Saturday, Jun 26 2010 

The late September afternoon was chilled and a storm was coming in. Joe was on edge, the electricity seemed to build in him as much as the storm clouds. I hate rain. He drew his coat about him a little tighter and stepped into the downtown high rise just as the first few drops of rain began to kiss the pavement. He didn’t know why he was here, he knew the address listed on Lenore’s ID was going to be a dead end, but he had to follow all possible leads and this was the only place he could start. Her death had not been released to the press yet, they couldn’t find anyone to give the body positive identification. He knew the general public wouldn’t be talking about it or giving false information because no one had come forward as witnesses or filed a missing person report.
The building was full of different types of businesses, lawyers, doctors, realtors, contractors and the like. Joe felt the vial of blood in his pocket, it weighed heavier on his heart than in his pocket. He hoped this wouldn’t be a wild goose chase. He stepped up to the directory, behind it sat a short woman with mousy blond hair, she was busy directing calls to the correct office, taking messages and sending e-mails all at the same time.
“How can I help you, sir?” She greeted him with out looking up.
“Hello, my name is Detective Joe Marks,” he flashed his badge out of habit, “I work in the homicide department. I am here following a lead and I wanted to ask you a few questions.”
The word homicide seemed to get her undivided attention. “I hope I’m not a suspect,” sarcasm dripping from her voice like the blood red lacquer on her fingernails. “Prison terms look so bad on a resume.” Joe knew her type, anything in a uniform was prey to her, Badge Bunnies, Holster Sniffers, the type that only like the good bad boys.
“Do you have a few moments to spare miss?”
“Yes I do, but only for you, give me a moment to get someone to cover the phones. Just sit over there by the water fountain.”
Joe took his spot next to the garish water fountain. It had small cherubs, of which were all to fat to fly, supporting a banner over a lion. The banner read “Specialis Est Culmen Vires” whatever that translated to Joe wasn’t sure. The receptionist came over, she had made an effort to make him notice her new coat of makeup over her eyes and lips. This could get interesting.
“I’m all ready for you, Detective.” Oh, I’m sure you are Joe thought with a shudder.
“I never caught your name, Mrs?”
Miss Suzanne Carp, what can I help you with, sweetheart?”
“Detective is fine. How long has this building been offices?”
Clearly put-off by his no non-sense approach, “I have worked here for 6 years, it was offices before that, how long that was, I have no clue.”
“Do any of the tenants have residential areas in this building?”
“Well not officially, but I know some of the lawyers have set up cots in their offices for all nighters. I’m sure you know how it feels to pull an all nighter.”
“Do you have access to a list of tenants?”
“Yes there is a list posted on the wall by the elevators, my job is for the people who can’t or won’t read for themselves.”
“Do you have a list of past and future tenants?”
“Only the owner of the building can authorize me to release that list.”
“What is the owners name?”
“James H. McCleod.
His heart froze and he tried to keep his expression calm and unmoved. “James H. McCleod? How long has he owned this building?”
“I think 20 years. He got the building after some lawsuit that he won. That man is so sweet, he walks me to my car on a regular basis.”
“Well Miss Carp I have everything I need. I will contact Mr. McCleod soon. Thank you for your time.”
“Detective Marks, you never said who was murdered. Can I have your card in case I need anything?”
“I cannot disclose that information yet.” He said finally while handing her a card. “Thank you again.”
“You come see me if you have anymore questions.”
Joe nodded and made a hasty retreat out the glass double doors. His head was spinning and he didn’t even feel the rain beating his body. McCleod, that bastard, I’ll never get anything out of that mother fucker. His mind began to swim with painful memories, Oh Ellie, I miss you. McCleod was the reason he was what he was, why he was so lonely and bitter, her blood was the first he had tasted. It was at the hands of James H. McCleod she had died. The only case that Joe hadn’t won. McCleod, the millionaire with million dollar lawyers that followed him around with rose scented perfume. The only man who can ruin his life for 20 years with out ever even seeing him.


Working Title Friday, Jun 4 2010 

Hidden by shadow a single flame violates the dark, raising to meet a cigar. Breathing deeply he unleashes the putrid smoke into the air. The girl lain at his feet was just another face that he would have nightmares about. She hadn’t been much, about five foot three, maybe a hundred pounds wet. But she did not need to die. Kneeling next to her, he took a moment to brush the red hair from her face. Blue Eyes, pretty, and dead, what a waste. These thoughts came to him at every crime scene. Her face had tear stains, her dress torn and stained with her blood. Uniforms swarmed about him keeping the onlookers at bay, the reporters salivating for details, and leaving him alone to do his job.

He was Detective Joe Marks, the only one in the city who could solve crimes with just a single drop of blood. Blood held memories, held the truth to ones life and death. The memories that remained in the blood gave him enough to make sure justice was served so another life could go on.

