I am pleased to announce that the official launch date of Death in Disguise will be this Friday, April 29th. I have a lot to announce and prepare for that day, so please stay tuned to my Facebook or Twitter for more information.
And thank you to my friends, family, and fans- for nothing would be possible without you.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Press Release: Death in Disguise launch
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Gabbard Launches First Book on
Amazon
Cincinnati,
OH, April 21, 2011 – Author James Gabbard has released his first
book, Death in Disguise,
for purchase on Amazon.com and Kindle e-book readers.
This is the first time Gabbard has released a short story collection
on the website, previously launching his first collection on Lulu.
“I'm
excited to finally bring my work to a platform so many people use
every day. With Amazon and Kindle, I can bring my book to people
faster and more efficient than ever before,” Gabbard said.
Gabbard also states he has plans to launch on Barnes and Noble's
Nook, and hopes to expand his website, A Simple Letter, to include
more than what he's working on.
“Art
can be found anywhere, and I love the idea of not just creating the
art myself but displaying artwork that some people may never have
found before. Whether it be writing, painting or even just something
odd I hope people will send them in to be posted.”
Currently
there are plans to relaunch the site, moving away from the Blogger
format. Gabbard also has plans to start YouTube series and write a
full-length book based on his short story The
Connection.
“I'm
hoping that it turns out to be a more modern look at what Facebook
and Twitter might become in the future. Science continues to move
faster every day, and sometimes those things can be scary to think
about.”
A Simple Letter was founded in 2009, originally started as a blog to
showcase short stories.
####
Friday, April 8, 2011
A Stroll In Northside
I was with my friend last night when we came upon this in the window of a costume shop. We don't know if the shop was still operating or not, but we felt somewhat creeped out by it.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Abuse
I decided to dig into my old stories again to see what I could find. This story was originally written in March of 2009. It has not been altered in any way.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
It started when I was three years old. At least that’s when I remember the first time. I had done something stupid like pissing myself and he hit me on the face hard. Knocked me out cold. At least, that’s how I remember it.
He’d keep doing this. Hitting me for stupid shit. When he was pissed sometimes he’d just come and smack the shit out of me. No one would do anything. They’d all just take it is normality.
When I was 8 he pushed me down the stairs. I had to get close to twelve stitches on my head. No body did anything to him.
When I started wearing bras he would take them and smell them when I took them off. It was disgusting. Then it got worse. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d be staring at me. He tried to take pictures of me while I showered.
When I was 14 he chased a boy I liked out of the house, then proceeded to rape me. He raped me for two years until I was 16. Almost every day he wanted me. It was so disgusting. I loved him, but not like this.
He left that same year. When he came back I avoided my home. I stayed with friends. I went with people to celebrate Christmas in other states. I avoided him as much as I could. It worked for two years.
Then he came back when I was a senior with a boyfriend. He chased my boyfriend out of the house when no one else was around. Then he beat me over and over again. He was pissed that he wasn’t getting sex from me.
He raped me the rest of the night. I wound up pregnant. Everyone blamed my boyfriend and my mom took me to the abortionist. No one at school found out, and neither did my boyfriend. Needless to say though, my boyfriend broke up with me.
I finally got out of the place when I went to college. He tried to come visit, but I told security about him and they wouldn’t let him in. When I came back home, he was there and wanted me to have sex with him.
I refused to. No one else was there. We struggled. He punched me in the face, numerous times. Wound up with a broken nose. Was lying on the floor as he was about to come down hard on me and rape me again.
But I couldn’t take it. After all these years of abuse. I looked under the bed to see if there was anything there. There sat an aluminum baseball bat.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
I hit him as hard as I could in his leg as he came to finish me off. He fell over and I got up as he was sitting up. He was pissed. I swung the bat without thinking and hit him square in his face. He fell over, passed out. Blood splattered onto my jeans.
I remember the radio was on because that’s all I could hear in the house anymore. I kept hearing the lyrics “Are you happy now?” over and over. I sat on the bed for hours after that. His motionless body lay in the floor. Tears rolling down my cheeks, because I knew what would happen if he got up again.
