Tag: murder

Murder at The Jail

Welcome back:

Hi. It’s been a while and now it’s awkward. Well, not really. That’s how blogs work, right? There’s a lot of posted content and then silence. Maybe some periods of sporadic writings, but then more silence.

Well, that seems to be how MY blogs go anyway. Jen, Cym, and I were talking about reviving this website starting the first day of October. Posting everyday if possible, then life happened again. I did make a promise that I would post this month. I had a lot of ideas, but just not enough energy or motivation. However, I am going to keep that promise.

I am going to try to get at least one post a month here. Everything and everyone has been reminding me that I am a writer. I like writing. My husband told me about this job where I would be writing and getting published, and instead of throwing myself into the research for this job, I did nothing for it. I still have time to create something (all I have to submit is a total of 600 words – 100 for the summary of the story and a 500 word writing example) and submit it. I will be working on that next (I have everything worked out in my head, I just need to sit down and type). Then, last night at a wedding, my husband’s childhood friend’s fiancé said to me “See, I would want to write my own vows like they did, but I would need a ghost writer.” I immediately went “I’d do it. I have a degree in Writing Arts. I write.” Immediately after, in my head, I said to myself, “but do I?”

Enough about my excuses and questioning my life. I am here to tell you about the ONLY spoopy October event I was able to go to this year. I was SO excited for it and I am excited to share it with you.

Background of the event:

Years ago, the name of a local tattoo parlor was given to my mother-in-law when she asked one of our friends where he got his tattoos done. Let’s call it “Alien Ink” because I don’t like giving out names of places close to where I live. I like the mystery of “Where do I live in New Jersey?” Alien Ink was owned by a husband and wife (let’s call her Tara) and they were even featured on a ghost show because the place is haunted. My mother-in-law went to get a tattoo there a few years ago. Her best friend and I accompanied her, but I had to leave at one point, and they experienced something afterwards. Legit haunted.

The couple had a nasty split up. She got to keep the building and has renamed to (let’s say) “The Jail,” but the now ex-husband has been continuously trying to ruin Tara’s career. When you type in the old name of the business, it now redirects to HIS new studio (which was the reason she had to rename it). He has been slandering her name as well as her new boyfriend’s name. AND HE TOOK THE DOGS (insert super angry face here). So, Tara has been trying to get back on her feet.

My mother-in-law and her best friend decided to get similar tattoos there to symbolize their friendship and help Tara out. My father-in-law even helped to build a new sign for the building. While getting worked on, Tara talked about an upcoming event they were going to hold at the shop. It was called “Murder at The Jail.” This would be a free show where they would display artwork done by serial killers and host some local vendors. Of course, my mother-in-law and her best friend were interested and knew that I would absolutely want to go as I am a huge true crime junkie. This event weekend was sandwiched between two weddings and I wasn’t going to let anything keep me from attending as it would be the only weekend in October I actually didn’t have any plans for yet.

Murder at The Jail:

The event was to take place from 1pm – 8pm. I suggested we go to it, grab dinner, then go look at local houses that were decorated from Halloween. However, there were some hiccups and we didn’t get to the event until about 7:30pm. I was worried I wouldn’t get to see everything (I didn’t know how many pieces of art would be displayed) so I hurried inside hoping the others would follow close behind.

After signing in, we made our way back to the main room where Tara tattoos clients. There were a decent amount of tables and easels containing artwork from Charles Manson, John Wayne Gacy, Nicolas Claux, Richard Ramirez, and others. After a quick look, we went upstairs where there were things to purchase like Tara’s own artwork, soaps with serial killer’s images on them (with or without “blood”), bath bombs in the shapes of skulls, and body scrubs/butters that were named after serial killers.

It got a little crowded, so I headed back downstairs to look closer at the artwork and buy shirts from the event/parlor.

Some The Artwork:

I took a few photos of the artwork (sorry about glares). This is just a small percentage of what was there. Just a forewarning, some of these paintings may contain actual blood.

By Richard Ramirez aka The Night Stalker
Charles Manson and Sharon Stone by Jeremy Jones
Halloween and Pennywise by Charles Rienhardt
Self portrait by Nicolas Claux aka the Vampire of Paris
By Charles Manson
Pogo The Clown (his own clown persona) by John Wayne Gacy aka the Killer Clown

After Thoughts:

I really hate the glare/reflections on those photos, but nothing can be done about it now. And honestly, that’s besides the point.

Some people may see this as glorifying terrible people, criminals, the scum of the earth. I totally understand and sometimes I question why I really enjoy true crime podcasts/shows/documentaries/books. After all, they will live in infamy as long as they are remembered. So why not let them die completely?

On the other hand, the one that wins out for me, is we need to recognize these events in history so that we are aware of the signs and aware that not all people, no matter how they present themselves, can be truly evil at the core. This way, we can hopefully protect ourselves and others.