Pulling a cigar cutter from his pocket he cut the fire from it and place the reminder in his breast pocket. Never let a good Cuban go to waste. He lifted the young girls hand and brought her wrist to his lips and kissed it gently. I’m sorry for this, but you need to find peace, and I need justice. Letting her wrist fall gently to her side, he bent over her to see the blood on her chest, taking an eye dropper he siphoned some blood off the surface of her skin. Raising it to his lips, he squeezed her life into his mouth and the truth was revealed in a flash of ecstatic pain.

What the hell was that? Joe rubbed his palm across his face, blinking her features came back into focus. What he had seen had made no sense at all, blood that contained no love or memories, only fear and pain.
Footsteps came up behind him. One that had a slight drag on one leg, must be Doug Jones. Doug had been his partner on the homicide squad. He stood about two inches under Joe’s six-foot seven, black hair cut in the Marine high and tight style. That is where he got the limp, fall from the ropes course ended his military career and put him behind a desk at the Dayton police department.
“Hey Joe! What you got? Rape, deal gone wrong? I’m ready to finish this report and go home.”
“Dougie, I have to think on this one.”
“What the hell man? You never have to think one through!” Doug said clearly frustrated. “Never once in our 15 years working together have you needed more time. One drop is all you need, case closed, bad guy goes to the pokey for life with no parole!”
Standing, Joe brushed the dirt off of his knees. He gave the girl a puzzled look, and shook his head. Who are you? No better yet, what are you? Closing his eyes he shook his head and looked at his feet.
“This one is different, her blood was like a million different shattered pieces of glass, I need to put them back together,” Joe rubbed his face again, looking tired. “I need more blood.”
“What? We used to catch hell over your one drop. How much do you think you need?”
“At least an ounce”
“An ounce! What the hell happened to one drop? What am I supposed to tell her family? Can I have an ounce of her blood so my detective can play vampire to figured out who killed her?”
“Don’t ever call me a Vampire,” Joe warned, his voice slow and low, “I don’t know why it didn’t work, all I know is I need more.”
“Sorry man, I am just wondering what the hell happened.”
“I don’t know, but I plan to find out. Just get me the blood before the coroner takes her away.”
“There is plenty around, I’m sure the coroner won’t mind one less ounce to drain”
Joe nodded his thank you silently and knelt beside the red head again, looking at her features, searching for an answer that should have just been there. It’s always there, flowing just under the surface. Just not with you.
“Hey Doug, what’s her name?”
“The fair and radiant maiden the angles named Lenore. Nameless here forever more.” Joe said aimlessly.
“What was that, Joe?” Clearly he had puzzled his partner.
“Poe, nothing really, you should read more.”
With a laugh Doug replied, “I’ll get right on that one!”

The long walk home did nothing to clear Joe’s head. What happened back there? It isn’t like I haven’t done this before. He reached his front door and instead of putting the key in the lock he sat on the steps. Lenore. Who names their kid Lenore? Those blue eyes were haunting him, she wanted him to know, wanted to tell him but her blood, her memories ran dry. He reached into his right pants pocket and pulled the vial of blood out. Resting his elbows on his knees, he rolled the bottle between his thumb and forefinger, willing the memories to release themselves. The attempt was futile. Lenore, we will meet again tomorrow. He put the vial back in his pocket and unlocked the door. The house was dark and the sound of feet met him at the door, Patrick his German Shepherd greeted him happily.
“Hey Buddy, good to see you too!” He cooed while scratching his ears. He continued to the back door and picked up a forgotten tennis ball. He opened the door and threw the ball outside, Patrick eagerly followed. He made a mental note to clean up the back yard, the monthly department cookout was next week at his house. Patrick ran back in the house and jumped up on the couch. Joe pulled the vial out of his pocket and stared at it again. The pup gave him a worried look, “I don’t know either.” Setting the bottle on the coffee table, Joe soon fell asleep, however Lenore stayed in the front of his dreams.

