I Am Going to Write On My Primary Blog … Please Visit Me There






Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee




I am going to write only on my Primary Blog for a while :    http://happycolorsandgrannygee.blogspot.com

I hope you will come to visit me there.  I will look for you.

Gloria/aka Granny Gee





Punish the Homeless, Throw Them Away … Trash on the Ground


By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter/Facebook.com/grannygee



Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee


This is no way right … no matter which way you turn it around in your mind to look at it.  Punish someone because they have no where to go … and dare be in your sight?  Wouldn’t you be ashamed to think like that?  Would you want to go to your church … say that publicly?

I keep reading about police harassing the homeless … cities wanting to fine homeless people for daring to be seen sleeping (they call it rough sleeping) out in the open.  If they had money … you know they’d be inside somewhere where there are more comforts.

I think about Vern, the homeless guy we met … he said some homeless slept on the sidewalks because they felt safer … he and his buddies sleep in the woods because … they think it safer.  He told us about one of his homeless friends being murdered on the sidewalk … his face was beaten until no longer recognizable … he was murdered.

Give the homeless people an area, a safe space … give them tents or a smaller than … portable tiny house on wheels/wagon, blankets, barrels and wood for warmth … water … portable toilets.  How much does that cost?  You know how wagon trains did in the old days … only in this instance … tiny houses on  little wagons to pull around in a circle at night for security, safety … portable toilets for men, women in the middle.

Less than the money it takes to pay wages to policemen to take all that time to harass some helpless person … all that time they could be protecting someone in danger.  I won’t argue this with anyone … we all know I’m right.

Homeless people aren’t going away … each day more and more people become homeless because when they ask for help … while they ‘look presentable’ … everyone they meet says ‘no’ … finally they are forced to live in the open.  They become … look what they are … homeless.

Make tiny houses on wheels … no bigger than a shopping cart,lightweight … let them live in them … stop adding to the problem.  Make something … at least something to help the problem … not aggravate it.

I am only a door in my home to walk to open … to be homeless.  Sometimes now … I turn my desk chair around … I look at that door … and think about that.  I become afraid … would you?

I know how it feels to have everything … and now … nothing.  I didn’t need anything then … never wanted to take if I had what I needed … I always gave to all the fund-raising events for cancer, for people to have heat … people who stand with their signs … especially to the Salvation Army, Red Cross.

I gave to people my Heart led me to give to … people who never were aware of me until the moment I did … when I gave, I smiled … walked away … no strings attached.  Those were some of the greatest moments in my life … my reward … was a warm Heart for what I did.  Happiness knowing I made a difference.

My husband just had a stroke, and a pacemaker and can’t work …  There are many people like us .. already homeless … we may have to find their paths, follow. We are told there isn’t any money, no resources to help senior citizens, disabled senior citizens.

We were told to go to a shelter … split up … let go of our 2 dogs whom are children to us.  Get rid of our belongings … go away from ‘home’, each other.  We were told … at this moment I don’t know where any shelters are.  Oh … I don’t know what to tell you.  A Spanish woman told us this on an evening of a big ice storm coming that night.  She didn’t ask us if we had a warm place to go to … all she wanted to do was get in her car, leave for her home.  She beat us to her car … just as we were opening the door on ours.  No compassion … a blank wall … dead end.

What happened to all the others who were older, disabled before us?  Sleeping in the woods … benches … out where they are harassed, beaten … murdered, robbed for what tiny little things they have on their bodies.

My husband and I used to team drive out west on a big truck … we gave to the homeless we saw … sometimes, putting them up in a motel for several nights … always stopping to give money.

We had money to give then … now … when we never have more than a few dollars in our pockets … we still stop, give a dollar or two.  That’s how passionate we are about people who have nobody … nowhere to go … and are at the mercy of the world.

I personally think videos, tv shows have numbed our compassion for people.  It’s too easy to read the book without opening it … too much trouble to open the book … we just look at the cover, see what we want to see.  So when one looks at … homeless people … they only see a drug addict, or a drunk … nothing more.  They never see … the ‘diamonds in the rough’.

Even in politics … no respect for the others running for office.  Everyone is rude … everyone being people who are our role models … why they are public figures!  If they can do this … say that … we can do the same thing, it’s alright because … they did it!  This is strictly my Gloria Opinion … I will not argue it with any one.  You have an opinion … I respect that … the End.

There are all kinds of reasons unknown to the naked eye … that put each homeless person there.  It isn’t always substance abuse … it isn’t always someone looking for a handout, out to get something free.  Instead of thinking your reasons ‘why?’ they are there … do what we are supposed to do when we can … give with a free heart … you know your intentions when you give … that’s all that matters … it’s how you give it, what’s in your mind.

Just know … those people don’t choose to be there … they ran out of choices … it takes family support, money in this world … to be able to make choices to have a home, car … all you are left with is your pride when homeless … even that slips away after having to become what your surroundings/environment demands in order for you to survive.  Not everyone has family …

You have to … become something you no longer recognize.  Just imagine this to give you an idea … you see trash all over the ground … you see a sparkle … are you drawn to it?

Now … if that sparkle was covered in dirt … could you see it, be drawn to it?  The dirt protects the diamond … keeping attention away.  The diamond becomes … part of its surroundings in order to survive … people … become … what they have to … in order to survive.

There are many, many … diamonds … in the homeless world … no one sees them.  That’s why sometimes … someone will see a sparkle … in the homeless world … try to pull the ‘diamond’ out for others to see … why this is a human being … look at how he can sing, speak … oh my!  what is he doing in the homeless world?

Do you see what I am saying.  We all act like it’s such a surprise to see a homeless person … ‘be like us’!  Have a beautiful voice … to speak, sing.  Or be able to draw like nobody’s business.  Oh my God … this ‘animal’ is … like us!  They can do so much, I wonder why? they are homeless if they can do so much?

You’ve heard it just like I have … you see the awe, surprise when a homeless person/diamond is discovered.  Everyone’s amazed.  All because … someone saw the diamond/person …. sparkle/come alive … for a moment.  Everyone comes running to see … ready to make money for … their discovery. The whole world is … about money.

You can argue all day long that money can’t buy this, buy that.  I’m not going to argue with you.  I’ve been on both sides.  No matter what … money does make all the difference in one’s life.  Without money … you can’t pay for your basic comforts such as electric, water, tv, insurance, car payments … everything you ‘need’ to live comfortably in this world.

Money is only made ‘evil’ … by people who misuse it … rob, kill for it.  One can make the choice to use it for good … or for … bad.  It’s all up to the one … who is control of it.

Sometimes … we see people use it to raise their families, college for their children to succeed in life … money meant to help the people of the community, projects, etc.  They forgot what it was intended for … they began to think it is … theirs.  Think about the people you know … who have done this in the past.  Every town has people who have embezzled … they took care of their own.

What’s sad … is when people in desperation … who never ask for help … come to a time in their life they need help … are told there aren’t any resources to help them … there’s no money.  Why do those people have a job if there’s nothing to work with?

