nightmares

Jaye’s Disappointing Days… Have I done it Again?

/ Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes / 13 Comments

Have I done it again!

What I needed was a little more enthusiasm, something that had seemingly been mislaid, disrupting my joy in all things writing-related.

All of my past irons were still in the fire, but the flames had long since extinguished.

So, when I felt that joy returning last week, I was overjoyed.

I felt stronger, more capable than I had in ages. More than happy to stoke the fire and ramp up the workload. Just as well, really, for there was a lot to catch up on. My days were full of bliss and determination as I set to work.

Most of my endeavours brought even more joy to my heart, but gradually, the not-so-easy tasks began to make their presence known.

I wasn’t daunted, as I was the new, stronger me now, wasn’t I?

My enthusiasm doubled as I refused to admit defeat. Not so soon, anyway!

It wasn’t long before I realised I was almost back to square one. Too many irons in the fire again, and I wasn’t getting anywhere. The only thing missing was the despondency and depression.

I could avoid the tasks that were defeating me and walk a less complicated path, but I knew I couldn’t live with that.

The first thing that occurred to me was that I had to concentrate on one thing at a time, as it was becoming apparent that my multitasking days had gone the way of all things. Trying to ignore this fact was probably the reason I had painted myself into a corner before.

I will also ask for help more often, as trying to learn anything on YouTube can be disappointing, and I am fast running out of ideas. (And a little patience)

So, there will be changes as I continue to try and make everything work…

#ThrowbackThursday : CrossFire by Jaye Marie #CrimeThriller #Fiction

/ Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes / 6 Comments

DI David Snow has another killer to catch, a killer as mysterious as the crimes he commits. 

Betrayal and lies come to the surface as Snow struggles to find the truth, but is he looking in all the wrong places?

Can he outwit the killer, or will the truth cost him his life?

Excerpt from CrossFire

‘Do you know why we have brought you here today, Ann?’

Ruth thought she would ease her way in rather than accuse her straight off; triggering any hostility wouldn’t get them anywhere.

The woman stared at Ruth, her pale, colourless eyes searching for clues. ‘Nah… but I ‘spect you’ll get to it pretty quick…’

Ruth indicated a brown paper bag on the table beside her. ‘We found a pair of work boots at your house, Ann. According to your husband, they’re not his. Are they yours?’

Ann Taylor glared at Ruth. She seemed to be enjoying the interview, her arrogance showing through her previous nervousness. ‘Dunno, can’t see them, can I?’

Ruth undid the bag and placed the dirty boots on the table. Most of the mud had dried and fallen off but still didn’t seem like the kind of boot a woman would wear. ‘Are these your boots, Ann?’

Without looking at the boots, she shook her head. ‘Nah, I don’t think so.’

Ruth looked at Snow, but not for confirmation. She wondered why he was choosing to stay silent. What was the point of sitting in if he wasn’t going to contribute? Not that she cared, one way or the other. She had only looked at him to signify inclusion.

She looked back at the woman. ‘Are you quite sure, Ann?’

The woman shrugged her shoulders and refused to speak.

‘For the benefit of the tape, Ann Taylor has refused to answer.’

Ruth decided to read out the coroner’s report, detailing every bruise and damage to the child’s body. When she read the part about the boot imprint on the child’s back, she slid the photograph across the table in front of the mother.

‘Did you do this, Ann?’

When the woman didn’t answer, Ruth decided it was time to play the ace card, and she looked forward to it. This cold-hearted bitch of a woman was about to be arrested, but not before Ruth had enjoyed herself. ‘Are you aware that the person who wore these boots would have left significant DNA inside them?’

Ruth paused, watching as the realisation sunk in.  ‘And are you also aware that we have tested your DNA, and it has been proved that you are the owner of these boots?’

The fear and shame were beginning to show on the woman’s face, and Ruth watched, wondering what she would do now. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Ann Taylor’s face seemed to implode as the terror of being found out took effect.  ‘I swear I don’t remember that part… I know I were angry, but when she fell over and banged her head, I thought she was dead…’

‘So what did you do then, Ann?’ Ruth knew what had happened next but not which one of them had done it.  ‘Were you aware that Amy was still alive when you dropped her into the canal?’

The horror was all-encompassing as the woman realised the enormity of what she had done. She looked around the room, just once, before she started screaming…

Milo… growing up!

/ Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes / 20 Comments

You will probably remember Milo. That adorable marmalade and white kitten who arrived unexpectedly just before Christmas?

Turned out to be a bit of a monster. Still adorable, of course. Very affectionate and all that, but still a monster.