If he got up again…
I had to use the bathroom at some point. I didn’t want him to come in and rape me while I was in there. I just wanted to keep him unconscious until someone came to help. So I hit him again just a little bit. I couldn’t see his face before, but then I could. His nose was broken, and it was totally red. His eyes were open.
I knew he was dead.
I called the police. I told them what happened. They saw there was proof of my claims. They didn’t charge me with murder.
My parents said they had no idea this was happening all those years.
And now I live with having to kill my own brother. After all the years of abuse, he still abuses me…and I’m not sure which hurts worse.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
It started when I was three years old. At least that’s when I remember the first time. I had done something stupid like pissing myself and he hit me on the face hard. Knocked me out cold. At least, that’s how I remember it.
He’d keep doing this. Hitting me for stupid shit. When he was pissed sometimes he’d just come and smack the shit out of me. No one would do anything. They’d all just take it is normality.
When I was 8 he pushed me down the stairs. I had to get close to twelve stitches on my head. No body did anything to him.
When I started wearing bras he would take them and smell them when I took them off. It was disgusting. Then it got worse. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d be staring at me. He tried to take pictures of me while I showered.
When I was 14 he chased a boy I liked out of the house, then proceeded to rape me. He raped me for two years until I was 16. Almost every day he wanted me. It was so disgusting. I loved him, but not like this.
He left that same year. When he came back I avoided my home. I stayed with friends. I went with people to celebrate Christmas in other states. I avoided him as much as I could. It worked for two years.
Then he came back when I was a senior with a boyfriend. He chased my boyfriend out of the house when no one else was around. Then he beat me over and over again. He was pissed that he wasn’t getting sex from me.
He raped me the rest of the night. I wound up pregnant. Everyone blamed my boyfriend and my mom took me to the abortionist. No one at school found out, and neither did my boyfriend. Needless to say though, my boyfriend broke up with me.
I finally got out of the place when I went to college. He tried to come visit, but I told security about him and they wouldn’t let him in. When I came back home, he was there and wanted me to have sex with him.
I refused to. No one else was there. We struggled. He punched me in the face, numerous times. Wound up with a broken nose. Was lying on the floor as he was about to come down hard on me and rape me again.
But I couldn’t take it. After all these years of abuse. I looked under the bed to see if there was anything there. There sat an aluminum baseball bat.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
I hit him as hard as I could in his leg as he came to finish me off. He fell over and I got up as he was sitting up. He was pissed. I swung the bat without thinking and hit him square in his face. He fell over, passed out. Blood splattered onto my jeans.
I remember the radio was on because that’s all I could hear in the house anymore. I kept hearing the lyrics “Are you happy now?” over and over. I sat on the bed for hours after that. His motionless body lay in the floor. Tears rolling down my cheeks, because I knew what would happen if he got up again.
If he got up again…
I had to use the bathroom at some point. I didn’t want him to come in and rape me while I was in there. I just wanted to keep him unconscious until someone came to help. So I hit him again just a little bit. I couldn’t see his face before, but then I could. His nose was broken, and it was totally red. His eyes were open.
I knew he was dead.
I called the police. I told them what happened. They saw there was proof of my claims. They didn’t charge me with murder.
My parents said they had no idea this was happening all those years.
And now I live with having to kill my own brother. After all the years of abuse, he still abuses me…and I’m not sure which hurts worse.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Flying
"Please don't go away...."
The air is cold up here. The wind blowing, the people below moving like ants. All I think of is her as I stand here. I am broken to the world. I am unfixable to myself. I am nothing to my friends now. I am but in shambles, lost.
And all I think of is her.
"Kevin, what are you doing up here?"
"Go back down. I just needed some air."
"You can't be up here, you need to get off the roof."
"Why? I'm just getting some air."
"You know why. Come on."
The hypnotizing glaze of his eyes brought me down again. I was nothing. I was worthless. I wanted to fly away, just jump and fly to another building- but I followed him down into the depths that I once was. I wanted to get higher, but I just got lower instead. I can't tell how low here. I can only write on the walls what day it is. It's been three months. I can tell because I mark the day. It's April. Three months.