Why do these people sit at a desk to say … there aren’t any resources to help senior citizens, disabled … anyone … and there hasn’t been any money since 2008.  Do they get a salary to sit there … just to tell people that?  To tell people there isn’t a list of resources to check out … to tell people … “I don’t know what to tell you”.

I don’t mind telling you … I stopped by a HUD office … someone told me ‘they could help, tell me which direction to go in’.  I found out they haven’t had money since 2008 … there’s no way they could help at all in our situation.  Well, I understood that … I didn’t understand why … I couldn’t get a direction to go in … from there.  I know it can’t be a … dead end.

I watched the woman carefully as I explained in a quiet voice what has happened to my husband and I.  I never saw a glimmer of compassion in her eyes … she was so used to her job and the people who come there to ask for a direction to go in, ask what to do … ask for help they are led to believe is there.

She was cold … and business-like, older black lady.  I understand that … maybe it was the way she felt she has to be in her job when everyone is ‘needing’ today.

She reminded me of my own mother … but, lacked the compassion, caring, love I always saw in my mother’s eyes.  I was distracted by something in her face … eyes that reminded me of my mother.  I didn’t feel any kindness … she stayed like a wall … blank.  I couldn’t make the wall smile.

I was a nuisance who dared come into her office … she had her gospel music playing … here I come into her heaven to bother her.  She didn’t want to hear me … but, she sat there … she sat there.  She sat there … with no advice, no suggestions … she sat there.  When I left … I left with the memory of gospel music thumping away … the older, black lady sitting there at her desk … glad I was leaving.

Listening to the music in her office … I understood why? at the front of the building there was a big sign saying, KNOCK ON DOOR … KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

I asked her if she had any advice … another direction for me to go in … a stepping stone … to go to the ‘next step/place’.  Sadly … she was a … dead end.  I left wondering … why is she working if there isn’t anything to work with?

Before I left … I looked that lady in the eye, told her that if I did have to go homeless … I would do it in a public way.  Everywhere I go, ask what to do next to prevent it from happening … I can’t seem to find any answers.

Maybe it’s meant for people like myself … not to find answers … and I’m making an ass out of myself looking for them.  Maybe I’m supposed to shut up, go into a corner … die.  What have the others done … before me?

I know there are thousands of people in my situation … before and after … I know you are … there. What did you do?  Why won’t you share your advice, suggestions that really worked?  Everything is kept secret.  Maybe it has to be kept secret.  I will know yet.  I don’t see anything written from anyone who is, has gone through such.

Why aren’t there any answers?  Does everyone who gets ‘older’ get pushed under the rug … out of sight so no one has to deal with them?  Better yet … the old bags need to die?  Well … I’m not going to die until I have to … and whether anyone likes it or not … if my ship sinks any farther into the cold depths of the ocean … I am not going without letting others know what they have to look forward to when growing … older, broken … having no family support in their lives.  I’m the ‘just before homeless’ … this is how it begins.

I came out feeling worse than I felt going in.  I had a breakdown later that evening.  I went to pieces … I had to go to the bedroom to get away from everything … I slept for hours.  That’s not ‘me’.  I knew I was in a serious way … I felt I couldn’t take anymore.

You know … normally when someone needs guidance, advice … so many people are ready to offer solid leads, resources to get this done, that done.  This is the first time in my life … I keep coming to doors that won’t open for me.  I go down halls that are dead end.  I meet people … who don’t want to waste time talking to … me.

When I worked with the public … no matter I wanted to talk or not … I smiled, I talked … and I showed compassion.  Not only that … I thought of things someone ‘might need to know’ … guess what I did?  I had in my mind ‘the answers that might help’ … to give to them.  I sought out the answers to questions before … they were asked.  It made me feel good to know I ‘could help in any way’.

I’ve voiced my feelings … now, I’m emptied of words at the moment.  The bag is empty … no water left in the glass … the well is dry.  Don’t worry … it’ll all be replenished in no time!

I’ve always been aware of the homeless people … through many years.  I have a love for people who don’t have a voice, can’t help themselves … Who is going to pick up trash from the ground to see if … it’s worth anything?  How many people are going to see a diamond in the rough?  Who is going to take time?  Is it worth it … can one make any money?

Oh … I brushed my pants off when I woke up … just after I got up from my bed … I’m still holding my ground.  I still have things to do … I’m not giving up.  I had a breakdown because I had nowhere I could go.  Now, I’m okay.

I’ve watched people abusing the system all my life … when they already had money, nice things.  I’ve never abused it … I never take for the sake of taking to get something free … I only take when I need. I only ask … when I need.

This is one heck of a journey I’m on again … in my life.  You’ve followed me on the journey of being a grieving mother … now, I’m a grieving mother who needs an even keel in life … I wish for a portable home on wheels.  A permanent roof I can call my own.  One that can be moved if has to be.

I have in mind if I ever see the way possible in the future … to have a travel trailer.  I would take my world … move into it … and know that where I had to go … I would have a roof over my head … my world’s head.

I wish that for every homeless family, person.  I don’t think anyone should punish the homeless, throw them away because someone thinks they are trash.  They are broken people who have run out of options … sure some have their substance abuse problems … they are people like you, me … they feel pain.

They cry if they are hurt, laugh if something is funny … sometimes, they help you when they are the ones who need help.  Vern, the homeless man we met … gave me comforting words when he knew I was going to the doctor.  He was the one sitting there, dying from emphysema.

They are diamonds in the rough … disguised so no one can see them in the environment they have to live in by no choice of their own … in order to survive an awful life no one would choose … to have.

They are camoflaged just as people do to themselves when going into the woods to blend in.

My glass is full … the pond is refilled … my well is running over with water once again … I’m not at a loss for words now.  I told you I would … replenish!  I’m like a river … words constantly flowing from my fingertips.

I write what I think … I think what I write … regardless if anyone likes it … hates it.  I don’t try to push what I think on anyone … don’t let anyone push their opinions on me.  If you come here to read … you chose to come in, sit on my couch to see what I have to say, think.  I’m honored when you do … you never have to say a word … leave quietly, go back to your world.

When you read what a writer writes … you get lost in another person’s world for a while … when it gets too uncomfortable … doesn’t it feel good to know all you have to do is to blink your eyes … and you are sitting back on your own couch, in your own living room and … all is good.  Thank God! that’s not my life!  🙂  Sort of like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz!  Isn’t life wonderful?

I’m very aware of people whom I personally know … friends … reading my words.  You know me … you know that I speak frankly … I’m up-front … you know where I stand.  You also, know I never ask anyone for anything … I have too much pride.

When you come here to read me like people who don’t know me … know that I know you are here, too.  I never forget you … I know you know what’s on my mind … I know you by name just as you know me.

I would welcome any suggestions … from my friends … also.  I’m always hoping a friend will offer some advice.  You all are from this area … you all have had your parents, grandparents go through this … what did they do, how did you help them?  I don’t have a son to help me get on the right path, anymore.

