent of his woman lay loathingly under his nose. She was never his, he thinks as he strokes the sleeve. Never his. Shawn squints to find what he had brought in. His hands tap lightly on the floor until he feels it, almost as if it is calling to him. He thinks of The Hobbit. With rage still burning a hole in him, but laughter overcoming that, he starts back toward the stairs. One of the voices he thought he heard previously gets louder the higher he climbs, all the others die down. “Done playing Rambo for the night,” he says to himself as he steps up the second set of stairs. “Getting too old for this shit.” Then, “Please! Dammit, I just need you to come here!” breaks the tempo of his climb. A hushed conversation floats through the frame of the bathroom door, along with the scent of vanilla and lemon. Shawn bends down in order to try to see through the small space under the door. Something must be blocking it, but he can see light outline the rest of the door. There had to be something behind the door other than just her and her candles. Reaching the top of the stairs, his feet sink into the plush carpet while he reaches for the doorknob. The radio is on, playing old Soul sounds softly.

feet sink into the plush carpet while he reaches for the doorknob. The radio is on,

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STACEY L. MOOR

He recalls hearing voices, tries to match them to what he now hears. “Maybe I’ve been imagining this whole shit. Maybe I’ve been imagining this whole shit.” Shawn says those same lines again and again, as if an affirmation of what he can’t believe, but should. He lets go of the doorknob and turns back towards the bedroom when he hears what trumps his good intentions. “I know I fucked up! I called him you!” her whispering voice lingers off into the distance. It wasn’t made up. It really happened. His anger fills him to the brim so quickly that before he knows it, he is standing in front of the bathroom door, breathing heavily as a single tear darts from his left eye. “You bitch!” he screams swinging the door open and stepping over the hamper that was placed behind it. Startled, Lauren drops the phone and backs up into the bathtub looking like a prisoner on the Green Mile not yet ready to settle up. ”Shawn! Baby-” “Shut up, you lyin’ bitch! After all I’ve done for you? FUCK YOU!” he screams. Shawn, full of hurt, anger and the need for retribution lunges at Lauren.

done for you? FUCK YOU!” he screams. Shawn, full of hurt, anger and the need for

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Dumb Sometimes

As if under a slow strobe light Shawn has moments of blackouts but remembers only minute parts of what he sees, like snapshots of a movie. He drops what he has. Reaches for her. Feels her life in his grip. She screams. His hands cover. She’s lifted. Then brought down. Hard. She lands, hitting her head on the ledge of the bathtub. A barrage of yelling ensues. Screams of her name are called from the other end of the phone. Shawn cries as he holds her with the devil in his eye and hate in his heart. Tighter, he squeezes her throat tighter as she starts to cry, as well. Tears streaming down her cheeks, pooling into her ears, she gasps as she struggles. Futilely. The faucet is turned on from her aimless kicks. His veins bulge in his forehead, neck, forearms, biceps, and shoulders as the water builds. Her hands desperately grip his wrists, pounding once she realizes she doesn’t have the strength to free herself. The water splashing feels like rain.

pounding once she realizes she doesn’t have the strength to free herself. The water splashing feels
pounding once she realizes she doesn’t have the strength to free herself. The water splashing feels

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STACEY L. MOOR

A storm finds its way into the house.

Followed by shadows. Soon darkness had waltzed right into their home. He lets go of her airway only when the water climbs up to his elbows. Shawn stomps back to the bedroom, arms dripping, shirt wet and eyes aflame.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” he says to himself repeatedly as he quickly dresses. Suddenly, splashing comes before her gasps of life echo in the bathroom which are soon followed by agonizing sobs coming from an abused and raw throat. Shawn, more anxious than panicked, wipes his face with his left hand and fire sets in his eye.

his face with his left hand and fi re sets in his eye. It burns. He
It burns.
It burns.

He wipes again, this time using his right hand and is terrified at the blood now on it. Is his eye bleeding? Almost mesmerized he stares at the blood covering his hand. He looks at the other hand, seeing blood on both. He checks the back of his hands and wipes his face with them marking them with crimson smears in the process. Then he sees it. On his left hand, the puncture in his palm. His middle finger is bleeding, too. He wipes his chest with the blood and remembers.

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Dumb Sometimes

Shawn forces his hands into fists once again and feels an emptiness of what he had held so dearly, so tightly. It must’ve been from the ring…

so dearly, so tightly. It must’ve been from the ring… (FREE) I sit on garage rooftops

(FREE)

I sit on garage rooftops to watch Orion shadowbox with the devil in the pale moonlight. Stare at these stars & hear thunder off in the distance, counting the milliseconds until I feel lightning strike my imagination with persistence. I wonder who struck the final blow? The warrior in me would like to see, the God in me already knows…

persistence. I wonder who struck the final blow? The warrior in me would like to see,

31

Creative Lighting®™

First and foremost, Thank God for your sight, for the voice in your mouth, for the life in your limbs and the creativity in these writings. (None of these are based on personal experience.) Secondly, thank you for getting through the ‘first pulls’ of my Lucies. 'Lucies', like the colloquialism for 'loose cigarettes', is about some women that have been sitting on my imagination waiting for the right time to come on out. The men in their lives might be like you, they might be like me, but they’re men. And women will never know what it’s like to be one. Sometimes you’re Superman and sometimes you’re the villain… These tales are for singular moments strictly. Like picking a crayon out of a box and never putting it back after you use it; I’m done with some colors forever. The 20 stories in this series are all about relationships. Featuring some very good times and a handful of great moments, there are a lot of ugly ones as well that you may try hard to not remember yet can never forget. I’ll show you my addictions if you show me yours… Huggs and kisses::dirt and cookies

- SLM

staceylmoor@gmail

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