by Erin Lee
Like the temptress and the apple, we’ve subscribed to Satan’s will in proclaiming ourselves the better species or even person. The result of this means more than the actions we take. We still rush down to the breakfast table for sausage. We pay no attention to the living animal we slayed at the cost of our taste buds. We do this, fat-faced with greed, entirely unconcerned that someone might be watching.
For a population to truly be resilient, they must define the weakest participant. What qualities does that member have and why? Where are the person’s flaws? The group must decide: Where lies the danger in including him or her? And, once this is determined, a tribe must elect how to make this member stronger or to throw them out altogether. Or, they can ignore it altogether exactly as we do.
Is it possible that we mere mortals have it all wrong? It’s probably true. Be warned: In the end, the effect trumps the cause, and we will have a lot to answer for. It won’t be limited merely to humans, those we have things in common with, or members of our own tribes. It will be the big picture—all of it. We were told: For the meek will inherit the earth. For the good shall have the final word. And we’ll continue to ignore it. Because that’s what insanity is. Muti killers or not, I reckon we’re all a little crazy. Human. Flawed. Lost. In these ways, we’re all locked up.
Amen.
The Ten Golden Rules:
They are simple.
Do not mistake humble for weak, nor meek for frail.
Don’t confuse empathy with stupidity, or honesty with foolhardiness.
At no time underestimate the power of gratitude.
Always be appreciative and sincere.
Forever hold true the virtues of integrity and patience.
Never assume.
The Ten Rules of Karma:
They are certain.
Expectations based on pretenses often come with a price tag too high for even the loftiest of egos. Arrogance is certain to find its way back to powerlessness.
Those who put themselves first always die unaided, afraid, and eventually overlooked.
Honor comes not with manipulation or forced servitude.
What you give is what you receive tenfold.
Truth is in action and intention alone.
The Word:
The meek shall inherit the earth.
Or so they said...
VEGAN
Acknowledgements
I COULD NOT HAVE WRITTEN this book without one of my best friends, marketing assistant and co-writer Alana Greig. Gemma, you have shown the type of integrity and grace that all tribes need. You are the angelic yin to my often-evil yang. Together, we are the perfect team. Thank you for all you have done for me in the writing world, but more importantly for the things you have taught me about human decency and potential. You have made me believe.
Erin Wolf, the other “me,” thank you for never needing an explanation, your ability to follow my “gibberish yammering,” and all the laughs. You keep the writing process sane for me. I could not do this without you.
Author Chelsi Davis, otherwise known as Suzie, thank you for understanding the therapy in the work we do.
Samantha—I could go on for hours about the help and support you have given me but it would be more for you to proof. Thank you for always being the teacher first and treating people with kindness. Your ability to see potential is inspiring.
Mom—Thank you for your constant support, no matter where this writing takes me. Your critiques are always on spot and your feedback helps my writing grow. You are the person who started me on this journey by sharing with me your love for words.
Members of my beta team and tribe members—Thank you for possessing the trustworthiness to do what I do in the ways that I go about it. I am fully aware that I break all the rules but can’t often help it. Sharing things with you helps make the process more exciting. Your ability to jump genres with me can best be described as pure madness. #TribePride
Dooders—may you rest in peace. You taught me what true, unconditional love of an animal felt like. You were with me, panting next to my shoulder like always, as I wrote these words. Save a place for me over the rainbow bridge. I will never fear eternity knowing you’ll be there to guide me in.
