It’s Not Me, It’s Most Definately You!

Cold and narcissistic? What? Me?! Of course, that’s how you see me. It’s totally understandable. Blaming me saves you from having to look at yourself. You’re absolutely perfect. Without an introspective mirror in your hand, you think you haven’t a flaw.

Don’t worry, you have flaws. Everyone has them. Deny this fact and you’ve found your first one — at lightning speed.

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Let me tell you, we’ve become the perfect joke. Outside this home, you’re nice to me. People think we’re the ideal, happily married couple — but at home you’re condescending. You berate me, tease me and tell me I’m worthless. I cry and you don’t give a damn. The only thing that stops me from ripping your head off and shoving it up your self-centred uncaring ass, is a thin veneer of civility. It’s all I have left. My dignity vapourised a long time ago.

No, I’m not narcissistic, I’m just trying to survive this relentless, cold war by deflecting your callous abuse. I’m doing my best but what you’re doing to me is too much. I have to switch off all of my emotions to fight back and to avoid being hurt. I’m losing this battle.

To tell you the truth, I’m tired of fighting you and sick of all this… of you… us.

You could’ve tried more.

I’m done. Goodbye.

Me.

P.S. This went into a book. Be afraid.

Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer who specializes in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.

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‘Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.’

Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’

Pregnant, Single And Then Screwing Up My Family Tree

She was forced to marry the guy. There was no other choice. That’s the way it was done back then. She had to marry him, take his name, and then raise their child in the name of God. It was the right thing to do.

Archaic as the process sounds, this older social order kinda helps modern genealogy research. Bloodlines and family trees are much easier to follow when one marriage and one surname is applied to any search. Back then, there were fewer divorces, re-marriages, stepparents, or blended families to factor in. Women didn’t want to hyphenate surnames or retain their maiden names. Tracking ancestors is simple.

But then there is this unplanned pregnancy at hand. It messes up things. It was a terrible shame to her family. Of course, it was. It had to be. Families received scorn for having an unwed mother in their midst. The two lovers had to marry as soon as possible, to beat the arrival of a baby, and to minimise the shame.

The couple said they’d save themselves for their wedding day but they didn’t do that. They tried hard to be celibate but nature came first. The fear of being shamed came in a close second.

Young mother’s like her who weren’t married and too young to be one, kept their pregnancies hidden. Birthdates were falsified. There were instant weddings, inexplicable missing passages of time, mysterious holidays away, to conceal the shameful truth. Married aunts, sisters and other women, suddenly gave birth to a child they never even conceived, just to protect the guilty parties who did. Who the hell knows who the real parents were. We only know what’s printed on paper records.

Did I say genealogy was easier when people stayed together and lived by a single surname?

Oops.

Margo’s been researching her family history and tree. One pattern keeps popping up: Young wives often had their babies within nine months of their wedding day. That’s oddly convenient and way too perfect to be natural.

I get it. Let’s say that the young couple were married today. They were super horny, highly fertile and never used contraception. Strict celibacy rules before this time would’ve had them fired and ready to go. They would’ve ripped off each other’s clothes before they closed their bedroom door. It’s no wonder they conceived immediately. How lovely. How perfect. Magical.

And Santa Clause is real too.

More often than not, it’s not the way things go down.

Instead, they probably fumbled around behind the old shed on a warm Spring day, a month or two ago. Half-dressed and afraid of being caught, they did what nature had them do. He promised he wouldn’t impregnate her, but, for whatever reason, that’s not what happened. Bingo. Marriage followed soon afterwards. A baby magically joined them eight or so months later. The romantic story of two fertile, Christian, previously celibate, honeymooners, satisfied family and Church. Everyone smiled and lived by the warmth of a wonderful lie.

Today, we’re not so afraid of shame’s chilliness. An unwed mother isn’t forced to marry anyone to appease her family or Church. Sex and marriage aren’t tied to each other anymore. You can get married and divorced many times. Children can pop up at any time. No problem. No guilt. No handing an unplanned child over to a childless couple to hide the shame.