I don't where she is. I don't what she's doing. I can't picture her, or I vomit. I don't feel like sitting in my own vomit and tears right now. I'm always crying. Here and there. My eyes fill like water.
"Meal time."
Meal time doesn't exist. Everything reminds me of her. The rice dish is like her hair, the mashed potatoes are like her face. The meatloaf she wouldn't touch. The green beans she loved to eat. Meal time wasn't fun. Nothing was fun. I just wanted to fly.
"Things can be better, I swear."
I begged. I swore up and down things would be different. She was different. She wasn't. I knew it deep down she wasn't, but I couldn't be honest with myself. I couldn't be honest with anyone. I could be honest with her. I could tell her everything and she wouldn't judge me. Not like the rest of the world. Not like the rest of the world, with their glazing, judging eyes. With their hatred filled souls. With their greedy, cold hearts.
And she was warm. And she was kind. She was everything I wanted. Her picture faded in my mind the more I stayed in this room. I slowly faded from existence. No one would remember me. No one could care. I was killing myself without ever dying.
I raised myself. I always raised myself. I always said I didn't need anyone. I could be alone. I could deal with everything by myself. But it was normal not to. It was normal to go to friends and have problems and to feel another person's touch. To feel normal. She made me feel normal. She made me feel better. I was for once normal, and I liked it. I wanted it.
"Please. I love you."
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't let go. Nothing could make me. My friends began to hate me for what I had become. I began hating me. My parents began hating me. All I felt before was love, and now it had turned to hate. All I did was sleep, eat and work. I buried myself in work.
Then I wanted love again. No more judgements. Someone to care for me for who I am, the good and the bad. But if she had somehow been with another guy...I vomited at work with the thought. Every day I would come in, work alone, and be forced to clean up my own vomit. I couldn't be nice to people, because they could see the tears falling down my face.
It was torture.
"Is there anything I can do to change things?"
And as the days went on without her, I felt self-destructive. My arm became a slashed tire that never ran out of air. My friends became punching bags that got worn out. My family became a broken phone. My job became a sinkhole of despair. The world became Hell.
Everyone was out for themselves. And I had to be locked away before I did something I couldn't control.
"Happy birthday."
"It can't be my birthday. It's May."
"It's only March."
Whoever ruled this world was torturing me. The days went by slow. All I craved was a peaceful release. I had nothing. I sat in a room all day staring at the walls. My drug was my emotion and my cure was her. I feared at times when the door opened that she would walk in and tell me she was married and loved someone else even though I knew it would never happen. Every time that thought came, though, I vomited. They hated when I vomited.
And then I lost it. I really lost it.
"You know she still loves me. She didn't want to leave me. She still wanted me around, see? But then she realized she couldn't get over me. She didn't want me to go. Something made her. I bet it was her parents. They hated me. Or her friends, I bet she was listening to her friends or something and they told her I was no good. They didn't know me- how dare they say I was no good. They probably said she could do better. I'm a great catch though, so I don't see how that could be it. They must not have known me. I'm really open to things, and I'm the nicest guy you'll ever meet. Except for the unrealistic nice guys you see on TV. I should really stand up for myself a bit more, have some confidence. Stop being such a nice guy, you know?"
I wasn't talking to anybody.
"Yeah, and I mean- if she's hanging out with someone else or marrying some other guy it's because she can't move on from me. She doesn't really love them. I'm the only one she could ever love, we're meant to be together. We're going to be together. We are together, actually- she never actually left. All of this was just a dream. Everything was a dream and it'll all go back to normal when I wake up. When I wake up it'll all be normal again. I just have to wake up."
I then spent hours running into the wall where I had my log that swore it was now November.
"It sure is warm for November."
"It's April."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Happy Easter."
"No wonder my Halloween candy was all egg shaped. I'm so glad you guys let me dress up. It was so cool being a dracula again. I think I'll dress up as a zombie next time. Yeah, definitely a zombie. I hate zombies though unless I am one. I guess I'm just undeadist. Is that even a word? When you're bias against the undead?"
