Think Bike & Save Lives

wvOne of the most horrific things that can happen to anyone is receiving a call to say that a loved one has been in an accident. Wednesday morning, 7 September 2016 I received that call. It was as if I went into survival mode, trying to get to the accident scene as soon as I possibly could. Stuck in peak time traffic I pulled over to the side of the road, both indicators flashing, horn blaring as I was trying to make my way through the rows and rows of cars.

What greeted me under the bridge, 15 kilometer’s away, is something I will never forget. Multiple ambulances, towing-trucks, emergency vehicles and a fire truck surrounded a body in the road. Traffic officers escorting me across the road, one of the busiest highways in Cape Town under complete lock down. And then I saw him. Laying in the road, his motorbike a few meter’s away. And I broke.

Everything inside of me broke. I couldn’t stop myself. I cried, and I cried and I cried and I couldn’t care about the hundreds of car’s waiting to get to work, everyone vanished and he was all I could think of. Was he ok? What happened? Nothing mattered, he needed to be fine that’s all. Paramedics calmed me down, or tried to at least.

“He is fine”

“He is fine”

That’s what they said over and over again. I didn’t believe them. I heard what they said but I didn’t believe them. They lifted the stretcher and started walking over to the ambulance, she shivered, they covered him in more blankets. The paramedic cleared a seat for me in the ambulance and for a split second I tried to focus on what needed to happen next. I called my boss, he was understanding. Not that I cared, I didn’t care about anything, I just wanted him to be fine.

The drive to the hospital was over before I knew it. The paramedic kept him calm. Asked him the same questions over and over and over again.

“What’s your name”?

“How old are you”?

“Where do you live”?

“Where do you work”?

“What’s your address”?

Over and over again. He assured me that there were no internal injuries. I cried again. I still didn’t believe him. We came to a stop. The doors opened and they hurried him inside. White curtains were drawn to cover a bed and I stood in the hallway, alone. I had his backpack in my hands, his jacket full of blood and my handbag. I cried again.

Nurses helped me to the front desk to fill out paperwork. I kept glancing over to the emergency ward, trying to make sense of what happened. My phone rang, it was the officer, I don’t remember giving him my number, he told me what happened. Someone changed lanes, without indicating, knocked him off his motorbike. Witnesses says he was flung in the air and landed on the ground. No evidence reflected on the helmet he was wearing.

“He is lucky” the paramedics said.

I am broken. How could this happen? I got upset, I screamed and yelled and swore at the person apologizing profusely to me. I didn’t want to hear his excuses!! He did this to him!

The doctor came into the room, I was allowed to see him. The doctor was in scrubs, he came out of the operating room.

“What happened”? he asked

“Motorbike accident” I replied

“Another one”? he asked while shaking his leg

Looking at the X-rays he glanced at both of us.

“We have to operate, now”

“Do it” he mumbled

I broke again. WHY DID THIS HAPPEN TO HIM??????

The doors of the theater closed and I was left alone once again. I cried, and cried, and cried.

Nurses came past me, comforting me, telling me he was in good hands, he was going to make it, he was going to be okay. I believed them.

I received a call from the lady who stopped to help him, who called the ambulances. I thanked her, over and over again. I made a note to deliver flowers to her work. She was his guardian angel.

I cried.

The emotional and physical pain of Wednesday 7 September I won’t forget easily. I spent the day in hospital, filling out forms, comforting him, being there for him. I got home, had a sandwich, showered and collapsed into bed. I was so tired.

I thank God Almighty for sending his angels to protect him. I thank Him for being the greatest God alive. I thank the paramedics, the hospital staff, the doctor’s and ALL emergency personnel involved. I thank everyone because he is ALIVE!!!!!!!

He is out of ICU and in the recovery ward, it’s a long road ahead but he lives. PRAISE GOD. Thank you for each and everyone reaching out to me. I am truly blessed. I still cry. But everything will be alright.

To the person who caused the accident. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I hope you can forgive me.

This morning Friday 9 September I drove to work and right where the accident happened I see the below picture. The bridge you see in the distance, it happened under that bridge. If this isn’t a sign of God’s love, I don’t know what is:


Sending each and everyone all my love and positive vibes.


Interview: Nathan Carson – The man behind the art & Periscope waves

nathan 1

Nathan Carson is not only a street artist in Jersey City but also making waves with his mind-blowing paintings on Periscope. I have been following Nathan on Periscope for quite some time and what I have found makes him unique, is the fact that he really connects with his audience, not only on a personal level but also spiritually and on an artistic level.

His artwork speaks for itself but I have asked him a few questions to try and get a “look” inside his artistic mind. Here’s what he had to say;

  1. Tell me a little about yourself, where are you from, where did you grow up, what was your childhood like?

    I am an artist who likes philosophy, art and all things nerdy. I grew up in Denver, and then moved to Brooklyn 2 years ago. I now live on the other side of the river in New Jersey because it is practically Brooklyn, but at half the price.
  2. Why did you decide to become an artist?

    I’ve wanted to be an artist for as long as I can remember. There has never been a time when I wasn’t trying to draw, paint, write or make music.

  3. What do you most enjoy painting?

I like painting faces and hands the most, which is to say people. I am fascinated by people, and I love to observe our behaviors and the things we make. People are the best.

