Death Stills: A Short Story Part One

The blue flashing lights of four black police sedans are silent in front of the two-story house. Everything seems perfect on the outside, embellished in blue siding with a charcoal colored roof and chimney. Yet, from the open front door, you can see dirt and blood commingled into the rug. Upon entering the foyer, there is a putrid blend of rotting flesh, urine and excrement. There is also bare footprints, of various sizes, going in and out of the house with the trail halting at the door’s entrance. The 35mm camera clicks go off throughout the house, capturing every moment of the past few hours.

The forensic photographer, Billie Adelson, does not blink an eye when he captures the first body on the living room floor. At the foot of the fireplace, the body of a middle-aged and overly tanned man lay face down, except–the neck and head are at an abnormal angle. The blue sweater and khaki pants he wore have no bloodstains, gashes or so much as a wrinkle. The man is wearing dress shoes which color closely resembles his khakis. Billie captures photos of the blood-mud fusion foot impressions smeared in a semi-circle around the deceased. There are no discernible signs of a struggle and a weapon to determine the cause of death. The dead man’s last cloudy gaze fixed directly into the entrance of the dining room and kitchen.

A detective wearing coverings over his shoes, stops to speak to Billie before he enters the dining room area. He motions to the top of the entrance, where the words are written by fingers in ash, “We EAT here?” Billie snaps some shots of the words written grotesquely on the wall and zooms in on the messy script. The detective moves past Billie and walk into the dining room.

The atmosphere is heavy with the blend of stagnant blood, decomposition of meat, and food left out on the table. Surrounding the elaborate dining room table, sat two more corpses. All are motionless and perched in their seats. A blonde woman in her thirties or early forties sat at the head of the table, farthest from the entrance. Her glassy eyes were so wide it seems as though it bulge from her head. Billie gulps loudly and the detective looks at him with concern but said nothing. He nods and Billie continues his tour of photos. The blonde had a black scarf with white and red roses which was made into a bow and wrapped tightly around her throat. Upon closer examination, Billie notices traces of blue-black bruises near her jawline. He also notices her posture seems posed, like a mannequin. As he examines her visually and notices that her hands lay on both sides of the salad bowl on the placemat in front of her. Her palms of her hands face up. On the right side of the blonde is a pallid brunette teen, judging from her development she was probably between the ages of thirteen to sixteen. Taking the time to close in with the focus on his camera, Billie captures the neck trauma and multiple puncture wounds. Her eyes, now glassy and almost colorless, stare downward but her chair was positioned towards the blonde rather than under the table. Her hands were also set with the palms up on the table as the blonde woman. Behind the teen is a large portion of blood that is still pooled on the tiled floor and gathers near the rear corner of the room.

Two detectives, a male, and a female are comparing notes. The female said, “I believe there was post-mortem manipulation of both bodies. I have a hypothesis that perhaps they were killed in or around the room and then were posed at the table for some significance which I am bewildered, but…another instance shows that there may be multiple murderers.” The male detective nods in agreement and moves to examine the slashes in the girl’s neck.

The female detective notifies Billie that there was a final body upstairs, in the bedroom adjacent to the staircase. Before taking the first step to climb the stairs, he sighs. He has been in the business of forensic photography for 12 years now, he is still fairly young in the business. The odors, blood and corpses do not unsettle or irritate him. But today, in particular, it is taking a toll. Just two weeks ago he buried his mother. A week before that he found her alone and dead in her apartment. After all these years seeing strangers dead, seeing a loved one dead that he has emotions and memories attached, gives him a different perspective on the business now. Everyone is someone, to someone else.

Once he arrives at the top of the stairs and looks straight into the room, where the final display must be recorded–the moment, the essence of departure, and what remains. The male investigator was working on lifting fingerprints on a mahogany desk near the window, which was open. The bed is directly in front of the door and a deceased young woman lay face-up across it. In bloodsoaked yellow sheets and comforter, her pearly arms and legs sprawled out to where they resemble a starfish on a beach. As though she prepared to sleep, she wore a nightgown, which was lavender in contrast to her pale white skin. The nightie is long and covers most of her limbs except for her head, thighs, and arms. She had a collection of blood on her dress where her heart rests silently in her chest. Then the camera flash goes off again, documenting the stills of her soft shoulders to her delicate but bloody fingers and feet. Billie shakes his head and then continues to take snapshots of her bloodstained feet. He focus on the possibility that the smeared footprints from the living room and foyer, some may belong to her. But hers are just some of the many barefoot impressions captured on his camera. Numerous footprints are bigger than his and he wears size twelve in men’s shoes.