I have to ask … friends, strangers in … public.  I have no one else.  I may have a lot of pride … it won’t stop me from asking … and I won’t be shamed because I did.

I’ve hoped some friends whom I know have experience with such things … would reach out to just tell me what paths to take.  I would do that.

If any of you … my friends … can offer advice … I don’t want anything but, words … my personal email is:  gloriapaintsat@yahoo.com … this way … you have a way of reaching me at any time.  I would be this kind of friend to you if I had information that could lead you in the right direction toward what you needed to do in your life.

I think about the homeless … I always have for many years.  This is the first time … in my life I could be … just before.  I’m at a point in life where I can ‘see’ how it could happen … I don’t think I’ll be … but, I really ‘see’ how it realistically can happen.

I let myself feel the panic … pain … helplessness to understand.  Yesterday evening … I broke down … went to pieces.  Suppose it were the real thing at this very moment?  Suppose I took ‘no’ for an answer … never venturing any farther to seek answers, aid for my situation before … slipping into oblivion?

If we don’t try to help ourselves … plug the holes in our boats … how can we help but, to sink … drown?  I’m trying to plug the holes before they sink me … to drown in an ocean bigger than I am. What would you do?  Where would you go?

Would you protest before going down … or go down quietly?  Or do you take for granted you’ll never be in such a situation?  I used to think I’d never be in a situation like this, also.  I also, used to think I’d have my son forever … he’d be here for me always, just as I was for him.

I don’t need to remind anyone in today’s time … that you can also, lose all … including your child.  It really is hard to believe until it happens … we sit back talking about so and so just lost their child and what a poor thing she is … we sit back, judge … forgetting ‘we’ are just like them … ‘we’ are also, going to lose children … other things in life … it’s just a matter of time.

You are going to pray someone is there to catch you when you fall.  Thank your God when you have real family support when ‘bad’ things happen.  Think how it would be if you’ve never had such … have no one to care.  Think how it would feel to know the distant ‘family’ members you have … take pleasure when you fall.  Laugh when you hurt … hope you die.

Think how it feels … when you have to ask strangers for answers, guidance to help you when you are unsure what to do.  Think how it feels to be alone in the world … having many friends … but, not the kind who gather around you blanketing you with love, comfort … keeping you from suffering by yourself.

Real friends don’t ask you if you need help … they just do.  Somehow they know.  I have been a real friend … and I didn’t have to ask … I just did, went my way.  You’ve heard the old saying … you know who your real friends are when you are down … out.

These are thoughts of a person who sits, thinks a lot, takes life seriously … writes a lot.  I have no one to share what I think with … excepting you … the people who come to read me, interested in what I write.  I’m honored.

I also, know the ones by names … when they visit my blogs to read … who want to judge … hope I fail, fall in life … want to look down on me because ‘now, I don’t have anything’.  I tell these people … it doesn’t bother me … I’m going to be here until the day I die … and guess what?

I’ll still be here because … my words will live on.  I have 3 books with my words that will live on … whether they are read or not.  My son will be remembered, also … I made that possible … one of my books holds all my words of pure grief … from a grieving mother.  So … my haters … you can’t take that away from me … it’s all out in the universe now.  I will die with a smile on my face when it’s time.  I’m thankful to have that when I have … nothing.

Instead of one day dying with all these thoughts in my mind … I write them to give someone something to think about.  I know there are many people who think the same things … like me when I read things … it validates what I’m going through … letting me know there are others who have experienced what I have.

For now … being ‘just before’ … and homeless people are the biggest thoughts in my mind.  I think to myself … if I had the power to help the homeless … I would begin small.

To begin with … I would find safe areas/land … for them to come to … knowing it’s okay for them to be there.  Then … without anyone knowing … I would find more land … hire someone to build tiny houses like I see online.

I would take one family at a time to live there.  I would have mini-tiny houses for individuals to live. I would gradually fill them with the homeless that I could take care of … if I were rich.

I’m old enough to know I can’t save the world … but, if each of us who had the means … could save ‘one by one’ … we could make a difference … a real difference.  A meaningful difference to people who have no one … nothing in life … at least give them a tiny something to hold onto in life … a life-preserver if you will … while they have to live their life until they die.  Just a … little something … to hold onto.

Anyone who punishes the homeless because they are there … because they look like trash … ugly to your sight … I ask you not to hurt them … you never know if they aren’t angels sent to see what your reactions to them are.  Don’t kick an angel when they are down.  It will come back to bite you in the ass … it really will.

Do what you’d want done for, to you … if it were you.  Rather than to hurt, fine someone for having nothing … for offending your sight … do nothing.  Doing nothing is better than hurting.

Walk away … go to your nice home … sit in your comfortable leather chair, smoke your cigar while your fat belly is sticking out … your feet up on an ottoman … watch your big-ass tv to your heart’s content.

Forget there are ugly things in your world … focus only on your comfort.  Put all that good food in your ever-growing belly … drink all that good liquor, sleep on your silk sheets … pamper that ass in your hot tub … because in your world … you are all … it’s about.

Hell … you have enough to go buy all the blinders, sunglasses in this world to keep from seeing the homeless … trash laying on the ground sleeping where they are only trying to find a safe place to be.

Don’t do anything but … take care of you.  Rather than hurt the helpless people on your streets … blind yourself … you can afford to build the fences around you to keep them out … keep you from having to see them.

There are people who care … they don’t need you in their way.  You don’t need to do anything but, make sure you don’t go hungry … feel the heat, cold … walk around in your comfortable clothes … sleep in your cozy bed, drive your luxury car … talk on your cellphone … impress everyone with what you own.

Do you believe the homeless people should be fined … punished for trying to find a place they hope others will just watch over them while they are at their weakest … asleep?

You say, ‘but, they’re nasty!’  Make a little area where they can file through in a line … have running water ( I see water wasted all the time from fire hydrants) … as they file through … they can bathe off at least a little … have portable toilets for them.  Do a ‘little something’ … even if it’s not a lot … it’s better than nothing.

Don’t punish the homeless … throw them away … like trash on the ground.


Homeless people aren’t going away … each more people are becoming homeless … I’m just before. Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee



Note by this Author:


This is what’s on my mind today …. maybe moreso, because of the circumstances in my life.  Doesn’t matter.  I know there are people who think like me … are in similar situations … who have no one to tell them.

I know there are people who know the answers to everything.  Maybe I’ll hear from them … maybe someone will show me the path of stepping stones I need to find … leading to the answers I’m seeking.  One never knows until they ask … I’m asking.  I won’t stop asking ….

My email is:   gloriapaintsat@yahoo.com

Photo/story owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/Granny Gee.



Why Do I Write?







Why? do I write ….

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates /Granny Gee



Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter



Don’t ask me ‘why?’ I write … or write what I do. Why? I couldn’t tell you if I tried … it would be like looking at the ocean and asking, ‘where did you begin?’