  1. In your opinion what role does the artist have in society?

    The artist has no role in society, per se. We entertain. We provide joy during the party and fun after work on Friday. We teach people that there is a different way. You don’t have to be rich or powerful to be successful; the pen is mightier than the sword. Egypt long ago crumbled, but their statues, buildings and pottery remain. When America is ashes, no one will remember who Washington was, but Mount Rushmore will be there confusing the shit out of people like the sphinx does now.
  2. Describe yourself in 3 words?

    Poet, painter, writer

  3. What’s your favorite art work?

    My favorite work of art is the collected writing of Borges

  4. What jobs have you done other than being an artist?

    I’ve had a lot of jobs. My first was as an associate at Walmart in the toy department. Then baker, then cake decorator, then commercial fisherman in the Bering sea, courier in Los Angeles, followed by delivery boy for Domino’s. After I earned by art degree I worked as a graphic designer for about seven years which brought me to New York. Now I am a painter.

  5. Is the artistic life lonely? What do you do to counteract it?

    I don’t interact with many flesh-people on a daily basis, but I don’t feel lonely. I like being alone in a room, and I know many artist who feel the same. One of the reasons I enjoy painting on Periscope is that I achieve necessary human connection without the drama inherent in relational daily grinds.

  6. What do you dislike about your work?

    I wish I could draw arms, legs and torso’s better. I’m good with faces and hands; but the connections still give me trouble.

  7. What is your dream project?

    I want to paint the movie posters for the Star Wars Trilogy I hope Joss Whedon writes and direct someday.

  8. What is the best piece of advice you’ve been given?

    Creation is destruction. This is obvious on some levels. A tree must die to make a sketchbook, for example, but it is true within the artwork on the page as well. Often, one must paint over an area that is beautiful because it conflicts with the larger work. Be ruthless. Kill your babies. It is the painting that matters, not the details.

  9. Professionally, what’s your goal?

    I want to be an artist, whatever that means.

  10. What is your advice to artist trying to ‘make it’ out there?

    Go for it.

The stories his paintings tell is out of this world. I can’t help but to feel an instant connection with his work and it is refreshing to see his passion being portrayed in his work.

Follow Nathan on Instagram, Twitter and Periscope using his handle @streetarthustle and if you want to get your hands on some of his mind-blowing paintings, feel free to get in touch with him.


“Everything you can imagine is real.” – Pablo Picasso


Image result for fruit and veggies in heart shape

First of all, let me start off by saying “Happy Spring Day”! The birds are chirping (not that they weren’t chirping yesterday), the flowers are blooming and the start of Spring is officially here. On that note, I have about 2 and a half months to get rid of my tummy-flab and get that summer body. *no pressure*

Yesterday, someone sent me a link to a YouTube video, the person didn’t say much about the video beforehand, just that I should watch it. So, I did what any normal human being that’s nosy would do … I clicked the link! Oh boy. Yeah it wasn’t pretty.

On any normal given day I wouldn’t be worried about where my food comes from. I grew up where I had free access to farm animals and not once did I stop to think ‘hmmm where does my food come from’. The video I watched was a real wake-up call to me. I don’t want to go into too much detail about what the video contains but I will mention some of the things that really hit home for me.

When the animals are loaded off the truck, the alley they walk down towards their deaths is so hard watching. They try and turn around, try to run away but they can’t. Calves are taken away from their mothers, crying after them. The look in those animals eyes, it’s heartbreaking! I classify myself as an animal lover, in fact, to be honest I think I love my two dogs and cat more than I love some of my family members, and to classify myself as an animal lover and still think it’s okay to kill animals, that’s just not acceptable!!

The narrator ended the video with this sentence, the one sentence that absolutely shook me. “When choosing to eat meat you are basically saying that your taste-buds are more important than an animals life”. For me, that was it. I had enough. How could I go on, thinking that it was okay for me to contribute to a society killing innocent animals? None of those animals wants to die. None of those animals deserves to die.

Did you know that 50 billion chickens are raised and slaughtered annually worldwide? Among mammals 41,700,000 cows and calves were killed for food in 2000, as well as 115,200,000 pigs and 4,300,000 sheep, for a total of 161,200,000. These stats are also expected to continue to rise. Thus, the total number of all animals killed for food in 2000 was 9.7 billion.


3000 Animals die ever second in slaughterhouses around the world. That’s 180,000 every minute. That’s 10,800,000 every hour.These numbers are mind-blowing and WE are contributing to this!

Each year, more than 8 billion chickens are killed for food. They’re shackled upside down and their throats are slit, though some birds miss the blade and are instead scalded alive. Chickens are exempted from the Humane Methods of Slaughter Act. Do you agree with this? Do you think this is acceptable? Do you really want to live in a world where this has become a norm?

So. After seeing all of this. After feeling guilty for the amounts of animals I have consumed over my lifetime, I made the decision not to eat meat for the month of September. They say if you can do something for 21 days straight it becomes a habit. Well, I’m doing it. Because I love animals, and I don’t want to be the cause of them being hurt. I might only be one person in a sea of millions, no, billions of people, but I want to be the change I want to see in the world. It starts with you. The change starts with yourself.

