Voices in my Head

I have an alternate personality.  No, it's not what you think.  That, luckily, is not one of my mental disorders. 

I have this side of me that likes to write.  So I named it. (smile)  In honor of some family members of mine I have created a fun little pen name for my as-yet-unpublished novels and such.  Check this chick out.  She's going places.  (at least she hopes).  Me?  I can't seem to get my life together; meanwhile she has, like, a billion writing projects she's working on.  You should most definitely follow her blog, and get her autograph while you still can!  Seriously, this is some pretty good stuff.  I know, I've read it.

Not that I'm tooting my own her horn or anything.

Check this out for yourself; here's a snippet from Vigi's newest project, To Never Be.

****************************

“What the fuck is your problem?” Maggie screamed, throwing her hands up in anger.

“Why did you come back?  So you can rub it in my face how good you’re doing without me?  So you can pull me in close and then run again?”

“Run?  Is that what you’re saying I did?  Oh come on, Jack, we both know you were tired of me.  I was cramping your style.  I gave you a way out; I gave you your freedom.”

Jack turned away from her and began fiddling with the loose material on his workbench.  He dropped his voice, afraid she might catch some inkling of emotion,

“I think you’d better go home, Maggie.”

She didn’t want to leave.  She wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him like she used to when she’d realize she hurt him.

“Jack…” her voice was barely more than a whisper.  She didn’t know what to say.

“No.  Just go.”  And with that she turned away, the old familiar sting of tears in her eyes.  It was chilly outside with the sun starting to dip below the tree line.  Maggie felt a shiver run up her spine. She pulled her jacket closed and crossed her arms over her chest.  She breathed in to hold the brewing tears back and walked slowly out of the yard and down the road to her small cottage.

She walked into the house, not even bothering to turn on the lights, and made her way into the living room.  She stood a moment staring out the bay window at the reflection of the sun setting on the water.  It was beautiful.  And now she was safe.  Safe enough to let a tear roll down her cheek. Safe enough to let a sob escape her lips. 

And then in one swift motion she picked up a lamp from the end table beside her and slung it across the room, shattering it against the wall.  She put her hands up and covered her face, letting out a low scream and picked up a frame from the mantle, this time smashing it to pieces on the floor.  Bit by bit Maggie moved around the living room, breaking everything she could until she was left breathless, panting for air, glass everywhere.  Still not satisfied with this burst of anger, she sunk down onto the couch and cried herself to sleep.

****************************

Eh?  So, whatcha think?  Leave some feedback, people!