When it comes to genealogy though, this new way of living will make things awkward. Future generations will have their work cut out when researching today’s historic lineages. That’s only half the challenge. Adding extra space on a family tree for step-siblings and parents is one thing, what about including doner-sperm dad’s, surrogate uteruses, egg donating mothers, and DNA splicing (my prediction), too? Good luck following the branches in that mangled species of tree!

Back to reality and a problem currently at hand.

Margo is finding her family research frustrating because some things just don’t add up. It comes down to her nose and chin. Her Great Great Grandmother Amy doesn’t have the same one, but Amy’s little sister does. It’s as plain as, well, the nose on their faces. There’s a theory we’ve got that turns Mary into a mother, long before records suggest she did.

If it turns out that young Mary was actually knocked up earlier and her family had kept it quiet, the whole story will change, but it’ll make better sense if it goes that way.

If Margo is right, it’s likely that her older sister Amy, and her husband John, took Mary’s child as their own. They were then listed as the child’s biological parents. It means Great Great Grandmother Amy isn’t Great Great Grandmother Amy at all. Mary (with an unnamed, untraceable boyfriend) is actually her Great Great Grandmother. A new line of research has to be done to track every birth, marriage and death that followed her life, not Amy’s. Of course, this narrative is all speculation anyway. There’s no real proof it happened like this at all, not yet anyway.

Speculation isn’t fact, but facts can conceal lies. You either accept the facts or run down a theory until every nose and chin line up the way they should. If we didn’t have photographs, we wouldn’t know to look for theories in the first place. To be honest, who knows how accurate any bloodlines is when it predates photography and the speculation it inspires. We’ll never know for certain why Margo’s chin appears on the wrong ancestor. It just does.

I’d like to believe in one thing though. I’d want to believe that a fifteen-year-old Mary and her mysterious beau did a wonderful thing behind the old shed on a warm day in Spring. Giggles became hot kisses that turned into heavy breathing and the sounds of nervous, but exquisite lovemaking. I hope two female-sized handprints were left somewhere on that shed’s wall that marks the fabulous occasion. But I’m a writer with a vivid imagination. I like to think of the mysterious things that happen behind our human facade, those dates we feel we need to falsify, our shame avoidance, the guilt, the secrets, and the lies we tell to keep the people around us happy.

I like it a lot.

Michael Forman (Author of Dark Fiction – See Below)

Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer who specializes in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.

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How Mariah Carey Undervalues People With THAT One Song

She fooled us all. When shown, the message she gives us becomes frightfully clear. You’ll never think the same way about THAT Christmas song again. You’ll wonder why you didn’t hear it right the first time!

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas….. all I want for Christmas is you.”

Mariah, Mariah, Mariah. How did you get away with this for so long? What you’re saying is like a How-To: Undervalue Oneself in two short sentences. You don’t want a lot, but you’re happy to have me? What an insult!

Sure, you’ve made a boppy, wholesome, festive tune, but the words in it are as plain as the nose on Rudolf’s face. It’s a big downer and I know it. I see through your charade Ms Carey. You don’t fool me!

She doesn’t want a lot? It’s no wonder humanity is medicated to the eyeballs. We accept less than the best in a damn Christmas song and miss the point.

I value myself higher than that, Ms C. That’s everything to me! If you don’t like it, you can always find someone else who isn’t a lot for Christmas and is satisfied with that.

Oh yes, that’s exactly how I read you and those offensive lyrics. What a bitchy thing to say! You almost had me fooled.

I hope no one shows up at your party Ms C. Expect fewer presents under your tree too!

And if I’m ever at your place on any Christmas Day in the future, you’ve got all I can give for just being there. If that’s not good enough for you, then that’s just too bad. In no way are you going to put me down. I’m a friggin’ ball of sunshine in my life… and sunshine provides enough energy for life on Earth.

You don’t want a lot? Oh, give me strength! Change the damn lyrics, Mariah. Give some good love to the world by saying the proper words that need to be said at Christmas time.

“Everything I need for Christmas… is inside of you.”

You’re welcome Mariah. 😉

-Michael

P.S. PM me for details on where you can forward my royalties.

Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer who specializes in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.

