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The Splendiferous Blog of Ashley Ting

Perpetual teenager, Mommy, ongoing student of life, Army wife, and endorser of the thug life (obvs). Cheers!
WIP Wednesday

WIP Wednesday

Theres blood everywhere. How could so much blood be coming from such small cuts? One hand covers one wrist, trying to stop the life that gushes out of me in a barely noticeable rhythm, but this just leaves the other one unattended. My efforts are useless. Im weakening by the second, each moment limping by as slowly as I seem to be moving now. But it doesnt matter how fast Im moving. Im still moving. Am I moving?

And I realize then匈 did this to myself.

His laugh is a private echo in my ears as my eyes fly open, wet. Instinct carries my left arm up to wipe the tears away, but horror at the thought that it might come back smeared with blood pins it back to my side. I cant be sure if its the sensation of tears sliding down the side of my face and into my hair, or the time it takes to happen, but after a few seconds Im awake and aware that it was just a nightmare.

The lack of real, physical danger does nothing to quell the feeling of fear left behind. This will drive me madif it hasnt already. I assumed that those Id been before had just been weak willed in their dealings with Noel, but am beginning to think that the fear of what would happen if they didnt give in to his request had eventually made them all bat shit crazy enough to do whatever he asked. I wonder if it will ever end, and I cant stop crying.

Wed, June 12, 2013 9:00 am Comments are DisabledRead More
Why Hello There

Why Hello There

It was your job to make me post. Why didnt you do your job? Yes, you字ight there. Im pointing at you.

Lots going on lately, but Im finally settling back into life and feeling ready to write again. There was just no room in my brain for the muse for a few months. Then a couple of weeks ago, I dusted off her little chaise lounge (because muses love a chaise lounge, you know), made her an enticing meal of chocolate covered strawberries and champagne, and we got down to安ell, lets just leave it at this: look forward to a new WIP Wednesday post this coming week :)

Sun, June 9, 2013 11:56 am Comments are DisabledRead More
Merry Christmas. Shitter was full.

Merry Christmas. Shitter was full.

Where do you think youre going? Nobodys leaving. Nobodys walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. Were all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. Were gonna press on, and were gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, hes gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse!

–Clark Griswold
Christmas Vacation (1989)

Tue, December 25, 2012 1:49 am Comments are Disabled
WIP Wednesday

WIP Wednesday

Because J.M. Blackman said so.

Todays snippet comes from Chapter three of my WIP. This is our first glimpse at one of Graces past lives, a wistful English girl named Elizabeth Bailey living in 1962 London. Her chapter takes place over the course of several days in December, when Londoners suffered through a sulphurous cloud of pollution over the city.

I stand in the kitchen securing my mask. It is crude and plain, but its beauty is in its usefulness. I wonder how it will fare against the smog, how I will fare against the smog, but decide that an asthma attack is the least of my worries tonight.

The wind is like a thousand knives when I open the garden door, my nightgown providing little in the way of warmth. The ground, as I had predicted, is a block of ice beneath my feet, and the crunch of the snow seems so loud. The cold slices across my face. I can just barely see the outline of the shed beyond the tree, on the far end of the garden. I will make it this time.

I run. By the time I reach the latched shed door, I am breathing hard. My mask slipped to my neck at some point during the trip. I end up ripping the straps from the body of it and dropping it in the snow in my rush to get out of the wind and smog and into the shed.

Inside, I know just where it is.

Wed, December 19, 2012 10:55 am Comments are DisabledRead More
The NEXT Next Big Thing

The NEXT Next Big Thing

I know, I know, I just did this Next Big Thing宇hing, wherein I beat you over the head with details about something Ive spewn (I dont really care if its not a word) from the dark and often puzzling confines of my brain. Well, if youre in the market for a reason to wear a stylish I survived Ashley Heckmans NEXT Next Big Thingt shirt, its your lucky day!

You can all blame the spewer (again, I dont care if the word doesnt exist) of awesome, Ms. J. M. Blackmanthis time, who tagged me with a blurb that made me want to internet sex her like a one night cyber-stand. Our paths just recently crossed, but I can already tell shes going to end up needing a restraining order against me.

吋oo far?

Anyway, the rules, because we live in a society:

    Note: Im a rebel, yo.


It doesnt have one *whines*

I fail at titles, so the working one for this story is any reasonable variation of that Grace thing.


I literally tweeted one day about wanting to write something about ghosts and reincarnation. I also drew inspiration (more so than usual) from Anne Rices book The Witching Hour, which includes a seductive spirit attaching himself to the female descendents of an ancient family of witches.

Mon, December 10, 2012 10:48 am Comments are DisabledRead More

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