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Skylite Drive-In



I have several great memories of the Drive-In. 

In 1982 I have a vivid memory of going to the Drive-In with my best friend, Jason, his mom and his little sister, Joy.  I remember watching Joy fight sleep and I’m not sure if she succumbed or not.  Not long thereafter, Jason and Joy moved to Florida.  The year after I watched Return of the Jedi, and while I’d watched the other two movies previously this one seemed to capture my 10yo imagination and I realize that imagination had no limits. 


There are very few good Drive-Ins that still exist; they are like the dinosaurs, slowly dying out, leaving their bones of fallen screens and broken speakers. 

In the 50s they were packed solid virtually every evening, in the 70s, many turned to porn to make ends meet.  In the 80s they began to fade away to the big cinemas and sit down theatres.   Summers were for enjoying time with your friends, socializing, but kids aren’t like kids used to be – twitter and facebook and text messages are their way of socializing.


We never realize what a little nugget of history we have here in Northern Maine with the Skylite, and how many people have never been to a Drive-in. It’s still family owned and family run, Evan or Devon man the dough boy making, Donna takes your cash. You can chit chat while you wait and catch up and share a few laughs.


When Jules and I began to “date” we never had a lot of cash, but we managed to go to the Drive-in a few times a summer. It was “date” night. Dough boys, soda, a movie. A rare late night as we are usually in bed early.


You can still sit outside and listen to the speakers (yes, they work!) Or sit in your car and tune into the radio (or use the speakers!) or do as many people do, bring chairs and enjoy the movie under the stars. 



I hope this wonderful place never disappears and turns into a relic as many of the other drive-ins in the US have.  That even if we drive out each night, that we can eternally drive-in, stay, have a fried Oreo (its good!  I SWEAR!), a dough boy, maybe even an gigantic pickle – bring the kids and have them experience a sliver of history.


It seems Wattpad is having some problems, so I will post the finale here for a short while.  :)




            The odd beeping continues in Leigh’s dream, pulling her away from the sweet dream of Emily on a beach.  Then she feels the pain, the tubes, the sticky monitor tape on her chest. 

            “Mother fuck,” whispers Leigh.

            “No, just me,” says Emily. 

            Leigh creeps her eyes open and the room comes into a slow focus.  She smiles.  “God you look wonderful.”

            “I’ve been crying for hours,” says Emily. 

            Leigh moves her left hand to touch her, but finds that she is handcuffed to the bed.  She rattles them, almost amused, coming fully awake.  “I take it we didn’t get off scott free?”

            “No,” says the Judge.

            Leigh turns her gaze to the room.  Judge Applebee sits in a chair at the other end of the room, his dark suit rumpled, his legs are crossed.  Wayne is there also, as are Justin and Brett.  It is a good sign that Justin and Brett are not in cuffs.

            “Jason?” asks Leigh.

            “We’ll get to that later, Miss Drake.  You made a circus out of my courtroom today, I don’t appreciate that,” says the Judge.

            “I can appreciate that, Judge,” says Leigh.  She swallows hard a pulse of pain dashes through her.  “You see, no one knew every aspect of the plan, other than me.  I needed that element of…”

            The judge raises his hand.  Leigh stops.  “I know that, Miss Drake, might I call you Leigh?”

            “You can call me whatever you want, Sir,” says Leigh through clenched teeth.

            He nods.  “I understand that you think that Jason Finn set you both up for separate murders, yes?”

            “Yes,” says Leigh.

            Emily nods and mutters a yes also. 

            “I can see the validity of you going rogue, while I don’t condone it.  Why didn’t you trust Billy McGrath instead?  He is your second in command, Wayne is not, and if I am mistaken, you two have never seen eye to eye.”

            “Sir, your honor, I think starting from where Jason’s plan began to unravel will work best,” says Leigh.  “And I think I need to go in order or I’ll miss something.”

            “Do you feel up to this?  You were in surgery for hours, Leigh,” says Emily.

            Leigh swallows.  She reaches for the glass of water, but can’t, her right hand swollen and immovable.  Emily gets the water for her and Leigh takes a drink.  “Better now than later.”

            “Please, enlighten me,” says the Judge.

            “It started when I realized that I knew how Jason had planted Emily’s fingerprints on Connor’s year book.  I woke up to the realization that Jason was up to no good and was trying, without success, to frame Emily.” 




            “Here,” said Emily.  Her voice was still cold.  She handed Leigh some pills and Leigh took them, downing the small glass of water in one gulp.  “Now get some sleep.”

              Emily snapped the light off and turned away from her.  Leigh finally began to drift off to sleep, until a thought struck her.  She shot straight up in bed and looked over at Emily, sleeping soundly in the bed next to her, and realized with a sickening jolt how her fingerprints had gotten on the book.

            “Emily, wake up!” ordered Leigh.  She bounded out of bed and grabbed a shirt.  It had just struck her how it had happened, how all of this happened.  Why hadn’t she seen it before?  Had she been asleep at the proverbial wheel?  It was insane that she had missed the obvious clue that had been thrust right under her nose.

            “What?  It’s not light yet,” groaned Emily. She pulled the sheet over her head.  “I am not getting up in the middle of the night unless you want to have sex.”

            “Get up.  We have to go to the police station before anyone else is there.  Why didn’t I see this before?”  Leigh said in desperation.  “Damn it, Emily Black get up!”

            Leigh grabbed the phone and called Kia.  “Kia, I need you to meet me at the station and please make sure no one sees you.”

            To her credit, Kia didn’t ask questions.

            Emily slowly dressed and kept eyeing Leigh with reproach.  She knew that Emily didn’t trust her, at least not right now.  It was hell, but Leigh couldn’t blame her.  They drove in silence.  Leigh ushered her into the station through the back door.  Leigh looked around frantically. 

            Kia was in her chair, sitting at her desk, with eyes still holding the look of sleep.  She rubbed them and gave Leigh an odd look. 

            “Okay, boss, what did you yank my ass out of bed for at 5 a.m.?”

            “Tell me again about the fingerprints,” demanded Leigh.

            “Fingerprints?” asked Emily.

            “Yeah, hold that thought, Kia?” asked Leigh.

            “That they were placed…,” began Kia with a yawn, snapping her mouth shut on the last word.

            “Placed!  After the blood dried!  Placed, that’s what I should have hooked onto all this time ago.  Run each print through AFIS.   Do you have the prints on file?  Run them as individual prints,” said Leigh frantically.  “Not as a block, one at a time.  I need which finger it is, I know don’t look at me like I’ve lost my mind, Kia.  Please?”