So, when you read some of my poems, stories … know that I don’t live like or am like I always write about … maybe I do and I don’t know it 🙂 Don’t ask me ‘why?’ I couldn’t tell myself … when I asked ‘me’…


I can only say I write because I have no choice … it’s like drawing, doodling … it’s a part of me … whether anyone likes or not likes it. I hope everyone likes it … but … it’s okay if they don’t … I’m still going to write. I’m like the river … I’m going to flow … regardless. If a dam gets in my way … I will do my best to knock it out of my path.


I write for the pure love of writing … feeling the words flow from my fingertips … it’s like running my fingers through silky material … oh my! how wonderful that feels! I caress my words, put them up to my face to feel the texture … I can smell them when I write about grass, ocean, so on.


I can see the colors as I write … I can get lost in my own world. Sometimes … when Skip sees me writing and I don’t know he’s there … I’ll look up to see him smiling, and he’ll say, “my Baby Girl loves to write”.


Sometimes … like when painting, drawing … when it’s time to come out of my world … special place … I find it hard to. It’s like coming out of a cave into the sunlight … I rub my eyes trying to adjust to the brightness. I want to go back but, have to wait until I’m inspired once again.


If I didn’t have my whole world … my whole world being Skip and our two Pups, Kissy and Camie Precious Camo … no one would ever hear a peep out of me … they would find me in my own world … living there until I died.


My Whole World in a Photo … My Husband Skip … and Pups, Kissy and Camie. ❤


Just give me a keyboard … pencils, paints and markers full of ink, colors and plenty of ‘white’ to write or draw on and windows to look out … soft music playing … my imagination will do the rest. I haven’t even begun to write what’s inside me. I have just described ‘me’ in a paragraph 🙂  My Whole World comes first … this is second to all I love in this big, old world.



Photos of … my whole world: Skip and our two Pups … and myself

Finally Released From My Hell …

Finally Released From My Hell …
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter

My poor body trying to shelter me from the rain
It sits here with me … inside with my thoughts
The sad thing is … me and this body can feel things

It’s like being in an old house
When the wind blows … the house moves
It creaks … tries to hold itself together

The rain rolls off this body’s head into my eyes
This body’s hands reach up to wipe this face
Tears mix with rain … teardrops turn into raindrops

Homeless … no place to go … I sit here in this worn out body
Me … I’m trapped inside … I want to fly away
Like a ship anchored … this body holds me down

The only way for me to soar
Is for this body to lay down … die
Until then … I am at the mercy of the shell that traps my very soul

I feel pain as another person walks by me sitting here
This body … and me … feeling the pain as a foot shoots out
Kicking me in the chest … kicking a pile of trash aside

This mouth cries out … no one hears … too many busy bodies
Going about their business while lots of  me’s ride in different bodies
Older, worn out bodies fall along the side if lucky

If not lucky … a foot from another body kicks it out of the path
Life is cold … dark from where this body sits
All it can do is wait to die … with me trapped inside

Like a fox peeping out from under a log … I, myself … me
Sit inside this body … not wanting to live … have no choice but, to
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad … if it didn’t feel all this pain

Bodies bleed … bodies hurt … they are strong yet … so fragile
They house the strongest, smartest of minds
Only the mind can travel … where the body can’t

My mind … me … travels afar … to where it’s warm, dry
The sad thing is … when I’m finished … I have to come back
I can’t go to another body … but, mine

Sitting here … trapped inside … I have no choice
But … to go where this old body goes
Feel all this old body feels … this is my house, my shelter

It’s been rocked by many storms … I see one coming now
As I feel horrific pain from its blow
Another foot kicks this body … tossing it farther off the path

My body lies there … growing still and cold
Dying … releasing me … releasing me and my soul
I fly away … I don’t look back … I’m released from my Hell

Note by this Author:

Sitting here this morning … I’m the only one up … I am listening to very quiet, soft music … this is the poem that was born from my thoughts.  I have no idea ‘why?’ …

Why do writers write?  Why do they think the things they do?  Why do their words reflect this … reflect that?  Why do people want to read no matter how crazy, wonderful, sad?  I know why? I do.  I want to see what comes out of another mind … inside another body.

Sometimes … like my words at this moment … reading something that’s … off the wall … can make your brain feel as if it’s twisting around to look at things in a … different way.  My brain feels like it had a work-out while in the throes of writing this poem.  🙂

I wrote it … it’s out of my mind … my body now … released into the universe to all the bodies that give minds a shelter.  Some bodies are wonderful … some are in the most terrible shapes … houses … some are so comfortable … others are pure Hell.

I think back to when my only child died … I couldn’t get away from myself … me.  I was trapped … inside myself with tormenting thoughts, the worst pain a person could suffer … the death of their child.  Me … I couldn’t get away from … this body.

Thankfully … the day came after years … me, myself and I … and my thoughts can live in the same body … peacefully.  As my body grows older … my thoughts are like a calm sea … when they come to the memories of my child.

Photo, poem owned and written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

Paper … White and Clean

Paper … White and Clean

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter

(All artwork is by me, owned by me … Gloria Faye Brown Bates)



A blank piece of paper, white and clean

No written words has it ever seen

Until … I come along, feel the need to write on it


I sit, close my eyes to see

In my mind what I want to write about me

Decide do I want to draw or write


My fingers begin typing merrily along

Words in my mind … sing song

Tapping my memories as they flow


From my mind just as rain falls from the sky

Words like drops splash on my page … oh my

The colors of my life


Grief, pain mostly what I know

I wish I could tell you it ain’t so

Life is what it is … no more or less


I don’t feel sorry for myself, nor stay down and out

Because it gives me stories to write about

I write stories for you to read making it a positive thing


To entertain, make you sad, glad … happy or cry

That’s what stories are for I think as I sigh

Yes, I give you a story as I get much needed release


We are both happy for it

As you read and I … typing words as I sit

That’s what readers, writers do!


My characters want to play

Giving me words they want to say

I’m doing what I love to do


Life-giving words to bring characters alive

As they walk, run, jump … even dive

I put the colors in their life as I paint with words

If my stories are sad

With words I can take away the bad

Making everyone happy once again


As they live the rest of their life happily

Ride off into the sunset as far as I can see

I let go … everything is alright once again

No longer is the paper white, clean

It’s colored with my words waiting to be seen

Beginning of story … all the way to The End


Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee



Note by this Author:

Photo/poem written … owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

Excerpt from Book 2 … The Saga of Victoria Fairchild by Gloria Faye Brown Bates

Excerpt from Book 2    … The Saga of Victoria Fairchild by Gloria Faye Brown Bates

From time to time I will put a ‘taste of what is coming’ in the new book I’m presently writing).


When She’s Good … She’s Good is my short story introduction to my main character, Victoria Fairchild.  Victoria Fairchild will walk where the devil won’t go … she has unusual talents.  She’s a good person, but … she’s mean enough to take care of business.  We all need people like Victoria.  Don’t let her catch you harming others, children, animals, elderly … homeless.