Lastly, a shout out to my Crazy Inklings. Guys, we have survived #OperationUndead and out of it has come Vegan. Your endless torture with bacon jokes and messages made what could have been a horrible experience a little more endurable. There’s a lesson in this: Never waste a life experience. Don’t turn down a dare. Live large and bold because everything happens for a reason. We have found each other because, together, we can bring some kindness to the madness in this world. Your brand of insanity is the best. Stay nuts, freaks. I love you all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
International bestselling author Erin Lee is a dark fiction/reality author and therapist chasing a crazy dream one crazy story at a time. She is the author of Crazy Like Me, a novel published in 2015 by Savant Books and Publications, LLC, Wave to Papa, 2015, by Limitless Publishing, LLC and Nine Lives, 2016. She’s also author of When I’m Dead, Greener, Something Blue, Freak, The Ranch, Once Upon A Reality, Take Me As I Am and 99 Bottles. She also penned Losing Faith, a novella with Black Rose Writing. She is co-author of Black Rose’s The Morning After and too many more to list without waking her inner killer.
She is also author of the “Diary of a Serial Killer Series,” Momma, which this series is based on, and the “Lola, Party of Eight Series” with Zombie Cupcake Press.
Lee is a co-founder of the “Escape from Reality Series”—a multi-genre, twenty-author, three-year, shared-world series with authors Taylor Henderson and Sara Schoen. Together, the trio has created the fictional town of Escape, Colorado, where authors and readers of all genres come to escape.
Lee holds a master’s degree in psychology and works with at-risk families and as a court appointed special advocate. When she isn’t busy dissecting the human experience, she enjoys escaping from reality through reading and a myriad of crazy adventures that will probably one day get her killed.
Let’s Connect:
To learn more about Lee’s work, visit www.authorerinlee.com or www.facebook.com/gonecrazytalksoon.
To join her Facebook street team and fan club group, look for Erin Lee’s Crazy Inklings, Crazy Inklings and/or The Outsiders Street Team.
Erin Lee’s Released and Upcoming Titles
Serial Killer/Crime
Just Things (Diary of a Serial Killer Book 1)
Jimmie's Ice Cream (Diary of a Serial Killer Book 2)
Thing Fifteen (Diary of a Serial Killer Book 3)
Momma (Prequel to Diary of a Serial Killer Series)
Psychological/Thriller
Alters (Lola, Party of Eight Book 1)
Host (Lola, Party of Eight Book 2)
Merge (Lola, Party of Eight Book 3)
99 Bottles
The Cell
Horror
The Ranch
Moving On
Daddy’s Girl
Circus Freak
The Haunt
Dare
Hangman
Wendigo
Rotten
Soul Less
Escape Reality
Greener (Escape from Reality Series Book 3)
Apryl’s Fools (Escape from Reality Series)
(Circus Freak & Soul Less)
YA/Teen/LGBT
Freak
Romance/Dark Romance
Something Blue (Happy Endings Resort Series Book 28)
The Morning After
White Antelope
No Shame
Risking Destiny
Social Work/Family
Losing Faith
Take Me As I Am
Losing Faith
Wave to Papa
New Adult
Nine Lives
From Russia, With Love
Poetry
Between the Cushions
Abuse/Survival/Self Help
One Good Reason
Kept
Mythology/Fantasy/Other
The Curiosities of Seafoam: An Erin Lee Short
Once Upon A Reality: Twisted Spins on the Classics (Reality Series Book 1)
Twice Upon A Reality (Reality Series Book 2)
Third Time’s A Charm? (Reality Series Book 3)
Crazy Like Me
Love Like Crazy
Shrink Rap
Anthologies
13: An Anthology of Horror and Dark Fiction
13: Déjà Vu (Thirteen Series Book 2)
13: Night Terrors (Thirteen Series Book 3)
13: Resurrection (Thirteen Series Book 4)
Madame Scarlet’s Carnival
Twist Me—ASPCA charity
Slashing Through the Snow
Fractured Fairytales: Book 1
A Deadly World Anthology
Slashing Through the Snow
Craving: Secrets
Craving: Security
Craving: Christmas
War Cry
Off Course
Night, Night Sleep Tight
Shopping List Vol. 2
Desperate Measures Box Set
Wicked Fools Box Set
WANT MORE FROM THIS AUTHOR?