            It was all adding up, they had rudimentary equipment here, and without something high tech, a fake fingerprint could be dummied up and no one would be the wiser, if they weren’t looking for it.  And, of course, Leigh hadn’t been looking for it, not during the original investigation.

            “Yeah I do have them as individual prints.  Leigh what is going on?”  Kia asked doing as she was told.  Kia’s fingers flew over the keyboard pulling up the JPEG files and loading them into the AFIS mainframe. 

            “Yeah, what is going on?”  Emily demanded.  “Leigh, talk to me?”

            Leigh paced the floor, her mind working frantically.  Kia saw the hits returning and made a face at the odd results.  “It was all right there, we’ve seen how to do it, but I mean, modern technology would disprove a fake print, unless you are using archaic methods, like we are…,” whispered Leigh.  “He knew we would be.  The storm was the perfect opportunity.”

            “That can’t be, that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.  How did you know?” asks Kia in awe, spinning her wheelchair around to stare at Leigh.

            Leigh leaned over and looked at the computer screen, seeing exactly what she’d suspected before and her heart suddenly felt so much lighter now that she no longer suspected Emily of murder.

            “It’s all the same finger.  Hold on I’ll be right back,” said Leigh.  She ran out of the room.

            “Hey!  That’s my fingerprint.  Leigh!  What?”

            “Look,” said Leigh.  She returned to the room, holding the yearbook that bound in plastic.  She turned the book over and then grabbed another book.  “Hold the book the same way I am,” Leigh instructed Kia, who did as she was asked.  Leigh turned the book over and showed the position of her thumb.  Kia looked at the plastic bag, then seeing the fingerprint pattern that she’d lifted; the light dots marking the ones that were Emily’s.

            “The thumb is on the wrong side.  The prints were planted?”  Kia asked in astonishment.  “You can’t hold a book that way, it’s impossible.  Who the hell would plant evidence on a yearbook?”

            “Someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”  Emily demanded in an angry voice.

            “Someone planted your fingerprints on the yearbook that Connor was holding when he died.  To make it look like you killed him,” said Leigh.

             Emily stepped away from Leigh and shook her head. “What?”

            “All the prints came back as the same finger,” said Kia.  “Leigh, I wouldn’t have caught this.  For whatever reason, the person who planted the prints only had that viable print to use so they reproduced it several times; making it look like a full hand had held the book.”

            “That is because Emily has scars on the pads of all her fingers except for her index fingers.  The first digit of each hand is scar free.  Whoever did this could not have used the other prints, because they wouldn’t have been able to make a good enough copy to use as a transfer, but didn’t think we’d go into a deep search, as long as one finger matched, we’d never check if it was the same finger.  This is Addison after all,” Leigh explained. 

            Kia leaned back.  “Leigh, not everyone can duplicate a print this way.  This isn’t a five minute process.”

            “They lifted Emily’s prints from something, then made a copy, and then snuck in here and planted the prints.  When we got the new equipment, they knew I’d reprocess all the old evidence.  That I’d come across it someday.  It might have been in a week or six months, but as long as at one point, I suspected Emily of murder, that was what they wanted,” said Leigh.

            “Now you just have to figure out who planted them,” said Kia 

            Leigh looked up to meet Emily’s scared gaze.

            “That, I can tell you without a doubt, because I’ve seen him do it before and now I’m going to figure out how to nab the bastard.”


exercise in storytelling


            “We just didn’t know who, or why, at first,” explains Leigh to the Judge.  “That came easily, it had to be Jason.  He was the only one with malice towards me, and towards Emily.  He wanted me back or he wanted me dead.”  She readjusts herself in the bed.

            The judge pulls his chair closer to Leigh’s bed, fully invested in the story now.   

            “When Jason was at Quantico, one of the exercises that he had to pass was how to differentiate between a fake fingerprint and a real one, typical scut work.  He’d use regular glue, let it set and you had a fingerprint, you would rub the fake print on the palm of our own hand and use those oils to transfer the print.  Certain tests could tell if it was fake or not, but as an exercise as to how a criminal might fake a fingerprint, Jason had tried to do it on his own. I’d seen him do it.”

            “James ‘Cappy’ McBride?  Connor Luca?  Vince Knight?” asks Judge Applebee.  “Why them?  Why continue with the façade?”

            “We didn’t know who’d killed Connor or Vince at the time, we only suspected.  But when we realized that someone had planted the prints and I found out that Emily suspected me of setting the fire at Vince Knight’s, we put the pieces together and found our suspect.  It was easy, only one person hated us enough to do that,” states Leigh.

            “So, that was when we decided we had to do something,” says Emily.  She nods to Leigh and Emily continues the story.






            “Hold on.  Wait, before you say anything else….”  Emily waved her hand, she thought she was going to faint.  The information was coming in huge clumps and all of it was jumbled and wasn’t making sense, she had to unweave it to understand it. 

            “The pager,” said Emily.  Her mind, the mind of a suave and articulate writer, began to churn out different scenarios and all them were more insane that the craziest plot twist that she could imagine.

            Leigh looked at her confused.

            “Pager?  What are you talking about?” asked Leigh. 

            Emily closed her eyes to the room; the flickering lights of the computer screen were making her head spin.  One small lamp illuminated the room.  The shadows were long and merged with the corners.  It gave Emily the chills.

            “Carmen found the pager, your pager, at Vince Knight’s house.  I knew you hadn’t gone out back and thought you might have killed him.”

            “Whoa, hold on.  Leigh, what is she talking about?  Pager?  Carmen?  I never printed a pager in the Knight case,” said Kia.

            Leigh shook her head.  “I found the pager in my car.”

            “Someone is setting both of you up.” said Kia.

            Leigh moved to the door, closed and locked it.

            “The best thing I’ve heard is that you aren’t a killer, Em.  I know, yell at me later about not trusting you.  But, right now, we have to think.  You thought I killed Vince?  So Jason set us up there too.”  Leigh paused.  “Things are clicking into place.  All the pieces that had been floating around in my head are making sense now.  He made us into puppets. Fucker!” yelled Leigh, kicking at a chair, overturning it.  “He’s always been that master, masterfully beating me, using my mind to get his career going, mastering my emotions, but not anymore.”

             “You thought I killed Connor…  Can you run a test to tell where and how the prints got there?”  Emily asked Kia. 