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I Had an Allergic Reaction To My Tinder Date

Anaphylaxis is a real condition where the human body reacts negatively to a substance it’s allergic to. Swelling, rashes and constricted airways are typical symptoms of anaphylaxis. Nut’s, milk, yeast, gluten and kisses are the most common offenders.

Kisses?

Samara and Charlie only kissed each other. He’d eaten a peanut butter sandwich before setting out on his Tinder date. One thing led to another and she had to reach for her Epipen to save her own life. She was then rushed to emergency with a severe case of anaphylaxis where doctors put her directly onto a respirator and monitored her in intensive care until she responded to treatment. Luckily, the story ends happily. She was released from hospital and is totally fine now.

It raises interesting questions about modern allergies mixing with high speed online dating. How can this be avoided in the future? Perhaps dating sites could use allergies and food likes/dislikes and an algorithm to sort out who’s likely to be allergic to whom.

Once upon a time, we didn’t need that. We knew the people we kissed long before we kissed them. We knew them well enough to know what they put into their mouths. We knew their favorite foods, color, their star sign and many other things BEFORE our lips touched. That’s not the case today, now we hook-up to fuck. There’s little time to know anything about anyone. Maybe I’m just old, outdated and don’t get it. I miss the point.

Maybe I’m just a bit jealous too.

Why did I miss out on this new and exciting way to get laid? Dating for a shag seems like a lovely thing. Some of us need a one-nighter, a one-time shag every so often, right? We don’t always want sex for marriage, reinforcing a relationship or for making children. Sometimes it’s about being a participant in a desirable, pleasant event and that’s it. We don’t want to develop a relationship from it. It’s like sharing a meal, we dine and then wave each other goodbye at the end of it.

Nice.

Michael Forman (Author of Dark Fiction – See Below)

Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer who specializes in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.

ORDER NOW

‘Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.’

Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’

In search of this 1970’s radio. Have you got one?

I’m on a quest to find this pocket radio. Have you got one tucked away? It could be in a drawer or an old shoebox. It’s called an EXPO 70, or Emperor. (micro 70 too)

When I was a kid, my father gave one to me as a gift. He was in the Australian Navy and picked it up somewhere in Asia while on a tour of duty. And then I lost it.

I was an irresponsible child. We were on a fishing trip and I was about three or four at the time. I remember putting it in the little rowboat my dad had rented for us but I don’t remember taking it out after we finished fishing.

It has taken me a long time to identify this radio. My memory knows its shape and colour but not the date, or the company that manufactured it. Thanks to the Internet, I’ve learned much about it while tracking it down.

Quite possibly, this was the smallest radio of its time. Japan had a World Exposition in 1970 and small transistor radios were a new thing. Here’s what I know: It isn’t Japanese. It’s possible another country used the Exposition to advertise their new tech in Japan. China is the likely candidate. All the online texts point to the radio being Chinese. Expo 70 wasn’t its only name. Micro 70 was another. Emporer was a third.

The radio came in five exotic colours. Mine was bright red.  

If you have one of these at home and would like to part with it, it’d go to a good home if it were to come my way. I’m willing to pay. Currently, I have an automatic online search ready to capture any advertisement that contains one. It has to be red and working. I have a blue one.  

In the meantime, read my novel. It has more of my life experiences written into it.

Michael (Author of Dark Fiction – See Below)

Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer who specializes in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.

ORDER NOW

How To Make This Fantastic Silverbeet, Lentil, Turmeric, and Fava Bean Pizza! Yum!

Amazing, delicious and healthy food, starts with a tantalizing new twist on an old favourite. If you’re a good-foodie on the lookout to discover exciting new flavours that are set to take over the world, have I got the dream food for you!

No I haven’t.

Pizza with a blend of these four ingredients? Are you nuts? Sure, it sounds ridiculously exciting, but it’s just plain ridiculous. Pizza and Silverbeet? Come on. Get real!

And Turmeric?

That magical life-saving word attracts health-conscious readers from everywhere. Add this one element to any food today, and we’ve got an instant winner. Turmeric is a now-word. It’s a mystical spice with mystical properties, promising to lengthen and improve the quality of our lives with every mouthful. Pop it on a dish. Pep-up life.