Excerpt from my second book (I’m still writing) … The Saga of Victoria Fairchild
Written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee …



He walked into the ocean. Warm waves of salt water washed around his body. He closed his eyes, savored the sensation . Pure pleasure.

He didn’t want to forget why he had come here … he reached to the secret pocket inside his swimming shorts. He walked 100 feet out into the water.

All the while he listened to children laughing, screaming as the waves played with them. Waves were a never-ending babysitter. Children stayed close to them.

He held something in his hand … clear vial with a red liquid inside. He opened it … began letting the contents flow out into the water as he walked back to shore.

He smiled an evil smile … he walked to his towel on the beach, sit down. He laid back on his pillow after adjusting the umbrella.

He’d just started the show … he was waiting for the actors to step out on stage. He heard it … the first scream indicating all hell had broke loose. Shark!



Note by this Author: I will begin putting excerpts from my new book here from time to time. I am writing the scariest book I’ve ever read … scariest movie I’ve ever seen. Sick people … sick situations.

Granny Gee's photo.

The End of 328 Baxley Street

The End of 328 Baxley Street …

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny




Author:  Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee … story and artwork owned, written by me.

Artwork by/owned by me … Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.  I did a drawing of Victoria Fairchild, and her cousin … Lind Lou.




The child sat playing in the sand.  He held a little matchbox car in one hand, and a firetruck in the other.

Bud-um-ummmmmmmm.  He made the sound of a motor as he drove each one on the sand.  He was completely lost in his own little world.

Michael!  Michael, come into the house!  Time to eat lunch!  Michael never heard his mother.  He had become lunch …

John slipped into the woods unseen. He ran back to his home.  The forest was perfect cover all the way.  He made sure the little boy didn’t spill a drop of blood on the way.

Now, he knew his lunch’s name.  Michael.  Michael.  He repeated the name in his mind.

John was hungry.  It had been several days since he’d moved to 328 Baxley Street.  He had eaten once since then.  He couldn’t wait to get Michael to the kitchen.

Each limb was wrapped in its own package.  The head was in another package.  He began slicing thin strips of juicy flesh off the torso.  John’s mouth was drooling … he couldn’t wait to savor the tender pieces of young flesh.

Three bowls sat on the countertop … broccoli florets, cauliflower, carrots in one bowl … chopped onion in the second bowl and in the third bowl … button mushrooms.  John was drooling, damn if wasn’t hungry as hell, he thought.  Stir-fry!

The frying pan was hot enough.  John placed the strips of flesh into the frying pan.  Each piece began to crackle, pop in the hot olive oil.

The flesh was done in a matter of moments.  John placed each piece on a paper towel. He dabbed at each strip to be sure each piece was dry.

In another frying pan he stir-fried the vegetables in olive oil until tender.  He added the cooked flesh … to the average eye it was a wonderful, stir-fry meal.  No one would ever know his secret ingredient.

He washed, dried his frying pans, spatula.  He didn’t like any kind of mess in his house.  John looked around his kitchen … all was in place, countertops spic and span.

John took his plate to the table, went back to the refrigerator to get a soda.  He came back to sit down, began eating.

God, the flesh tasted better than ever.  John closed his eyes, savored the tender meat… vegetables.  It was a good thing he’d placed a napkin in the top of his shirt.  It was soaking wet … John was drooling heavy.

He finished his lunch.  He cleaned his mess up.  There were several drops of blood on the bottom cabinet door.  He grabbed the bottle of bleach, sprayed, wiped it off with a paper towel.  Now, all was spic and span.  John hated a mess.

John couldn’t wait for the night to come.  He would be sitting on the porch, watching the children play.  Today, he had watched the little boy play near by in his yard.  It was too easy to get his lunch today. He was driven by hunger, the need for food … now.

He heard a knock on the door.  John put a pleasant expression on his face.  He opened the door, smiled big at the man and woman who stood there.  Hello!

The woman had been crying … John asked her what was wrong.  She asked him if he’d seen a little boy.  Her little boy was missing.  She began to cry out loud.

Michael! Oh Michael, where are you?  The man put his arm around her.  We are going to find him, Martha.

John stood, looking at them.  He had put an expression of compassion on his face.  Oh my! he said. I’ll keep my eyes open as I move about the neighborhood, he said.

He saw the woman’s eyes go to a spot on his shirt where a piece of stir-fry meat, and carrot had landed as he was eating.  Michael!  He knew there was no way she could know she was looking at a … piece of her son.

He apologized as he wiped it off.  I was just eating lunch.  The woman never noticed.  She was crying loudly now.

The man asked him to call if he saw a little boy.  He handed John a piece of paper where he’d written their phone number.  We live just next door to you.  Thank you.  I’m getting Martha home, Michael could be there now.

They left.  John wiped the kind expression off his face.  He didn’t feel normal feelings.  He had to fake them.  He walked to the bedroom, laid down on the bed.  He was going to take a nap.  He burped up some of the food he’d just eaten … swallowed it.  Damn that had been good eating.

I was in the darkness of the closet.  The door was opened halfway.  I chose to stay inside. The darkness and I blended together.  I didn’t always live in darkness.

I have a beautiful home, husband, pups, and a cousin named Lind Lou Livingston, and my best friends, Ms Nancy, and Mary.  They were my closest family, friends in this world.

Sometimes, when I go out to stop bad things happening to good people, homeless, elderly, children, animals … I am gone for a while.

Sometimes, someone will say to me in my real world … Victoria Fairchild, when you are around … it just seems like good things happen.  Sometimes, I think you are an angel.

I am capable of strange powers.  Even I don’t know to what extent.  I surprise myself sometimes. I do what others can’t.

I’m mean enough to do what’s needed to save, help good people … innocent people, animals.  I never bat an eye … I just do what’s needed, an eye for an eye … no more … no less.

Lind Lou, my cousin … also, has strange powers.  We never share what we have the ability to do … in our family, it’s possible one could turn on the other.  It was better to stay secretive, guard ourselves.

Lind Lou and I … somehow, we stay close … this always amazed me. I still watched her, too.

She came to visit me, sometimes.  Whenever she did visit, wherever she went, strange things would begin to happen.  I had my suspicions of what some of Lind Lou’s hobbies were.  I was biding my time … I would know for certain if I was right.

I knew John had killed another child for food.  I had followed him in the darkness of the forest to the edge.  He killed the little boy, Michael, as his mother called to him.

I watched John strike before I could act to cut him down.  He had torn the child’s throat out with his teeth, thrown his body into a black, plastic bag faster than you could blink your eye.  He was more dangerous, cunning than I had given him credit for.  I was watching him closely now.

As darkness filled the bedroom, I walked close to the bed.  I stood over John, studying his face.  I can see better than a cat in the dark … nothing escapes me.

John opened his eyes, looked straight into my face never knowing I was there.  He sensed something not right, sat up.  I smiled at him … cold, dangerous smile sharp as a knife. Soon, John … soon.

I could take him now, but then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of ending the life of a serial killer. I wanted to kill him as he was trying to kill another victim.  Die in the act of taking another child’s life.