            The wheelchair bound woman shook her head.  “No.  Someone would have had to have gotten your fingerprints on something like a glass or a good smooth surface.  You can generate latex fingerprints, but that is like, well, government stuff, ladies.  You aren’t taking your run of the mill machine to do this.  This is Alias stuff.  You can do it the old-fashioned way.  You dust the print, lift it, scan it, and make a print of it with a computer on a transparency.  Then, you can use wood glue and… transfer it onto something but it is very tricky work.  Something like the yearbook, I’ve read about this but…  But there is no way someone had that much time.  I think, I don’t know, I can test the chemicals around the print, if I come up with traces of glue or latex…”

            “Government.  It’s Jason, we don’t have to guess, it’s him.”

            “Son of a bitch,” said Emily.  “Jason did this, but Leigh, if he did, he had to have help.  He had to!  But who?”




courting the devil


            “Ladies, we have no accomplice in custody,” says the judge.  He leans forward toward Leigh and Emily, his eyebrows spiking upwards.

            “We do,” says Wayne. 

            “We do?” asks Emily.  She looks at Leigh.

            “After you shot me,” says Leigh.

            “I fake shot you,” corrects Emily.

            The judge clears his throat. 

            “Right, I went to Wayne.  Scared him pretty good too,” says Leigh.

            “I about died, found her sitting in my garage, stitched up like Frankenstien, she was.  Told me that she thought Jason had set you two up.  I told her that was bull, that Jason has been talking to me, and that’s when I knew.  I knew I’d been an idiot.  He’d been feeding me info on Leigh since before the election.  He played me as well as he played you.  That’s when I told Leigh I’d help her.”

            “Help her do what, exactly?” asks the judge.

            “Find his accomplices,” says Wayne. 

            “We narrowed it down to Billy or Carmen,” says Leigh.  “Babe, you want to continue this tale?”

            Emily nods and launches into the next leg of the story.




situation normal


            She hefted the weight of the gun.  It felt wrong having it on campus, but also knowing that she was going to need all the protection she could get.  She dialed her phone.

            “Leigh?” said Emily.  

            “Yes, my love?” 

            “Jason is here, I think he’s playing his last card.  I’m so damn scared,” said Emily.  She didn’t have Leigh’s background. 

            She was scared. 

            She was an every day, run of the mill, writer hack, who could write about shooting someone.  She didn’t think she could actually shoot someone if it came down to that.  She couldn’t act worth shit, yet Leigh was steadfast in her belief that they could pull this off, in some over the top dramatic fashion.  Why Leigh insisted on this was beyond her scope of perception, but she understood Jason better than she did. 

            Why not go to the authorities?  Well, because it looked like something out of a novel, and a very twisted novel at that.  They would simply jail them both and by the time they sorted out the intricacies of the case, Jason would have more than likely fled the country.

            “Remember what we talked about, you have to let him think you think I did it,” Leigh had told her.  “I know you don’t know everything I’ve got planned, but its better this way, Emily, trust me.  Jason is one of the best planners on earth, I have to outthink him.  ”

            “I know but,” said Emily.  She had choked back the tears.

            “You love me?” asked Leigh.

            “I do,” said Emily.

            “Then trust me. Trust me when I say, if you know what is going to happen, you won’t do it.  Just trust me and do everything I ask you to do, and I swear to you that we are going to live a long and happy life together.  You just have to trust me and love me enough to do this.”




the plan


            Leigh checked it every day, the small refrigerator located in the closet.  She pulled it opened.  The small blood bag was there.  Lord, she’d lost her mind, but Brett assured her that if Emily’s mark was true, she’d be all right.  That it was like wearing a stunt man’s blood jacket.  Brett, you had better be right, or Emily will be standing trial for my real murder, she thought to herself.




courts in session


            “Let me get this straight – you hadn’t told your lover that you were planning on having her fake your death?”  asks Judge Applebee.

            “Sort of,” answers Leigh. “Emily knew about that part, but not about Brett or who else was involved.  I wanted her to have some plausibility if this went wrong.”

            Emily reaches over and touches Leigh’s face.  Emily sees some of the now fading scars on her skull from where the plate glass window had cut her.  All of Leigh’s hair had been cut off, but it is growing quickly, and thankfully, so; Emily didn’t think she could handle a bald Leigh.

            “That is a dangerous proposition,” claims Judge Applebee.

            Leigh laughs ruefully. “So is love Your Honor.”


setting up the fox


            She bit her lip and wondered what the fuck Emily was doing going up to Violet’s Bluff, the only thing up there was Cappy’s.  She pulled out her cell and saw the battery was blinking red and had no signal.  Damn it.  She dropped her sunglasses down onto her nose and fell into a dead run for her SUV.  When she got to the SUV, she plugged her phone into the charger.

            “Why didn’t you call me?”  growled Leigh.  She saw the light of the cell blinking and dialed Em’s phone.  “I don’t have much time, Em.  Is this it?  It’s too fast, he can’t have planned this.  God, please tell me I’m not insane.”

             Time was of the essence, it was paramount that she get there at almost the same time as Emily.  This was Jason’s end game.  She didn’t want Jason spooking and maybe hurting Emily, even killing Emily, and make it look like Leigh had done it.

            Emily grunted.

            “He is after Cappy!  I couldn’t wait!” exclaimed Emily.

             “I need that time, fuck why is he going after Cappy?  Old man wouldn’t let me tell him anything today, damn it, could he have gone after Jason?”

            “I don’t know,” said Emily.  “Get here.”

            “I’m going to call him to warn him.  Emily be careful!  You understand me?  We don’t know anything.”

            “I’ll use the gun if I have to.  Leigh, I don’t know about this, I can’t do this, I can’t shoot someone,” said Emily.

            “Emily,” began Leigh.  “I love you, but you are going to have to shoot me.”

            Not only was Leigh going to make Jason and his accomplice think that she was dead, but she was going to manipulate the situation and even lead Emily to believe, for a short time, that she’d killed her.  It had to look completely real. 

            “WHAT!” yelled Emily. 

            “I know how this sounds, but you have to trust me.  Just do whatever I ask you to do.  I have something set up.  Just do what your heart tells you to do.  I have to go love, but please, just trust your heart.”




pregnant pause


            “I know I’m repeating myself, but…let me get this straight…,” says the Judge, waving his hand.  Both Emily and Leigh raise their eyebrows.  “You told your lover to shoot you?” 

            Leigh moans as she tries to get comfortable.  “Yes.”  She signals Emily for more water and takes a short drink.  Coughing hard as the water goes down her throat.  Getting shot is not all that it’s cracked up to be.  “I told Emily to shoot me, and hoped to hell she was as smart as I thought she was or she might have killed me.  You see your honor, I had help, a lot of help to put this caper together,” begins Leigh.