He looks at the investigator and inquires, “who is she?”


This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)





At the end of the work day, Frankia came home to relax, but first, the plants need to be tended to, watered and touched. Plant care created such a sense of tranquility and oxygen production within her studio apartment. During her encounters as a plant mama, she would feel her mood lighten up while the connection and appreciation of nature heightens. Touching all the plants reminded her of how precious life is, daily.

As she observed each plant she realized something. The Sliver Leaf blades were taller, it was not a drastic change but subtle.All the plants seemed to have shrunk…perhaps. She wasn’t sure now, that in one night one plant grew or the others became smaller. Her instincts told her to measure the mysterious flora that she purchased and see if her suspicions were correct. Immediately, she picked up a sheet of white paper, a pencil and measuring tape to record the data. The tallest leaf blade was 16.4 inches long.

Then suddenly, her fingers grazed the Sliver Leaf and she was paralyzed, frozen in her retreat. Everything within her was still, her heartbeat escalated. She thought, “what is happening?” She could not tell how long she was standing perpetually in place. It felt as though she was under a spell, which made her as a stone statue. The light from the window, declined into dusk as she stood. After what seemed like an eternity, she could feel her body slowly relieved of this hold.

When her body was, once again, fully in her own control, a sense of panic filled her chest. Confusion flooded her thoughts: Was it the plant that caused this reaction? How could a plant do this? No, no I may have to go see a doctor, I may be sick. She thought. Denial, disbelief and rationalizing what happened during this incident made her slow her movements and gently lower herself to sit on her couch. She was exhausted but decided to move towards the bed within her studio space to lay down. Surprisingly, she was able to drift to sleep as soon as her head laid on her pillow. Deep slumber took her and she did not realize that this was part of the enchantment.


This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)


Frankia Krane collected the small shovel, potting soil and a terra cotta planter pot set from the garden supply shop. She took her time looking at all the indoor plants in the nursery. There was a vivid array of selections all about her and every time she passed a plant she wants that very one, then two steps ahead she would fall in love with another plant.

She finally came upon a plant that was very unique from the others. The leaves were similar to that of a snake plant or Dracaena Trifasciata. Snake plants usually have speckles of green and cream colors, naturally detailed in natural waves and ripples with long, tall blades for leaves that look as though they want to reach for the sky. The only difference is that the other plant bared leaves with a texture like that of a lizard or reptile, with splotches in spectrums of browns and greens, with varying tones commencing from the very tips of the leaf to where it connected to its roots, hidden in the rich dark brown soil. The tag on the pot read, Dracaena Valiveal, also known as the Sliver Leaf Plant.

As though the plant’s leaf was charmed, Frankia instantly became compelled to caress the Sliver plant’s leaves. The texture of the leaves instantly incited an emotional response from Frankia. While she stood there near the table, stroking the leaves of this two-foot tall plant, she did not care if anyone was watching her. Though not far in distance, the store clerk, an aged woman stood watching her as she smoothed and massaged the plant’s blossoms. A cooing sound escaped Frankia’s lips, and a calm and nurturing feeling washed over her mind and body. She was not consciously aware of herself in this moment. There was also a cautionary note below this plant’s name that read, “please do not touch.”

“Excuse me ma’am, can I help you” The older woman who was on staff at the garden shop offered.

“I was looking for a new houseplant…and I think I found the perfect one!” Frankia responded.

“Well,” said the employee, “This one is a new species, similar to the snake plant that its origins are from the Congo Basin.”

“Congo? You mean in Africa? Well…”

The clerk spoke abruptly. “Oh yes. They both have origins in that region of Africa but the Sliver Leaf grows specifically in Equatorial Guinea, deep in the rainforest…growing wild, but still very rare.”

Frankia only blinked, then her attention went back to the plant.

“Oh and please do not touch it. Just water occasionally and we have a specific liquid…serum that helps with its nourishment. If you would like to purchase it, I’m available to receive your payment.” The little old lady said then motioned towards the direction of the cash register. Frankia immediately picked up the plant pot and followed the little old lady to the front of the garden shop.