Here is some great facts I’ve read about being a vegan;

  • Everyday a vegan saves;
    ~ 1100 gallons of water
    ~ 45 pounds of grains
    ~30 sq ft of forest land
    ~ One animals life
  • 1000 gallons of water are needed to produce 1 gallon of milk
  • If humans killed each other at the same rate they kill animals, we would be extinct in 17 days…
  • Vegans tend to have lower rates of cancer than meat-eaters and vegetarians. For example, vegan women had 34% lower rates of female-specific cancers like breast, cervical, and ovarian cancer. Similar results were found in men for prostate cancer.
  • A study done by Nobel Prize winner Elizabeth Blackburn found that a vegan diet caused more than 500 genes to change in three months, turning on genes that prevent disease and turning off genes that cause cancer, heart disease, and other illnesses.

That’s just to name a few. Here comes the disclaimer. I am not forcing my beliefs on anyone. I am only stating the facts and providing information. I am not telling you to follow a vegan diet nor am I trying to convince you that vegan is the best option for you. I am saying that the vegan life is the best option for ME. You need to make your own decisions and come to your own conclusions.

My favorite quote so far: “Man who eat meat because ancestors eat meat should log out of Facebook and and live in cave with no wifi”

I am going to document my vegetarian / vegan lifestyle here on my blog, so tune in daily! I need all the help and support I can get! #TeamVegan

Today for lunch I had a veggie bake and noodles and it was SO yummy! Plus I didn’t have to waste the life of this little guy below:

if i ever live in the country, i am getting one of these beautiful cows..:








I hope you will enjoy this healthy and happy journey with me!

Much love and positive vibes until tomorrow!


The Mad Typewriter


Having your book published, especially if it is your first book is supposed to be an exciting time for you. Well, at least that’s what I like to think. The experience I had with the ex-publishers of my book was everything but pleasant. From printing and publishing a book FILLED with mistakes, horrible marketing and blame shifting it just turned into a complete nightmare.

I decided to start my own publishing company. I know. What do you possibly know about publishing books? Well, not a lot to be completely honest. But what do know is that the cover of the book you envision should be the cover that is printed. It should be beautiful and it should be easy on the eye. It should be something that someone will notice on a shelf immediately, it should stand out from the rest.

I know that a manuscript filled with grammar and spelling mistakes is a big no no. I know that authors pay a lot of money to self-publish and fall over their feet to make it happen. I know that it takes a lot to get your book sold and that’s where I want to help you. I have build up connections over the past year. Connections that I believe will help me to help you.

It’s not going to be for free, we all want to make a living at the end of the day, but I also won’t put my logo on something because you are paying me. I promise to provide the service I possibly can and to help you as far as I possibly can to make your dream become a reality!


  1. What kind of services do you provide?
    Manuscript evaluation, printing & publishing. Cover and book design, typesetting and page layout, ISBN application, barcode generation, publishing and marketing of provided manuscript.
  2. What does pay-as-you-go services mean?
    Let’s say you only need someone to edit your manuscript or design a cover for you. We don’t force you to do everything with us, you can pick and choose which options would work best and suit your needs and go from there. Depending on your needs, we structure our services around you. YOU are the Author, and our job is to make YOU happy.
  3. How do I submit my manuscript to be considered for publishing purposes?
    Although we don’t want to be too fussy and block your creative mind and spirit, we have 3 simple rules;

    1. We require 3 sample chapters. If more material is required you will be notified accordingly. Please do not send the entire manuscript at this stage.

    2. Synopsis of the plot. Please make sure the synopsis is not more than 1 page long. We will not be able to review your manuscript without a synopsis.

    3. Short author biography.

    Send your manuscript to and after our panel considered your work we will inform you of the outcome.

If you are keen to find out more about what we do, or you would like a quotation, please feel free to submit our contact form or send me an email and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.



Isabella Garcia ~ Product Review 1/2

Recently I got to test the amazing Isabelle Garcia products and today I’m writing a review for the (1) Toner (2) Face Wash (3) Day Moisturizer (4) Night Cream and (5) Face Scrub.

Let’s start with the Face Wash: This was by far my favorite. The key here is that “a little goes a long way”. I used this a few times before I used the face scrub and also a few times after I used the face scrub and still liked the results. Not only does this product remove those raccoon eyes aka make-up but it also left my skin feeling refreshed and clean. I know, that’s kind of the point but it felt good. I have a face scrub from Neutrogena at home and used the Face Wash after I used the scrub I already had. Those two were like Batman and Robin, like Mermaid Man and Barnacle boy and like strawberries and cream. They were the perfect match, so perfect that if they were on Tinder I’d swipe right.

The Toner: This I used after the Face Wash to wipe away all those extra spots I didn’t quite get with the Face Wash, it felt soft and gentle on my skin and really worked well with the wash. For me personally, some toners can be very dry on my skin but with this I found it to be the opposite and complimented the Face Wash very well.

The Face Scrub: Unfortunately this is my least favorite product out of all of them. I used this a couple of times and really this one didn’t do it for me personally. It left my skin feeling oily and it made me break out in weird little red pimple-like thingy-magigs. Really not a fan. I would say if you really want to try the scrub, perhaps purchase a smaller volume and then test it out to see if you like it. I preferred using the Neutrogene scrub I already had, I think my skin was quite used to that product and it just worked well for me.