Preview excerpt from Moving On:
A novel by Erin Lee and Chelsi Davis, releasing in 2018
MOVING ON
Chapter One
Heather
THE SUV HAS A SMELL. I can’t quite tell if it is Suzie’s stank ass rotting in the trunk or if it’s just the guilt of killing my best friend and driving her body to a lake to dump her in. It probably doesn’t matter. What’s done, now, is done. I can’t go back, and even if I could, I’m not sure I would. At least this way—with her dead and gone—I don’t have to worry about what that idiot is up to and how she’ll get us caught. With Suzie around, I’d have had a stroke. She’d have wanted to visit Grant at the prison, gotten goo-goo eyed and would have somehow messed it all up. I’m tired of cleaning up her messes. His, too. Frankly, I’ve just had enough.
I reach for a travel-sized bottle of Febreeze in the glove compartment. I can’t help but think about the deadly needles that were in there beside it only hours ago before I shoved the last of them into Suzie’s arm. I tell myself I had no other choice. I’ve known the bitch long enough to know that she wasn’t about to let it go. The idea of me—more than anyone—sleeping with her man would be just too much for her to take. After you’ve seen that chick work a corpse, you smarten up enough to know not to mess with her. She is, after all, the one who first came up with the idea for The Ranch.
God, I’ll miss that place. Sure, it’s true that too many bodies to count bled out on that old barn floor. I won’t deny that it was starting to stink—a little like this car. But there was something about the peacefulness of the place. There, at The Ranch of Moving On, Suzie and I were truly in our element. Fuck, if I’m entirely honest with you, Grant was too. It’s complicated, like most things are.
There, on The Ranch, with Grant locked up in his cage and Suzie running around making herself feel better by helping other pissed off wives to move on, there was something simple about it. At The Ranch, everyone knew where they stood. It was Suzie’s job to call the shots. Or, at least, I made her think so. Meantime, Grant and I had our own little thing going. I can’t say seeing him locked up like that didn’t give me a thrill too. I mean, he is the guy who kept me locked away in my tiny, tidy apartment while he lived the whole other life with Suzie on the side.
It wasn’t easy being the other woman you know. And, in the end, Grant got his justice too—whether Suzie would see it that way or not. There, at The Ranch, he was no longer number one and unable to have his cake and eat it too. No. That was my job. I had my best friend all to myself for the most part. When I wasn’t prying the phone away or trying to talk sense into her, we had our good times too. Something about Suzie is—or was—contagious. Anyway, I can’t think much about it now. I’ve got one last job to do.
With my eyes on the road and my left hand tight to the leather steering wheel, I reach back and spray long mists of Orange Mango into the backseat. I press as hard as I can, shaking the bottle to empty it. Then, I roll the window down so I can breathe. Hopefully, it will be enough to keep the stench away. I’ve only got another hour to go before I reach the lake. Where I go from there, I don’t really know. What I do know is that I need to get as far away from here as possible without being obvious.
Sure, there’s a part of me that thinks I should stay. If I head back to the city and my old apartment, it will look less obvious. But then again, who really pays attention to the ugly fat friend. There was a kid in school who called it a D.U.F.F.—Designated Ugly Fat Friend. Yep. He nailed it. That’s what I was. Still am. Well, would be, if Suzie’s body wasn’t banging around in the trunk.
I drop the empty spray bottle on the floor of the front seat. It rolls gracefully toward the front of the car, only stopping when it bumps into an old coffee cup and empty pack of cigs. Looking at the mess on the floor—left, of course, by sleeping beauty—only pisses me off more. Suzie could never respect my things. Sure. Technically, this was her and Grant’s car. But still, I drove it. She was always making a mess of things and expecting me to clean them up.
The car. What will I do with it? My mind races back into my current predicament faster than Suzie could ever get me to execute a gig. At first, I thought about rolling it into the lake with her in it. I could wait until dark, position her at the wheel, and just drive her in. It’d look like a suicide by a woman married to a man with one too many secrets. It wouldn’t matter if Grant squealed. Who would really be there to listen and believe him? And, by then, I’d be far away from here.