This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Blog – How I Plan on Saving Myself #2: Failure and Picking Yourself Up Again

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.” -Shakespeare’s Macbeth

Macbeth is my favorite Shakespearean play and we know what end came to the character, though he had goals and with his goals came failure and ruin…but with goals most of us do not prepare for failure. Most of us, our goals don’t end in ruin but yet we do not plan for those obstacles that may impede our path to accomplishing success. We visualize what must be done and by the end of day one, we are ready to either quit and/or exit promptly. Have you encountered this before?

So, I fell off last week with my first “how to save myself challenge” on meditation. Yes, I felt like Macbeth in that soliloquy, acknowledging my failure but I am working to recover this week. Getting back into the discipline of meditation is not quite as easy as it was over 8 years ago when I practiced diligently. At that time, meditation was also a part of my practice along with my spirituality. I have lost my path again even with that (looking into the vast nebula which is made of me).

Moving forward and getting back on track towards that goal is often put off for another day. Then you try again and feel empowered that the next day you have accomplished what you set out to do with laser focus. A week has gone by and you haven’t skipped a day of your dedicated purpose. Your pace is as steady as a heartbeat, not erratic or slowed.

At first, with your goal set, you then decide attainment and timeframe. Such examples are saving for three months for a new car or reduce that belly fat to a sexy midriff for summertime or build-a-business using these successful tips and steps to financial freedom. In any case, no one leaves room for the fumble, the failure or the agony of defeat. Nobody realizes that they can fall and get back up again, tomorrow. And it is alright. Trust me when I say it is and don’t stop getting up after it all.

These are my original thoughts…life lessons and fumbles. I’ll being posting on my journey. Please subscribe for original content and leave a comment if you like!


The mundane ringing of the door alerted the store keeper, Travis, to the presence of another customer. It has been a long day, with few curious folks entering and exiting without purchases. Perhaps he may be lucky this time, so he perked up and offered salutations to them.

“Hi there, look around and let me know if you need assistance,” he uttered the same script as he did for anyone that crossed that threshold. At first he thought it was genuine, but time has made it habit.

“Okay,” they would usually reply. This time there was no response, just a nod of the head from a woman with wide almond eyes, heart-shaped face and black bangs with a ponytail. She had not looked at him, just nodded while she looked at the first product near the door. This made him curious, because it was the dildo section. It would be a lot to say that this was not the type of store most women would come to alone to peruse through sex toys and novelties. In his experience, most women would come with a man or other femailes. It wasn’t always the case. He looked from his booth, follwing her with his questioning eyes. Something about her…her stark ivory colored skin, in contrast to her obsidian hued hair brightedned up the room even in the dull lighting. The features of her face he analyzed, starting with her cheekbones, high and youthful. She carried herself in a way whereas she seemed older…but he was not sure. Observing her clothing, he noticed she wore all black, even her stockings, black fishnets. Finally she made her way to him after looking at the bedroom candies and handcuffs.

“So, what do you think,” this Aphrodite spoke to him for the first time. The lilt in her words offered that she may be foreign.

Travis mouth was caught open for a bit, being that he was taken by surprise and roused from his thoughts of her as she turned her attention on him. Unknowingly, she was the best thing he saw all day, probably all week at this business. Even as he closed his mouth, he had no words for her in that moment. Before he could blink, she was in the booth with him. She closed the door and now she was in his world walking toward him before he could think to refuse. To his surprise, she held his face before he could protest or even react, and kissed him so deeply, that every hair on his body rose electtrified around him. It scared him a little at first and then he became compliant, soft limbs except for one. His pants bulged and she welcomed him into both her hands, caressing. Taking in his hurried breaths, then low moans, he even almost closed his eyes because the escatasy was all encompassing. At this point he wanted to know more of these emotions, this higher vibe provided in her delicate hands, stroking and cuddling. Before he knew it, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants through her power. Her will be done, the obsidian haired maven, alluringly licked the palm of her hand and massaged him as he was ripe and extended. Travis gasped then sighed as he felt the wetness against him. That feeling was everything and his head felt as though it was going to pop. The only thing that kept bringing him back to awareness was that he remembered that anyone can just walk in at any moment. That thought made him more eager, anticipating the next sensation, the waves of delight was out of this reality. While he knocked his head back as the electricity coursed through his back from her hand job, he gave into her wildness. In a swift movement, she was on her kneess and he looked down at her charcoal hair in that high ponytail and she grinned up at him at first, then burried her head in his lap.

