Mind Games

My phone rang a bit ago.

It was my mother. I didnt answer it. Rarely do I ever actually answer my phone. In the two minutes that followed, my mind had convinced myself that my father had died in a horrible accident.

I waited a few minutes to see if she would leave a message. No message ever came. So, I called her back, fearing the worst.

Turns out, she was trying to buy shoes online and was having trouble with the website.

Yeah. Im special. I have no idea why I get these thoughts. I just do. This isnt he first time that this scenario has played out like this. I just wish that I would jump to the worst conclusion every time.


In completely unrelated news, I spilled grape soda on my laptop at work yesterday. LOADS OF FUN! However, I (and a friend) was able to get it cleaned up and popped off some keys and cleaned soda out of the inside of my computer. Well, tonight, I just noticed that the apostrophe key doesnt work. See what I mean? Thats definitely going to make things interesting for writing on here. Not to mention doing Excel spreadsheets for work or all those other occasions where one wants apostrophes and quotation marks.

Sheesh. I guess Im lucky that my computer still works and that its not sticky or anything. Its just frustrating.

Writing Wednesday Waiting

Things have just snowballed this week, so I'm having unfortunately put this week's Writing Wednesday on hold. I so hope to get the rest of Chapter 1 cranked out this week. Damn this having a life outside of writing!

Getting a little personal

This has nothing really to do with Maplethorpe Ridge, other than to say that I didn't follow through on my plan to write more yesterday.

Really, I'm thinking of moving my personal journaling from Livejournal to here. LJ seems to be slowly dying (at least to me). And Facebook is WAY too public for my taste. And I'm just in the mood to wax introspectively, and this seemed like as good a place as any for that.

My depression has been in full bloom lately. I know this, because I can't focus on anything. I'm bored all the time at home, but I don't really want to do anything. I'm tired, but I can't sleep. I don't eat. And I'm dwelling in the past. None of which are really good things, for sure. But worst of all, I popped open that last Guinness in the fridge tonight, and as I sit here swigging from that tempting dark bottle and feeling that delicious elixir spill on my tongue, I have to ask myself: was there ever a wagon to begin with?

Let's backpedal for a bit. I had "quit" drinking a while back. The quotes are merely to illustrate that my point is not that I have a total drinking problem but what's more of a moderation problem. As with most things in my life, I have no idea where "The Line" is. So, I promised to myself to never again drink alone. There was a day when a dirty Sapphire martini or three was part of my everyday routine. I realized that this was both expensive and unhealthy -- physically, mentally, and emotionally. However, I had allowed myself to drink with friends, and seeing as how I only see my friends once or twice per year, this was a good plan.

But I had a reconnection with a potential friend (slash ex-lover) back in December, so I bought some beer and he brought over a pizza. That was the last time I had a drink, and I was okay with that. There have been occasions with alcohol involved, and I said no and was fine. But tonight, that last Guinness in the fridge was taunting me, and even though she was from December, she tastes so delectable. Taunting me back to my days of excess and debauchery. But I know where my line is, and because I can feel my Tylenol PM kicking in (I know, mixing with alcohol is bad) and this is the only alcohol in the house, this is it.

Of course, this has me worried about tomorrow. Will tomorrow's sorrows drive me to the liquor store on my way home from work? Can I submit without commitment? The Guinness is only half gone, and I'm already feeling swirly and good and warm and loved. Gone are the days of the three martini dinner.

What has brought me to this pseudo-breaking point? Any number of things, really. Dwelling on loves of the past. Worry over future failure and disappointment, sure. Really? It's a longing. A deep seeded longing that I keep buried and locked away. Something inside me that craves. A craving for what? Love. Human touch. Just an implication that things will get better.

There's a constant worry, sometimes expressed, in all facets of my life. Am I good enough at my job to advance to the next level? Will people read my story or heaven forbid, like it? Is that guy who works downstairs flirting or is he just being friendly? Am I going insane?

Of course, the adage goes that if you can ask that then the answer is "no". But I worry that the voice in my head isn't my voice. Is that reasonable? Is it a fractured part of me longing to be heard or is it simply my own unconsciousness pointing me in the proper direction?

There are two halves of myself that fight for attention from my conscious. I worry about that. Who wins? Should one win, or should I try to broker a peace between them and try to have the best of both worlds? Can two very disparate halves coexist separately together, or must, by their very nature, they war until one is destroyed in favor of the other?

And how does that affect my writing? Does playing God in a fictional world of my own creation help my depression or do I play God because I'm depressed? See, I worry. Does my fictional world help me release my depression or does it aid in keeping me depressed? I used to believe that my writing would not be as good if I didn't feel so miserable in my own life. But then, who's to judge what's good and what's not good? If I'm the judge, then nothing I do is ever good, or good enough. But clearly things that I've done are actually good in someone's eyes, or I would not be where I am today?