It’s still not a real pizza.

These ingredients came to me four seconds before I wrote the title on top of this post. I started with them and then went from there. That’s all. It’s not real. I’ve never made such a pizza, seen it, or eaten one. It’s an imaginary food knocked-up with words that are meant to sound stupid. If you want to know, I prefer a more traditional type of pizza, with meat and cheese on it. Basil is an acceptable green, but if that becomes lettuce, silverbeet or, dare I say it, kale, it’s not pizza. That’s a statement.

The fava bean connection is a nod to my dark fiction. If you’re into thrillers and such, this inclusion makes perfect sense. Fava beans and a nice Chianti is the next line you’d expect to read here.

That’s all.

Michael (Dark fiction author)

‘Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.’

Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’

Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer who specializes in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.

ORDER NOW

Top 8 Modern Driver Excuses Used After They’ve Been Caught Speeding

  1. “Google Maps says the speed limit here is XX per hour.” (ie: The posted road signs don’t matter.)
  2. “I wasn’t speeding. I was only going with the flow of traffic.”
  3. “Well, then the police car I was following must’ve been speeding too.”
  4. “I don’t check my speedometer. Google Maps tells me the speed.”
  5. “I never speed. I know speed. I wasn’t speeding.”
  6. “Other drivers going faster. Why don’t you book them instead?”
  7. “If I knew you were there [with your speed camera], I would’ve driven slower.”
  8. “There was no one else on the road.”
Embed from Getty Images

Not every driver complains or makes up excuses about breaking the road rules (or make up new ones). Thankfully, some acknowledge their indiscretions, and look to improve their driving habits into the future — so we can all live safer on the roads tomorrow.

Michael (Dark fiction author)

‘Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.’

Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’

Pool Crawler Keeps Stalling. Can You Help Me With My G2 Barracuda?

Have you had problems with your crazy, always-stopping G2 Barracuda pool crawler? Me too. It’s not stuck on a leaf or a stick. It just stops. I swear, this pool cleaner will be the end of me.

Yes, this post is a break from the usual dark fiction authoring I stick on this blog. After a stint in the creepy dankness of my writer’s den, I’ll pop-out and take a peak at the sunshine. When I go there, I’ll find my pool cleaner stuck in a corner of the pool or on a flat section of it, chomping away at one spot, cleaning nothing, apparently for hours on end.

‘That vacuum has stopped again Michael,’ Margo shouts. ‘Can you go outside and see to it?’

A deep breath is needed. I’ve spent hours studying it’s movements and still can’t figure out why my G2 keeps stalling! Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally amazed at it’s design just the same. I pay respect to those engineers who’ve looked at its buoyancy, surface friction, suction, hose flexibility/curves, etc, measured and made it so everything is just right so it can crawl around my pool floor and pick up leaves. Let’s face it. Any pool cleaner is a marvellous work of physics.

But why am still spending time pulling my G2 out of corners to enjoy its magnificence? I’ve read the instructions and done all they’ve suggested. Nothing helps!

It once worked. Now it doesn’t. I’m baffled and befuddled (enjoy that word). It makes two passes of the pool and then it gets stuck. I’ve taken so much time out of my writing to chase it up. It’d be quicker to vacuum the pool by hand than rely on my G2 to do the job!  

Here’s a video to show what it’s doing:

 

You’ll notice our pool is dirty. This was two weeks of the G2 being unsupervised. It’s pretty ordinary, wouldn’t you agree? You’ll also notice that while shooting this video, it stopped at my feet. That was fortuitous… but it’s an indication of the issues we encounter. It’s not hooked up on a skin-fitting, nor has it’s diaphragm been obstructed. It just sits there, rocking back and forth, laughing in my face.

It has a brand new skirt and diaphragm. The hose is just a week old. Like I said, it worked extremely well when it was new. It cleaned the whole pool on any pump setting, and it never got stuck. We installed it with the deflector down low and the weight ring where the specs said to put it… and away she went! I never had to move it by hand, never needed to watch it to see if it was doing its job. Now this is happening.  

So it’s over to you dear reader. If you have an idea about what’s causing the problem, I’d like to hear it.  