“Why,” he spoke softly, “It…” He couldn’t finish his words only fell off a cliff as she performed this art. He closed his eyes and she sucked and wet his tender head, so he thrusted his hips as a response. The lights behind his eyes, they flickered and danced while he slipped into this mist she took him into. Instantly he thought of holding her ponytail to get a better hold of her pacing. Just as he thought so, he found that his hands made the movements as quick as his thoughts.

FROM THE AUTHOR: Just practicing my creative writing. Please use the comments section to give your thoughts, criticisms on this short story. I write on different genres and haven’t found my niche, yet. Thank you for reading!

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her. (c) 2020


FROM THE AUTHOR: This is a true story, one of my own haunting experience. Practicing my creative writing skills. I have been writing for almost as long as I have been alive, and since I first learned to write a proper paragraph in elementary school. This I create today, comes from my reality but an alternate reality for some. Thank you for reading!

“Come, put on your nightgown. You should never be naked when you sleep.” Mammy whispered while she dressed me and tucked me under my favorite blanket. I never slept without my favorite blanket or pillow. Without my shield and dagger, which those items represented to me as such, I could not fight of the visitors.

“God don’t like nudity,” My mother whispered again, “It should be shame that is felt when you gaze upon your own body, stay covered.” She gently tucked me under the blanket and patted my tummy. “Let us say the lord’s prayer and then Psalm 23.” We both recited the lord’s prayer, chanting it in unison, my voice a pitch higher than her own. While we chanted to the Christian God, I was also saying another prayer in my mind to that same God. Please God, don’t make me be touched and talked to by anything while the night rose. Please keep me safe from harm. I squeezed my eyes tight until tears welled up in the corners of my little child’s eyes, but mammy had not seen the tears. I hid all my horrors, all by myself without anyone to help me, but God.

“Alright, when two or more are gathered, God hears our prayer.” Mammy believed that whole heartedly. I tried to believe it too, my childlike understanding still wished for good and fairytale like adventures, but the night rose to some things that were more…sinister. My mother got up from my bedside, approached my room door. Opened and closed the door behind her and I focused as much as I could on her footsteps leaving me behind, walkine down the hall to her own bedroom. I sighed, very loudly. Not because I was relieved or secure, but because I had to fight again.

Sleep came to creep up on me before I can brace myself for anything else. My mind was set on the task that will surely come, but my body was tired from all the games and playing I did all day. The night was different. Why must I be afraid of the night. What I have learned of night has made me afaid of it. Terrified, really. The window brought light in my room, a steady illumination. It should have been comforting, unfortunately, it was not. As sleep took me and I dreamt away, A lowly black mass began to collect itself near the wall beside my bed. Slowly accumulating, and as it did so the sound that came from this mass was of flesh tearing. Pushing itself forward from whereever it emerged, It began to form a head of the carcus of a bull and it wore the dark sludge that was it’s body as though it was a dress. The darkness of its sludge was darker than the darkest corner in the room, where light could not reach. This entity bore no human attributes, nothing about the thing was of this earth or reality. Mammy would call it a Jumbie. In caribbean culture a Jumbie is a monster or mischieveous spirit. It did not come from a dead person like ghosts. It is believed that jumbies can harm you.

While the Jumbie came to visit for a while, I slept undisturbed. After this horn adorned mass completed its materialization in this plane, it watched me as I slept. Though it had no eyes in that bull skull, it concentrated with intensity, on my small body under my shield, my blanket. To my horror, it was still there when I finally opened my eyes at the dead of night to look upon it. I was startled by this being, but have come accustomed to strange entities visiting me during the night. At first, I could not take my eyes off of it…this bull skull, which with its dark mass below it, seemed like it was floating on its own. In my life, at that time, I have never seen anything that I could describe was like it. I was so shaken with bewilderment, I threw my blanket over my head hoping that it would deter this thing from coming towards me. Perhaps it would leave, because my blanket shield would keep it at bay and it would vanish back to wherever it came. Out aloud, I chanted my secret prayer, over and over again. God would come protect me, that was the idea. How much more protection would I need to be free from this curse!

