Comments Posted By brandi

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This makes me think of mystery novels. I’ve really been enjoying the Louise Penny novels so I’m bummed that I’ve had the next one on the wait list for so long. I hear Georgette Heyer’s novels are good, as well, but her romances are killing me.

» Posted By Brandi On 11.29.2016 @ 1:25 pm


I am not a drummer but I think those that can drum are cool. I am a drummer up of business. I drum up new relationships with realtors and lenders in my line of work. I don’t want to work, I just want to drum on each other all day. I don’t know what more I can write about drumming. :)

» Posted By Brandi On 11.07.2016 @ 4:28 am


The willow tree was huge; huger than he remembered it to me.

When Jacob was a little boy, his grandfather’s favorite tree on the whole land was the weeping willow, tucked away deep in the forest and away from prying eyes. Now, nearly fifty years later, long after his late grandfather had met the earth again, Jacob stood underneath the tree with his own grandson. Jacob wondered what the boy thought of it.

» Posted By Brandi On 08.13.2015 @ 8:28 pm


The food was canned and packed away in the garden that was the grandmother’s closet, probably to never be seen again.

Caiden always hated going to his grandmother’s house, and it was because she was such a . . . well, a PSYCHO. For whatever reason, she wanted to horde every can food and snack bar and piece of cheese that she got her hands on, no matter what the expiration date said (really, she had a Campbell’s soup can dating back to 2002), all in the name of surviving the apocalypse.

» Posted By Brandi On 08.12.2015 @ 8:15 pm


The flour was packed high in a compact pile on top of Mother’s table, and I wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted me to do with it. You see, Mother was a fickle sort of woman who would lay everything out for you that you needed, and she would expect you to automatically know what she wanted you to do. That might sound like an easy chore to some, but it wasn’t for us, because, as I said, she was a fickle sort of woman, and you never knew what she was thinking about.

» Posted By Brandi On 08.11.2015 @ 11:17 am


It was a stolen thing, the kind that you seen on the news channels every day from the time the crime was first discovered to the time the culprit was located, arrested, and dead. It was the kind of stolen thing that no one would let go, no matter how hard you wanted them to. It was the kind of stolen artifact that you just wanted to put in your past and let everyone forget, and yet, somehow, no one did.

Or, at least, no one did for Johnny McCay.

When he was practically a baby himself his father “went out for a walk,” and came back with a precious stone that looked like it belonged to one of those fancy museums. Papa told Johnny that a stranger had given it to him, and, being so young, Johnny believed him. Now that he was nineteen, Johnny felt that, looking back, he should have realized that the precious material had not been given to Papa. When had Papa ever done anything like accept a gift from a stranger? Strangers didn’t give Papa gifts, Papa took strangers’ things and gave himself gifts. He was a rotten man, and now that he was dead it appeared that all the blame would go to Johnny. None of the officials were listening to him–of how he was born and raised in the forests, away from civilization, of how his father was the one to go to the towns, of how, before his arrest, Johnny had never once left his cabin in the woods. . . .

It as a strange thing, for the son to pay the price for the father’s sins. Yet it happened daily, and it was happening to Johnny.

» Posted By Brandi On 08.09.2015 @ 11:09 pm


It was his job to ensure that George Stringent was able to live in the most luxurious way possible, exactly as it was before his parents were murdered by the Seat. It was absolutely vital that this was carried out to a T, because if it did not happen exactly as She said it should, then they would all go exactly the same way as George’s parents: in a pit of fiery revenge.

» Posted By Brandi On 06.17.2015 @ 7:33 pm


The boy was just an octave higher than everyone else, and that was what made him so special . . . what drew her to him. Her boss had told her that it was prudent she find a kid that showed real talent in either singing or acting, and it seemed that she would not have to disappoint him.

“I’m Elizabeth Cater,” she told him, bending down to his level. “And you are?”

“Joshua Starkland,” he mumbled. What a shy boy.

She gave him a warm smile. “Well, Joshua, you sing beautifully. Would you like to be in a play that I’m conducting?”

» Posted By Brandi On 06.16.2015 @ 8:39 pm


The motorcycle was sleek and shiny: it was, in other words, everything Mac wanted. He was a smart dude, and an almost nerdy dude, but he was a dude who liked bikes nonetheless.

And that was why his mother had went out and bought him one for his birthday. After everything he had been through in the past few years, he certainly deserved a break.

