Category: Jackie’s diaries

The Hunt Begins

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Flying down a flight of stairs towards an icy concrete floor.

The author of this storyline feeds on my screams, she wants to hear more.

I break through chalices and chandeliers, the sharp corners leave a mark.

“Honey, watch out for the twists, you might get bitten and it might get dark.”

I’m getting thrown through an open window, tearing up blue curtains.

The pen on the paper trembles. She’s willing to wing it but is she certain?

A dark figure approaches the horizon, handsome and charmingly mean.

“Be still, my heart, be still,” I whisper.

He’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.

-JW

Downwards

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Rolling down a stainless steel mountain made of doubt.

Connection’s kicking in, I’m changing wheels and routes.

Wavy hair falling in my distorted vision, hiding the focus.

Black satin dresses tangled around my ankles.

Each step I take is a bonus.

I might get killed or even buried alive by the author –

These fictional scenes are written to keep me bothered

But my senses keep getting butchered and gutted in the making.

The engine keeps pulsating while I try to escape,

Thoughts and heart racing.

Sunrise is kicking in over the frozen fields like a curse.

If I don’t make it, I hope they ordered a red-coloured hearse.

The faster I go, the more miserable these glass shoes make me feel.

Dragging against the ice and the petrified grass,

Rolling down a mountain of stainless steel.

-JW

Seven / Intruder

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I must have the seven arcs in a story,

Must have a seven step program to glory.

There are seven pages and seven scripts,

Seven ways to pull the same old trick.

Seventeen stooges with velvet guns,

Burning barrels of Seagrams 7 for fun.

The seventh son was the last to survive –

His mother was twenty seven

When she fell on a knife.

Seven hundred soldiers dying in heat.

Vultures watching hungered by the defeat.

Crashing into a wall with a grey 7-seater.

A seven part plan to kill and elect

The new world leader.

-JW

The Next Day’s Paper

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“A Las Vegas dancer using alias Candy remains in serious yet stable condition

After a potential client choked her while hitting her head on the ignition.

The suspect has been identified by the victim as a former acquaintance.

He remains in police custody and under 24/7 surveillance.

A press conference this afternoon will reveal the suspect’s name and age.

The surviving victim brought forward additional accusations

And took the central stage

When she revealed that five years ago she was a witness to an unsolved murder

Committed by the same man in a nearby town.

She claims: “The girl screamed and no one but me heard her.”

This attack matches the pattern of a potential serial killer in our state,

Attacking women by trying to strangle them, using money as bait.

All of the victims were found the morning after the attack, at around 6.

In the nearby towns this phenomena has been nicknamed “Hour X”.”

-JW

Never Hers // Candy

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Saw her walking Sammy Davis Drive,

Black shirt and lighting in her gaze.

Her heels were broken, clock struck five.

She cursed the heat with a joke

About the human race.

The night consumed her with one bite,

Spat out the bones and fake, blue purse.

How do you cope when nothing’s right?

Another fantasy brought to life,

But it was never hers.

With each sunset she loses a fight.

The danger creeps over her while she sleeps.

She’s convinced – the neon will make her bright.

Yet again blood’s leaving her bruised cheeks.

The Mirage fades as the streets reek of freaks,

And she’s back on Sammy Davis Drive again.

Committing to nobody but the original sin.

Heels still broken, the clock strikes six

And she waves the middle finger to the moon

Before falling into the abyss.

-JW

Who Did It

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An ex-boyfriend, a best friend and a former lover walk behind the bars.

She deserved a better crowd than this alliance of faded high school stars.

A sweetheart with golden locks and a smile that could purify gold

Left breathless, left behind to gulp sand like The Dead Sea Scrolls.

Her attacker acted out of passion but was it a one-man job?

The choice to take her out for a last minute show seemed fairly odd.

No evidence linking the best friend to the scene of this brutal crime

But he did act a bit odd when we pointed out holes in his alibi.

A little too heart-broken former lover cried five hours in a row.

He spent the night with three hookers and a holy bag of blow.

We found his stalking equipment down by the old town’s square.

A woman testified seeing him by her window that night

With a camera and an evil glare.

The boyfriend swore they just argued and she left in a rush.

His father was firm when he testified – the recent donation to this lonely town

Wasn’t meant as a sign of “hush”.

More like a warning –

If you have three suspects

You can also find the fourth wind.

So we kept searching.

We heard the son moved to Vegas,

Crashing brothels and bodegas.

An ex-boyfriend, a best friend and a former lover walk free.

They could outrun the system but mind is the only prison

You cannot outflee.

