Termination Order for Wilson, Donna

ATTENTION ALL AVAILABLE GUARDIANS IN NEW YORK METROPOLITAN AREA

DONNA WILSON- HIGH PRIORITY TERMINATION 

Full Name: Wilson, Donna

Aliases: Fitzgerald, Linda; Matthews, Constance; Williams, Nerys


Gender:
Female

Age: 22


Birthday/year:
January 19, 1992


Hair:
Black, cut in layers

Eyes: Green

Origin: Unknown


Height:
5’6”


Weight:
125

Distinguishing characteristics: Piercings- nose, right nostril; upper lip, left corner; left eyebrow.

 

Education: Unknown


Parents:
Unknown

 

Siblings: Unknown

 

Associations: Murphy, Patrick (Father); Williams, Bettsy; Adams, Carly

 

Last Known Location: Jersey City, New Jersey

 

Status: Active

 

Personal: Leader of Slayers, considered extremely dangerous.  HIGH PRIORITY TERMINATION- TERMINATE ON SIGHT.

 

 

From the Files of the Guardianship

Rachel Cross

Full Name: Cross, Rachel Leigh

Nick Name(s): Rae


Gender:
Female

Age: 19


Birthday/year:
March 20, 1995


Marital Status:
Single

Hair: Brown, shoulder length; professional blonde/red highlights

Eyes: Blue

Origin: Pine Valley, New Jersey


Language(s):
English, Gaelic, Spanish, Italian, French, Russian, German

Height: 5’8”


Weight:
145

Distinguishing characteristics: Piercings- left ear, two; right ear, three; navel; tongue.  Tattoos- Goddess’s prayer, left bicep; tribal dragon, right bicep; Celtic cross, right hand; Celtic warrior knot, abdomen; Celtic knot, right hip.

 

Education: Briarwood Academy, Princeton, New Jersey; Prindell University, Grymes, New York- international business and finance, degree incomplete 


Parents:
Cross, Anna Sophia (deceased); Cross, Richard Charles (deceased)

 

Siblings: Cross, Jenna Elizabeth (deceased)

 

Guardians: Selezeneau, Alexandria

Current Location: Grymes, New York

 

Status: Active

 

Personal: Mother died in child birth, father died of heart attack, sister murdered by Master vampire when Cross/Rachel age six.  Raised by Selezeneau/Alexandria and Foster/Lindsay.  Heiress to Cross Industries fortune. 

 

Expert marksman with several different types of hand guns and assault rifles.  Expert linguist.

 

Termination count: 125

From the Files of the Guardianship

Delilah Henderson

Full Name: Henderson, Dendera

Nick Name(s): Delilah


Gender:
Female

Age: 23


Birthday/year:
December 4, 1991


Marital Status:
Single

Hair: Black, mid-back

Eyes: Blue

Origin: Cairo, Egypt


Language(s):
English, Gaelic, Spanish, Arabic, Urdu, French, Ukrainian

Height: 5’8”


Weight:
140

Distinguishing characteristics: Piercings- left ear, three; right ear, four; nose, right nostril.  Tattoos- Goddess’s prayer, left bicep; Celtic cross, right hand; Celtic knot, right hip

 

Education: Albrecht Prep, New York, New York- class rank salutatorian; Tisch School of the Arts, New York, New York- Bachelor of Arts degree, film and television studies


Parents:
Unknown

 

Siblings: Unknown

 

Guardian: O’Riordan/Siobhan (Priestess)

 

Current location: New York, New York

 

Status: Active

 

Personal: Located on streets of Cairo, Egypt by Guardianship observers at age six.  Homeless and unable to remember family.  Taken in by Siobhan O’Riordan on behalf of the Guardianship, raised at Westwood Estate in Ireland and schooled in New York. 

 

Expert marksman with several different types of hand guns and assault rifles.  Mid-level computer hacking skills.

 

Termination count: 258

From the Files of the Guardianship

Stephanie Martinez

Full Name: Martinez, Stephanie Sophia


Nick Name(s):
Steph


Gender:
Female

Age: 24


Birthday/year:
December 4, 1992


Marital Status:
Boyfriend, six months

Hair: Black, shaved on sides, spiked at top

Eyes: Blue

Origin: Tegucigalpa, Honduras


Language(s):
English, Gaelic, Spanish, French, Portugese

Height: 5’6”


Weight:
140

Distinguishing characteristics: Piercings- left ear, six; right ear, five; tongue; lower lip; left eyebrow.  Tattoos- Goddess’s prayer, left bicep; Celtic cross, right hand; flaming skull, left shoulder; Grim Reaper on back

 

Education: Albrecht Prep, New York, New York- class rank twelfth; Stevens Institute of Technology, Hoboken, New Jersey- Bachelor of Science degree in cyber security and information systems


Parents:
Unknown

 

Siblings: Unknown

 

Guardian: Ward of Guardianship

 

Current location: New York, New York

 

Status: Active

 

Personal: Taken from orphanage outside Tegucigalpa at age 13, located by Guardianship observers.  No family of record. 