Mostly, I fear that this is all there is. This, this life of solitude and sorrow is all that I will ever experience, because my fear of living fully is holding me back. I long for change, yet I fear it. I yearn to be loved, yet I push others away. Am I consciously holding myself back from getting what I want, because I want to be miserable? Or am I only being prudent in my decisions not to act so as not to get hurt through the "obvious" (real or imagined) outcome? Playing it safe is a scary place to live.

And this brings me to the age old question: how do I expect someone to love me when I do not (or cannot) love myself? And that is it. Nail, meet hammer. Does loving someone and losing them hurt more than not loving anyone? I don't know. In the short term, yes, probably. In the long term: I think the jury is still out on that one.

But in the immortal words of Shirley Manson: "I'm only happy when it rains."

And this, my friends, is another reason why I don't drink.

Contact Info

Hey guys. I know that I should be writing some more on my story. If all goes according to plan, I'll get some more done tomorrow and hopefully finish Chapter 1. However, I thought that I'd throw this out there. If you've ever got the urge to contact me for any reason, you should. I'm open to it. Share your thoughts, or if you're just bored and want to chat. You can email me at ephram.delMoniq@gmail.com or IM me on Yahoo IM (ephram.delmoniq). I'm usually online when I'm working on the blog or up for a chat.

Maplethorpe Ridge -- Road Map

It's Writing Wednesday! And that means another new installment of Maplethorpe Ridge. Below is your map to follow along, in case you're behind.

Enjoy!

Prologue -- Aug 6, 2009
Chapter I - Welcome to Nolan (Part 1) -- Aug 10, 2009
Chapter I - Welcome to Nolan (Part 2) -- Aug 18, 2009

Chapter I - Welcome to Nolan (Part 2)

Blake knocked on the door to the apartment directly under hers. A dark haired man answered the door. "Hi. My name is Blake Montgomery," she stuttered out, obviously overpowered by his good looks.

"Hello, Blake Montgomery; my name is Adrian Connor. What can I do for you?" She mumbled about she and Jen living upstairs and that his music was a tad too loud. Adrian said that he did not think that anyone lived in the apartment above him. Then, he asked her in for a drink.

Yes, you heard right -- Adrian Connor. Adrian is the middle child of Linda and Nicolas Connor. Totally hot by any woman's standard, yet totally unavailable; although, Blake had no way of knowing that when her new neighbor made her heart skip a beat and butterflies tickle her inside. Adrian was trying to make a go of it on his own without his family's money. He loved his mother very much, but being the black sheep of his family, his father was always disapproving of anything he did. Adrian had his work cut out for him, but for now, he was content to share some wine with Blake and get to know his new neighbor.

*****

Both Tyler and Cody donated blood at the hospital for Crystal, and both of them were incompatible with Crystal's blood. All they could do was sit with her and hold her hands, while she lay unconscious in her hospital bed. Within mere moments, the somber mood in the room was broken with the entrance of a nurse bearing news. Someone had come to the hospital and donated enough blood to help Crystal, and the blood was a match. The two men watched as Dr. Gladstone and the nurse attached the clear vinyl pouches of life to Crystal's IV. Almost immediately, they could see a difference in Crystal's condition.

Tyler and Cody wanted to meet and thank the mysterious donor, but he had already left the hospital by the time the nurse came with the blood. They asked for his name and telephone number, but the nurse said that the donor wished to remain anonymous. This was a strange, but not uncommon, hospital occurrence.

Once the transfusion was complete, Crystal opened her eyes, looked at her husband, and smiled.

*****

Linda Connor arrived at Crystal's hospital room in time to watch Crystal and her husband kiss after the transfusion. Cody greeter her in the hall and filled her in on the news, the irony of which was not lost on Cody. This thought made him giggle as he held the door open for Linda. She brought a large flower arrangement and sat in on the nightstand by the bed. She put her hands on Tyler's shoulders and told him that she was glad that all went well. They discussed the mysterious donor, and Tyler asked her how she knew that Crystal was in the hospital. Linda showed him the newspaper with Crystal's picture on the front page. Cody added that it was a good thing there was an article in teh paper, because that was probably how the mysterious donor found out about Crystal.

Linda wished them all well and left for work. As she rounded the corner and slipped out of sight, Nick peered out from the storage closet and walked to Crystal's room. He did not open the door. Instead, he looked in the window. Crystal saw him, and they exchanged heated glances.

*****

Blake stepped inside Adrian's apartment. It was an exact copy of her and Jen's apartment upstairs, and it was decorated quite spartanly. A single painting hung in the living room. There was minimal furniture, but there was still enough floor Blake to be comfortable. Adrian poured two glasses of wine and they sat on the sofa, talked, and played some music.