The nurse left before I even got into my rant. I didn't let anything get me down. Not until that day.
"What's the date? You said it was April sometime ago."
"It's still April."
"Yeah but what's the day?"
"The 16th."
It was her birthday. I remembered just like I remembered her phone number (549-1862) and the day we got together (August 4th) and the day she was gone (January 23rd) and the last day I said anything to her...Feburary 14th.
"Kevin, you can't be up here. You know that."
"You ever loved someone that you just wanted to go to every day? Every night you just wanted to go to them? And fix things."
We can fix things. I know we can. I have all the solutions.
"Some things can't be fixed."
"Like me. I can't be fixed. Drugs don't do any good."
You are the only drug I'm on. I'm addicted to you. I just want you to be here.
"That's why you're here, Kevin. Come on back down. You'll be OK."
"She didn't want me. Why didn't she want me? What did I do? Why did she stop loving me?"
"I can't just let you go. I don't want to let you go, do you know how much you mean to me?"
"Kevin, you need to move on. It's time to fix things."
"I don't. I can't. I trusted her and she broke my heart. She was the only one I trusted. The only one that meant the world to me. And she's just gone."
"I just want you close. I want to be close to you always.
"Things happen. The world isn't a fair place."
"All I want to do is fly to her. Can't you just let me fly?"
"That's why you're here. You tried that. You can't kill yourself. That's not the answer."
Please come back. Please.
"But it is. It's how I'll see her again."
I looked down. The people were like ants.
Why did you have to leave me here alone? Why did you have to die?
Flying was easy. It's the landing that gets sticky.
The air is cold up here. The wind blowing, the people below moving like ants. All I think of is her as I stand here. I am broken to the world. I am unfixable to myself. I am nothing to my friends now. I am but in shambles, lost.
And all I think of is her.
"Kevin, what are you doing up here?"
"Go back down. I just needed some air."
"You can't be up here, you need to get off the roof."
"Why? I'm just getting some air."
"You know why. Come on."
The hypnotizing glaze of his eyes brought me down again. I was nothing. I was worthless. I wanted to fly away, just jump and fly to another building- but I followed him down into the depths that I once was. I wanted to get higher, but I just got lower instead. I can't tell how low here. I can only write on the walls what day it is. It's been three months. I can tell because I mark the day. It's April. Three months.
I don't where she is. I don't what she's doing. I can't picture her, or I vomit. I don't feel like sitting in my own vomit and tears right now. I'm always crying. Here and there. My eyes fill like water.
"Meal time."
Meal time doesn't exist. Everything reminds me of her. The rice dish is like her hair, the mashed potatoes are like her face. The meatloaf she wouldn't touch. The green beans she loved to eat. Meal time wasn't fun. Nothing was fun. I just wanted to fly.
"Things can be better, I swear."
I begged. I swore up and down things would be different. She was different. She wasn't. I knew it deep down she wasn't, but I couldn't be honest with myself. I couldn't be honest with anyone. I could be honest with her. I could tell her everything and she wouldn't judge me. Not like the rest of the world. Not like the rest of the world, with their glazing, judging eyes. With their hatred filled souls. With their greedy, cold hearts.
And she was warm. And she was kind. She was everything I wanted. Her picture faded in my mind the more I stayed in this room. I slowly faded from existence. No one would remember me. No one could care. I was killing myself without ever dying.
I raised myself. I always raised myself. I always said I didn't need anyone. I could be alone. I could deal with everything by myself. But it was normal not to. It was normal to go to friends and have problems and to feel another person's touch. To feel normal. She made me feel normal. She made me feel better. I was for once normal, and I liked it. I wanted it.
"Please. I love you."
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't let go. Nothing could make me. My friends began to hate me for what I had become. I began hating me. My parents began hating me. All I felt before was love, and now it had turned to hate. All I did was sleep, eat and work. I buried myself in work.