The Day Moisturizer: I have used a few day moisturizers but this one takes the cake. My face felt  that ‘glow’ and refreshed ALL day long. The feeling with other moisturizers usually fade by lunch time but even after an intense workout session I still felt like a glam- queen.

Night Cream: I would have to rate this the same as the Day Moisturizer, perfect for after a long day at the office, wash away your make up with the face wash and then when you get out of the shower / bubble bath which you’ve been dying to take all day, just apply the night cream and BAM, you can look beautiful for your prince charming!

I am yet to review the other products I received, I’ve been spoiled with quite a few but keep an eye out for my review about those! If you’re looking to purchase any of these items (which you should because they are MAGNIFICENT) just search for Isabella Garcia and Google will do all the work for you.

Thank you for reading and thank you to those who followed my blog! Talk again soon!



Life can be stressful sometimes

I Bend So I Don't Break Digital Art Printable by LotusAve on Etsy:

At some point in your life you are going to feel overwhelmed, upset or just stressed out. It happens, life happens. Everyone deals with stress and stressful events differently. Some might like to take out their frustrations in the gym, others may enjoy a walk on the beach and some people may prefer to crawl up in bed and just cry it out. Whatever it is, it should never leave you feeling empty. You should always try and find helpful ways to deal with whatever is getting you down for that specific moment in time. With that said:  5 things I like to do when those “stressed-out” moments get to me.

  1. Listen to calming music
    I know that sounds like the biggest cliche but trust me this works. These are some of my favorites, try them out and let me know if you enjoyed them.
    Ethereal Dreams – Chill Mix
    Instrumental Mix
    More Instrumental Music

  2. Spend some time outside
    There’s nothing like some vitamin D to make you feel calmed and relaxed. Sometimes when I’ve been stuck in the office all day, it’s nice to head outside, take a walk around the building and just take in the sounds and smells around you. You might see a construction worker, or watch a squirrel run up a tree. Take in your surroundings and shift your focus to something other than the stressing situation you’re dealing with.
  3. Meditate & Yoga
    I enjoyed Yoga with Adrienne because I could do it in the comfort of my own home and didn’t have to go to a yoga-class to be able to do it. Try it out it’s amazing!
    This is my favorite meditation video – Meditation with Kireiki – do yourself a favor and check it out.
  4. Exercise
    You don’t want to hear it, I know, but it really does work. For me personally, there’s nothing like hitting the treadmill after a really sh… long day at work.  You don’t have to workout to the point where you’re dying, just burn some carbs and set those happy hormones freeeeeeeeee.
  5. Taking a hot shower or bubble bath
    I should have put this at the top of the list because this is my favorite way to de-stress. Light some candles, grab a glass of wine and just relax. You can even put on some relaxing music [see point 1]. This is something I saw on Pinterest and thought I’d share it here because well it’s some really good advice: “Every time you take a shower visualize washing away your stress and anxiety. Concentrate on the feel of the water on your skin. Envision the power of the shower washing away your negative thoughts. Envision fear, regret and anger soaping off you and swirling down the drain” WordPorn I know.


  • Journal Writing
  • Eat healthy and cut out junk food
  • Get enough sleep
  • Drink a cup of tea
  • Light scented candles around the house (I’m a sucker for candles)
  • If all else fails watch Youtube videos of cats

I hope you find some of these useful, let me know if you did and also let me know if you have other ways of getting rid of stress so I can share it on here.

Happy Tuesday!


Scribbles – Web Watchers

It’s been a week since Jasper started at the St Peters police station as rookie detective. He wipes the strand of black hair out of his face and takes a sip of the coffee standing on the wooden coaster next to him. He still can’t believe that he of all people has been asked to take over from Charles Quinn.

The other detectives warned him that he is a grumpy old man who should have retired ages ago, but Jasper was eager to start working with him. There is so much to learn from a detective like Charles and so little time to do it in. Sitting at an old, beat up wooden desk, this twenty five year old had nothing to loose and everything to gain.

He stood up from the oversized, brown leather chair and stood in front of the window. There was no view whatsoever but he liked the fact that he could stare out the window like some of the detectives did in crime films. Staring out the window, as if a light bulb will be triggered which will help them solve their case. Instead what he saw in front of him was a concrete wall with a single window.

He pulled the dirty -what-used-to-be-white blinds open and a single ray of sunshine hit his desk. A book case was standing against the wall with old case files and a broken lamp was covered in dust in the corner. A chest of drawers which he still needed to go through was on the opposite side of the room and although the place was a dump it felt like, home. A feeling he’s never had. He walked back to the chair and it creaked as he sat down. Jasper couldn’t help but smile. He shook his head and opened the brown file in front of him. It had ‘under investigation’ written in big, bold, bright red letters on the front and a page of fingerprints slipped out from under the cover page. Pictures and statements, reports and DNA tests filled the file. A knock on the door made him jump and he closes the file quickly as if he was doing something wrong.

“C…come in” he says politely and the office door swings open. A tall dark haired women stands in front of him with a smile. She steps inside his dirty office and takes a seat on one of the uncomfortable, red velvet office chairs opposite his desk. Jasper stares at her a little too long and when she smiles at him he looks away shyly, trying to act as calm and collected as possible.

“Angie, what brings you to my humble abode?” Jasper asks combing his fingers through his dark brown hair.

