mystery-suspense

I heard her scream one night while she was sleeping.Heard but didn't see.When I turned, there was nothing.No one.Only darkness.But I know what I heard.

It was once said that to hide something from prying eyes you must place it where people can see it.

I was reaching for one of the handles when I heard Heidler__ voice from behind me. __t would not be wise to enter. It is a bad time to disturb the dead.

If I__ going down, I__ going down with lipstick on._ ~Maggie Mae Castro

Great. This girl was going to seriously mess with my ability to stay on parole. ~Maggie Mae Castro

What exactly does the I in FBI stand for?_ ~Maggie Mae Castro

You have a very attractive revenge streak in you. I like it. A lot._ ~Maggie Mae Castro to FBI Special Agent Clive Poole

You__e got to admit that you live at the center of a vortex that seems to funnel nothing but trouble your way._ ~FBI Special Agent Clive Poole to Maggie Mae Castro

She was the kind of woman a person could die over or kill over.

Character determines fate.

She would not have another man push her aside like some appetizer, there to wet his whistle only to be left once the main dish arrived.No more. She pushed her thumb into his throat a little harder.

If I weren't so screwed up, I would've sold my soul a long time ago for a handsome man who made me feel pretty or who could at least treat me to a Millionaire's Martini. Instead I lingered over a watered down Sparkling Apple and felt sorry about what I was about to do to the blue-eyed bartender standing in front of me. Although I shouldn__, after all, I am a bail recovery agent. It's my job to get my skip, no matter the cost.If I weren't so screwed up, I would've sold my soul a long time ago for a handsome man who made me feel pretty or who could at least treat me to a Millionaire's Martini. Instead I lingered over a watered down Sparkling Apple and felt sorry about what I was about to do to the blue-eyed bartender standing in front of me. Although I shouldn't, after all, I am a bail recovery agent. It's my job to get my skip, no matter the cost. Yet, I had been wondering lately. What was this job costing me? Yet, I had been wondering lately. What was this job costing me?

It never was about the musician or the instrument - it was about the laser notes in a hall of mirrors, the music itself. It was going to change the world for the better and it has. Maybe not as fast or as much as we wanted, but it has and it still will. Whether your name is Mozart, or Django Reinhardt, or Robert Johnson, or Jimi Hendrix, or whoever is next; who you are doesn't matter so long as you can open that conduit and let the music come through. It is the burning edge, whatever it sounds like and whoever is playing it. It is the noisy, messy, silly, invincible voice of life that comes through the LP on the turn-table, the transistor radio, or the Bose in your new Lexus that makes you want to get up out of whatever you are stuck in and dance. It is Dionysus and the Maenads all over again. No one can control it and I pity whoever tries. I am old now and only a house cat sunning herself in the window - but I was a tigress once, and I remember. I still remember.

The tragedies of our past are the stepping stones for us to reach the happy endings of our tomorrows. Guilt is not going to help you become a better person. Acceptance will.

The heavy smell of incense gave me an uneasy feeling as if I had walked into a tomb

We ask our brain to stop worrying, stop obsessing, stop dreaming the same scary dreams again and again. But our brain rarely takes requests.

Don't waste your breath/trying to escape/if a pure love you don't have/no one will be saved.

The eeriness of the weeping moss from the trees, reminding me of shrouds covering the faces of mourners. There are people coming home from work, families going out to dinner, couples walking through the squares. My wish is that none of them are ever touched by the darkness I see.