I don’t know if I would ever go to another event like this, in all honesty. I thought it was absolutely cool and some of the artwork was just phenomenal, but I think, at least for me, I must keep a balance. Learn about the serial killers and their actions, but try not to completely humanize them (even though they are/were humans albeit, messed up ones). Keep them at a distance. I don’t want to be perceived by others as if I glorify or worship them because that could not be further from the truth. It’s something I have to give more thought to.

Wrapping Up:

What are your thoughts? Are you into true crime? Would you attend an event like this? Why or why not? I am very interested to see people’s take on this.

-K.

am wriitn, art work, blood, charles manson, charles rienhardt, crime, dark, jeremy jones, john wayne gacy, killer clown, murder, n claux, nico claux, nicolas claux, nightstalker, parlor, patches the clown, pogo the clown, richard ramirez, rienhardt, scary, spoopy, tattoo, tattoo parlor, true crime, true crime junkie, vampire of paris, writer, writing

The Haunting Past by K. Leigh

“Could you tell us more about your relationship with Ethan Morris?”

“Yes. It all started when I saw him in the park near my house…”

I was on my normal grocery run. Well, it was more like a walk. The store was only three blocks away and passes a nice little park on the way. I walked there every day to pick up what we needed for dinner; and it was not much seeing as it was just my mother and I. She normally was out at night anyway, but I made dinner for the both of us because the night I do not make two plates will be, with my luck, the night she stays home.

That day was different. Usually I passed the park when no one was there, but he was. I recognized him, though. He was in my science class when I first moved here. He was a year older, but since I had a love for science they moved me to the senior class science class. Ethan Morris. That was his name. He was my lab partner because no one else in that class talked to me.

He was sitting on a bench reading a book. He was technically my only friend, if you could call it that. Science was not only my favorite class because of what we learned but because that was the only social period I had even if it was with only one person where we would talk about the Periodic Table of Elements. It is not like he would notice if I walked past anyway. He was back from his first year of college. He would not want to talk to me. He did not have to anymore.

For about maybe a week this went on. He sat there every day reading. I would just pass him and continue my normal routine. It seemed weird, though, he lived on the other side of town. Why would he come here just to read?

One day as I was passing him, he noticed.

“Hey! Tammy!”

I stopped and turned to face him. “Oh! Hey, Ethan! How are you?”

“I am good. Oh!” He stood up and grabbed some grocery bags. “Here, let me help.”

I blinked some and stuttered, “O…O…Ok. I’m right there,” I pointed to the apartment building on the next block. We started off our walk together silently until I gathered enough courage to ask him about college.

“It was good. I got into Harvard University, as you know. I am not going back, though,” he responded as if he would rather not talk about it. “I am taking some time off from college.”

I did not press the subject. He did not seem like the type to get into a fight, so I decided that it was just grade problems.

We reached the door to my apartment. I thanked him for holding the groceries for me and walking with me. I would have invited him in for a minute or two, however, our place looked like one big mess. It would have been embarrassing. He understood and took his leave. I sighed a bit wishing I had cleaned that morning. It would have been nice if I could have chatted with him for a little while longer.

“If you will excuse me just one bit…”

I nodded. The officer continued. “You knew him from school?”

“Yeah. He was my lab partner in Chemistry class.”

“Let me get this straight,” the gray-haired officer sat back in his chair. “This guy,” he took the picture of Ethan and placed it in front of me, “was your lab partner? And you started to see him about a month ago?”

I looked at the picture intently. “About a month and a half ago.” I saw the expression change slightly on his face. It looked as if he did not believe me. “May I continue?” I asked as politely as possible. He nodded. “Ok…well…”

Ever since then I would meet Ethan in the park and we would do something. We would usually go to the café in town and talk. I had never thought he would be really into books as much as he was.

That was all I ever did, read books and it was how I spent my life. Books took me to places anyone could ever dream of! Wasn’t that their point: to allow you to escape your own life? That was, in my opinion, the very point of a book. To find someone to converse with, after thinking in high school he only talked to me because he pitied me, was probably the second best feeling (right after finishing a good book).

At one point he started to walk me home after our meetings. I had waited for this, so I had cleaned the apartment. My mom was usually sleeping, but as long as we were quiet I did not see a problem with him being there. Asking him to come inside was where I had problems. I lacked the social skills to begin with. One day, though, I had beenpracticing.

“Um…would you like to…ugh…come in?” I looked down expecting total rejection.

“Sure,” he said with a smile. I looked up in astonishment.

“Really? Ok! I guess we can watch a movie…if that is alright with you…?”

He nodded his response and we headed inside the apartment.

After the movie he had to get home, and I had to start cooking dinner. I walked him to the door and opened it. Something strange and unexpected happened. He turned around and looked me in the eyes. ‘This,’ I thought, ‘only happens to people in books or movies.’

“Tammy. I need to talk to you.” I nodded. This was a huge moment for me. I was really excited. Was I finally going to get my first kiss? Maybe I would even get my first boyfriend. “I just want to say that no matter what happens, I will always be with you. I will always be protecting you.”