            “I can see that,” says the Judge.

            “Elizabeth Randle, Dr. Jesse Horton and his boyfriend, Xander Worthington.  My brother Jesse and his husband, Brett.  All had different jobs, but none knew what the other was doing until it was done,” says Leigh.

            “Miss Randle?” asks the judge. 

            “Elizabeth was doing a ride-a-long with Xander, research for her book.  That’s what we passed it off as.  Jesse and Brett had been in town for over a week.  Waiting for my call, we set up a satellite phone, since there is no cell reception on the mountain.”  Leigh winces at the pain that vibrates through her.  “I convinced Dr. Horton that I needed to fake a death.  My brother is an artist, but also works for a T.V. show.  His husband is a props master.   We arranged for Elizabeth to be on the ambulance – we needed a non-medical person to witness the death.  It needed to look as real as possible, it had to be plausible.  Jason Finn had already shown himself to be a very formidable adversary.”

            “For what reason?” asks the Judge.

            “Because Your Honor, we needed Jason to think he got away with it.  Jesse commissioned a body, female, blonde, my size, for an autopsy demonstration at the hospital.  We used the cadaver to take my place in the real autopsy.  Head shaved, dead, no one knew the difference, we mutilated the body to make it look enough like me.  Justin and Brett used prosthetics and make up.”  Again, Leigh moves on the bed.  Emily reaches over and touches her hand. 

            “You need to stop,” says Emily.  “This can wait.”

            “I’ll be okay.  I had wished to be cremated; no one would be digging up the body.  Jesse did the autopsy, and the Medical Examiner, Cyril Van Buren didn’t balk.  He didn’t have to travel to the Corner to do an autopsy on someone he knew,” explains Leigh.  Leigh sits up again, the bullet hole in her back ebbs strange pains when she takes a deep breath. 

            “So Emily shot you?”  The Judge asks.

            Emily nods and takes over the story telling.




kitty, kitty, bang, bang


            Emily saw the splash of blood.  She howled.  The shards of glass sprayed everywhere as Leigh pushed through the window, the force of the slug drove her out and through. 

            Emily couldn’t move immediately.  The woman that her heart beat for, was dead, and she’d shot her.  She ran outside, bursting through the doors, her feet lost purchase on the slick grass, falling on her knees as she spotted Leigh lying in the mosaic of broken glass.  Quickly scurrying to her feet, she stumbled over to Leigh. 

            “Oh god, oh god.  Damn it, why did you make me do this?  You can’t die, oh god, please, why did you make me practice so much?  I could have missed instead I didn’t, oh god.”  She pulled her cell from her pocket.  But found that she had no signal. 

            She got up, and ran to Cappy’s kitchen, found the old rotary phone and dialed 911. Xander Worthington answered the phone.

            “911, what is your emergency?” he asked. 

            “Um, Cappy’s…,” began Emily.

            Xander cut her off.  “We are on our way.”

            The phone clicked and the connection went dead.  She let the phone dangle from its yellowed cord and she rushed back outside.  She came to rest next to Leigh.  She felt the tears spill onto the cold golden pine needles she was kneeling in, the glass cutting into her knees but she didn’t feel the pain.

            Emily wiped her blue eyes, tears streamed down her cheeks.  Nothing made any sense to her at all.  All she wanted to do was rewind the last few moments of her life and not pull the trigger, not come up to Cappy’s at all.  Pack up her belongings, force Leigh into the SUV and drive as far away as they could from Jason Finn.

            “Who, oh god, I forgot who…” muttered Emily.   She stood, looking around for Jason, for anyone.  Who was his accomplice?  Who’d helped him set her up for murder?  Leigh had said that Jason never worked alone.  Who had let out that shot, it hadn’t been her or Leigh.  In the distance, she heard a soft rumbling of a car or truck and she hoisted the gun in her left hand. 

            He wasn’t going to get away with it, thought Emily.  She rushed towards the sound of the vehicle.  Tree branches whipped at her, cutting her face and arms as she cried and ran, there had to be some sort of justice in all of this.  She hit the road and tripped, falling onto her hands and knees, looking up and seeing the familiar car of Carmen Dante.






            The judge turns to Wayne at this point of the story.  “Carmen Dante?” 

            “We’ve had her in custody since this morning.  Arresting her earlier would have meant compromising Leigh.  Jason would have known.  I booked her myself,” says Wayne stiffly.

            “Your honor,” says Leigh, “I realize this was unorthodox, but we had to do it this way.  It’s why I didn’t trust Billy with this.  He wouldn’t have been able to pull it off, I didn’t want him in harm’s way.”

            The judge grimaces.  “Continue.”




when a plan….


            Emily was unmoving for a long moment, realizing that the conspiracy ran so much deeper than she could ever have fathomed.  Shaking free of the stunned stupor, she ran back to the cabin, tears still streamed down her now dirty face.  The gun still in her left hand, in a loose fist, dangling dangerously from her fingers as she half walked, half jogged back to where Leigh lay.  She couldn’t breathe – couldn’t believe she’d gone along with any of this.  She’d shot her own lover.  What had she done?  She was insane with the loss of her one true love.

            “Leigh!” yelled Emily as she rounded the corner of the cabin.  A pool of blood was starting to form under her already.  Landing hard on her knees, she felt for a pulse and was surprised to find one, a strong one at that.  Her fingers wiped away some of the blood that was on Leigh’s neck and she checked again, there was a pulse. 

            A soft groan escaped Leigh.  Emily yelped and skittered back.  Leigh’s dark eyes fluttered opened, her wet tongue licking her lips.  Her right hand reached over to feel the wound that Emily had inflicted.

            “Fucker didn’t tell me it would hurt this much…,” muttered Leigh.

            Emily grabbed her, gathering her up in her arms and holding her tightly.  Then she kissed Leigh hard enough to draw blood, wanting to make sure she was alive.

            “Babe, easy, okay?” said Leigh.  Emily let her go, feeling the sticky blood at her fingertips.  “You did just shoot me.”


            “A blood bag,” a deep voice came from behind Emily.  She swung around, the gun in her hand gripped solidly; ready to shoot if it was Jason.  Brett scurried back around the corner of the cabin, back to cover.

            “HEY!  No shooting my husband,” yelled Justin.  He was on the other side of the cabin.   Emily swung the gun towards Justin’s voice.  “Leigh, are you okay?”

            Emily dropped the gun and fell back onto the carpet of pine needles and glass. 

            “Uhg, yeah I’m fine.  Brett, you didn’t tell me it would hurt this much!  My whole body hurts,” says Leigh.  “Or, I loaded the bullets with too much powder.”