» Posted By Brandi On 06.15.2015 @ 9:25 pm


There was a small paper clip at the top of the desk, slightly stained with Darren’s blood. Kaitlyn took it with fingers that did not shake, fingers that were protected with a thin glove that would protect her from any tricky questions the police had to ask her, and slipped it into her right pocket.

She was calm.




After all, what else was she supposed to do? Her brother had just shot himself, and there was blood all over his apartment . . . and what was she supposed to do? Break down? Curl up and cry? Was she supposed to follow his lead as she had always done before and take a bullet to her jaw?

No, of course not. She was supposed to stay there, like a good little girl, and carry on with the work that he had found so important (or so he had said; if it was truly so important, why had he killed himself before finishing it? what had he really been hiding all those times when she asked him where he had been when he came in late at night?). It would start with the bloodied paper clip, of course–as well as any files she would be able to find in his apartment.

Then she would make a call to the coroner.

» Posted By Brandi On 06.14.2015 @ 7:23 pm


The headquarters were on the far right of the railroad tracks, underneath the road and below the sewers.


It was a disgusting set of directions, but James knew that he needed to follow them precisely if he was to find where he needed to be. It was of the utmost importance that he found what Jeremy had told him before he was imprisoned (wrongfully) by the county police. It was only James’ good luck that he knew, more or less, the general direction of where the entrance was . . . though, on the other hand, that could just as well be his bad luck. Who knew what was under there?

But there must have been something of importance, or otherwise Jeremy would have never begged his brother to go on a hunt for the mysterious yellow piece of paper.

» Posted By Brandi On 06.13.2015 @ 9:00 pm


“I want you to stay with me,” she whispered. “Stay. Please.”

But of course, he wasn’t there to hear her. She felt the sob approaching quickly from somewhere deep within her chest; the pain was taking her breath away, so that she was having trouble staying calm–not that “staying calm” was at all easy at the moment.

She felt so alone. What was she supposed to do, with something like this? How was she supposed to carry on, day after day, when her father’s body had been set on fire and burned until it was nothing but ash only a few hours prior? Yet, that was exactly what she had to do: carry on.

» Posted By Brandi On 06.12.2015 @ 5:42 pm


It was the way of life in those modern times to be as easy as possible.

Of course, easy can mean quite a few things. So what do I mean?

Not in the way you’re thinking, that’s for sure.


» Posted By Brandi On 03.28.2015 @ 7:21 pm


The detergent had a sharp smell to the dog’s nose. It was unpleasant, and always meant that he was about to have a bath. He wasn’t sure why his owner used detergent for his baths instead of the soap like she did for herself (and he knew the difference; they smelled so much different), but that was how things were. Oh, how he hated baths! Spot briefly thought about making a run for it under the couch, but by the time he had built up enough courage to try his mother came in from the bathroom and grabbed him before he could move away from her.

» Posted By Brandi On 03.26.2015 @ 6:31 pm


The man had a great deal of influence over all of his students. If he wanted something to be done, then all he ever had to do was merely talk about it, make a few points of how beneficial it would be to their “family,” and then one of the boys would run off and complete his mission.

It was dark times. Or at least that’s what Anna always said to Joe; dark times, because they all felt that they were in a rut, and yet at the same time they felt that they were being guided to a light by the same person who made them be in that rut. It was like a never-ending tunnel.

» Posted By Brandi On 03.14.2015 @ 11:38 am


We weren’t sure what Samantha meant by “dietary.” It was either that she was going to forget about it in one week’s time or she was going to go through with it. We didn’t care either way. It was hard to truly care about anything in those days.

» Posted By Brandi On 03.09.2015 @ 11:10 am


The room was sealed completely shut. His father had assured him of that several times, and Jonathan was completely grateful. Had it not been, he could have gone out and hurt someone, consumed by the sickness within his own mind that was borne of the hatred of men.

In the dark room Jonathan waited for the moon to rise, for it was then–and only then–that the monster ever struck. When he was younger he had wondered if the monster was attracted to the moon or if it was simply a matter of the timing, but now, when he was so old at the age of fourteen, he no longer cared; all that mattered was the pain, and the rage, and the morning after.

» Posted By Brandi On 03.05.2015 @ 6:23 pm


He wanted, so badly, to contribute to his family, to be more than just a sick, wasteful burden. He was sure it wasn’t that simple, when he was not allowed (or, at the very least, not advised) to go associating with the neighbors, for what if they seen what he did to himself because of the Madness? It would get his parents in trouble. It wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t, it was all his . . . he should have never gone outside at night. He should have never gotten himself bitten.

And now, nine years later since he was four, all he could do was be a trouble to his mother and father. What good was he, other than a constant hospital bill? Good question.

