Private Writings:Chapter #82 “Turn of the Lock”

private writings a novel of true fantasy by jennifer kiley [shawn's 2d blue name]

“Turn of the Lock”
Private Writings #82
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 7th October 2014

Not Suitable For Children.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

1 alice-down-the-rabbithole [use best one]

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts

to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss

but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time.

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #82 — “Chapter #82 Turn of the Lock”

Tuesday 1st April 2009
Dear Maria,

I decided since I am seeing you now I will write my letters to you. They won’t be sent but I will keep up writing them until I don’t.

Sylvia is here at Redcliff. Not her usual self. She is transparent and pissed off. She hates the idea of being dead. No sex. No sexual urges. Just bliss or rest. She told me right away she didn’t try to kill herself. The car went out of control. Like there was nothing to be control. It flipped out like it was insane. It certainly didn’t behave like a Porsche she ever drove. “Sorry about Alison. Sorry about everything.” She told me this. She, also has met Angela and a grand collection of others hanging around for some sort of party. Exit party maybe.

They were ticked a bit with me for trying to off myself again. Can’t help myself. Bipolar depression is deadly. You lose control of your senses and sensibilities. You just & only focus on wanting to die. I’ve felt this way so many times.

Back to the Porsche. If Sylvia didn’t do it & Alison wasn’t in control, who did this? Angela has some theories. Primary Ghost #2. I think Sylvia outranks her. She’s a star. Everyone is up in their heads over these assassinations. That’s what they call them. They tell me these unanswered deaths blamed on alcohol, drugs, car crashes are all too familiar and convenient to say they are they cause. When some know it isn’t that way at all.

I have no idea what they are talking about. Just play along. It does make me wonder, though. Deaths that are so sudden and no really good explanation. Drowning of Natalie. Curious. I always felt that was too weird. Too many deaths are weird if you think about it.

We are going to reenact THE FEAST Angela’s group celebrates yearly. It is nasty. I will get into that in my next letter. For now I need to recover from my near death and talk some more to the ladies and a young man who is actually Sylvia’s father. He died from AIDS. Doesn’t understand what caused his contracting the disease. He never did any of the long list of ways to be exposed and have it be a threat of developing the virus.

Another unexplained death. It crushed Sylvia her father died when she was so young. Now they are hanging out here. He was on other side waiting for her. She needs to stay here for awhile until she discovers who killed her. Her father Sidney Vincent, Catherine Leighton’s dead husband, wants answer for many questions he knows many who died want the answers to.

Well, that’s it for now. Exhaustion has hit me & I need to chat with my new ghostly friends.



© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Maksim – Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry[Dedicated to Annie]

5 photo of white rose with red framed in blue

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher - Home to Madison & Scottie Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

Le Chateau de Rocher – Home to Madison & Scottie
Their Cats & daughter Alison. She also has her own place on the estate

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play.
Pretending is imagined possibility”
— Meryl Streep


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