But Suzie had a point. Grant was a lot of things but he wasn’t the narky type. I can’t really see him squawking. Instead, I bet he will be a little relieved when he catches wind of this. Whether he believes she did it to herself or not—no, he will know it was me—he isn’t about to speak up. With Suzie gone, it’s one less stress for him. I mean, that’s what he was always saying. “Someday, babe. I’ll make this right. Just trust me. You know Suzie. She’s not stable. Eventually, she’ll lose her shit and they’ll probably lock her up,” and “It will all work out, babe. You’ve just got to trust me. The kids really need a good mom.” Bullshit. All of it. Both of them.
I press on the gas just enough to make myself feel better but not enough to get pulled over. A run-in with the law is the last thing I need right now. None of this makes sense and I don’t have the time to think things out. I tilt the rearview mirror, so I can glimpse into the backseat without turning around. There lies the black binder, four fat bundles of cash, our laptops and pretty much anything they’d need to send my ass to death row if Grant decides to talk. Not happening.
Determined to come up with a way out, I spend the rest of the drive to Lake Sackendega going over my options. With the radio turned all the way up, I allow The Doors to chase away the fears or doubts. And when I finally arrive, I drive down a long dirt road to the public boating docks where I park the car—unnoticed as usual—and forge a plan to wait it out. There’s nothing I can do for now, not until dark.
I watch families come and go, some with picnic baskets and all with smiles, as I tell my grumbling stomach to shut up. I reach for a coffee cup on the passenger’s side floor and contemplate pissing in it. Tired of the weight and sure that I’ll somehow miss and make more of a mess than I’m already in, I finally leave the car. I walk into the woods at the far end of the parking lot—never taking my eyes off the vehicle that serves as Suzie’s temporary coffin. She always loved to swim. She’ll be relieved when she’s finally out of that trunk, I think. Then, on thinking it, I remind myself to take my meds.
First things first. I squat behind the fattest tree, watching two teenaged boys three football fields away toss a volley ball in the air—batting it with both hands and chasing each other. They scream profanities that
would make a trucker blush, and no one around even bothers to look up. Only feet away a family plays in the water. I can’t stop staring at the little girl in the pink bikini with the ruffles on the ass. She reminds me of Ceilia—Suzie’s stepdaughter.
Pissing as fast as I can so as not to be seen and to get back to the SUV, I wonder if I’ll truly be able to live with never seeing her kids again. Maybe it’s karma. I mean, it’s not like she’ll see them either. I tell myself that Grant said I’d make a better mother. Of course, he never did seem to remember that I was one and that my own grown kids were disgusted by me and my relationship with him.
Fuck. That’s going to be a problem. If the law come looking for me and get to the kids, well, they know everything. Amelia will call me a homewrecker like she did the last time I saw her—the time she came home to do laundry and caught Grant in the shower. Great. Another thing to worry about. Maybe it’s time to go back to Option C. Maybe I need to visit Grant and find a way to come up with another plan. I mean, the man’s gonna thank me. He’s not going to be too upset that I finally got rid of precious Suzie. Is he?
FINALLY, THE DARKNESS comes. Suzie always said it had a smell. Tonight, it smells like bullshit. It’s bullshit that I’m even in this predicament. I throw the car into drive and head to the other side of the lake. The last thing I need is the lifeguards at the public beach seeing me dump this bitch in the water.
Suzie
She did it. This insane lady—my “best friend” tried to kill me. She tried to kill me after she got caught in her lies and I find out she had an affair with my husband. Heather of all people should know that is a monumental bad idea. I don’t share, or play well with others. I thought she understood that when I fed the last girl he cheated with to the rats. If that wasn’t a sign that said “don’t fuck with me” then she’s dumber than I thought.