» Posted By Brandi On 03.01.2015 @ 5:42 pm


The man stumbled into the living room in a sloppy, drunken mess. He was far too intoxicated to scout the room or what he could see of the living room from his point of view for his wife, who was known to be something of an anti-alcohol freak, but it didn’t matter anyhow; she was nowhere to be seen.

That was a good thing. He had needed those drinks. Ever since Romulus had gotten so sick, nothing seemed to be the same, except for the love . . . but even that was painful.

» Posted By Brandi On 02.23.2015 @ 6:14 pm


Papa’s roast was always the best part of the Honker’s Fourth of July celebration. The recipe that everyone knew was top-secret and guarded by secret F.B.I. agents (according to Papa himself) had been passed down in my family for about five generations . . . or at least that was how the story went.

The Fourth of July celebration at my parent’s house was probably my own kid’s favorite time of the year, because little Joey loved to run around with all his cousins that he only got to see once a year. It was so hard to come to New Mexico, especially with mine and my husband’s money as it was, that that was the only time Joey got to see them.

» Posted By Brandi On 02.22.2015 @ 5:21 pm


His espresso sat by his desk on the floor.

Marley wanted to ask him why he always did that. She could only suppose that it was just a quirk he had, but there was a large part of her that dominated any other reasoning she had (because everyone knew that David Starkinsand was no one you should approach). No normal person had the right to put their freaking coffee on the ground when there was plenty of surface room. God. People.

» Posted By Brandi On 02.21.2015 @ 9:31 pm


The minerals that lay beneath the Earth’s crust were vast, she knew. It was only a matter of time before Grandfather called her in from the back yard and told her to stop studying–but she wasn’t sure why anyone would stop studying. She wanted to know more, so much more, and with a grandparent like she had it was hard not to be judged for being so studios.

She wanted to blame him for all of her troubles, but she knew that that would be unfair. Her mother, when she was younger, had told her all about her grandfather’s life and what he had done as a child. She could (somewhat) comprehend why the older man felt that no one should “waste” their time in a book or with school.

She only could not agree with him.

» Posted By Brandi On 02.09.2015 @ 10:02 pm


I’m just a young woman trying to find my purpose in life. I am so lost and I don’t know what I should do. I want to travel the world and meet people. I need money to do so. I want to want other lost souls like I am. I also want peace to the world and for people to get along and respect one another.

» Posted By Brandi On 10.20.2014 @ 11:04 pm

Hello my name is Brandi. I’m just a young girl at age 26 still finding my way and purpose in life. I want to make friends and understand who I am

» Posted By Brandi On 10.20.2014 @ 11:01 pm


trumpets sound like rage.
they breath fire
and warn the innocents.
they celebrate the victories, and mourn the lost masses.

» Posted By Brandi On 11.30.2013 @ 10:12 pm


I wish you would have weighed your options more precisely. I wish you would have guessed the outcome, and understood that I would be effected also. That this isn’t just about you. I love you anyways, I just wish the scale would have tipped more, in my favor. As selfish as it sounds… No. As selfish as it is… its the heavy truth that weighs on my mind everyday that you’re not here. Everyday that you pretend you don’t care, I do. And I won’t stop. I cannot cease and desist from wondering why you decided to leave in such a hurry as this.

» Posted By brandi On 10.11.2013 @ 10:12 pm


“You have a beautiful aura,” Roshi had said. “I can see it–it’s so beautiful.”

But that was only what he said–he who was a liar, a thief, a corrupt man of the night. Things that came from his mouth could not wisely be trusted, and the things that he did could not be repeated. Joey wouldn’t allow himself to be fooled by the others’ deceptions; he wouldn’t allow himself to be fooled by anyone, anymore.

» Posted By Brandi On 09.06.2013 @ 9:46 pm


There was a certain amount of a strange air that coated his being that made him different from the other men that she had seen before. He was fascinating; he was sophisticated. He was responsible and handsome and intriguing. She would love to spend the rest of her life with someone like that.

» Posted By Brandi On 09.05.2013 @ 4:49 am


Tear apart the flesh food, bleeding ripping; starving. Hunger takes over logic. One goal. Devour. Fill the empty places inside. Need need.

» Posted By Brandi On 09.04.2013 @ 10:02 am


History repeats and repeats, skipping beats, and wishing it could rewind but every mistake defines our present. Remember not to forget what came before because without the past we wouldn’t have the amazing things we have today.

» Posted By Brandi On 09.02.2013 @ 11:33 pm

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