I stood on the porch in the darkness as John watched with deep interest the children who played close by under the night lights.

He seemed focused on one child in particular.  I heard the other children call him David.  I heard John whisper one word … “soon”.  He smiled an evil smile.

I smiled at him, knowing this was my watch.  He didn’t have any idea what he was dealing with.

John began humming in a low voice, got up … stepped off the porch.  He walked several steps, bent down to straighten his pant leg.  I was slightly puzzled as what John was up to.  Was he going to take the little boy tonight?

John began walking briskly, increased his pace as he walked up the sidewalk right by where the children were running, laughing, playing.

The children saw John, came running to him.  Come play with us, John.  You can be It!

John engaged the children in conversation as his eyes scanned for the chosen one named David.  Where was he?  His tongue wet his lips, a little drool spilled down his chin.  Mmmm-mmmmmmm, he was feeling hunger pangs.

Michael had been a very small child. He didn’t last long.  Now David … was a bigger child.  John knew this boy’s young, tender flesh would be tasty.

David sat on a foot tall brick wall that surrounded a flower garden under the night light.  He watched this new neighbor who had made friends with everyone … not him.  He didn’t like John.  John scared him.

Come play, David!  One of the children called out to him.  He wasn’t going near John, he felt afraid.

The children pulled John by his hand.  Let’s play!  Let’s get David and play before we have to go to bed.  You can be It while we run, hide!

David felt fear he’d never felt in his young life.  I walked to stand beside David.  No one could see me. As long as a shadow was close by, I couldn’t be seen.  I was a shadow, I was the darkness.

I placed my hand on David.  He was trembling.  I whispered in his ear … he heard the breeze telling him he would be safe, not to be afraid.

The trembling in his little body subsided.  David told the children he would play with them.  John walked up to David, introduced himself.  He held his hand out for a handshake … David waited a moment, then shook hands with John.

The game of tag began.  John had to sit on the little brick wall, hold his hands over his eyes … he had to count to 100.  This was a mixture of tag, and hide-and-go seek.  He would be chasing children to tag them or try to find them.

The game went on for at least 30 minutes.  John told the children he had to go home, it was his bedtime.  The children kept playing until their mothers called them to come inside.

John walked up the sidewalk.  I saw the smile on his face.  John was just before taking a child tonight … I knew the child … David.

I have certain limitations … I can’t be at two places at the same time.  I can travel rapidly through the darkness from one place to the other without being seen.

If there was light … I would have to work my way toward my destination through the shadows, darkness to get back.  I love light, sometimes … it can be my foe, especially when trying to save a life.

I decided to stay with John instead of by David’s side.

At least I would know what he was doing, when he was going to do something.  John went inside his house, took a shower, put on a new change of clothes.  They were all black.  He put on a black toboggan that covered his entire face.  He couldn’t be seen by anyone … but, me.

He walked to the front door, opened it quietly.  John closed it, went to the back door.  He had checked to make sure the children were still outside playing.

He slipped through his back yard, staying in the shadows.  John crossed the street under the shadow of a tree.  He stayed close to bushes, trees so, as not to be seen.

John’s eyes searched for the little boy he had chosen for his meals.  There he was!  David was standing not more than 3 feet from him!  He was hiding from the others.

John struck like lightening. So did I.  As he grabbed David to tear into his throat … John’s head flew off in the air.  His mouth was still opened in a biting grimace.

The child turned with fear on his face.  He couldn’t run … he was frozen with fear.  I knew he was safe now … I could go.

Instead, for a brief moment I surrounded David with my shadow … filled it with love from my heart. Run, David … run to your mommy!

The child ran, almost tripped over John’s head.  He righted himself, never stopping.  Mommy!  Mommy!

I watched him … I saw the children come running to him.  Help me!  Something bad!  Something bad!  They followed him to his house.

David got to his front door just as his father opened it.  Daddy!  Daddy!  The father instantly knew something was wrong.  He got down to his knee to look into his son’s face.

Little David’s eyes were wide, he was in shock.  Daddy!  Daddy, something bad!  He turned, pointed to the way he’d just ran.  His daddy’s eyes followed the little boy’s finger.

Come show me, David.  David began shaking his head.  I’m afraid, I’m afraid!  His father picked him up in his arms … show me, son.  I’ll protect you.  Nothing can hurt you.

The child pointed the way.  His daddy walked until … he stopped in shock.  Was that a … head?

He stood frozen as his eyes found the body the head belonged to.  What the hell!

David’s father pulled his cellphone from his pocket.  He called 911.

I seeped into the darkness to spread my shadow.  Nearby red lights, blue lights lit up the night. Excited voices, people running, some taking photographs.

I heard someone say, “The little boy was hiding behind this tree. You can see plainly that this man was going to grab him.  By some miracle that little boy was saved.  I wonder what in the hell cut the man’s head off”?

Hey, isn’t that the new guy who moved in 328 Baxley Street?  David’s father walked over to look down at the head.  It was laying on a white tarp now.  The detective held his light directly on the man’s head.

Oh my God, David’s father said.  He and the detective looked at each other.  They knew where the other child went.

The detective spoke to someone, they began walking rapidly toward … 328 Baxley Street.

Photo of When She’s Good … She’s Good.  This is a thin book … it is an introductory to Victoria Fairchild.  I have a copyright for it from Library of Congress.  This is second book I published as an Indie author.




Note by this Author:

This is introducing Victoria Fairchild once again. She is my main character whom I’m proud to introduce.

Victoria is everyone’s best friend … but only … if they are good.  Good doesn’t mean you can’t be bad sometimes … but, good in that you don’t mistreat, abuse, kill others, animals.

I am writing book 2 of The Saga of Victoria Fairchild.  I wrote this story so, my readers could be familiar with Victoria Fairchild.  I will do this at times.

One can see Victoria Fairchild is an unusual person.

She’s everybody’s friend … but, let her hear, see, catch you mistreating someone … know you are in her sights … sooner or later, she’s going to get your ass.  It’s not going to be a pretty picture.

Victoria believes in an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.  Victoria Fairchild is protective of children, animals, elderly, homeless, good people.

Watch your back if you are bad.  There’s always someone bigger, badder than you.

There’s someone always meaner than you.  And … it doesn’t necessarily take a ‘bad’ person to be meaner … they just know how to take care of business, go on about their own, never think about it again.  Don’t kick that dog!

328 Baxley Street

328 Baxley Street …

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/#GeeGranny on Twitter



Photo is of our porch at one time, photo owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee




A cool breeze was blowing gently in the leaves.  Birds flew around, some singing their special songs only they could sing.  Sunlight glinted off their glossy black wings.


Car door slamming in the distance … a child squeals in delight.  One could imagine children running, chasing each other playing tag.  Laughter was in the air.


A plane flew overhead.  The sound of the motor put one into hypnotic state … sleepy, lazy.  All was calm.


A yellow and green taxi drove up, parked in front of 328 Baxley Street.  It sat for a few minutes … one could imagine the passenger was paying the driver.  The back door opened … an average-sized man got out, stood … looked around.  He leaned back, looked up as he yawned.


