Tag: mystery

The World’s Best Mystery Author

graceovsLeave a comment

What a lot of people don’t know about me is that I am a nerd for murder mysteries. I love Agatha Christie. I love her mustache-twisting, balding, OCD detective, Hecule Poirot and his “little grey cells”. I must have read close to 30 of Christie’s books by now; starting from the age of 10, up until today, at age 16. And yet, I still can’t see the plot twist coming, or guess the motive, or identify the murderer. I’m impressed by anyone who can.

PC: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/FqtvAhnXoCkYyPC?format=jpg&name=4096×4096

Coming from an Agatha Christie connoisseur, here are my recommendations:

Christie writes about a few different detectives. There’s Miss Marple, Tommy and Tuppence, and my personal favorite, Poirot. If you’re new to Agatha Christie or detective stories in general, you should start one of her most famous, either The Orient Express or Death on the Nile. From there, I would strongly recommend The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Crooked House, or And Then There Were None.

There is supposed to be a chronological order to the stories, but you really don’t need to follow it. Every once in a while, a Christie references another case from another book, but it is of no real importance. My only guidance would be to read Curtain, Poirot’s final case, last.

Icarus

maydaygaskarthLeave a comment

Don’t get too close to the sun, for you will fall

Don’t get to close to the water, for you will drown

Instead stay on the ground, just safe and sound.

So he did.

Day by day, he’d waste his life away

Blinded by the sun

Immersed into the waves that crashed against the shores

Don’t get too close to the sun, for you can’t fly

Don’t get too close to the water, for you can’t swim

Instead stay on the ground, where you might win

So he stayed.

He stayed on the ground, safe from the wind.

And life dreaded on

And one day he looked around while everything was safe and sound

He started to drown

Not in the shallow waters

He drowned inside himself, drowning in the pools of regret and sorrow

So he got up, and got out

And he flew far away, but he fell

He got too close to the sun, and he fell

He didn’t fly too close to the sun because he thought he could

He flew because he was told he couldn’t

Photo Credit: RaychulWhatsername Deviantart

LAPD Drugs: Part 2

callmemaybe32Leave a comment

I’ve woken up up cold an alone.

My head is thumping and my heart is pounding.

I can tell that where I am is hot, but I feel so cold.

I taste blood. My eyes have blindfold over them, but I can tell I can’t open my eyes.

I try to reach out, but my hands are tied behind me. I try to walk, but my feet aren’t on the ground. I am alone in this room, hanging from the ceiling. My clothes have been taken off, I have blood dripping down my face and onto my chest. I hear it drop onto the cement floor.

Drip drop, drip drop, drip drop.

It’s hard to keep my eyes open.

I keep fading in and out of consciousness. Swaying back and forth from this chain. I can’t move. I can’t scream. I have a sock shoved in my mouth to keep my quiet. I knew I shouldn’t have followed that stupid piece of s**t dealer, but I’m too f*****g stupid to leave something alone.

Now I’m in this room. Humiliated, naked, beaten, bloody, bruised, and cold. I have no idea if I’ll ever leave this place.

Tears mix with my blood and they run into my mouth, just being sopped up by this sock.

I can’t keep my eyes open, fading, fading, fadi……

Part 1: LAPD Drugs

callmemaybe32Leave a comment

On a cold and foggy day in down town Los Angeles two cars are parked side by side. Window to window hands exchange different bags. I am not sure what’s inside the bag, but I know it couldn’t be anything good.

I follow these two cars as I watch from above, on top of the bridge that they are under. As they drive away I exit the bridge and pull up behind one car. A flat black Dodge Challenger with red break calipers, and chrome handles. Pinstripes run down the side of the door. A chrome tip muffler extends out from underneath the chassis, it is a sound many cars do not make. We stop at a red light, the Challenger is rumbling so loudly that my mirrors are shaking. The man looks in his side mirrors, I am afraid I have been spotted. His face is tattooed, head shaved, and stretched ears. He looks like a high level thug.

I am no cop, just a person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I am not one to let something like this go. My name is Jax. I am just an average person. I wear a suit to work every day. I sit in a cubicle from 9-5 Monday-Friday. I live alone with my two dogs, no woman, just a single guy trying to make a living. Witnessing this exchange was not my idea of a Saturday morning, all I wanted was to drive to the beach in peace, but these stupid asses had to go and mess it up.

I see the Challenger turn into a parking lot. I drive passed his tail lights and turn around the corner. I don’t want him to think I am following him. I park along the curb and watch as he goes into the store. He comes out of the Vons with no bags, but he has been in there for almost 45 minutes. I run inside to ask a clerk if he bought anything, she tells me no. She’s an innocent looking girl, blond hair, blue eyes, and infinity symbol tattooed on her wrist. She looks trustworthy and I figured while I was in there I’d ask her for her number. She hands it to me on the back of a receipt. Julia is her name, I didn’t see her as a Julia, but it fits. I told her I would call her later, but that I had business to get back to. She asked me what I was doing, but I said, I’ll have to tell you some other time.

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Street Art Revolution

callmemaybe32Leave a comment

I have always loved art, but not so much in a gallery, while I appreciate it, what really gets me happy is street art.

Street art is one of those things that you always have to appreciate.

I’m not saying all the ugly gang tags on the side of a bridge, but when you see something that someone has taken time to do, and invested more than just money into you have to stop and think about it.

Street art is an ever growing movement.

When people see actual street art and call it graffiti, it actually isn’t correct.

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Espionage

therightliberalLeave a comment

I just finished watching the fantastic movie Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. It is a mind bending movie but one that works the brain in the best way possible.

I must say, I have a weakness for spy movies, the realistic type (not like Mission Impossible crap). They are just so scintillating and exciting.

Although I was a tad confused at the end of the movie, I still enjoyed it and its fun to have a movie that keeps you thinking even once it is over.

But beyond the world of spy movies, there is the world of actual “intelligence” work.

I think it is such an interesting field, one that holds so much power and importance. We have no idea what goes on behind the closed doors and yet we are all aware that it is extremely important.

The amount of work that goes into behind a step ahead of everyone else, from enemies to allies, is absolutely incredible, and yet we have no idea what it is, only that it exists.

I think the people that work for groups like the CIA should be saluted for doing such unselfish work that aims to always keep ‘Merica on top.

Oh! Just a Dream

bedghost1 Comment

A couple of days ago, me and my friends were telling tales about recent dreams and their significance, during a short ride in our white vans, heading toward our designated workout spot.

Many of us had suspicions about whether dreams had actual meaning.
Yet one of my superiors spoke of, what we can call, a bizarre dream in which he died in a violent and gruesome manner. It turns out the epic ending he suffers was a tragic blow to his neck, given to him by an unknown” man. The injury claimed his life, but not before he is tortured by watching as blood spurts from his tiny wound and spreads all over the ground.

As he spoke of his dream, the events in the story did not make much sense, although some parts where interesting. The way he had died was so dramatic it caught the attention of me and one other student.

So we quickly, whipped out the old smart phone from our pockets and began our
quest to find its meaning. A few seconds later, we found it. Thank you Google.

This is what we found,

To dream that you are bleeding or losing blood, signifies that you are suffering from exhaustion or that you are feeling emotionally drained…”       – http://www.dreammoods.com

Wooaahh there… What?

Well it turns out our Superior had been preparing for the Boston Marathon.

See where this starts to make sense?

So back to the Point. Do dreams really have a deeper meaning? Or are they just an adventure our brain goes of to do while it waits for dawn?