“What do you mean? What’s going to happen?”

“Nothing. I am just saying,” he smiled at me.

I nodded. I closed my eyes and leaned in, just like I have seen it done. This was my big chance! I had asked him in, and now, I was not going to lose courage! I waited…and waited. After maybe ten to fifteen seconds I opened my eyes again. I sighed and looked down the hallway.

“I blew it,” I mumbled to myself. “No wonder why he took off. Who would want to kiss me?” It was then, that my apartment got chilly.

“And now, I am here.” I smiled, but weakly.

“No offense, miss, but do you watch the news?”

I shook my head no.

“Read the newspaper?”

I shook my head again. “Just books.”

“I see. Well then…” He got up and looked out the window. “Ethan Morris was murdered.”

“How? When? It can not be true!” I felt the tears build up and fall from my eyes instantly.

“About a good three months before you started seeing him in the park.”

“That is impossible!” I yelled, for the first time in my life. “That is not true!”

“We do not know how it happened, but we found him in a lake near the Harvard campus. We are still searching for evidence and questioning suspects.” He handed me the file, but I did not care.

I got up, crying even harder. “Thank you for your time,” I managed to get out through the tears. I felt embarrassed and enraged. I ran out as the chill began to creep over me.

am writing, apartment, book nerd, chemistry, college, groceries, high school, murder, park, picture, police, reading

The Son

The Son

He lay silent on the floor, curled up with his knees to his chest. The sun lightly touching the cold wooden floor, but he knew the time was coming. He could hear the heavy footsteps on the stairs below. They were clearly meant for him. He could sense the anger in the thuds and creaks. He shut his eyes tight again, so tight he could see the red and white circles on the black background of his eyelids.

The wooden door slammed open, hit the wall hard, and flew back. It halted at Luke’s father’s hand.

“Git up,” came his father’s gruff voice.

Luke stirred, but not fast enough for his father’s patience. He felt the fingernails dig into his back as he was pulled to his feet. When enough blood was drawn from his flesh, his father pushed him against the wall to make sure he was not going to be able to fall asleep again.

curse, dark, disease, disgust, father, fear, grotesque, help, horror, house, monster, murder, sheriff, short, short story, son, story, the son

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Murder On The Orient Express (2017)

Rating:

Just a forewarning to anyone who may read this, I do not normally do reviews. I don’t feel very comfortable at reviewing anything, so I figured I’d start with a recent movie I saw – Murder on the Orient Express.

It is, of course, based on the novel by the same name. The novel was written by Agatha Christie, one of the most notorious names in the murder mystery genre. I have not read anything by this author, but have seen some local theater productions of a few of her stories.

The movie was directed by Kenneth Branagh and he starred in it as the lead: Hercule Poirot. The movie included very well known actors and actresses: Daisy Ridley, Johnny Depp, Penolope Cruz, Willam Dafoe, Judi Dench, just to name a few.

The movie starts with Hercule Poirot solving a “whodunnit case” in Jerusalem. We quickly see that he is obsessive compulsive, which adds humor in the story from time to time due to it. After solving the case and explaining it to a large crowd, he is off to take a vacation from solving mysteries. Not even the first day he is taking a mental health day, he runs into a well known friend, Bouc, who suggests taking holiday on his locomotive, The Orient Express. It is there that a murder takes place, leaving Hercule Poirot the only one who can solve it and save Bouc’s name.

Overall, I really enjoyed the casting and thought the cast did an excellent and very believable renditions of their characters. The scenic shots were beautiful and some of the shots in general were very interesting. Such as one scene where Poirot is in the victim’s cabin studying the body. It is shot from above and you can see the cabin partition, which allows you to see into Poirot’s unoccupied cabin. I really enjoyed that and felt it worked really well.

However, there was some lines in different languages. Subtitles were used, but I didn’t think there was enough lines to justify having them in different languages. They could have omitted them and saved the time to read subtitles. I get why they did what they did, but I felt if they were going to go that route, more scenes in different languages would have been better.

The worst offense was that it dragged on. Movies that are 2 hours should not feel like they are 2 hours. At the end of a 2 hours movie I want to say “Wow! That was 2 hours?! It went by so quick!” Some scenes could have been omitted or lines could have been cut.

I also must have missed it, because there were characters that were on the train that I did not realize were there until closer to the end of the movie. They played a small part in everything, and were pretty much useless. Again, I get why the characters were in the movie and have a huge revel as to who they are and why they are apart of the case, but a little more involvement from them would have been nice.

I gave this movie 3 stars, only because I have not read an Agatha Christie novel and therefore can’t compare this to the book. I am not sure how, where, or why it differs, so I am going to use caution and rate it 3 instead of 4.

What did you think? If you read the book, let me know if it was close to the original content or if it strayed.

-K.

agatha christie, book, casting, film, hercule poirot, languages, movie, murder, murder on the orient express, mystery, Review, train, whodunnit

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