“Well newbie, I just wanted to warn you that Mr Quinn is in a fowl mood this morning, here’s the Smith file” she hands him the file and he opens the cover page. “Kelsey, nineteen year old student who went missing in the early hours of yesterday morning. I believe Quinn wants you to look at this, go to campus and ask some questions” Angie explains while waving her hands in the air.

Jasper frowns while reading the information in front of him. What happened to this girl? Something just doesn’t add up.

“That’s the fifth student to disappear without a trace in the past month. There’s something going on and we need to find out what it is and fast” Angie gets up and walks out of the office leaving Jasper confused and his head buzzing with hundreds of questions.


The campus is alive and buzzing with students making their way to the first class of the morning. Jasper takes a bite of the chicken-and-mayonnaise sandwich and wipes his hand on the back of his black formal trousers. His silver Honda Civic is parked in the student parking lot and for a second he tries to blend in and act normal. He flips through the file of the beautiful brunette staring back at him with big brown eyes. He needs to crack this case, it could mean so much for his career. He takes a lick at his finger and turns the page to the ‘family & friends’ section.

Numerous names pop’s up, it seems like Kelsey was a popular girl. He frowns while looking at all the names written down in her file.

“How do you just go missing without a trace Miss Smith”? he asks while staring out the window, deep in thought.

Jasper pulls the door open and throws a backpack over his shoulder. He walks down the cobblestone path with green lawn on either side. He is eyed by a few students but most doesn’t take note. A few students have their faces buried in textbooks and others are occupied on their cellphones.

He reaches the principals office and a friendly blonde woman in her forties greets him politely. She stares at him a little too long for comfort and he shifts nervously.

“Good morning, I’m here to meet with the principal, Jasper Ezra” he explains and she page through the appointment book.

“Mr Nelson shall be with you shortly, please feel free to take a seat” she says and points at two green chairs opposite her desk.

Jasper takes a seat and runs his fingers through his hair. Coming back to University is not exactly what he signed up for but that’s part of the job. Going undercover. He wants to make Quinn happy and he knows that if he keeps Quinn happy he is set for life.

The door of the principals office swings open and a hipster looking student walks out and mumbles something to the receptionist who doesn’t seem to notice.

“Mr Nelson is ready for you” she smiles revealing a gold plate between her two front teeth and Jasper can’t help but shiver. This is not what he was expecting but jumps to his feet and closes the  principals door behind him.


Charles closes the book and takes off his reading glasses. He looks over to the left side of his bed, still empty as it’s been for the past sixteen years. He never thought that he would be in a position where he would ever lose a loved one close to him, let alone his wife. He looks down at his left hand and stares at the gold band around his ring finger.

He places the book and his glasses on the bed-side table and pulls the covers closer to his neck. Ever since that night, the night that changed his life, he struggles to fall asleep. His mind wonders to the missing students. He wants to crack this case but he wants Jasper to take the lead on this one. The boy’s got potential and he wants to make him the best detective he can. He is starting to feel more and more like a son to him.

Martha could never have children, that is something that they dealt with and somehow, she always thought that he blamed her for it. He didn’t, or maybe he did, a little. But he never told it to her face. He made sure to never show her how much it hurt him, staying in his study until the last tear fell from his eyes, then working on case files, and washing his face before getting into bed to avoid the unwanted questions.

The last night they spend together she was happy. Or so he tries to remember it. He’s been trying to shut out the memories of that night since it happened. He remembered waking up and not feeling Martha next to him. He remember walking down the stairs and finding her body on the cold kitchen floor, soaked in blood. Bastards. For the past sixteen years, he has been devoting his life to his job. He has spent late nights and early mornings at the office and he has done everything in his power to avoid coming home, sleeping in an empty bed and drowning in his own thoughts.

Charles is woken up by the ringing of his cellphone next to him. He searches for the noise and presses the green answer button with force.

“Quinn” he barks to the poor soul on the other end.

“I’ll be right in” he responds and drops the call without saying goodbye.

The drive to the station takes a mere three minutes but he is eager to hear the latest on the missing students. He walks into the forensic offices and closes the door behind him. He takes a seat on the black leather chair and nods his head at the forensic lab agent.

“Mr Quinn, w-we have one of the victim’s, perhaps you could identify him” the nervous agent blurbs and Charles stands to his feet and pulls the white sheeting off his face.

A young man, nineteen or twenty is revealed under the white sheets.  The lab agent takes a step back but Charles moves in closer.

“What on earth?” he asks while inspecting the face of the young man closer.

“Eleven in total sir” the lab agent reveals and turns around to fill out some paperwork.

In the face of the boy in front of Charles, eleven razor blades has been buried in his face. Stained blood lines showing where the blood circulated.

“Cause of death?” Charles barks at the lab agent who jumps at the sound of his stern voice.

“H-his throat was cut sir” the agent responds, handing him the forensic report.

“Dammit, we need to catch these guys and catch them fast” Charles murmurs under his breath and as he glances up he can see that the forensic agent is standing uncomfortable with a look of fear on his face.

“Good job Parker” Charles says and taps the boy’s shoulder. “You did a great job”

The agent smiles shyly and he can see the pride shining from his chest.

Charles smiles and heads out the forensic lab on a search to find Jasper. But first, coffee.


The steaming cup of coffee shivers when Jasper bursts through his office door.