Doug sat at his desk looking at the report for the “Lenore” Case. God, I hope no one finds out about the blood. I would lose my job and Joe would be in prison. He absent-mindedly flipped through the pages in a weak attempt at connecting the dots. No witnesses, no family to claim her, no birth record, no place of employment and an ID with a false address. Lenore, how do we solve your mystery? Lenore just seemed to appear in her crime scene. Her prints brought up zilch and the coroner still hadn’t sent up the official cause of death report. Great, is he as confused as we are? He flipped to the crime scene photos, Blue eyes and red hair, odd combo. I need to ask the coroner if she had dyed her hair.
“So I heard the vampire choked on a case?”
“Don’t call Joe a vampire, Charles. He doesn’t drink it.”
“He puts it in his mouth doesn’t he? That is a vampire. So he did choke.”
Irritated with him, he rubbed his face and attempted to keep his cool. He knew Charles hated Joe. He was a devout Catholic and thought that his talents were a sin against God. He called Joe a cannibal or a vampire depending on his mood. He wanted him off the force and in prison no matter how many murderers they had convicted. “Knock it off man, everyone is entitled to one bad day.”
“He has never missed before, so why the sudden change?”
“Joe is under the gun here, do you know how hard it has been to keep him together? He has nightmares every night, he has to relive all those cases. It isn’t a gift the man has, it is a curse. I saw his face last night, he was scared as hell. He doesn’t know what is going on with this case, just leave him be.”
“If he doesn’t figure this one out, he will lose his job and I will arrest him for cannibalism.”
“Look Chuck,” no longer able to control his temper, and keeping his voice slow and low so he wouldn’t miss anything, “I do not take well to being threatened, if you take Joe down, I will take you down. Don’t forget your skeletons, sir.”
Charles left his office slamming the door behind him so hard that the glass rattled. Asshole. Doug thought, If he thinks Joe is going to hell for a few drops of blood, I hate to think of where Charles is going.

Flashes of pure terror, I am being tortured. My skin being burned, sliced and torn. The blood runs from me onto the ground. Laughter fills my ears, a mans laugh, he is aroused, as he grabs my breasts, he pulls at my nipples and laughs more. My mind is about to break, all I can do is cry silently, if I scream he hurts me more.Dear God, help me! My mind shifts to a new place, I am pregnant, my child is lifeless within me, the doctor has told me so. My partner has taken all that I could have loved in this life from me, but says he still loves me. I am staring at a set of ceiling tiles, white, as the doctor removes the death from my womb, that death still resides in my soul. I want vengeance, and I want someones blood on my hands. The doctor tells me that I am sick. He tells me my death sentence, my mind breaks, slowly. Dear God, help Me!My mind shifts, I am holding my wife in my arms, she has taken her life away from this world. I cannot live without her. Our blood mingles on the floor, mixing together, we were bound in life, we will be bound in death. I don’t want until death do us part, we will never be apart. Dear God, Forgive me. My mind shifts again, Laying in an alley way, I am looking up at the blue sky peeking out between the buildings. My voice wants to cry out for help, but is silenced by a man stands over me, I cannot see his face, but he is the one who made me who I am. I have no fear. A flash of blue eyes and red hair.
“Joe I need you.”

Joe woke up with a start, shivering. Patrick had moved to the floor in the night, and sensed his masters distress and came up and licked his face. She spoke to me, they never speak to me. Grabbing the vial of the coffee table he ran to the bathroom. He took the vial and took the top off of it and debated dumping the thing down the drain. If I do this, Leonore goes with out justice, I go without peace. What the hell am I doing? Lenore, who the hell are you? Sealing the bottle he looked back to the mirror and just stared. “I need help, Patrick.” Patrick’s tongue lolled from his mouth and his tail wagged happily, eager to help his master. “Can you help me find Lenore? I have no clue who she is but she sure as hell knows me. Her blood is off and I can’t make any sense of it.” Patrick cocked his head and gave his master a curious look. “You have no clue what I am saying do you?” Patrick barked and followed it up with a high-pitched whine that shepherds use to tell humans they want something. He spun and circle and ran to the living room. “Dumb dog… I need help and he needs to pee.” Joe opened up the back door to let Patrick out, Patrick stood at the threshold and refused to go out. “Patrick, what the hell are you doing? If you gotta go, go better go now, I have to get to work on this case!” Patrick paced the threshold and nudged Joe’s leg. “Fine, I will go out with you!” He grabbed his jacket from by the door and stepped onto the porch, dizziness took him over.

Joe, you want to know me, you must find me.
How can I find you?
Taste me again.
Why does it hurt so much?
You will know soon,

Joe woke in a crumpled ball on the porch, Patrick stood over him and looked at him. What the hell just happened?


Learning new things… Friday, Mar 19 2010 

Ahh yet again the Hobby Whore I am can keep up with a simple blog.

My excuse: work and life in general.

Since the auction I have been kicking around some new things to learn. So I have decided on scrimshaw.

I will have step by step instructions on the site at some point, but for the moment I will just have to talk about it.

Scrimshaw art was started by early sailors using ivory, Whale bone, walrus, elephant tusks… Any bone that was good to carve into. These intricate carvings were then dyed with India ink or something similar.

Today scrimshaw can be found on gun and knife handles, belt buckles, lighters, and much more.

If you have been paying attention, I enjoy hobbies that not everyone and their brother does. I like to bring back the old ways. So stay tuned to see how this adventure plays out.