It still haunts me today. I am still here to tell the story.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her. (c) 2020

Brief Narrative: DRUNK TEXTING…

After a long day at work on a Saturday…what a way to whine down than to take a sip of something that makes you lose yourself for a time. For a time, the thought was not there to drink…for drinking sake. Just a little sip, that makes you open up but while you are musing you decide to text your lover. Then, you find yourself uninhibited and professing things. Sure, you are trying to keep your senses about you, but with more sipping and clicking…well. Things go down a path unintended…maybe, you sent some pictures that were not intended to be seen by a living been, but it happened. The evidence is on the phone and well, on his phone too. Maybe, maybe I didn’t press send. I began to lose my senses and the absence of time, ever present as my head seems like it’s bobbing in a bucket of water, or liquor?

I exhale, and inhale, putting another sip of the drink to my lips. A margarita in a bottle…eight percent alcohol, but potent to my system. My tolerance for the drink is low. My body already giving response to it. I continue to text my boyfriend. Some things I write…well, I had not thought about what his response would be for some of it. My intentions was to be sexy, wooing…but not sure how it landed on his side of the phone.

SHORT SERIES: Blood Tears – Luna Transformatio (Episode 2)

Please read the first episode before reading this one — Episode 1 –

Week 1

“You are strong enough; I will tell you why…” Tania Kumaran said to Lilia. “You were chosen for a very good reason. I refuse to believe my intuitions was wrong about you. Your blood type makes it possible that this process will only amplify your senses and your majic. I do not make mistakes.” Tania stood with her legs slightly apart, in front of Lilia. Lilia, who was so shaken and broken on the cement floor sitting in a pool of her eternal blood. The blood that made her, the blood Tania sacrificed from her own body to share. To provide a new existence for this fragile being before her. “I’m telling you that you were destined for this transformation. I showed you what I can do. I have the capacity to know the chosen. I’ve been searching since before time was ever recorded. I have had practice and claimed others as myself, to transform. I tasted it in your blood a year ago.” Lilia looked at both her hands. At least her crying and tears subsided. Wasting the blood on tears of regret, it angered Tania.

Lilia, the creature in transformation, just looked at her own bloody hands the entire time as Tania began another speech.  “You were too well informed about this process to have any regret. I told you the process, how you would feel…what would happen to you? I gave you a choice” Tania paused. She realized a few things, Lilia is not emotionally or psychologically sound at this moment, but her physical strength is building into the monster Tania prefers. “Your rare blood type is the secret link to what you will become. Bear with the agony now. I can only support your recovery of the physical transformation, the Luna Transformatio will take place until the moon completes one full cycle. The pain is part of the process.” Of course, as a natural predator to humans will be a big adjustment.

Week one transformation schedule is the most complicated, being that there are physical adjustments due to the change in DNA. Majic is also involved. Majic in this reality is more closely related to nature. Nature is part of majic, how it evolves, bends, alter itself, never breaking. Nature always found a way around or beyond anything. When nature activates, there are three intensions, they are to create, multiply and die, the constant cycle of all life. They are the most important in the balance of the universe. When a star dies, another is actualizing somewhere out there in the abyss. This is also the manner of things here on earth. Energy is just transferred while mass can be altered or eradicated, nature decides. This process is also like the lunar transformation and its transformational stages. First, Lilia will feel the joints, muscles and bones in her body reinforcing themselves. Even in her mouth and jaws there are changes providing elongated canine teeth all which can cause unfathomable discomfort and soreness. During that time, she would switch from eating food to devouring blood. Her appetite will diminish for the junk foods, delicacies and animals she digested as a human. Her digestion will become, simpler. In order for her to survive this process, staving off insanity, she would have to conjure calm in these intense moments. First the pain hits the body like a Mack truck, then as the weeks pass it will become small tremors throughout.

Tania relaxes her stance before Lilia, she began to inform her of the completion of the last physiological stages in a few hours. “Lilia, come here. Follow me to take a shower and rinse yourself of your sorrows, sore joints and muscles. You would have an herbal bath after. The herbal bath would ease the tension in your body. Makes it sigh. No more crying from here on out. No matter what. I detest it. Remember you asked for all of this. Remember?” Tania allowed those last words to reverberate off the walls in the room. Tania moved so swiftly, Lilia only remember blinking and Tania was in another part of the room. Eight feet away, Tania began to whisper to Lilia and said, “Your senses will be heightened, and even a whisper will feel as though it is a roar.” Then, in her normal speaking voice she said, “All of your five senses will become an invisible orb of 360 degrees around you. You will no longer to be grounded by your former human limitations. Sight, taste, smell, touch and hearing will be evolved as well as your intuition and some psychic capabilities. In some cases, projecting mental images to conceal yourself. Though you are biologically stronger, and your body is denser, you are almost weightless. You would move so fast it would look like a blink in time.” Lilia looked at her now, steady and focused. Tania looked at her sideways, a smirk on her face. “First, let us get you out of this place and someplace less…damning.”