“Mr Quinn, morning” he smiles and walks over shake Charles’s hand.

“Morning Jasper, I hope you have some good news for me?” Charles asks keeping eye contact.

Jasper shoves his hand into the pocket of his trousers, a oily stain clearly visible on the front. Charles can’t help but smile. Kids these days. He takes out a card and hands it to him.

Charles squints his eyes to read the fine print and looks up at Jasper.

“You got in?” he asks, surprise in his voice.

“I got in” Jasper smiles back and jumps to his feet.

Charles can see the excitement in his demeanour and reminds himself that this is work and he can’t get up and dance around with this rookie detective.

Jasper takes a seat and Charles can see that a serious discussion is about to take place.

“The principal is on board with what we need to do, we have worked out a schedule on classes I will be taking. I have a list of names of who I should look out for, who I should become friends with and invitations to all the parties happening this week.” he says with a confidence that Charles only picks up on now.

“Well done Mr Ezra, I’m proud of the progress, now let’s catch the bad guys so we can put this chapter behind us and move on with our lives”.

Jasper stands and extends his hand to Charles. They shake and look at each other for a few seconds.

“I won’t disappoint you sir” Jasper says and walks out the office, closing the door behind him.

Charles stands in the middle of the office, a sudden wave of sadness hitting him.

“I know son, I know”.

My Mind is a Weird Place – Scribbles

Waves crashing against the rocks, sending white clouds of foam floating in the air. The water chasing her feet and quickly retracting itself back, back to the deep. She watched the perfect round ball of fire, disappear on the horizon and she knew, she knew she was home. She was where she wanted to be. Free. Free from all the negativity, free from what she used to call home. Free from the abuse, the labor, the nightmares. She was with the man she loved. Cared for. Honoured.

He was walking towards her and then stopping. She looked away for a second and could see the ocean retracting again, not coming back this time. She looked back at him and he was floating in the water. Face down. She tried to scream but nothing came out of her mouth, she lost her voice. She tried to run but the further she ran the further he drifted. She fell down and couldn’t get back up.

Mila opened her eyes and sat up straight, her heart pounding and her breathing heavy. She looked around the room as if confused about her surroundings. It was just a dream. She fell back onto her pillow and took a deep breath, blowing the loose piece of hair out of her face. She threw her legs out of bed and wrapped herself in the light blue, silk gown that was draped over the chair. She picked up the paint brush and dipped it in some yellow paint and slowing forming the outlines of the orange circle she drew the night before on the blank canvas.

She’s been having the same dream for two weeks. Mystery man is starting to get to her and there’s no way for her to stop. She can’t remember his face and she wants to, so bad. She drops the paint brush on the used newspaper and steps back to stare at her half-done creation, putting a yellow painted thumb in her mouth and biting her nail.

The dreams seem so, real. Unlike anything she’s ever dreamt about. Who is this mystery man. The buzzer at the door makes her jump and she brushes her hair to the side with the half-painted hand. She opens the door but to her surprise there’s not a soul in sight. She looks down and a pink envelope is neatly placed on the ‘welcome’ sign. She looks from left to right down the hall but there’s no one in sight. She picks up the envelope and closes the door, putting it down on the table and staring at it while a frown rests between her eyes.

After what seems like an eternity she picks up the envelope and pulls out the card. A ginger cat with a light pink hat is printed on the front of the card, Mila smiles. She opens it and frowns at the two words written inside of it.

“Happy Birthday”

No indication of who it’s from she shoves the card back in it’s envelope and drops it on the kitchen counter.

“I have no time for games, I have a painting to finish” she scolds at the card and walks back to the bedroom.


Tears streamed down his face as he climbed into the empty bathtub and lit a cigarette.


Inhaling the nicotine as if it would make the events of the past thirty minutes disappear. As if it would bring her back to him, but it won’t. He gave up everything for her, and for what? To be dumped and kicked to the curb? To be rejected and told off? No, he was not going to allow her or anyone else to treat him that way.

He placed his wallet, phone, cigarettes and a handgun beside him and suck on the cancer-stick as his mother used to call it once more; blowing the smoke into the emptiness in front of him. He rubbed the tattoo he got a month ago on his forearm with his thumb and can’t help but think back to happier times.

She was with him that night. The night they decided to get matching tattoos. Stupid and in love. He should have known better. He should have known that this was too good to be true, that a girl like her would never go for a guy like him.

He grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, his dad a drunk, he came home and beat the shit out of his mother while him and his younger brother ran upstairs to hide under their beds. Ever night the same thing. One night, dad came home from the bar, both drunk and high. Mama couldn’t take it anymore and … bang, bang, bang. Three shots made him fall to his knees. A fourth sealed the deal.

Sheriff knew what was happening and let her off with a warning. How he doesn’t know, mama probably gave Sheriff an offer he just couldn’t refuse. Dad never hit her again.

He smiles, taking another gulp of smoke, letting out a cough.

He reached for his phone and opened the ‘notes’ app on it. His big fingers, struggling to type the words.

“Here lies William Matthew Smith – 1988 – 2016. R.I.P” He read out loud, placing the phone back on the ledge of the bath.

He pushed the burning cigarette against the tile, smothering the coal and picked up the handgun.

“See you soon daddy” he whispered.