There was a knock on the door. Adrian answered, still holding his glass of wine. A beautiful blonde in her early 20s stood there looking very angry and tapping her foot.

"Excuse me, but your music is too loud. I live upstairs, and it's rattling the entire floor. Could you please turn it down?"

"Jen? Jen, is that you?" Blake asked from inside the apartment. Blake appeared standing behind the young man in the doorway. Blake introduced Adrian to Jen, and Adrian asked her in to join them. Jen explained that both she and Blake had lots of unpacking to do, but the offer was nice. "We'll have to make it some other night," Jen uttered politely, yet firmly. Adrian closed the door, and Blake could not take her eyes off of it.

"So, you meant to tell me that while I was up there -- cleaning and unpacking -- you were downstairs drinking wine with the cute neighbor?"

"Exactly!" Blake retorted.

"Way to go girl!" Jen shouted and high-fived her roommate. Tehy made dinner and watched a movie. Later that night, Blake fell asleep with visions of Adrian runner through her head. Needless to say, she slept well.

*****

Nick broke the stare with Crystal, turned to leave, and smacked right into a nurse carrying a tray of food bound for Crystal's room. The nurse dropped the tray with a loud bang. A curious Cody came into the corridor and saw Nick standing there with his shirt covered in lime-flavored gelatin. "What are you doing here?" He asked, laughing.

"I read about Mrs. McMannis in the paper, and I wanted to come by and see how my wife's friend was doing. I have a right to be concerned," Nick replied with what he thought was an appropriate level of detached concern.

"There's no room here for YOUR type of concern!" Cody bellowed.

Tyler appeared in the doorway and asked the two of them to keep it down. "She's in a very delicate state now. I think you should leave." Tyler sounded both exhausted and annoyed. Nick conceded and left, and Cody joined Tyler back in Crystal's room. She had fallen asleep. Dr. Gladstone checked on Crystal, and told Tyler and Cody to go home and get some rest.

*****

Nick stood outside his front door for a good two minutes dreading teh inevitable conversation with his wife. The solid white painted, scalloped steel door stared back at him with its chrome peephole, daring him to enter. When his resolve had been set, he showed teh door who was boss and flicked the lever that opened the latch on the handle. The door fell open on the hinges, and Linda was standing there with a disgusted look on her face. "What the hell, woman!" She managed the upper hand of surprise against her husband. "Where you just camped out by the door waiting for me to get home?"

"Shut up." Linda spoke calmly, despite her boiling anger beneath the surface. "Why didn't you just tell me? Christ, she's my friend! Why do you even care about her? Couldn't you have told me without making me read it in the fucking paper!" She punctuated her last sentence by hitter her husband with the exact "fucking paper" to which she was referring.

*****

Quinn sat down in his standard hotel room that smelled of both bleach and cigarette smoke and flipped through the paper. He grabbed the scissors and cut out the article about Crystal, put it in an envelope, and addressed it to Alabama.

*****

Throughout the night, Dr. Gladstone looked in on Crystal. He kept tabs on her, and he even began to wonder why Nick Connor had been there earlier that afternoon. Thomas Gladstone moved to Nolan only the year before. He knew that Nick was a lawyer who was often called away on business to San Diego -- which meant that he must be a fairly good lawyer. He also knew that his wife, Linda, was the anchorwoman for the evening news at Channel 4. But he could not figure out how they knew Crystal. He speculated that they must be neighbors or something, and went about his rounds.

*****

Blake woke up at quarter to eight and went for her daily three-mile run. On the way out the door, she bumped into Adrian (literally), and the two of them decided to run together. They stopped at the convenience store that marked the mile-and-a-half point where they would turn around and run back to the apartment. Adrian decided that he needed to use the restroom, so Blake bought a blue-raspberry squishy, and waited on the bench outside.

*****

Jennifer woke up from a very, very nice dream at around eight-fifteen. She made some breakfast, which consisted of toast, eggs, cereal, and juice, and took a shower. She got dressed and headed for the hospital. While she was driving, she passed the convenience store and saw Adrian sitting on the bench outside and waved at him. He just gave her a concerned look and raised his hand. If Jen hadn't already been late for work, she would have stopped to talk to him.

When she arrived at the hospital, Jen checked in with Dr. Gladstone, whom she met during her first week of work. Thomas told her about Crystal, and explained that she was the most exciting thing to happen at University Hospital for quite some time, especially when nick showed up and argued with Cody. Jen checked in with her head nurse, then sat down and played checkers with Irene, who insisted on yelling at Jen to "Hurry up!"

Linda stopped by the hospital long before Cody and Tyler ever showed up that morning. Crystal was asleep, but Linda stayed and talked with her anyway, all the while stroking her hair. There was a kind of dialogue between the two that no one could decipher by just being in the room. Linda talked to Crystal, and Crystal answered, unfortunately, Linda could not hear her.