The taxi driver got out.  He walked to the back of the taxi, unlocked the trunk, opened it.  He began sitting luggage out on the sidewalk in front of 328 Baxley Street.


The taxi driver glanced at the man, looked back to what he was doing.  Something wasn’t right … he didn’t feel good about his passenger.  No, he didn’t like that man.  He couldn’t wait to be gone.  Damn!  that suitcase stunk!  Like something dead.


The taxi driver nodded his head, got back in his car, sped off.  The man stood there … he was ready to go inside 328 Baxley Street.


He’d rented the house online without ever meeting the owner.  He’d paid with credit card for a whole year.  He was going to be the best neighbor in this neighborhood.  He licked his lips as he smiled a cold, evil smile … his eyes were squinted as he looked around.


The man got his luggage inside the furnished house.  He was satisfied with his choice.  He was right in the smack middle of the neighborhood … whatever happened, the neighbors would know that he … was the best neighbor around.  He was unaware he was smiling … an awful smile.


He put the contents of his suitcases away.  He didn’t open the one that smelled bad.  He had a special place for it … down in the basement where the 2 freezers were.  He knew all that was in this house … he’d done a virtual walk-through online.  The owner assured him that all the furniture, appliances would stay with the house when he rented it.


He took the suitcase downstairs … sat the suitcase down in front of one of the freezers.  He opened the freezer … spotless white, empty.  He opened the suitcase, took out plastic containers that had been frozen to protect the contents while being transported.


He could tell by smelling … he needed to get the tightly wrapped package into the freezer.  He didn’t want it to … spoil.  He resisted the temptation to open it, look at what was inside.


The package went into the freezer.  He went upstairs … now, it was time to blend into the neighborhood.


All was calm in the neighborhood.  John … that was his name now … stood out on the front porch.  He took in fresh breaths of air.  This was going to be the life!


John knew how to blend into neighborhoods.  He had blended into many.  His friends always missed him when he moved away.  He was the best neighbor one could have.


He was a handsome man … the ladies liked him.  Men liked his firm handshake, his clear … honest eyes.  John had a way of looking directly into one’s face with such sincerity, kindness.  Oh my, how lucky I am to have John for my neighbor!


John loved children.  Children were drawn to John.  Why John would come down to their level … John loved to run, play ball.  John loved to play games.


John began walking, looking around the neighborhood.  On his first trip out, John made friends with many neighbors.  The children loved John, couldn’t wait to see him again.


That night, John sat outside on his front porch.  His porch was perfect … he could look in all directions, see the whole neighborhood.  The nightlight was just the right light for him … it didn’t shine directly on him when he sat outside.  He took a deep, relaxed breath … stopped mid-breath ……….


His eyes scanned the big, front porch.  John could see many shadows, he knew no one could possibly be on his porch.  He knew only porch furniture sat in the dark shadows.  What the hell?


For the first time in his life … John felt fear.  Real fear that he was in danger.  What made him feel that way.  It came from the darkness, shadows on his porch.  John got up, stepped inside the door, turned on his porch light.  He walked out onto the porch.  Nothing to feel fear from here.  He couldn’t imagine where it came from.


John turned the light off, went back to sit on the porch.  His breath caught in his throat.  What the hell?  He felt it again … then, it went away.  He relaxed in the night air, almost fell asleep listening to the happy sounds of children running, playing until time to go inside.


I smiled.  It was me.  I was the shadow in the darkness of the night.  I struck fear in the heart of a serial killer.  John had left shattered lives behind him from every community he lived in.


Children were missing, never found … parents were left grieving their hearts out … never having closure.  I knew where those children went … in the stomach of John.  John had a taste for children … sweet, tender flesh.


I can’t be in all places dark … at all times.  I can only protect what I can see around me.  For now … this was my watch.


There are many others like me who live in the dark, watching … protecting.  Sadly, we can’t be all places dark.


People’s lives who are saved by a miracle they can’t see, understand … know it was myself, or others like me.  We will protect you to the end.  We are from the darkness, the killing kind.  A good killing kind.  We kill to save lives that are worthy … from bad, evil people.  It is what it is, regardless of what one thinks.


I placed my attention on John once again … he sat up straight in his chair.  John felt fear again, he looked around.  No, John would never see me … he could turn his porch light on all he wanted to … when the light comes on, the darkness goes away … so, do I.


John had come here to hunt … hunt delicious, young children.  This neighborhood was his supermarket.  His mouth salivated while thinking of putting tasty morsels of young meat in his mouth.


John didn’t rape children, he didn’t torture children.  He only killed to eat.  Isn’t that what one is supposed to do when they hunt?  Eat what they kill?  Never waste anything.


John got up, shivering from the cool night air.  He felt the fear again … shivering more.  He went inside, locking the door behind him.  John never locked his doors … why would he?  He was the one everyone should be afraid of.


He was hungry.  He stayed hungry.  It was a good thing he’d walked back down to the basement to get the package of food from the freezer.  He knew he’d want a snack tonight.  John went to the refrigerator, opened the door.


A lone package, wrapped in plastic … sat on the shelf.  The refrigerator was spotless.  A smell of death met John’s nose when he opened the door.  It didn’t bother him like it would you, or I.  Death … of young flesh was to him … like the smell of cured ham is to us.  Damn, John loved that smell!


Like the shadow of darkness behind the opened door of the pantry … I was there.  I could watch, smell what John did.  This … I couldn’t do anything about.  This deed had already been committed.  I could only watch John as he smacked his lips, drool fall from his mouth as he salivated in anticipation of his meal.


He turned the range on, placed a pan on the eye.  He drizzled olive oil into the frying pan.  As the pan heated … John placed the contents of his package on the counter.  He unwrapped the package … a young child’s leg lay there.  Plump … baby fat.


John began slicing thin strips of child’s flesh … wrapped up the remainder.  He placed the wrapped package back into the refrigerator.  The tender strips of child’s flesh went into the frying pan.  The aroma of flesh cooking didn’t bother me … it was just the aroma of flesh cooking.


John began to smell deeply at the scent.  He was drooling more, now.  John couldn’t wait to sit, chew, savor the meat he’d cook.   So juicy, tender … the best money could buy.  Only … he didn’t ever have to buy his groceries … children were always around.  They were a dime a dozen … and he didn’t even have to spend his dimes.



Note by this Author:


Another short thriller story written, owned by me … #Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.  Photos owned by me.

I am in a writing mode … practicing my writing ability once again.  I hope it will inspire to finish my book … The Saga of Victoria Fairchild.



It Was I …

It Was I

By #Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter

I could hear the arguing before I moved in close to see what was happening.  Under the night light I could see a big, overgrown boy … really a man … bullying a young, thin boy.

I cocked my head to my right shoulder.  This would bear watching.  I had no tolerance for bullies.  None at all.

Listening closely, eyes half closed … I caught the gist of their conversation.  The big guy was threatening the young boy.  He would cut his head off, throw his body into the deep ditch close by.