Tuesday Night Scribbles – Adventures of Lacey

Tuesday night scribbles, trying to get my mind clear for the novel I’m currently working on. Let me know if you like it but also if you don’t. 


It’s been the same, every night for the past ten years. Her parents would get wasted beyond belief and then fight until the neighbours called the cops. Like a ritual, every night, the same would happen. It was like a bad movie that kept playing over and over and over. Alcohol consuming their lives and tearing away their future like a cancerous disease. Lacey had dreams, dreams of going to college and becoming a world-known author. She’s always been a believer that your circumstances should not determine what you become in life or where you go.

Instead, she found a job at the bakery downtown, where she now spends most of her days and sometimes nights, trying to save up money to attend the writing classes she’s always dreamt of taking. She opens her backpack and takes out the crumpled envelope she’s been hiding in there since the beginning of the year. She shoves her latest paycheque inside and folds it in half, hiding it once more.

Lacey walks over to her bedside table and turns off the light, while crawling into her bed, her blankets covering her, almost protecting her against the words that fly through the walls. The same words that sometimes stings her like a million bees, swarming around her head, she tries to cover her ears but the swarming won’t stop. She cries, sometimes falling asleep, other times laying awake for hours and hours, until the word-swarming finally stops.

The fairy-lights that hung above her head reminded her of stars, every now and again she would imagine one of the stars shooting and made a wish. She wished that she could escape this, that somehow, someone would save her. It never happened, yet she still hoped, prayed.

She can hear footsteps coming up the stairs, it’s as if she’s hiding away from the monster under her bed, the only difference is, is that the monster is not under her bed but right outside her room. The bedroom door swings open and her drunken father stumbles inside, whispering profanities under his breath. Lacey closes her eyes quickly and pretends to be asleep. Maybe he will leave her alone if he doesn’t get any reaction out of her.

She can feel his eyes on her. Staring at her, waiting for her to move, waiting for her to give him a look, anything that would trigger his anger and make him lash out at her. She doesn’t move, that usually is enough to anger him even more but she’s hoping for some miracle tonight.

She can hear him walk over to her bed, he rips the blankets off of her and pulls her out of bed by her long sparkling golden hair. Lacey screams and his grip tightens. She panics and let’s out a cry for help without realising it.

“You lazy, good for nothing, oxygen thief! Get out” he yells, his grip still tight around her hair while he drags her down the stairs with his arm around her waist.

“Dad!” Lacey screams, frantically trying to get his attention and fighting to loosen the grip on her hair.

“Let go, you’re hurting me! Let go dad!” Lacey yells, unable to stop the tears from flooding down her face.

“I said get out!” he screams pushing her through the front door and throwing her backpack next to her. She falls to the ground, feeling the hard wooden flooring beneath her.

She looks up at him confused. Why would he do this? He looks back at her, anger raging in his eyes. He wipes the sweat off his upper lip with the back of his hand, and slams the door shut.

Silence. She is completely stunned at what just happened. Her father, the man she once looked up to, the man that once saw her as his little girl, threw her out on the street and she had no where to go. How could he do this to his own flesh and blood?

She gets up slowly and swings the backpack over her shoulder and catches her mother peeking out the living room window. Tears start flowing out of her eyes again and she wipes them away with her hand. She will not let them see her like this. They don’t deserve to see her break down like this.

The night air is cool and crisp against her face as she walks down the pathway. The shadows of trees and buildings frighten her but she can’t let that show. Not in this part of town anyway. She sees

the red letters of the word MOTEL flash on the side of the building in front of her and run’s across the road.

The inside of the motel smells musky and damp. A green-swamp-like colour is splashed on the walls and Lacey holds back the urge to pull a face. A friendly lady with a huge afro sits at the wooden reception desk. Lacey walks over to her and she greets her with a polite smile.

“Good evening, may I help you” she asks in a warm tone.

“A room for one please” Lacey asks and she hands the receptionist the rolled up notes that she’s been carrying with her for the past six months. The same notes that she’s worked so hard for at the bakery to save up enough to go to school.

The receptionist hands her a key and motions for her to walk down the hall. A light flickers and she stops in front of room 219. She unlocks and slides the door open. The same swamp-green colour is painted on the walls  and the same musky smell overwhelms her.

She drops her backpack on the velvet-green chair in the corner of the room and steps inside the green-tiled bathroom. She stares at her reflection in the square shaped mirror and salty warm tears start to form in the corner of her eyes. She closes them and they roll down her cheeks.

She opens the tap and splashes the warm water on her face, causing the tears to quickly dissolve. She needs to be strong, she needs to fight and she needs to get out of this godforsaken-town.

She pulls open the tap of the shower and steps inside, allowing her muscles to ease and relax under the flow of the warm water. She wraps herself in one of the towels and dries her hair with one end.

Her shift starts at eight-am tomorrow morning and after that she’s not sure where she’ll go or where she’s going to sleep. Maybe she’ll ask Hoolio if the back room is still available, just for a few days until she’s back on her feet.

With the thought of half a plan, Lacey closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep.


The mint-colored Ubanears are draped around Lacey’s neck as she climbs onto the bus. The bus driver, an old man with a grey and navy uniform and a wrinkled face, gives her a tired smile before clipping her bus-ticket. She finds a seat near the back slides the thick, black frames back onto her nose and shoves her backpack in between her legs. Being a nineteen-year old is kind of tough these days. Especially if you’re alcoholic parents threw you  out onto the street while being drunk and you don’t have anywhere else to go.