There are times when we wonder if there can be such a thing as a cat with schizophrenia, as he does seem to have a split personality. He can leap from docile to demonic in seconds, and his temper has to be seen to be believed. He also has one hell of an appetite and has grown so much with no sign of stopping.

Milo had been desperate to go out for ages but had to wait until he was vaccinated and chipped. When we finally unlocked the cat flap, we thought he would sail through it, more than ready to explore. He had spent enough time looking out of windows, so his reluctance seemed odd.

We tried everything. We put his toys outside where he could see them. This didn’t work. He followed me everywhere, always hoping for food, so I went outside, expecting him to follow. Not a chance. Maybe he knew there was no food out there?

After a while, we gave him a little shove. We were getting a little desperate by then, as he still wanted to go out, but only if we opened the door.

He liked being outside, although he didn’t venture very far. When he had enough, he shot back through the flap like a bullet! To this day, he won’t go out through the flap but always comes back that way.

See what we mean? Milo is a very crazy cat. His temper is worrying us, though.

We first began to notice it in the mornings after our number one son leaves for work. Milo runs around the house like a ninja on speed, wrecking anything that gets in his way. We learned the hard way not to interfere or offer any condolences, to simply wait until he calmed down. I was badly bitten just by offering to console him, which hurt my pride somewhat.

His favourite pastime is trying to rip the roller blinds in the living room down. He can jump to reach the chains but also hangs on the bottom, managing to drag all the material from the roller. All carpets are his scratch pad, despite spraying them with a multitude of deterrents.

So you see, life with Milo is certainly different and not what we are used to. Well, mostly. When he is asleep or affectionate, he is lovely…

The Blessed Blurb… Help Needed?

/ Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes / 15 Comments

Well, I went ahead, out of sheer desperation, I might add, and paid for a professional blurb for Anita’s wonderful story, The Scarlet Ribbon. This is part of our general improvement campaign.

I am not sure how I feel about the result, to be honest, but I know I can rely on our good friends to point me in the right direction.

The Original Blurb on Amazon

When a car loses control and mows Maggie down, leaving her in a coma, her life changes dramatically in an instant, and she finds herself in another world.

A world where she rescues a sad, neglected and abused child from a violent situation, but when it looks as though Maggie will wake up in her own world, she has to find a way to bring the child back with her.

Is this other world real, or was she only dreaming, locked in the prison of her coma?

And if it is real, can she save the child?

One of my efforts ??

Will love take Maggie to the place she was meant to be…

A car loses control and mows her down in the street, changing her life forever.

She finds herself lost in another world, unable to communicate

Forced to witness the bitter truth of her old life.

She rescues an abused and terrified child, determined to take her home

But how is this even possible if she has to stay in this nightmare world?

The Blurb I Paid For…

Where do you go when you’re in a coma?

Maggie doesn’t like her life, but when she ends up in a coma after a runaway car knocks her down, she finds herself fighting for it. Fighting to wake up to the sound of her husband’s voice that she keeps hearing but is unable to respond to.

However, when the darkness of the coma takes her to another world, Maggie starts fighting for a lot more.

There’s a child in that world, a neglected and abused girl in a horrible situation. Maggie doesn’t hesitate to rescue her but is unsure what to do next. She needs to leave this strange world and wake up – and hopefully change a lot in her life; she didn’t even realize how bad it became – but what about the girl? She can’t just leave her there!

Trapped between life and death, Maggie can’t determine what’s real and what’s just a dream her comatose brain is producing while struggling to heal. But if it is real, can she find a way to bring the girl back with her?

Can she save the child that desperately needs her?

Over to you my friends, and please be brutally honest, my blurb writing days are depending on you…

Jaye’s Disappointing Days… #Friday Thoughts

/ Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes / 24 Comments

Friday Thoughts…

I think this year began badly for everyone, as we were still shell-shocked from all that had gone before.

I thought most of it had gone though, hadn’t it?

This was a brand new year. Time to get cracking and shake off the residue of misery and frustration.

It took nearly three months before something masquerading as enthusiasm turned up, but boy, was it welcome!

But…

There is always a but, isn’t there?

Once I started to enjoy being a writer again, my health slowly drifted to worryville. Various checks later, my heart has been pronounced strong and healthy. Blood tests have checked the rest of my bits, and they’re all fine.

So why do I feel so ill, breathless and tired? I have trouble doing anything, and it’s getting worse.

One last check, a chest X-ray. Surely this must give me some answers?