"I don't know how to do about Nick, Crys. He doesn't seem to care any more. He goes to work and defends people he's never met before, but he doesn't even have tim to have a conversation with me," Linda explained.

I understand why, Crystal answered in her dream mind. I know Nick. He's not the type to share what's bothering him. You should let him be.

"I can feel him slipping away," Linda continued. "Last week, I told him that I was seeing another man, and he said 'That's nice, dear' and kissed me on the forehead. ON THE FOREHEAD, that's like a punch in the gut."

If I knew what Nick had done, I would punch him in the gut. You should just give up on him, Linda. You can do better. I think that Dr. Gladstone is available; why don't you ask him out?

"I realize that he's had a tough case he's been working on in San Diego these past months," Linda went on, oblivious to Crystal's half of the conversation. "But that's not an excuse for him to treat me like shit. I think that if I can just hang in there, things will get better soon."

Don't count on it honey, Crystal warned.

"Just like I know that things will get better for you soon, too." With that, Linda kissed her friend and left.

*****

Adrian went back into the convenience store and asked the clerk if she had seen Blake. She said that Blake had been sitting on the bench while he was in the restroom. Then, she looked out again and she was gone.

"Maybe she got paged and had to leave. Or, maybe she thought that I left ahead of her so that I would beat her back home," he told himself as he started running back. "I bet when I get back to Maplethorpe, Blake will be sitting on the porch waiting for me with a big glass of lemonade." As he ran, he kept trying to convince himself that Blake would be there, but when he got there, she wasn't. He went inside and knocked on her door, where he found a note...

Jen--

I've gone to visit my parents in San Diego. My grandmother is very ill and Mother fears that she may not have much time left. Don't expect me to call, but keep us in your thoughts.
Always,
Blake

Adrian considered this a rather odd place for a very personal note, so he slipped it under the door.

*****

At the hospital, Jen ran into Tyler and Cody. When Tyler went in to see his wive, Cody asked Jen out for drinks when she got off from work. Jena accepted and told him to come back to the hospital and pick her up at 7pm. when Jen rounded the corner, to continue on her rounds, Nick propped his head out of the closet. He saw Cody, walked up behind him, and tapped him on his shoulder. When Cody turned around, Nick clocked him: punched him square in the left eye. Cody buckled but not before he punched Nick right in the gut. The pair of punches erupted into a brawl between the two men. Luckily, Jen was still nearby and ran back to stop it. She asked Nick to leave, and he did, but not before he gave his parting remarks, like a haunting Gypsy curse, he yelled, "You shouldn't even be allowed near her, Weber! You will pay for what you've done!"

Cody tried to utter a clever rebuttal, but his face hurt too much. All he could produce was a meek grunt of disgust. Luckily for him, he was injured in the hospital. Jen got a nurse to check him out, and she asked him if they were still on for drinks that night. Cody nodded a tired yes.

*****

Cody was standing at the main door to the hospital when Jen staggered out at quarter past seven. She apologized, and then Cody drove her Scully's for a drink. Over drinks, Jen asked Cody about the incident between him and Mr. Connor. Cody said that he had done some things in his past of which he was no very proud, but that Nick Connor was a hundred times worse. Cody expressed his sympathy for Linda and said that someone should buy her a clue. Jen asked if his past involved Crystal McMannis. Because of the amount of bourbon that was poured into Cody's system, he admitted that he and Nick were fighting about Crystal. "ever since last summer we fight over Crystal. Tyler doesn't have a clue. And I pray to God that he never gets one."

Jen made it home all right; although, she was feeling her drinks quite happily. She opened the door marked "4G" with her key and stepped inside. On the floor she found a note. She read it, put it back on the floor, and sat on the couch. Sometime during the next twenty minutes, she fell over and asleep.

Maplethorpe Ridge -- Road Map

So, thinking about how this blog is going to roll out, I decided that we really need a road map to keep people reading the story chronologically and to try to avoid accidentally reading ahead. After I post a new bit of the story, I'll post the Road Map with links to and dates for all the posted parts of the story. Hopefully, this will work and not be too confusing.

Prologue -- Aug 6, 2009
Chapter I - Welcome to Nolan (Part 1) -- Aug 10, 2009

Chapter I - Welcome to Nolan (Part 1)

Jennifer Logan and Blake Montgomery, best friends for the past four years of college, pulled up to the U-shaped apartment building on Saint James Street on a rather balmy Saturday afternoon, well balmy by Nevada standards anyway. They began unloading their possessions from the moving truck and into their fourth floor apartment, and with the help of Blake's cousin Lucas, the job was done in just under two hours.