            “You weren’t supposed to jump out the window!” yelled Brett.  He was still hiding behind the cabin.  Justin was now kneeling next to Leigh. 

            Emily threw her hands up in desperation, feeling very much out of the loop.  “What the hell is going on?  Leigh?  Tell me!”

            “Justin’s been here for a week,” said Leigh.  The sirens cut into her explanation.  “Brett set this up for me.” She reached into the jacket and pulled out an empty blood bag.  Emily’s eyes went wide.  Leigh had not only set up Jason, but herself as well. 

            “That’s why you wanted me to shoot you in the heart?  You had it all planned,” said Emily.    “You are damn lucky I shot you there and not in the head!”

            “I had to make Jason believe you’d killed me.  Why do you think I had you practice so much, you really did have my life in your hands, Em.  I think it worked, and once Jesse and Xander get here, the other phase of the plan can get underway.”

            “Xander and Jesse?  You got them mixed up in this, too?” asked Emily.

            “They’re here,” said Brett.  “Emily, please darling, put that gun away!  You might shoot someone who doesn’t have a bullet proof vest on.”



a question for the…


            “You do realize that charges may be filed against all of you?” asks the Judge. 

            Leigh nods.  “Yes, everyone understood that before we even started this, or got involved.  We didn’t think he’d go after Cappy.  That was our mistake; we didn’t act fast enough to trap him.  We figured he would find a way of setting Emily or I up some other way than committing murder again.”  Leigh stops the feeling of fatigue washes over her.   She wants Emily to crawl into bed with her, fall asleep, and let this all be a dream.  “Once we knew who was involved with Jason, we watched.  This morning Jason played his last card.  He tried to inject Carmen with insulin.  She’s a diabetic.  He succeeded, but Jesse was there, ready for what he’d planned.  Jesse has been constantly watching Carmen since this began, he or Xander were always within proximity of her.  We didn’t want anyone else dead.  Jason went to the courtroom believing that Carmen was dead.  She isn’t,” says Leigh.

            “Leigh, posing as Jasmine, brought me papers today, telling me that Carmen was all right and that it was all set,” says Emily.  “Whatever you do, Judge, we accept that.  But we are alive and rid of Jason.”

            The Judge sighs.  “So you faked your death.  Doctor Horton provided you with a body.  Xander Worthington called your death.  Elizabeth Randall gave the cover story of how she saw Leigh Drake dead.  Brett Taylor helped you set up a blood bag, so that the shot Emily fired looked real?” 

            Leigh nods.

            The Judge continues, “Your brother, Justin Drake, where did you fit into this?”   

            “Make up and helped me to transform into the reporter.  I wanted to be able to go into the community.  Hiding for months wasn’t my idea of fun, and I couldn’t investigate, or communicate with Wayne.  It was easy for Justin to hide in town also, he wore contacts and played the cameraman for my reporter.”

            “Played along,” scoffs the Judge. 

            The room is silent, except for the beeps of the monitors and Leigh’s heavy breathing. 

            “I will implore the district attorney to not press charges.  I think you’ve been through enough, both of you, all of you,” says the Judge.  “Nor will I allow him to press charges on the others, this was your master plan.  I will, however, implore him to press charges against Carmen Dante.”

            Leigh shifts in her bed.  “She’ll have a good lawyer and we’ll testify on her behalf.  She’s as much a victim in this as we were.”

            “Wayne,” says the Judge.  “See that Miss Dante is put in protective custody, and relieve Billy McGrath of duty, until this is over.”  Leigh bristles with anger.  “No, Miss Drake, I realize that young Billy had nothing to do with it, but he is linked to Miss Dante.  I would be led to believe that you have all of this documented?”

            “Oh yes your honor, every single thing.  In triplicate,” says Leigh. 

            The judge stands.  Emily does also. 

            “You are released from custody, Miss Black.  Might I add that if you choose to use this in a novel, that I’d like to portrayed with a delicate hand and a love for the law,” says the Judge with the first hint of a smile that Leigh has ever seen. 

            Emily beams.  “Yes Sir.”

            “I do believe you have people out here waiting to see you,” says the Judge. 

            The tension ebbs from Leigh’s body.  She aches.  Each breath is painful, she doesn’t want to see anyone, just Emily. 

            Jesse is the first to come into the room.  “I don’t think visitors are appropriate at this point, Leigh,” he says.  He walks to her monitors and looks over the numbers. 

            Leigh snorts, pulls the oxygen off and lets it rest on her thigh.  “Who is here?”

            “I sent Billy home, explained everything to him.  He is pissed at you, but I think he gets it. Give him some time.  Cantrell’s are out there too, with Justin and Brett.  Elizabeth is sleeping in the on-call room.  Half the town is outside holding some vigil for you too.  Should I tell you what happened?” asks Jesse.

            “That might work,” says Leigh.  Closing her eyes to the edge of pain.

            “The bullet, luckily, didn’t hit anything major, no spinal involvement.  You, somehow, missed your liver, I had to remove some intestines.  Not a huge loss and it clipped the lower lobe of your right lung.  You are damn lucky, Leigh.  We will have to watch for infection and complications, of course.”

            “Jason?” asks Leigh.

            “He’s dead,” says Emily. 

            Leigh is silent. 

            “I killed him.”

            “No, he killed himself the minute he pulled a gun on you,” says Jesse.  “Be very aware of your body for the next few days.  You have a chest tube.  And, well, the exit wound isn’t pretty.  I’ve kept the meds low, I knew that Judge Applebee would have words for you.”

            Leigh’s hand grabs Jesse’s.  “Thank you.”

            “Don’t forget, a nice slice of land up on the mountain of yours.”

            Leigh laughs.  The pain rattles through her and makes her vision blue.

            “I didn’t do it for that reason, though.  I’d have done it anyway.  I don’t like men who beat women, for any reason.  He was a bastard.  He got what he deserved.”

            Leigh is groggy as Jesse pushes the pain meds through the IV site.  He exits the room and before the Cantrells can sweep into the room, Leigh is asleep.



…comes together


            Leigh’s eyes flutter open.  “Em?”

            She feels the sweet heat of her body next to hers, nestling against her, stealing her pillow.  Warm and inviting.  Leigh moves her hand and finds the cuffs gone, thankful for that.  She touches Emily’s cheek, caressing it, the skin of her lover only makes her feel at home. 

            All of it, it had been worth it.  Their love worth the risk. 


            “Mmm,” moans Emily. 

            “Where is everyone?”