I had a mini meltdown at my doctor’s appointment earlier this week. I hate bothering the doctor almost as much as I hate feeling ill and hate asking for help. She kept me waiting a long time, and from the look of the usually calm and helpful doctor, she must have had one hell of a day. She looked much older, tired and exhausted. Probably didn’t need me and all my questions that day.

Communication was strained as I tried to convey my worries. She struggled to decide what to do, finally listening to my chest and agreeing that I needed an X-ray. At that point, I think she needed me to stand up, say thanks very much and walk away.

But I had one more question…

What happened next was like a slap around the face. I mentioned my poor swollen foot. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and said, ‘I suppose you want me to look at it?’

I stared at her, my temper and emotions arguing about what to do next.

Out of nowhere, I stood up and said, ‘No, I don’t think I do….’

She tried to backtrack at that point, apologising (I wasn’t sure what for), and then blamed me for having so many questions. Apparently, I had exceeded my allotted ten minutes!

When I left the surgery, I wasn’t quite sure whether I wanted to scream or cry. I did neither. I felt numb, vowing never to darken her door again. It took two days of sitting around, unable to concentrate on anything, before I started to feel normal again. At that point, I could have lain down on the road and died.

The X-ray is next Tuesday morning…

Sad News…

/ Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes / 35 Comments

Sad News…

You may have noticed that we have been among the missing for a few days.

Well, it’s not my fault or the weather. Since my last post on the joys of getting outside at last, and all the gardening I hoped to do, the weather has been terrible. Torrential rain, terrifying winds and freezing temperatures have left us all reeling and wondering what next.

What did happen next had me exercising my God-given right to slope off with a serious case of the miseries. Not something I usually approve of, but soldiering on, trying to ignore what was happening, suddenly wasn’t working for me anymore.

The basic reason for all of this has been my increasing inability to do even the simplest of jobs, including walking. Not to mention the depression of being unable to write for the first time in years…

After a lifetime of health troubles, I had begun to think that this last stage of my life would be a simple slowing down, that demon fate had finally run out of surprises for me. I don’t know why I thought that really, as what has been happening to Anita these last three years should decry that notion.

It seems I am way off the mark, for the breathlessness and the new pain in my joints have increased way past simple arthritis. I can no longer walk any distance; even cooking a meal is a nightmare. I have acquired the nickname, Quasimodo, for I must serve the meal hunched over, the pain preventing me from standing upright.

After dragging myself out of bed in the early hours to fetch pain relief yet again, I went back to bed and found myself weeping from the frustration. That was when I knew I had a problem, one I couldn’t ignore any more.

I telephoned my doctor, expecting to wait several days for an appointment, but after explaining, I was told to turn up for an emergency blood test. I have an appointment to discuss the results on Tuesday. At the very least, I should get better pain relief.

All of this is nothing new for me, and years ago I would have taken it all in my stride. These days, I just want a quiet (pain-free if possible) life where I can write, blog and garden to my heart’s content and be able to care for my sister…

Spooky Macro Monday…

/ Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes / 4 Comments

Image by Aixklusiv from Pixabay 

Personally, I wouldn’t want to be that close to him…

Butter Wouldn’t Melt…

/ Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes / 20 Comments

Do you remember that adorable ball of fluff that arrived at our house just before Christmas? The marmalade and white kitten that we called Milo?

How vulnerable and affectionate he was, and I remember thinking he could possibly step into the late Merlin’s much-loved shoes.

Fast forward three months and Milo has grown so much. Already large at five months, he will probably be enormous before he’s done growing. Thankfully, he is still affectionate, which is just as well, for he has developed several annoying habits.

Very playful, he has moments of crazy energy when he flies around the house at speed. Every room, cupboard and corner has been investigated and rearranged to his liking. He repeatedly wrecks my office, steals tissues and any paper he can find. Once he learned how to jump, nowhere was safe.

He rips towels and tea cloths from their racks and tries to operate the window blinds in the living room. After I make all the beds in the morning, he waits for me to leave the room, then unmakes them all.

All typical kitten stuff.

Milo isn’t allowed out yet, as he is scheduled for the snip and a microchip fitted at the end of the month. He is not happy about the delay, which brings me to the worst of his habits. He sits at either the front or back door and screams.

Not a gentle meow, you understand. He screams like a banshee. He does this every time he disapproves of something, like one of us wanting a lie in or leaving the house. Not sure if this is normal or if he has a problem, but we hope it stops once he can go out.

Last night I found a new and undesirable problem. I pulled back my duvet to get into bed and found it soaking wet. With a collection of towels and spare covers, I spent a most uncomfortable night in what still felt damp and didn’t feel like my bed anymore.

My sister calls Milo a ginger ninja, but I have a few names that are unprintable…