I wasn't there for this part, so the details are scares, only what I gathered along the way talking to Jen and Blake about their arrival in town. And Lucas wasn't exactly Blake's cousin. Lucas was Blake's father's cousin, but that's just details. Point is, they're related, and that's how these two girls coming from their small mid-western university managed to find such a great deal on a kick-ass apartment in suburban Las Vegas. Blake's parents lived in San Diego at the time. Close enough to drive, but far enough for comfort. Her mother -- Evelyn -- was a real controlling bitch; she and I actually crossed paths in a very unusual way, but that's another story for another time. Blake's mother didn't really realize that her three daughters had grown up around her. She was busy climbing the corporate ladder. Blake's father -- Robyn -- on the other hand, was the complete opposite of Evelyn. He loved all of his daughters, and some people might even say that he spoiled them, but Blake didn't turn out like a spoiled little daddy's girl. She was only twenty-two, but she had the makings of a real lady.

So, Blake and Jen moved to Nolan, Nevada, and up-and-coming suburb of Las Vegas, only three days after graduating from Gilman University. Jen earned her degree in psychology and finished top in her class. This earned her an internship at Nolan University Hospital, which just happened to be the best hospital in Las Vegas. Strange thing is, there is no Nolan University, nor is the hospital located within the Nolan town limits.

Once, I asked why the hospital was called Nolan University Hospital, and the answer rather surprised me. Turns out that back in the late 1950s there was a man by the name of Stephen X. Nolan. He donated a large sum of money to the University of Nevada to start a teaching hospital. Stephen X. Nolan's great-great-grandfather, Eli X. Nolan, Jr. actually helped found the town of Nolan, which ended up being about six miles south of the location that Stephen X. Nolan purchased for his hospital. Anyway, I have digressed long enough, such is the mind of an old lady with a story to tell.

Blake Montgomery graduated with Jennifer with a B.A. in English. This earned her absolutely nothing, which is hwy she tagged along with Jennifer on her quest across the county to start her career. Well, that and her family was mostly near by as well. Blake's plan was to pound the pavement, so to speak, to find herself a rewarding career, or at least a job to help pay the bills.

*****

Tyler McMannis lived in the best neighborhood in Nolan. Wycliffe was almost a suburb within a suburb. Wycliffe consisted of maybe two square miles of cliff-perched property. Many of the homes had spectacular views overlooking the city. It had the snobbiest shops and boutiques with the snobbiest sales girls. Wycliffe boasted the best restaurants, and the best schools in the district, which is a good thing, because Tyler's wife -- Crystal -- was pregnant, and although she didn't know it yet, she was also on the cusp of giving birth. But putting Crystal aside for a moment and looking at all that Wycliffe has to offer begs the question, how can Tyler -- a local police detective -- afford to live there? Another bit of story for another time.

Tyler was pure Irish through and through. Apparently, his father was the first McMannis to be born in the United States. And even thoguh he had no accent, just looking at him you could think that he was fresh off the boat from the old country. He was ruggedly handsome with a bit of rose in his cheeks, even when he hadn't been in the whiskey, and shoulder-length strawberry blond curls that perfectly complimented his green eyes. It's no wonder that Crystal the blond bombshell and former southern belle fell hard for him. Tyler had been a detective for only two weeks when Crystal had her accident.

Remembering her now after all the details came to light, I'm tempted to believe that what happened to Crystal was no accident, but at the time, no one (myself included) suspected any foul play. And Crystal and Tyler both stuck to their story.

Crystal had fallen down the stairs in her twenty-third week of pregnancy. Just looking at Crystal McMannis walking down the street, one would think that she was almost a full two weeks past her due date. But she was thin, and she was carrying twins. She and Tyler had not wanted to know the sex of the babies, so they had yet to settle on names. That evening, Tyler accompanies his wife on her bed rest following her accident, and together they discussed what names each of them preferred. Crystal was adamantly informing her husband that if they had girls she was not naming them Betty and Veronica, when Tyler's phone rang.

"Tyler!" The man on the other end of the phone shouted.

"Cody," Tyler tried not to sound too annoyed that Cody was calling him late in the evening. "What's up?"

"i was just getting ready to leave the station after I filed this last report, and I just wanted to know if you wanted to join me for a drink over at Scully's."

"I can't," Tyler replied. "You know that i have to be here for Crystal." He talked about his wife right in front of her like she wasn't in the room. Crystal rolled her eyes at her husband. And why Cody was trying to convince Tyelr to join him at the bar, Crystal tapped her husband on the shoulder. "Go. Go have a drink with Cody. I'll be fine," she whispered. Tyler gave his wife a look. You sure? His eyes said. She nodded, and she could clearly hear Cody prodding Tyler through the earpiece.

"Alright, alright," Tyler submitted to Cody at last. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Tyler hung up the phone, pulled on his pants, and found his jacket on the floor. Crystal grabbed her book from the beside table and propped it on her belly. Tyler made it to the bottom of the stairs and began to put on his shoes when he heard Crystal scream from the master bedroom.