To be continued…Look out for the next episode.

Disclaimer: This is a Short Series that I created from my own imagination and at whim. This is the second episode but please read previous episodes first before reading new episode posts. All photography was taken by me. Thank you so much for your support. Please comment, criticize, make suggestions or say “hi”.

This is an original work of fiction imagined, created and copyrighted in 2019 by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her.

SHORT SERIES: Blood Tears – Immortalia (Episode 1)


Lilia Caruthers was staring at the full moon, her eyes filled with blood tears. The full face of the moon glowered as she wiped those tears with the inside of her palms and with long delicate fingers. Her precious tears kept falling no matter how much she tried to stop or stifle them back. Without transformation, her yellow-green irises are still their original color, but the once whites of her eyes are now ruby red and rising. The conscious will of the task that she would have to enact made her sob more and her white blouse was filled with gore, clots and rips. Everything intermingled, taking her breath away in between sobs in realization of all this. Every time she looked down at her shirt and her midnight black long hair matted with lifeblood, she bawled more. Streaks of carnage ran down her face forever more, it seemed. If she was still human you would have fainted, or at least passed out from exhaustion. Instead, neither happened, just more gore and anguish.

                “Oh, you are being too dramatic. This is not a play you know. This is the reality of this…this…life that is now yours. I cannot give you hope in this, other than this is the hereafter.” The voice that spoke came from the corner of the dark surroundings. She could see through her new eyes that she was in a square room built with cinderblocks, gray no paint to color them. The floor was hard, plain gray concrete, nothing to give her hope to cling onto as she was very devastated. The only light there was, was the light about her head that shown down from the glass hole above her. The moon looked like it wore a grin now, towering above her. So great in vivid detail, it invaded her space. “Well, there is no going back,” The voice mocked. The shadow danced on the edges where the moonlight and the darkness bordered each other in the dungeon, never stopping to be peered at or known. Lilia began to normalize some, enough to notice that the she could hear distinctly, the shoes that the shadow wore. She placed the footsteps on the right side of her. Closing in unfortunately, as the shadow continued with its soliloquy of disdain and reprimanding. “This is the thing, you asked for this life. Chased it down and begged for it, but now…look at you.” The shadow sucked its teeth. “Already sorry. This is what you get. It is not glamourous. You knew this.” For the first time, they stepped out of the dark to reveal a snarled grin, white but translucent teeth in a face of disapproval and disgust. “You wasted my blood! I wasted it on you thinking you were a fine specimen ready for a challenge for this new life. I almost want to slaughter you right now! If you don’t stop crying…you will leak all the blood left within you and die!” The shadow, now a human-like creature standing before her. Human attributes, some face, hands, legs, but skin slightly ashen and stale, yet an ominous beauty. Eyes overshadowed by thick brows that hooded them. Lilia cowered as the human-like creature stepped closer to where she sat on the floor in gore, ingloriously.

                Lilia looked up to this marvel, her maker, waiting for her destruction or salvation. “I had not known…it wasn’t supposed to be like this…” she sobbed again, both hands over her face now still attempting to obstruct the flow of blood from her eyes. The blood was her will now and she told herself, the blood is your lifeline, please stop crying. This new experience, in her same body that she had a week ago…her body transforming, and she felt it still…Her conscious thought was interrupted. “Those are my tears in you, my blood, my lifeforce I fed to you! Control yourself!” The creature screamed at Lilia in an unnatural pitch. Instantly, Lilia subsided her sobs and looked up, everything soaked in red around her. “If you have no will, I will have to breath it into you. I am trying to help you survive, then possibly, eventually live. This process takes time. You are new to it, like you were just born. Do you understand?” The creature was behind her now. Lilia gasped then said, “Ok…it is a lot and…I don’t know if I am strong enough for any of this.” The creature replied abruptly, “you are strong enough, I will tell you why…”

To be continued…Look out for the next episode.