Michael. (My dark fiction is below)

‘Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.’

Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’

Her Husband Gifted Her Another Man On Her Birthday!

Huh? What? Event? Why have an event at all? Isn’t one man enough? What does the husband think about this? And what about monogamy and faithfulness?

The husband is just fine with it. It’s like handing over the car keys to a friend so he borrow it for a few hours. For her, think of it like being gifted a hands-free vibrator that comes with fingers, lips and a veracious appetite of its own. It’s play time for adults!

And if using a vibrator doesn’t make a woman unfaithful, then neither is borrowing a flesh-and-blood one. He goes home and she’s left to bask in the afterglow, just like a vibe.

Experimentation and growth need not stop just because some naïve promises were made at an altar ten, twenty, or thirty years prior. Adjustments are allowed to be applied to them, to keep the fires burning — like from the heat couples produce when they dip their toes into the growing world of cuckolding. Many who have taken the cucking plunge, say they’ve found a new energy for their relationship, improving and strengthening their marriages. There’s something new to share, exciting discussions to be had, and something stimulating to be used in the bedroom.

And cuckolds needn’t be the brow-beaten, emasculated stereotypes of the past. Some still are (and enjoy it that way), but the modern variants don’t necessarily include shame and humiliation. They lie somewhere between that ancient stereotype, wife-swapping and, the rage-of-the-day, hot-wifing.

Felicity Snow is a medical specialist and the wife of a cuckold. She’s a well-educated woman and a respected member in her field. She says she loves her husband more than anything in the world, it’s just that she needs something more. Husband Hayden, a cosmetic surgeon, understands his wife needs and is in no way offended by her passion to date other men. He was the one who first suggested it when she revealed her desires to him five years ago. He even arranged her first encounter with a bull on her birthday.

Since then, it’s blossomed into something special. They look forward to meeting and experiencing new men, a few times each year. They say the anticipation and electricity that surrounds leading up to an encounter, especially first ones, is ‘off-the-charts’.

Sometimes Hayden is invited to witness the liaison take place.

“I prefer to watch, but not every guy is an exhibitionist. I respect that. I get to hear all about it later.”

Felicity flicks her long blonde hair back behind her shoulders and smiles. “At first I wasn’t sure about it [cuckolding] but it’s better than a sex toy. This one comes with extras. It pulls your hair and I never know what its tongue is going to do!”

Hayden says he doesn’t lose as, most times, he gets to watch his gorgeous wife enjoy her bull. “She’ll reach out and touch me, tell me she loves me, and then turn back to her lover. She’ll kiss him, settle onto his dick and then groan. It’s just amazing seeing her eyes roll back.”

Hayden and Felicity use some of their date nights to recruit new lovers. They’ll go to a bar separately and pretend to be strangers. When another man takes interest in her, Hayden stays away and lets them interact without interference. If Felicity doesn’t like the guy, she’ll tell him she’s married and Hayden will show up. They have a special signal if their candidate is the right one.

Felicity takes the charm bracelet she wears on her right wrist and then moves it to the left one. If this happens, another bull has been approved and, if he’s not too shy about it, Hayden will follow  them to a nearby hotel room.

– Michael

P.S. please read my novel from which this narrative is drawn.

A Sailing Affair
Two Random Victims
Childless Couple
Charm Bracelet
Author: M.Forman
Avail: Kindle, Kobo, iPad, Etc.


‘Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.’

Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’

An Open Letter to People Who Write Open Letters

If what you write is written for the Internet, published on the Internet, and then shared on social media platforms, it’s already OPEN. You don’t have to say it’s open. It’s already O P E N. Stop insinuating that it was once CLOSED, sometimes EXCLUSIVE, or accidentally LEAKED. You can’t get more OPEN than publishing something on the ‘net. It’s an OPEN letter by it’s nature. It’s not an OPEN letter, it’s just a F*CKING letter. Stop saying it’s OPEN. It makes you look foolish and, the reader, dumb.

That is all.

Now stop wasting time reading this extremely hidden post.

Go back to work. Go on.

-Michael (Dark Fiction Author)