The bus pulls away slowly and she presses play on the my-life-sucks playlist she has compiled. She knows that she should most probably play happier music, whatever that might mean. Help get her out of this funk she finds herself in, but what’s the point? It’s not like it will help. She rests her head against the dirty window, staring out in front of her. It’s a bright and sunny day; people are out and about, jogging, and going about their day. Lacey stares at the trees going past them, the green of the leaves against the piercing blue sky, it calms her and as they pass a few houses she wishes that she could live in one of them and have a family of her own.

They come to a halt at the red traffic light and Lacey can’t help but stare at the couple sitting at a table at the coffee-shop on the corner of Bree street; canoodling and wiping creamer off each other’s lips, while sipping their latte’s. Good grief. Get a room. Do they not realise that there could be innocent children walking by, nearly throwing up on the sidewalk, due to their disgusting behaviour? She rolls her eyes. Maybe she is feeling like this because her own parents once had what this couple has. Now, now it’s gone.

She suddenly feels a pressure next to her, interrupting her train of thought, and pulls her eyes away from disgusting-creamer-licking-couple as she just named them. Her eyes widen and a frown tangles between her eyes as a Ansel Elgort look-a-like has seated  himself right next to her, smiling and staring at her. She can’t remember him being on the bus when she got on; surely she would have noticed him, right? Then again, she wasn’t really paying much attention.


He points to his ears, confusing her, then realising that her my-life-sucks music was still blaring in her ears. He probably saw the confusion on her face and he flashes the most perfect smile she’s ever seen on any human-being. Great, he must think she’s a total nutcase.

She slides off the headphones, staring back at him and realising that the look she’s giving him is probably that of a human looking at an outer space being for the first time. She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry” she smiles and looks down at her purple painted fingernails. She looks up and meets his gaze again, seeing him still smiling at her. This guy is weird, does it talk, she wonders. They sit in silence as the bus moves down the street and she turns her head to catch him still staring at her. She frowns. This is just creepy. What is this guy’s problem? They sit in awkward silence for a while and Lacey shifts closer to the window nervously.

“You have beautiful eyes” he finally says, a playful smile tucking at his upper lip.

So it does speak she thinks and giggles to herself, realising how stupid she must come across to him.

The bus comes to a stop and the old man with the tired eyes, opens the bus door. She looks up, and realises that this is her stop. She needs to get off and start her shift at the bakery. She doesn’t want to get off, not now; she and cute-weirdo over here were just starting to bond. She rolls her eyes and gets up from her seat, smiling at him. If it’s meant to be they will run into each other again. Hopefully.


Lacey opens the door to the bakery and spots Hoolio at the counter, placing two blueberry-muffins into brown paper bags. She slides her back-pack off her shoulders and ties the apron around her waist. Hoolio smiles at her and he waves to the customer leaving the store.

He turns to her and she’s able to immediately spot the sympathy in his eyes. Hoolio and his wife Annabelle, have always been there for her. They knew her circumstances at home and she knew very well that Hoolio paid her more than what most places would offer someone with no experience or education.

“Lacey, are you okay?” he asks in a soft and caring voice, genuinely concerned.

He looks at her with knitted brows and Lacey swallows hard to fight back the tears, stinging her eyes.

“I’m fine, just a little tired” she smiles back at him.

The bell hanging on the front door of the shop rings and an elderly couple walks inside, ripping both Lacey and Hoolio back to reality. Saved by the golden oldies she thinks, relieved and walks over to help them. Today is going to be a long day and with the talk still ahead of her she needs to get through this day as soon as possible.

The store is in a buzz, business usually picks up around lunch time and Lacey can’t help but stare at the men and women in their business-like-attire ordering lunch and meeting up to discuss new projects and ideas.

Once gone, the bakery pretends as if the buzz never happen, leaving no traces of the noise behind. Silence fills the store and Lacey starts wiping off the counters and tables, removing the last bits of evidence scattered on the tables of the lunch-time rush.

The bell on the door rings and she can hear footsteps inside the store, a chair is pulled out and she turns around quickly to help the customer who just walked in. She lifts her perfectly formed eyebrows and her eyes widen. A playful smile dancing on her lips, she decides to have fun with this one. She walks over to the table and places a menu in front of bus-boy. He smiles but doesn’t make eye contact and flips the menu over, rubbing his chin with his forefinger and thumb, seemingly deep in thought.

“Can I get you anything?” Lacey asks, flashing her best waitress smile at him.

He picks up on it and stares at the menu a little longer, trying to hide a broad smile.

“Anything on here you can suggest”? he finally asks and looks up at her, making eye contact for the first time.

Lacey stares back at him, determined not to loose his gaze and presses with her finger on the hot-beverage section of the menu.

“How about one of our ‘how-did-you-know-I-worked-here’ cappuccino’s? Cream or froth?

“That sounds amazing, let’s go with the ‘I-know-everything-and-this-seems-like-a-great-bakery’ with froth please” still keeping his gaze.

“Coming right up” Lacey says, trying her best to sound fake and turns around and walks to the kitchen.