"Tyler, something's wrong!" Crystal bellowed. Tyler called 9-1-1 while running to his wife's side. Twenty minutes later, Crystal was whisked into the emergency room of Nolan University Hospital. Luckily for her, her doctor was on duty that night, so she was in good hands. Shew as in need of an operation, and Tyler took a moment to make a phone call. After all, Cody was a friend to both of them, and he should be there.

Cody Weber. Even now, his name sparks feelings inside me. Cody and I had a history. Don't worry; I'll get there. Cody was one of the two Weber children. The Webers have owned the mansion on the hill at the top of the cliff overlooking all of Nolan and the southern end of Las Vegas since before Eli X. Nolan , Jr. was even a twinkle in his daddy's eye. At this time in his life, Cody still lived in that stately mansion on the hill. He lived there with his grandparents: Rosailnd -- Rose to everyone that knew her -- and Marcus (only the newspapers and business magazines called him Marcus Weber, and even then it was usually to say "Marcus Weber the multi-billion-dollar advertising mogul"; everyone knew him as just Marc). Cody's parents -- Doug and Carol -- were absent most of Cody's young life and nearly all of his adult life. At the ripe old age of twenty-five, Cody had the attitude and mindset of a seventeen-year-old boy. Of course, it worked for him. He had more money than he knew what to do with, and the looks of one of those underwear models on teh life-sized posters at the mall. He could have any woman he wanted, and he had. He became a police officer for three reasons: (1) to give him something to do, (2) because chicks dig the uniform, and (3) it's hard to get in trouble with the law when you are the law. Cody often used this last line on the naive looking girls at Scully's as an entryway into their pants.

Cody and Tyler had been partners since he was a rookie, and they could have made it to detective at the same time had Cody not been such a sub-standard police officer. The only reason that Cody was still in uniform was because Rose donated sizeable amounts of money to the police department each year -- enough money to pay her grandson's salary, as it turns out. Cody either didn't realize it or didn't care.

Cody arrived at the hospital to find Tyler pacing around the waiting area outside the operating room. He gave his best friend a hug, and Tyler filled him in on the goings on. Dr. Gladstone arrived from the OR about an hour later and told them that Crystal had lost a lot of blood and that the twins -- although premature and small -- would be alright.

Dr. Thomas Gladstone was the best OB/GYN at University Hospital. He was very popular among the staff, and buzz around the water cooler had pegged him as a future chief of staff. At this point in my tale, Thomas is not yet a major player. But trust me; this hunky gyno is definitely not just another pretty face. But I'll get to that in due time. But for now, I need to get the ball rolling.

*****

Blake and Jen spent the next few days getting settled into their new place, as well as trying to find Blake a job. While Blake was unpacking boxes in the living room, the floor of their apartment started vibrating. Jen was out for her daily run, so Blake took it upon herself to walk downstairs and introduce herself to her new neighbor.

*****

Back in the days of the beginning of my story, there were two extremely wealthy families living in the Nolan area. I've already mentioned the Webers. The other family is the Connors -- the anti-Webers. Nicolas connor was new money through and through. No one really knew how Nick made his fortune, but everyone suspected that it was through dirty dealings. I tend to agree on that one, especially through my time interacting with the Connors. Nick's wife -- Linda -- was hardly your run of the mill millionaire housewife. She lived her life according to what she wanted to do, for the most part. She had a job as anchorwoman on the local news at KYDQ. It wasn't network, not in those days anyway, but it was good enough for Linda, and everyone in Nolan (most of the greater Las Vegas area too) tuned in at 4, 5, 6, and 11 to hear what Linda had to say.

Both Nick and Linda were in their mid 40s, and they had been married ever since Linda graduated from college. They raised three children in their house that over the years grew into a sprawling estate on the south edge of town. Nick and Linda were an odd couple. Everyone in town at the time knew who they were and everyone wondered what Linda saw in her husband. But she loved him, and so they forgave her for her horrible taste in men.

That morning started as any other morning did on the Connor Estate. All of their children were grown and out of the house, and the quiet bothered Linda if she stopped long enough to listen to it. The cook prepared her usual breakfast buffet, and Nick and Linda sat at opposite ends of a very long table, eating in silence.

Linda looked up from her eggs to Nick staring at the paper -- not reading, staring. "Nick, what's wrong?" Nick mumbled something and looked at his watch. he stumbled to his feet, kissed his wife on the forehead, put the paper on the table, and walked out the door. Linda grabbed the paper, out of curiosity of what could mesmerize her husband. The paper was open to a photo of Crystal Blaire-McMannis. "Emergency operation at University Hospital puts McMannis on Critical List" the headline read. the article announced the premature birth of twins, Baby-Boy and Baby-Girl McMannis, to Crystal and Tyler McMannis. The article also said that the blood bank stores were low, and everyone was encouraged to go to the hospital to donate blood.