I hope she knows

That justice won’t re-pay the debts they own.

-JW

Human Nature // Jen II

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Whenever a man tries to move forward from all the things that he’s done,

Whenever another second-hand lover touches his chest like I used to do

When we were having our fun…

Do you think of me or do you still see the rising tide as the human nature

Because I drank all your whiskey and your mother never hesitated

To call you a failure.

I get the picture and I understand the motive a bit too well for my taste

But a man has to answer for his actions once he loses the count over

The hells he raised.

Can you look at my bones and promise – I am the first you’ve lost

To the burning jealousy in your veins that doesn’t let go until all the lines

Are inevitably crossed?

Do you ever see my face while driving down that pier we loved the most?

And do you hold her hand like you did mine – until my throat got in the way

So I paid the cost?

But you won’t be able to make amends in post.

No excuses, no mercy,

Just mind covered in ghouls and ghosts.

-JW

The Interrogators

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The moonlight is pouring through windows, the coffee’s too weak.

A brand new Jane Doe’s sweeping the papers and scaring the streets.

“The Mermaid of Death”, “The Breathless Starlet”, “The Voiceless Angel”.

Even to the one’s keeping a distance, this case wasn’t a stranger.

The ocean was wavering peacefully, as if it didn’t feel the disgust.

Not even twenty years old, sunken in salty water, covered in jealousy dust.

Her pale and youthful complexion took the breath and the centre stage.

Detectives speculated that this wasn’t a mistake, it was an act of rage.

No other signs of an argument, just bruises all over her silent neck.

A ship passing by noticed the strange figure, they pulled her on deck.

Now she’s laying there, surrounded by people who will never understand

How a featherweight queen like this can die from a loving hand.

So we took him in the next day as he was speeding, yelling in pure agony.

Handsome but lacking the bravery to admit that his words are a blasphemy

To the God who watched over him while the heartbeats of a girl ran dry…

We took him in, four minutes and four seconds later he muttered a cry.

-JW

Fraudulent At Best // Jackie

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She’s all over the papers for weeks and my legs keep getting restless.

It’s almost like I knew her. I knew where she dropped the bloody necklace.

The promenade was silent that night, except for her gurgling breath –

I knew I couldn’t overpower that man but I could at least scream

To pause her imminent death.

Each moment I lie in wait, I lie even more to my still standing morals.

I was shown the truth but I decorated it with excuses, neon pink and floral.

Now I’m praying for hours, hoping that fake empathy will suffice

In a knife fight between speaking out and letting it haunt my shame,

Making her the ultimate sacrifice.

I’ve been playing this over and over in my mind for 8 seasons.

Ran out of plot twists and narratives, the wild river drowned my reasons.

But I’m too frightened to give the story back to the director –

A coronation of a new god gets twisted if it means killing yourself

And handing your life over to an objector.

What choice do I have if logical options were fraudulent at best?

Is there a god bigger than a human, or am I failing the test?

I’m feeling the light inside but I can’t touch it if I keep resisting,

As if there’s a part of me that has figured out a plan to regain power

While still kicking, screaming and persisting.

I keep remembering her suffocating, not resisting.

“Please fight back,” I whisper as my eyes fog up and lids take the mist in.

Please fight back.

-JW

Bad Habit // Andy

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Her locks are golden when she passes me in the beach.

“Have I seen you around, or is this a bit of a reach?”

She smiles without joy and offers me her dying trust.

I swore I’d find her again. She seemed a bit fussed.

Her standards were loose, I’ve noticed her bad habits.

If I make sure I fit in enough, we both can wreak havoc.

Her boyfriend’s too soft for her taste and I make a joke –

She laughs in everlasting fear of becoming a trope.

The house she lives in has high windows and pale doors.

They hid the ladder one night, they even locked the drawers.

I tried to be cautious, hoping she understood the pressure

Of getting to know a person and leaving an impression.

Her guard’s coming down, I can almost look through her soul.

A few more light touches and I swear, I can make this girl whole.

Her locks smell of ocean when she confides in me one evening.

“Do you mind seeing me around, even if you’re not the one

That I’ve been seeking?”

***

Her guilty gaze angers me, her kisses are stone cold sober.

I don’t recall what happened next, can’t remember what I told her

But she rushed away, dread in her gate. I didn’t follow.

The silence snapped me as the wavering ocean wallowed.

I had nothing to do with her tragic end, she made me alive.

Swear to God, I’m not the jealous type, I never took her out for that drive.

Wish I could help with more detail but I’m afraid I must leave.

The night is calling my name. Don’t you judge the way I grieve.

-JW