            “Home.  You knocked out, Leigh.  Justin and Brett are at our house.  Elizabeth went off with Billy, yes, you heard me right, Billy.  He came while you slept.  I explained, I think he’ll be okay but he is in a world of pissed off right now.  Wayne was wonderful, really calmed him down.  Jesse went home, another doctor is on-call and the Cantrell’s stayed for a while, wanted to make sure you were okay.  They did bring something.”

            “Mmm, what?” asks Leigh.

            “Just our usual order from our favorite Chinese place,” says Emily.

            Leigh laughs.  “The only Chinese place in Addison.”

            “Justin told me, about the tape,” whispers Emily.

            Leigh had wanted to spare Emily the pain of what she’d found.

            “It was Connor and Jason that night; they are the ones who raped me,” said Emily.

            “It doesn’t matter now, it’s over,” says Leigh.

            “It’s over.”

            “Yes.  Over,” says Leigh.  She pulls Emily close, kisses the top of her head, and lets the inviting dreams of what is to come lull her back to sleep.

Kasey’s House

Houses are far more than 4 walls and a few doors and a place to sleep.  They are homes, they are safe and they are the place we always yearn for. I’ve known Kasey for six or more years, and I remember during the 1st year of our friendship, we happened by the farm house and she said, “And that’s the house that goes with our farm.” 

It was one of those old homes with character and I thought it would have suited Kasey (and her family) just fine. 

The house is now hers (and Andrew’s of course!).  Make sure you check out the full albums Smile 


Jules and I bought an old house, but one that has already been “fixed up” in many ways.  I offered Kasey my Wednesday off to help out.  She said “only if you can.”  I consider Kasey family, so of course I could.  I came armed with my camera. 

I love doors.  I have a small door that leads to the cubby under our stairs.  I love doors.  I love door handles too. 


There is something about the dark, gleaming, wood doors and the old door handles with intricate designs. 


Oh that little peep hole.  The swirls and the black gleam of the knob, and when you turn the knob you hear the mechanisms shift and pop the door open, letting you thru. 

Door Collection


I love light switches!  I have this old, battered, turny light switch.  I will never replace that light switch.  Ever!  Kasey has some lovely funky push button switches.


In most of the upstairs rooms, each wall has a pair of lights on the inside wall.  Makes for a lovely perspective shot.


Each room is unique.  Which, is a lot like every member of the family.  Each member is unique and different, but part of a whole.



What do we do w/mason jars?  We drink from them of course – and I take pictures of them. 



The trim, and the swirls and lines and the shine.  All part of how an old house will never be out of date, or never be worthy of redemption. 


This is a sill that is at the head of the stairs, so when we are all tramping down the stairs like a herd of elephants, we miss these details.  I love them. 


This is the hinge of one of the closets.  The detail and craftsmanship is always mind blowing. 


Our staircase at home looked a lot like this, but not in as good shape.  We opted to tear is down and put a build in book shelf instead.  This is the view if you lay down and rest the camera on the floor Smile

The house has this wicked, awesome place to sit and read.  I want it.  I may have to incorporate that into the extension we want to build in a few years. 



These are just shots of things that are unique and different and wonderful.  I bet I could walk thru the house a few more times and find different ways to take shots of things. 



I HDR’ed a few photos to pull out some of the stunning details.  It was worth the time to HDR and see what the camera saw that I had missed. 




FitBit Flex

The FitBit

     In a previous post I talked about how I have Meniere’s Disease, which is, in short a disease that is all about the world spinning, drop attacks, and feeling unwell. This brought forth some sort of epiphany that my body was under attack by a disease and my defenses (health) weren’t up to par. I’m 5’2’ish’, 5’3’’ hanging upside down and used to clock in at a big ole 210lbs. Just edging out a size 20 jeans, and they were tight. My smallest was when I was 17ish, 115lbs and I hated how I felt in clothes and my own skin, my most comfortable was 140 in size 12s. I was in a size 10 when I was at 115lb. I’ve got hips, so my jeans were and are always on the bigger size, and I’m short! About a year ago, I started making very small changes to my diet and making excuses not to go to the gym. I’m in school, I drive 10 hrs a week, I have to work, etc. I dropped to 185lbs in the last year in just changing what I eat, or rather, how much I eat. Comfy in a size 18, roomy even.

Then comes the spinning of the world – Meniere’s and that was it, no more excuses. I had to make a change. Gym time. I needed some motivation, come on, I’m 40! I am set in my ways! I am a writer. I sit at a computer screen and bang out stories like a mad machine gun on Red Bull and Rum. I am not the physical girl, I am the girl who is at a computer and making word magic.

A very smart teacher of mine, Aaron T once told me just move, more time you move and are off the couch you’re one step ahead of the guy/girl who isn’t. That’s hard. I spend 8 hrs a day on my feet for work. And the writer in me wants to go home and see what mischief I can get characters into.

I wanted something I could clock in my walking, my work, my food, my steps, my gym time. Off to google I went! I read up on several trackers, read reviews, what other apps worked w/each, and settled on the FitBit Flex (I wanted the Force but due to a recall, that wasn’t happening). I put it on my wish list and low and behold, the price dropped to a nice $83.88 free shipping as I’m a prime member. I didn’t care what color, I just wanted that thing. I’m a tech girl, face it, most of us are.


I received the slate/blue FitBit, it comes with a doggle (That goes into your computer) and a charger for your computer, but if you’re smart you’ll go to the sort and get a USB Charger and simply leave it and plug it when you need.

Two taps on the FibBit light up the small LED lights, each light is 2K steps. The clasp can be tricky, but once you get the hang of it, you are golden. There are also several places to get different colored bands and extra clips and even a FitBelt to keep the FitBit on your wrist (some people have a habit of losing them it seems.) The FitBit vibrates when you reach your 10,000 steps (you can edit how many steps you wish to be your goal). You can also set alarms and it will buzz you awake. Which, I thought would never wake me, but, guess what, it does!

The tracking screen on your phone (if you pick to go that route) is great.  Steps, Calories, Miles, etc. 



One of the lovely things about MD (Meniere’s) is that if you don’t sleep, you’re going to egg on an attack. And, I will admit, I am the worst sleeper ever. So when reading that the Fit tracked sleep – well, that really did cinch the deal for me! Come to find out, I’ve been having very small MD attacks in my sleep for a very long time, which is what caused me to be restless. Now I could track my sleep. I’ve been able to adjust my meds (with my FNP) to get a better restful sleep. I’ve never lacked on energy! Ask anyone who knows me, but I used to run on 5hrs of sleep a night, now I get a good average of 7 or more.


