Bridgette
Meet Bridgette, she has written and published several great sellers. Her Passion is seeing the finished products of aspired authors on the market. She is part of our ghost and creative writing team. Bridgette enjoys bringing great ideals and sceneries to life. Her material will grab and astound your attention. Every sentence comes from a place of unexpectancy. She holds a Masters in Administration and has chosen to ultilize her education in publishing and writing as a career....
The Closet
The Closet
I HATE JOE!!!! She scribbled across the cracked closet wall with a broken red Crayola crayon. Paint chips fell to her lap as one salty flavored tear drop crept into the opening of her lips. The hall light startled her as it intruded beneath the door. For about a minute there was hope of her release but it was stolen with a flick of the light switch. Her legs cramped as she remained knelled on her knees in a prayer position not understanding why. A child's cry for hope seemed useless. She doesn’t pray at night anymore, she doesn't think anyone hears or cares for that matter. The thought of praying returned but she quickly responded to it "You're a little late! I'm clean out of faith!" Her mind drew a blank and remained constant on nothingness until she fell hopelessly into a restless nod.
"You can come out now!" The familiar voice awakened her out of her not-so-peaceful sleep. Clinging of the skeleton keys caused anxiety to rush through her veins as water down a dry stream. Sudden bursts of perspiration drizzled down her back. Heavy dragging footsteps pulled across the freshly tarnished stained hardwood floors. She envisioned splinters getting caught in the molesters’ foot causing extreme pain to trouble him as he has seduced on her way too often. Her numb feet and legs prevented her from budging... "I said to use the toilet and shower!" Her face hit the floor as he snatched her severely matted hair. Blood began to circulate allowing her to slowly move before she felt the wrath of Joe's rusty clawed feet. She had no idea of who she was or what she looked like. The bathrooms were mirror less. She once caught a reflection of her shadow on the shower glass but not enough to have a clue of her identity
(Excerpt)
I sat in that closet day in and day out, rocking until I thought I would rot. “Let me out of here" screaming at the top of my lungs until blood vessels plunged from my forehead. “Please I'll do anything" But still no one responded because no one heard me or cared, I have no name or identity. I look forward to the day when nights are no more and days run into days. I tried to take my life once but the light cord snapped before cutting off my air supply. That weak cord wrapped around my neck in vain. My feet dangled 3 feet above the floor. Just as I noticed my spirit leaving my body, my lifeless shell hang there limp. Suddenly that unfaithful cord snaps. My body made such a loud noise Joe rushed in to see what was going on. I was unconscious. He revived me with mouth to mouth resuscitation. Yuk! Double Yuk. The smell of his beer breath would definitely awaken the dead. I remember him reviving me and then grabbing each end of the cord saying "I should strangle you to death myself!" He pulled harder and harder. I was hoping and a praying he would finish me off. It would be homicide and not suicide. I would go to heaven to be with my Jesus. You ungrateful mare you," Aren't I good to you? Don’t I feed you; don’t I give you a roof over your head?” He screamed deceivingly. . I stretched my arms up prying my nails into his eye sockets. He quickly released the cords grabbing my fingers and bent them back until I heard a snap. I screeched at the top of my voice. “I bet you won't try that again huh?” Joe got up and left locking the door behind him.
Just think I could be experiencing my glory days in heaven now as I speak. Or would I go to hell? Why, if I take my life to free myself from a life of torment here on earth, why do I have to go to hell? Would Suicide send me to hell? But I accepted Jesus as my Lord and savior in a dream I once had. He came to me. But he left at the twinkling of an eye. What have my former ancestors done? Why is this curse rested upon my life? Why do I have to pay for their transgressions? I know there is God, why is he so slow to move?
(About the book)
She doesn't have a name, identity or being. Fifteen years ago a passing by stranger rushes to a flipped SUV. "They're dead" He hears a baby crying still strapped in a baby seat. No-one else is in sight so he takes the baby to raise as his own.
No-one notices her or cares that her entire childhood was spent in a closet. After 15 years, a curious neighbor discovers that the missing baby displayed in the amber alerts has been held slave 30 feet away. She eats and sleeps in that closet. Her skin is pale from a lack of sunlight exposure. Her rescuer learns of the abuse, gets her rehabilitated through the word of God. With God all things are possible to them who believe. She lives to share her story and is an inspiration to abused children.