P.S. I will not be using ivory or any of the above mentioned products. LOL Considering it is illegal to obtain now. Only antique ivory can be used. And that is really expensive and I am just learning. Pet smart beef bones here I come! Lol

Hobby Whore strikes again, with charity. Sunday, Feb 14 2010 

Sorry I have been quiet on these pages recently, but I have been busy busy busy with the Haiti art auction.

The auction was a booming success! We raised over $2,500!!! *dances* I want to take the time to thank EVERYONE who took part in the event. Artists, musicians, Baristas, bidders, everyone. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

Every dollar we raised went to the Haiti fund. So think what that money can do. Bring food, water, clothing, shelter, or even something as simple as a new toy for a child. Those dollars will go far. It may not seem like much, however, it is money they did not have at their disposal.

The Haiti rebuild will go on for years to come, so we need to keep that in mind. Keep your eyes and ears open on ways you can help. If you can afford to go to Haiti and lend a hand or hammer, you should do so. Adopt an orphan, go pass out rice and water…

You may never hear thank you from those who you helped, but know they are saying it in their hearts.

My Portfolio Website Friday, Jan 22 2010 

This will be updated more and more, had limited time due to work restrictions, but enjoy looking!

Saving Haiti with Art pt2 Thursday, Jan 21 2010 

Tonight has been a busy and productive night. New blog with donations for the art auction at Saving Haiti With Art wow I have been busy!!!

Event organizing is another hobby of mine. Lol

Saving Haiti thru Art Thursday, Jan 21 2010 

Hello all. This is a call to all artist of any media. I have teamed up with my local Starbucks and I am hosting a charity art auction. If you would like to donate to the cause, please email me a digitail copy of the art piece in a 5×7 printable format so it can hang in an gallery before the auction. With your email please send me a detailed description of the piece including size and media used.

If you are outside Dayton, Ohio please include that in your message so I can provide you with an address to ship your piece too.

No art will be refused. (the only exception is if we have too many pieces)

All proceeds go to the Red Cross and can be paid for at Starbucks at the cash register!

All pieces must be submitted by February 5th and the Auction will be on the 12th at 7pm. The event will hopefully generate a large amount of money to be sent to the victims of the earthquakes.

My email is please include Haiti in your subject line.

Love and light,

A new name Monday, Jan 18 2010 

So the husband and I have been trying to come up with a name for my yarn store. We thought of Arachne’s Web, Threads of Fate, Athena’s Wheel and so on… However we decided that this name was more fitting to my personality… May I present The Twisted Pixie fiber arts company… Twisted Pixie for short. I really like it. 🙂

I made my etsy account last night… Nothing posted yet, but I wanted to get the name before anyone else did. I will have yarn for sale soon!!! Woot!

Speaking of new names, I have chosen one for my husband fr his blog… Jim is my enabler… Lol I love it.

That is all. 🙂

Happy food accident Saturday, Jan 16 2010 

So had a happy accident tonight. Wanted tuna salad but no pickles… Fail.

So I looked in my fridge and threw some things together…

1 can albacore tuna in water (drained)
2 wedges of the laughing cow garlic and herb spreadable cheese
2 huge spoonfuls of extra garlic hummus…

Garlic orgasm in my belly … I bet if I got the garlic flavored tuna I could just use regular hummus…

Put on favorite bread product and enjoy… Woot!

A sadness rests upon my heart Friday, Jan 15 2010 

Upon my heart and soul rests a heaviness and sadness for the people of Haiti.

With my interest in Afro-Caribbean religions this is a devastating loss of life, but also wisdom and tradition for me. While I know I do not have many readers at this point, anyone who reads me, I ask you all to text “Haiti” to 90999 and donate $10 to the Red Cross to help with the rescue efforts… Then please repost that information on your websites. It doesn’t take much to lend a hand. Imagine thier devastation right now. It is what we as the American people felt with hurricaine Katrina and Ike and even as far back as Hugo. The world helped us… We should do the same.

I am at a loss right now, our pup has yet to be trained in her search and rescue, I just feel like if we had gotten her in earlier then Jim (hubby) and I could be in Haiti doing something.

Below I offer up prayers to Le Baron, the guardian of the cemetery, and I offer an image of St. Gerard (also the lords prayer) and the Vévé of Le Baron… This is for those who are of the Voudun faith and the Catholic faith in Haiti…

Papa Legba open the gate for me!
Atibon Legba open the gate for me!
Open the gate for me, Papa, so that I can pass! When I return, I will thank the lwa.

“Baron La Croix! Master of the Cemetery! Heavenly judge! Maman Brigitte, Queen of the Dead, beautiful woman, healer of the sick! Brav Gede, first among Ancestors, Papa! Come here I beg you and accept the Fallen!”


Hail Mary, full of grace.
Our Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive our trespasses as we forgive those who tresspass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever. Amen.

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