I used the FitBit program exclusively for about 2 weeks, then paired it with MyFitnessPal, there is a food scanner and the exercises are more precise on the MFP. It logs in and saves your breakfast, lunch and supper, also snacks, etc.  The synching of the two was very easy and bam, they are talking to each other. The beauty of the FB is you tell it you want to lose, oh, 2lbs a week. It figures out how many calories you need to eat. Where to fall and if you put in a long hard day of work, your caloric intake goes up. Starving yourself is never good.

With MD I need to cut down on my sodium, over the course of a week I can see where I had to much sodium, what foods has more, how I can trim that down. I need extra potassium, I can do the same there. Building my menu around my life and how I feel instead of being stuck in the same repeating motions of “oh I have to eat that again?” to keep the calories and sodium down.


Simply said, I LOVE IT! It’s a motivator. Oh, let me take the stairs. I’m missing 400 steps or 1 mile, maybe I’ll take the dog for a short walk, raining outside, great, 5 minutes on the treadmill, that 5 mins turns into me doing a few jumping jacks and some yoga. At the gym, and I only have 300 active minutes. Lets hit the treadmill for a brisk walk of 4mph. How about some leg presses? Lat pull downs. Bicep curls. Whatever it is, I want that screen green. I want 300 mins of active minutes.

I am down to 178lbs, (but really, I could care less, I am doing this to get healthy to combat the effects of MD) and on my good days I feel great. Beyond great, I feel better. I find that when I have an attack, I’m not railroaded into bed for two days. I can at least function around the house, if not struggle to get to work. I will have bad days. If I can’t drive I can’t work. If I can’t walk to the bathroom without trailing my fingers along the wall, I am not okay. If when I stand still the room is swaying. I am not okay to take care of patients.

I was having daily attacks about 2 months ago. Now, every two weeks or so. I find on my days of inactivity, the next day I don’t feel as well and the room decides to be a Gravitoron and whirl me around.

Of course, the FitBit didn’t do all of this, I did. I go to the gym and I do balance exercises. I go to the gym and hit the treadmill (and even run for ½ a mile). I go to the gym and do the chest press machine (I started at 20lbs and am up to 50lb). I could barely stand on one leg 2 months ago, now I can do a tree pose for almost a minute on each leg. I do those things, but having that screen on the FitBit app go all green (I’m more about active minutes and not steps) and that I’m under calories, makes me feel as if I am doing something to combat this disease and to take things into control.

Is the FitBit perfect? No, hardly. It is what YOU do with it that makes it worthy of your time and effort. Do I recommend the FitBit Flex? I sure do. Will it make you do things? No, that comes from within, what it will do is give you feedback. And information.  For 90 bucks, to be honest, you’ve little to lose and a lot to gain. Information is key.

Now, get out there and MOVE!

As The World Spins – Meniere’s Disease


All my life I’ve never had balance. As time went on, I just accepted that standing on one leg wasn’t every going to be something I was going do to. I’d do yoga and I best have something to put my fingertips on, or topple over I did. I’ve sprained ankles multiple times and loss of balance wasn’t something new. 18 months ago or so, I noticed that when I walk, I hardly ever swung my arms. I made nothing of if, who remembers how they walk? An interesting side note here, as part of my PTA program of study, we did gait analysis, in reading up on MD in later months, many MD patients hold their arms close to their body and have less swing than folks with a normal gait.


While away in Sept/October for clinical in Millinocket, Maine, I was teaching a patient how to balance on one leg and could hardly do it myself. This is about the time I noticed the odd on again off again hearing loss. It was annoying. I was listening to a TV show and would swap out earbuds to realize that I could hear nothing out of my right ear, the earbuds were fine, my ears were not. Again, I wrote it off, my dad is deaf, why not me?


This intermittent hearing loss continued and I ignored it. I’m in health care, we ARE the worst of patients and I had no insurance. I was not paying hundreds of dollars to figure out why I was going deaf.


Then, in January, in the middle of the night, I felt as if the whole room, dream and all, was on a roller coaster and I threw myself out of bed and scrambled to the bathroom, promptly vomiting. My head was pounding and I attributed this to the migraines that I would sometimes get. Two days of rest and I was fine. Again, sweep it under the rug.


This dizziness and full-headed feeling, the hearing loss only amped up from there, getting so bad at times that I could barely hear my charge nurse speaking to me “Sorry I’m deaf today” was my new mantra. By the end of February, I felt as if I were walking on the deck of a ship in the middle of the perfect storm.


Yet, when I drove, I was fine. Get out of the car and hello, back to Pirate Jack’s Black Pearl. Our Obama Care insurance kicked in March 1st and I made an appointment. I perplexed Jen, my FNP. We tried a few things, mainly Meclizine, and some of that oddness went away. The hearing loss, not so much. But I wasn’t on the Black Pearl 24/7 and started, in small little increments, feeling like the Jan of old.


A visit to the ENT and a confirmation of what I had thought it was, Meniere’s Disease. MD. A disease that is different for everyone, with of course, the standard symptoms, which, as standard as they are, still vary from patient to patient. After an MRI to make sure I didn’t have a tumor, we added a light diuretic to my med regime and I am doing my own balance and strength program, I am slowly learning to live with what could be a debilitating disease.


It is, however, a terrifying thing to know that someday I will be deaf in at least my right ear, if not both. That drop attacks could force me to stop doing the job I love. (I recently graduated as a PT assistant). That the underlying vertigo might come back and driving, walking the dog, and being productive might be a thing of the past.

People at work don’t understand that I can be 100% on Saturday and in the middle of the night my world turns into a tapestry of chaos where the world no long sits still, that I am on the equator of the world and we are going at 1000 revolutions a minute. That I feel as if I’ve been run over by an elephant on Sunday and my sole function that day is to eat and sleep and survive until the next and hope that Monday is better.


Every single soul with MD has unique symptoms. I have one that I’ve not heard of anyone mentioning on the message boards as of yet. Heat. In doing C.N.A. work I give whirlpools, the room can get up to 90-100 degrees of wet, sticky heat. But my residents are wet and naked, it needs to be warm. Slowly, each day that I do whirlpools, I feel the heaviness in my head begin and the dizziness start to creep into me. Whirlpool days are my FAVE day of the week. It’s the day I can pamper and I make it a spa day for my residents, with music and great smelling soap and lotions. But each time I do WP’s, I feel that anxiety ebbing into me, will I have a drop attack? Will I have a panic attack? I was doing WP’s twice a week, but this was bringing on attacks and forcing me to call out. If I can’t drive to work, that means I’m not well enough for work. How do we put into words that each time we push our bodies its making the attacks worse? Of no fault of the person doing my scheduling, but even if one WP is on Monday and the other on Thursday, the in between time isn’t a recovery period. I will never recover from MD, it is like MS or Parkinson’s or Muscular Dystrophy. I have it. I must make adjustments to deal with it, adjust how I work, how I move, how much I eat and drink. Sometimes this falls on deaf ears (pun intended) – they, people w/o MD, don’t “get it”. It is not a complaint.  A fact of life. 