Then I wanted love again. No more judgements. Someone to care for me for who I am, the good and the bad. But if she had somehow been with another guy...I vomited at work with the thought. Every day I would come in, work alone, and be forced to clean up my own vomit. I couldn't be nice to people, because they could see the tears falling down my face.
It was torture.
"Is there anything I can do to change things?"
And as the days went on without her, I felt self-destructive. My arm became a slashed tire that never ran out of air. My friends became punching bags that got worn out. My family became a broken phone. My job became a sinkhole of despair. The world became Hell.
Everyone was out for themselves. And I had to be locked away before I did something I couldn't control.
"Happy birthday."
"It can't be my birthday. It's May."
"It's only March."
Whoever ruled this world was torturing me. The days went by slow. All I craved was a peaceful release. I had nothing. I sat in a room all day staring at the walls. My drug was my emotion and my cure was her. I feared at times when the door opened that she would walk in and tell me she was married and loved someone else even though I knew it would never happen. Every time that thought came, though, I vomited. They hated when I vomited.
And then I lost it. I really lost it.
"You know she still loves me. She didn't want to leave me. She still wanted me around, see? But then she realized she couldn't get over me. She didn't want me to go. Something made her. I bet it was her parents. They hated me. Or her friends, I bet she was listening to her friends or something and they told her I was no good. They didn't know me- how dare they say I was no good. They probably said she could do better. I'm a great catch though, so I don't see how that could be it. They must not have known me. I'm really open to things, and I'm the nicest guy you'll ever meet. Except for the unrealistic nice guys you see on TV. I should really stand up for myself a bit more, have some confidence. Stop being such a nice guy, you know?"
I wasn't talking to anybody.
"Yeah, and I mean- if she's hanging out with someone else or marrying some other guy it's because she can't move on from me. She doesn't really love them. I'm the only one she could ever love, we're meant to be together. We're going to be together. We are together, actually- she never actually left. All of this was just a dream. Everything was a dream and it'll all go back to normal when I wake up. When I wake up it'll all be normal again. I just have to wake up."
I then spent hours running into the wall where I had my log that swore it was now November.
"It sure is warm for November."
"It's April."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Happy Easter."
"No wonder my Halloween candy was all egg shaped. I'm so glad you guys let me dress up. It was so cool being a dracula again. I think I'll dress up as a zombie next time. Yeah, definitely a zombie. I hate zombies though unless I am one. I guess I'm just undeadist. Is that even a word? When you're bias against the undead?"
The nurse left before I even got into my rant. I didn't let anything get me down. Not until that day.
"What's the date? You said it was April sometime ago."
"It's still April."
"Yeah but what's the day?"
"The 16th."
It was her birthday. I remembered just like I remembered her phone number (549-1862) and the day we got together (August 4th) and the day she was gone (January 23rd) and the last day I said anything to her...Feburary 14th.
"Kevin, you can't be up here. You know that."
"You ever loved someone that you just wanted to go to every day? Every night you just wanted to go to them? And fix things."
We can fix things. I know we can. I have all the solutions.
"Some things can't be fixed."
"Like me. I can't be fixed. Drugs don't do any good."
You are the only drug I'm on. I'm addicted to you. I just want you to be here.
"That's why you're here, Kevin. Come on back down. You'll be OK."
"She didn't want me. Why didn't she want me? What did I do? Why did she stop loving me?"
"I can't just let you go. I don't want to let you go, do you know how much you mean to me?"
"Kevin, you need to move on. It's time to fix things."
"I don't. I can't. I trusted her and she broke my heart. She was the only one I trusted. The only one that meant the world to me. And she's just gone."
"I just want you close. I want to be close to you always.
"Things happen. The world isn't a fair place."
"All I want to do is fly to her. Can't you just let me fly?"
"That's why you're here. You tried that. You can't kill yourself. That's not the answer."
Please come back. Please.
"But it is. It's how I'll see her again."
I looked down. The people were like ants.
Why did you have to leave me here alone? Why did you have to die?
Flying was easy. It's the landing that gets sticky.
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