The young boy was terrified.  His voice shook as he tried to make the big guy understand … he had no money on him.  See?  He pulled his empty pockets out toward the bully.

I held my head up to watch with interest to what happened next.  The bully stood there.  Oh, he was angry.  He grabbed the little guy up, slung him against the nearby brick wall.  You little son of a b__!

The little guy began to moan.  He tried to lift himself from the ground.  He couldn’t.  All his wind had been knocked out of him.  I began to move closer … no one knew I was there.  It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

The big guy lifted his big boot up to stomp the poor guy into the ground.  The little guy sobbed, he knew he wasn’t any match against the bully.  He was going to die this very moment, never see his mama again.  He closed his eyes.

The boot began to come down hard … before it made contact … the bully fell to the ground.  He began wiping blood from the back of his head.  He looked around with dazed eyes to see what had hit him.  He’d kill the son of a b___ who did this!

I grinned.  I loved this part.  Normally I would have never given him a second chance.  Besides, the bastard needed to feel the pain, fear he’d been causing to others for some time.  I wanted him to hurt, bleed.  Oh the things I’d been hearing.  The only thing … was he’d never get the chance to change, learn from his lesson.

The bully stood up, he wanted to kick someone’s ass.  He couldn’t see anyone.  What had hit him in the back of the head?  Blood soaked the back of his tee shirt.  It felt cold in the night air.

He began cursing.  Come out you mother f____!  Chicken s___ son of a b___!  Damn coward!

I looked toward the little guy.  He sat on the ground, he never ran away when he had the chance.  He was like a deer in headlights … he couldn’t move.

I slipped around in the darkness to be closer to him.  I knew the bully would get his attention on him once he couldn’t find, see what had struck him from the darkness.   I stayed inside the shadows, kept the steel sword hidden inside my black cloak.  I didn’t want light to glint off it.

The bully’s attention was drawn to the boy sitting on the ground.  I watched as the bully came toward the boy.  Just try touching this child, I thought.  I smiled … it never reached my eyes.  My hand tightened on the sword hidden beneath my cloak.

You little son of a b__!  Get the f___ up!  I’m going to crush you into kingdom come!  The boy drew nearer to the brick wall, using his feet to push his butt along the ground.  He wasn’t going to stand up.

Ah-hhhhhhhhhhh!  My man!  The boy was situated just right for me to protect him.  I wanted the bully to take a few more steps … I was tired of this.  I didn’t want to play with him anymore.  He didn’t deserve to see how anything felt.

The boy was sobbing, his hand in his mouth.  Neither could see me … I stood not more than 3 feet from them.  I was the darkness … the killing kind.  No one ever saw, heard me coming.  No one saw me unless I wanted them to.  I saw no need for anyone to see me now.

The bully went in for the kill … he began hitting the child in the head.  He jerked the little body from the ground when … he straightened up, back arched.  His hand reached behind him for his back.

His hand was bloodied.  I knew he was in pain.  My sword struck him in the fleshy part of his side.  I didn’t let it go deep … not just yet.  Now, the bully was mad.

Gutteral sounds was coming from his mouth … this was one mad mother f____!  This time nothing would stop him from killing the child.  I smiled …

As he grabbed the young boy up once again … the bully’s head fell from his shoulders onto the ground.  His hands gradually let go of the boy.  This time the little boy fled.  He was out of sight in only a moment.

I could see the head laying nearby.  It was a few feet from its body.  The eyes were staring toward me … I stepped out into the night light … it didn’t matter, his eyes couldn’t see me now.

I enjoyed the night light for a moment before entering the darkness.  Darkness was safety … it was time for me to spread around making shadows darker with my presence.  You won’t know I’m there as I watch over you … protect you.

In the blink of an eye I can strike to save a life.  Look at the darkness around you … have you been saved from something, you know not what?  It was I.

Note by this Author:

Photo/short, fiction (thriller) story owned/written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

If I Could Live in the Land of Fiction …

If I Could Live in the Land of Fiction

By #Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter


#Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny on Twitter


If I could live in the land of fiction … I would save the world like I always wanted to in my reality.

There would have been lots of asses kicked, people who harmed, tortured, maimed, raped, murdered would have been removed from this world … yesterday.

All the unfair would be made fair.  The greedy would learn how it feels to be needy.  The needy would learn to know how it feels to have needs met.  The ones who forget where they come from … got on the power trip horse … would get their asses thrown right back where they came from.

People who sit back laughing, making fun of others … would instantly be made exactly what they laughed at … every moment would be torture.

People who take others for granted … would learn how it felt to have no one there for them.  Not only that, they’d have to always be taken for granted.

Anyone who harmed knowingly … an animal, child, elderly … homeless … anyone … wouldn’t have a second chance.  Boom!  Your ass just went to Hell.

People who are afraid, needed help … battled illnesses … miracles would happen for them.  If in the future … they didn’t do right … all would be taken away.

I would make all I did good for … pay their kindness forward in a smile, kind words … a helping hand, money if one had it to spare.

I would be the kindest person in the world but … one who could turn into pure steel of the sharpest … if someone even took advantage of me, or others.

In my world everyone would be able to solve problems … want to solve them to make things better.  No one would want to be greedy, take from others so their asses sat on cotton while others groveled in the dirt.

If someone saw another in need of help no matter what … their hand would automatically reach out in kindness, love to lift that other person up.

Sadly, my world is only a fictional world.  I think everyone would love the world I would create if I could.

I know there are naturally mean, angry no-good people who love to instigate, cause grief and turmoil … that’s why we have war of some sort all over this world.

In my world … these are the people who would never survive … why?  They would … be killed out with kindness, love.  Oh, did you just ask but, wouldn’t that be bad, wouldn’t you be doing the same thing?

No … if you have trash sitting around smelling up the house … you would throw it out.  If you have weeds choking the life out of your garden … you take them out.  Oh … this is my way of thinking about the fictional world I would create … if possible.

Alas, I live in reality … and I play the game of life like everyone else does.  We have to in order to survive.  Sometimes, we do … go through things we don’t want to, forced to.  Thank God for people with compassion, love, caring Hearts.  If we didn’t have people like them … life would be a continuous Hell.  They make all the difference in our reality.

Wouldn’t it be good if everyone were like the ones we thank God for?  I can hear the ones who love to hurt, treat people awful … greedy to take someone’s money, food, possessions.  They are laughing as they read my words.  I hope all they laugh at will become their reality.

I believe people should know how all things feel … if they can dish it out, they damn should well know how it feels.  Especially when someone is kind, loving … they will forever feel the same thing in their life.

Okay … time to come back to the real world.  This is what I was thinking … if … I could live in the land of fiction.



Note by this Author:

Daydreaming as usual.  Wishing the world was a good place not for a few, but for all.  Thinking how I would change it if I had the power.  I smile to myself … if I couldn’t save the world as a young person … there’s no way I can now … only in the land of fiction.

Photos/story owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.