*****

At that same moment, a man at a diner across town from the Connor Estate was reading the same article in the newspaper. This was someone no one in town knew or knew was there, but he showed a definite interest in the goings on of Nolan's citizens. He called himself Quinn and left in a hurry from the diner in a taxi after reading about Crystal in the paper.

Prologue

Once upon a time... No, that's not quite right. The phrase, "once upon a time", typically denoted the beginning of a story. Once upon a time, a boy and a girl were lost in the woods, and they came upon a house made of candy. Once upon a time, a girl went walking carrying a basket of goodies to Grandma's house. This is more of what one would call an epic saga: a story that transcends "once upon a time", and becomes a lifetime of romance and adventure. A story of how a young, troubled girl stumbled into something she could nave never imagined. A story of how a young woman struggled to right the wrongs of her past and discovered something greater than herself and of how the lives of strangers in suburbia can become secretly intertwined. This is my story.

I was born in Kentucky in the late 1970s. My parents were both professors in the history department at the nearby university, and for all I knew, they loved each other very much. I had many friends, when I was a child, but none of my friendships stood the test of time. I struggled through high school, and with the prodding help of both my parents, I was able to graduate on time with less-than-stellar grades that were good enough to get me into college out of state and away from my parents.

College was my time. My time to start life over out the shadow of my very loving, yet very overbearing parents. But as interesting as my time at the university was, my story doesn't start there. The good part starts a few years later when -- for reasons that I'm sure will become clear when I get to that part of the story -- I found myself in suburban Las Vegas.

Actually, as I look back on it now -- many, many years removed from the situation -- a crucial event took place in my live at the tender age of sixteen. This would be during that trying time of my life when my parents were pushing me hard to survive high school, when I was trying not to stand out in school, and when my live was the same as any any normal sixteen year old girl living in the early 1990s. One day after school, I was snooping around my father's study. This was the one day that I knew he would be at the university late, because he taught his class on the Roman Empire in the evening. Many weeks leading up to that day, I had fantasized about what was behind that old, oak door. The shiny brass knob and the warnings from my father to stay out of his study tantalized me. That day, I decided to risk it and open the door.

Inside was pretty much what I expected to see, but not what I had hoped. What I had hoped to see upon opening the door was something interesting: a treasure map to the Pharaoh's lost fortune, a diamond found while looting the pirate's booty in Bermuda, or even just a stack of dirty men's magazines that my father didn't want me to know about. What I saw was none of those thigns, merely an apparently normal office-style room. One entire wall was bookshelves filled with row upon row of historical texts, some about Ancient Rome, other about Nazi Germany, and a whole shelf-full devoted to the American Civil War.

I had decided to leave and has actually turned toward the door when something peculiar caught my eye. A very large, very old book laid open on the side table next to one of my father's sitting chairs. This seemed odd to me, considering the respect for books that he had ingrained in me for as long as I could remember. I looked at the book, and I discovered what had entranced my father so much. The book was a hefty, leather bound tome that had to be well over a hundred years old, perhaps even two or three hundred. The pages were thick and their edges were rough from over use. Carefully, I closed the book enough to glimpse the title: Mystical Objects of the Ancient World. I flipped through the pages and nothing seemed to jump out at me. Just another one of his history books, I thought. I returned the book to the page my father had left open and turned to leave. That's when it happened. A cold, no make that frigid (it was much colder than simply cold), a frigid breeze ripped through my father's study, and I heard my name whispered on it. It lasted only a second, but it was powerful enough to stay in my memory all these years.

i didn't know it then, but that moment was one of what they call "defining moments" in a person's life. For a few nights after that incident, I had nightmares. Cold hands caressing me in my sleep, creepy old men whispering my name on their deathbeds, you know, standard nightmare fare. And being the sixteen-year-old that I was, within a week the whole thing -- the book, the frigid breeze, the voice, my father's study, everything -- had slipped my mind, and I was back to wondering (more worrying really) if some boy was going to ask me to the homecoming dance.

That was until the day, many years later, that I made a phone call. My story doesn't start there either. But don't worry. You'll hear the whole thing in due time. Just remember like in every good story, this story has lots of characters. Some come and go just as quickly as a frigid breeze. Some linger in your life like a scab on your shin that you keep knocking off every time you walk past the coffee table. And some you wish would never leave. My story is full of such people, and you'll get to know all of them at least as well as I did. So, have patience my friend, and settle in, because as I have learned, my live was quite the adventure.