Each day is a new little battle. I have found that a balance, cardio and strength routine at the gym is helping. I feel as though my recovery time after an attack is shorter and that my balance is far better. I know that exercise isn’t for everyone, but for me, it seems to help with the recovery time, not the attacks. As time goes on, I am sure I will learn more about this disease and how I cope with it and put a positive spin on a disease that keeps on spinning.

Jan Marie

Every year Jan Grieco puts on a reading series at Northern Maine Community College.  She brings in writers to speak to her class and to share their own writing.  Par of the curriculum of the class, a requirement, is to read in the library during April.  Your own work.  Which can be daunting at times for some young writer.  But a great experience nonetheless.  This year Jan invited Shonna Milliken Humphrey and Bruce Pratt. 

Below are the photos of the 3 days of readings. 



TV Shows

So my friend, Ryan Whitehouse (BigCalfGuy.com) posted on his blog about TV shows.  Of course, I’m a big pop culture nut and ranted in his comments.  So I decided to grab those comments and make my own post.

These are the TV Shows I set my laptop/kindle/phone aside for, typically I write, semi-read the news and play with pictures, check HuffingtonPost, etc while we watch TV.



I began watching Castle for Nathan Fillion, a huge fan of his since (gulp) One Life To Live.  Canadian Born Fillion is a wonderful actor and not hard on the eyes.  The 1st episode hooked me.  Fillion didn’t hook me, Stana Katic did.  The short hair, the sassy the no holds barred take down approach.  I swear the character was written as a man and acted by this gorgeous woman.  Whom, until this, I thought was Russian (she was on Heroes previously w/a dead on Russian accent).  They (the producers, PTB) butched up Beckett from day one.  The suits.  The hair.  But her attitude has remained, softened in some ways, but she’s still the “I will get you” detective.


(season 1 Beckett)


(Season 6 Beckett)

For a full two seasons we watch as Rick Castle tries to charm Kate Beckett, their chemistry evolves.  Their first kiss wasn’t even a real kiss, but a rouse.  But their banter, (Castle biting his knuckle like a girl when Beckett teases him) has remained true.

(most of my ringtones are Castle Ringtones)

It has the humor element, decent acting, some of the plots are out there, but worth the watch. The characters are great, it has Easter eggs here and there, a pretty decent mystery piece and, it has Stana Katic.



Now I am usually a Marvel girl. Comic wise. I decided to watch the premiere of Arrow on the CW. I remember the lead actor from years before as a spin instructor on Queer as Folk (I liked his voice).

Then the Salmon Ladder – Oh.  My.  Goodness.

Once I got past the drool factor (Stephen Amell is eyecandy!) and got into the story it had it all. Mystery, redemption, action (oh the action) gadgets, a few pretty girls (Felicity!) romance, sex. Oliver was presumed dead when the Queens Gambit sank. I give props to Amell, he plays 4 different Oliver’s. Pre-Island Oliver the playboy silly guy. Island Oliver who is wimpy and beat and then Oliver Queen the son who has come back after 5 years of being away on an Island (alone) and he plays the Vigilant/Arrow. Their secondary cast of Diggle (his black driver, its a joke in the show), Felicity (his girl Friday), Thea (the rebellious sister) Roy (The wrong side of the tracks bf of Thea), Maura Queen (Oliver’s Mom), Laural (Ollie’s ex gf, whose sister died on the Queens Gambit)…. they’ve wicked guest stars, wonderful “Easter Eggs” for fans of DC comics. Season Two has just upped that to the point where I am counting down the days until the show is on Hulu.com.  Introduce the Black Canary.  (SPOILER!!!!)  I won’t say it, but I’ll show it.  Who is part of the League of Assassins and, just so much goodness.

And girls can do the Salmon Ladder too!

Tightly written, I’ve not yet found a “plot hole” as a writer I’m always looking for those. (Season 1 on Netflix and Amell runs his own Facebook page)



Starring Maine’s Own Rachel Nichols (follow her on twitter and instagram, funny girl and usually a blonde, FYI). Its about Cameron (Nichols) who is from the future and is thrust into the past along with several criminal elements who want to take down the world. There is a huge emotional element I wasn’t expecting and its all due to Nichols wicked acting. After a lot of missteps (Alias, Criminal Minds), she finally found a vehicle for her acting. Many of the cast are Canadian and that brings one thing doesn’t matter how good they look, if they can act, they are hired. The story lines are all how can I change this to not change the future, but several twists keep things interesting. The tech is fun, but for me that emotional piece and struggle for Cameron is what really keeps me hook to the show. (S1 and S2 on Netflix)

Lost Girl.


What is Lost Girl? Do you like well written, tightly woven, and intricately told TV shows? Then tune into Lost Girl, a Canadian produced sci-fi fantasy show starring Anna Silk (from Fredricton Canada, btw) as Bo. A succubus. The fae (werewolves, sirens, shape shifters and all other sorts of fantasy creatures) are the main focus here. BE WARNED! There is sex. Boy on girl, girl on girl, boy and two girls, name the combo, you’ve got it! There be a whole lotta kissing going on as Bo loves everyone.

Aside from the chemistry that Silk has with, well, everyone (no not kidding, let her sweet talk a telephone pole and ppl would watch). Well acted. Well written (and I have sat and watched this series TWICE and no holes, none! I love me a good script writer). Well acted. Well shot. It does not hide that it is in Canada, btw. I just all around love this show it is my guilty pleasure and I tell everyone about it. I am guilty of loving Lost Girl.

There is also action.

But aside from the kissing, the chemistry, the great writing, the stellar cast – there is Kenzi-isms.

(S1, S2 and S3 on Netflix)

We, Jules and I, have a list of other shows, but these are the ones that I do nothing but stare at the TV, picking up all aspects of every nuisance of every moment of these shows.  There are few shows I will “re” watch.  Alias, Buffy, Angel, Firefly, Queer as Folk, being ones that I watch again and again.  (I own the 1st script of Alias, signed by the stars, GEEK!).  All the above shows, I’ve watched twice (if not more!).

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