Disclaimer: This is a Short Series that I created from my own imagination and at whim. This is the first episode but please read previous episodes first before reading new episode posts. All photography posted with on my blog is original artwork and photos taken by Juana M. Gumbs. Thanks so much for your support. Please comment, criticize, make suggestions or say “hi”.

This is an original work of fiction imagined, created and copyrighted in 2019 by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her.

SHORT SERIES: The Funny Business of Suite 305 and other Tales of Infamy (FINALE)

Disclaimer: This is a Short Series of stories that are either of true, actual or loosely based college experiences. Please read previous episodes first before reading this one. Thanks so much for your support. Please comment, criticize, make suggestions or say “hi”.

To read Episode 1:

To read Episode 2:  

To read Episode 3:

To read Episode 4:

To read Episode 5:

To read Episode 6:

Short Series: Episode 7 (Finale)

                May was crying the entire ride to the hospital and I comforted her the best I could. The entire morning, I slept in the waiting room while they examined her. The nurse insisted that May would be okay through this and would be in good hands with the physician. In the examination room, there was a female physician as well as a nurse to attend her needs. A police officer introduced themselves as detective Alara Benning and carefully proceeded to ask me questions about the incident. Detective Benning, tall and dark skinned, reminded me of one of my sisters. She also wore her kinky hair in a bun and looked at me with red framed, sleek glasses as she questioned me. Something told me, that I could trust her. Was it my gut instinct, I am uncertain?

                “I know that this is a sad and distressing time,” Detective Benning started, “but, we need to have as much detail as we can to solve this…crime.” She glanced at me, then looked down at the pad and pen in her hands. Before she began to speak again, she sighed. “Can you tell me, what happened to your friend?” At that moment that she asked me that question, so many thoughts raced through my mind. I was thumbing through them, not certain which one to express to her first. “Well…” I started, “May went to an off-campus party with a friend and when I came back to our dorm room, she was…” I raised my eyes to look into the detective’s eyes. I began again, “something just wasn’t right with how she looked, her mascara smeared she was in and out and bawling on the bed.” I shook my head before I began again. “She was a wreck and if you knew May the way I know May, she’s usually a sunny Sunday with Unicorns and flower petals. A real sweetheart. Innocent.” Maybe even naïve. I told the detective everything we experienced up until we came here to the hospital. Detective Benning nodded a lot, shook her head some and even paused to ponder throughout the entire discussion. Finally, she gave her last nod and said, “Okay, I have enough information to file in my report. I do hope that May is well taken care of during this devastating process and that the culprit…” she paused, then started, “that the suspect is found and charged. Later, I will discuss with May what happened. We will get to the bottom of this. Thank you so much for your time and the information you shared.” She shook my hand and left the waiting area. It was sad of course, all of it. I am stressed out about the situation and I cannot imagine what May is experiencing.


                May was released from the hospital the same day of the examination. She asked me to call her mother and tell her that May is safe right now, but she will need her mother to come and pick her up from school. Her mother was shocked when I told her this expressed her shock and unbelieving over the phone. “She actually wants me to come get her? May told me that she wanted her independence that she can do it all alone, without me.” I then said to May’s mother, “I think it’s best you get here right away, she needs you…now.” That was the end of that conversation.

                Immediately after May left, a few students talked to the police about the incident, the rape that occurred at the party. No one really knew it was happening, but it did. Later that week, the details were revealed that May was lured into the green house in the back yard of the party house. She had already had too much to drink and it was unclear, at the time, if other drugs were given to her without her knowledge. When I heard this, I was very very upset. They kept the name of “the suspect” with the detectives investigating the incident, but I felt he shouldn’t be protected. Why must May leave, and this person allowed to still be among friends and still go about life normally? The scenario was so unfair to me.

                After a few months, May called me on the phone. We chatted online and via e-mail often throughout that time. She was safe and attended a school that was close to home, whereas, she could commute back and forth instead of staying in the dorms. I was so happy for her, though she was reluctant to stay at home, with her mom. The case of her rape was still under investigation at that time, but she kept very upbeat about the outcome. Her light within unwavering. Still living life about unicorns and rainbows…still finding the optimism through everything and every aspect of her life.

The End