Maplethorpe Ridge -- Intro

Okay, so I think first off is my MAJOR project. It started out on a whim years ago. I picked up some paper and a pen and said to myself, "Today, Ephram, you're going to start writing a novel." Knowing how I get and how bad my ADD gets, I didn't expect a novel to actually come from any of this "spare time writing." What happened was amazing. I became drawn into this world that I had created and obsessed with the people that lived there. This was my creation, and I loved it. So, instead of it falling by the wayside after a few attempts at writing something, I actually had a living, breathing universe. There were characters that enchanted me and stories that I wanted to tell. And over the course of the next few years, a novel emerged -- Maplethorpe Ridge.

Beyond that, MR became more than a novel to me. The story didn't end at the end. I saw the end as a new beginning, and my "on a whim" idea blossomed into what I envisioned as a series of novels.

This is by far the meatiest thing that I have ever written. Somewhere in my stacks of backup CDs from old computers is a MS Word file of over 600 pages. That is the first book of MR. MR took me probably five years to write start to finish at a "when I got inspired" pace. And what one can imagine about a work of fiction that grew and evolved over the course of years is that it got to be jumpy and fractured, and I know that there are continuity issues in it. My major goal of my twin-inspired blog is to edit, polish, and share the beauty that is Maplethorpe Ridge.

About a year or so ago (probably close to two now), I got the itch to work on it again. I had started writing book two in the series, and it severely irritated me not having book one in what I would consider a "finished" format. So, I printed out the entire latest version on paper and put it in a 3-ring binder. My goal here was to hand edit and reread the whole thing cover-to-cover (a feat that I have sadly still not done). Unfortunately, editing it was not nearly as exciting as writing it, and after a few days, the binder was shelved and now taunts me from the bookshelf in the bedroom.

This blog is going to be me doing my by hand "final" edits on MR, and in the process, sharing it with the world (or anyone who stumbles upon it). I'm going to embark on the arduous task of retyping the whole thing -- cover to cover. This, my friends, will be far easier for me than simply editing it on paper. And, it will give me the added thrust to work on it knowing that other people are out there reading it and (dear lord, hopefully) anxiously awaiting the next segment.

I know. These sound like such lofty goals indeed. But the past few days of setting up this blog have reenergized me in a way that I've not seen since I first wrote the last chapter.

What I'd like to do for you now is whet your whistle for what's to come over the coming months. To do this, I'll try my best to describe what this world is all about without giving too much away in terms of actual story. I had toyed with the idea of actually getting this guy published in a physical way several times, and I even went so far as to submit sample chapters to a publisher. This publisher requested a one-page summary/description to accompany the sample chapters. Whenever I think about this book, I think of that summary that I wrote. I'm going to do my best to recreate that now. I apologize at the start if it sounds generic, but I don't want to spoil anything in the story.

Maplethorpe Ridge is a sci-fi, romance novel. I wrote what I like, so it's part soap opera, part mystery, part sci-fi, and (I hope) incredibly addictive. Maplethorpe Ridge is the story of several women and how they deal with their lives under various trying circumstances. It's a growing and learning experience -- finding love, losing love, learning things about themselves and the world, and having grand adventures. Crystal is pregnant and harboring a dark secret from her husband. Linda is trapped in a loveless marriage, yearning to give her lonely life meaning. Evelyn craves power and control and seeks it out at the expense of her family. And Kelly is hell bent on getting revenge on those who have wronged her in the past. But no one in this suburb on the hills and cliffs overlooking Las Vegas has any idea what's really in store for them when mysterious, ancient relics begin to surface in their lives.

Reading that doesn't really do anything any real justice. But it makes sense to me, knowing the whole story. And, of course, Crystal, Evelyn, Linda, and Kelly aren't the only women of focus in MR, but they're there right from the beginning.

My plan (who knows if I'm going to be able to stick with it **fingers crossed**) is to work on one chapter each week and post what I hope is a final version of each one as I go. If I remember correctly, there are twenty-two chapters. So, hopefully, you're up for some romantic, soapy, sci-fi, adventure over the next few months. I know I am!

Oh my god, am I really doing this?

So, my brother has been needling me and needling me for weeks to join this whole "blogging world". The other day, he suggested that I could use it as a venue for my writing.

Okay. Sold!

Even though we're twins (not identical, but very similar), Okturn and I are pretty different. He's way more grounded and into that whole real-life thing than I am. If you're interested in that kind of thing, he writes his own blog called Addicted to Toaster Strudel. I don't know what's that about.

I love to write, and I've been at it for years; although, I have yet to share very much of it with anyone. I have a feeling that's all about to change.

This blog is going to be all fiction. Basically, I'm working on writing projects often, and my plan is to use this blog as a place to share my stuff and maybe get some feedback (if you're into that kind of thing).

Anyway, stay tuned as I did up some older material and post it up here and come up with some new stuff for you guys. As with most blogs (I'm guessing), this is a work in progress.

Enjoy!