The Closet
The Closet
I HATE JOE!!!! She scribbled across the cracked closet wall with a broken red Crayola crayon. Paint chips fell to her lap as one salty flavored tear drop crept into the opening of her lips. The hall light startled her as it intruded beneath the door. For about a minute there was hope of her release but it was stolen with a flick of the light switch. Her legs cramped as she remained knelled on her knees in a prayer position not understanding why. A child's cry for hope seemed useless. She doesn’t pray at night anymore, she doesn't think anyone hears or cares for that matter. The thought of praying returned but she quickly responded to it "You're a little late! I'm clean out of faith!" Her mind drew a blank and remained constant on nothingness until she fell hopelessly into a restless nod.
"You can come out now!" The familiar voice awakened her out of her not-so-peaceful sleep. Clinging of the skeleton keys caused anxiety to rush through her veins as water down a dry stream. Sudden bursts of perspiration drizzled down her back. Heavy dragging footsteps pulled across the freshly tarnished stained hardwood floors. She envisioned splinters getting caught in the molesters’ foot causing extreme pain to trouble him as he has seduced on her way too often. Her numb feet and legs prevented her from budging... "I said to use the toilet and shower!" Her face hit the floor as he snatched her severely matted hair. Blood began to circulate allowing her to slowly move before she felt the wrath of Joe's rusty clawed feet. She had no idea of who she was or what she looked like. The bathrooms were mirror less. She once caught a reflection of her shadow on the shower glass but not enough to have a clue of her identity
(Excerpt)
I sat in that closet day in and day out, rocking until I thought I would rot. “Let me out of here" screaming at the top of my lungs until blood vessels plunged from my forehead. “Please I'll do anything" But still no one responded because no one heard me or cared, I have no name or identity. I look forward to the day when nights are no more and days run into days. I tried to take my life once but the light cord snapped before cutting off my air supply. That weak cord wrapped around my neck in vain. My feet dangled 3 feet above the floor. Just as I noticed my spirit leaving my body, my lifeless shell hang there limp. Suddenly that unfaithful cord snaps. My body made such a loud noise Joe rushed in to see what was going on. I was unconscious. He revived me with mouth to mouth resuscitation. Yuk! Double Yuk. The smell of his beer breath would definitely awaken the dead. I remember him reviving me and then grabbing each end of the cord saying "I should strangle you to death myself!" He pulled harder and harder. I was hoping and a praying he would finish me off. It would be homicide and not suicide. I would go to heaven to be with my Jesus. You ungrateful mare you," Aren't I good to you? Don’t I feed you; don’t I give you a roof over your head?” He screamed deceivingly. . I stretched my arms up prying my nails into his eye sockets. He quickly released the cords grabbing my fingers and bent them back until I heard a snap. I screeched at the top of my voice. “I bet you won't try that again huh?” Joe got up and left locking the door behind him.
Just think I could be experiencing my glory days in heaven now as I speak. Or would I go to hell? Why, if I take my life to free myself from a life of torment here on earth, why do I have to go to hell? Would Suicide send me to hell? But I accepted Jesus as my Lord and savior in a dream I once had. He came to me. But he left at the twinkling of an eye. What have my former ancestors done? Why is this curse rested upon my life? Why do I have to pay for their transgressions? I know there is God, why is he so slow to move?
(About the book)
She doesn't have a name, identity or being. Fifteen years ago a passing by stranger rushes to a flipped SUV. "They're dead" He hears a baby crying still strapped in a baby seat. No-one else is in sight so he takes the baby to raise as his own.
No-one notices her or cares that her entire childhood was spent in a closet. After 15 years, a curious neighbor discovers that the missing baby displayed in the amber alerts has been held slave 30 feet away. She eats and sleeps in that closet. Her skin is pale from a lack of sunlight exposure. Her rescuer learns of the abuse, gets her rehabilitated through the word of God. With God all things are possible to them who believe. She lives to share her story and is an inspiration to abused children.