 

Expert in cyber security and hacking.  Has hacked secure government web sites around the world to access information on behalf of Guardianship undetected.

 

Termination count: 179

 

#HAHAT Results

Hello and I’m sorry this is late!  I want to say thank you for reading and as promised, here are the randomly selected winners of a copy of my debut novel, Drive.  Enjoy!

Rissa

Lenagrey

H.B.

I will e-mail very shortly with a code to download your free copy via Smashwords.  Thank you again for reading!

It Came From the Depths of My Laptop…

            I woke with the setting sun in my face.  Squinting against the light, I slowly sat up, not knowing where I was.  Moving out of the glare, I saw head stones.  How the hell did I end up in a cemetery?

            I stood up, my body aching and protesting as I moved.  Dirt fell off of me in a shower and I saw I was wearing my dress uniform.  It was filthy and the sleeves were tattered.  I tried hard to remember why I was wearing it and I drew a blank.  I felt fine other than the stiffness in my muscles and the fact I was in a cemetery.  I did the most logical thing I could and started for home.

            I got to the house well after dark and there were no lights on as I walked up the driveway.  Monica’s truck wasn’t there but my restored Dodge Charger was, backed in to the end of the driveway.  A layer of dust dulled its black paint and I frowned.  I had just gotten it washed so I had no idea why it looked like it hadn’t been driven in months.  Going around to the back, I put my hand on the knob before remembering keys.  I patted my pockets and only found a crumpled color photograph of Monica and myself taken the year before while four wheeling in Cabo San Lucas.  I stared at it for a moment, smiling slightly as the memory came to me.  It had been our honeymoon. 

            The breeze picked up and I shivered, trying to pull the jacket of my uniform tighter around me but it gapped in the back as if it had been torn.  I got the extra key from under the ceramic lawn gnome next to the door and let myself in.  The house was silent and dark save for a small light in the living room.  I scanned the kitchen for a note but didn’t find one so I went upstairs to our bedroom, navigating easily without turning on any lights.

            I went into the bathroom and turned on the light, stunned at what I saw in the mirror.  I was pale, covered in dirt and looked like hell.  The gold detective’s badge pinned to my jacket glinted dully as I took it off, staring at the rip up the back of it.  My white dress shirt was also slit up the back and I suddenly began to feel sick to my stomach.  What is going on?

            Stripping off the rest of my uniform and leaving it in a pile on the floor, I got in the shower and turned it on hot as I could stand it.  I scrubbed myself nearly raw, examining every inch of skin that I could see for any signs of injury or anything else that would explain how I’d ended up where I did.  All I found was a tender spot at the base of my skull, where it meets the top of my neck.  I wrapped myself in a towel and went into the bedroom, turning on the light as I headed for my dresser.  I opened a drawer before something on top drew my attention and I just stared. 

            It was an American flag, folded into a triangle and in a glass case.  There was a small engraved plaque with Detective Kylie Anne Frost, Sunset Beach Police Department.  End of Watch 09/23/13.  Next to it, propped up against the wall was my badge, the one I carried with me at all times when I was on duty. 

            Numbness washed over me and all I could do was stare.  I was DEAD?!

            I heard the door downstairs open and close, our dog Bandit’s tags jingling to break the silence.  Monica came up the stairs, her footsteps muffled by the carpet.  She was talking to Bandit as she came into the bedroom and stopped in the doorway, staring at me.  She looked amazing, dressed simply in a white T-shirt and jeans, contrasting nicely with her tan skin.  Her dirty blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, a pair of sunglasses pushed up on top of her head holding it back from her face.

            I focused on her expression and my stomach knotted.  She looked as if someone had given her the worst news of her life, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in shock.  Bandit peered around her legs and I heard his tail thumping against the wall when he recognized me but he couldn’t get past Monica.  “What…?”

            “Monica, what happened to me?”

            Monica’s mouth worked soundlessly and she began to shake her head.  “Not…possible.  Oh, my God it’s not possible!”  I started toward her and she put her hands up in front of her in a warding off gesture.  “Stay away from me!”

            I stopped.  “Monica, it’s me.  What is wrong with you?”

            Monica backed up until she hit the hallway wall.  Her legs gave out and she slid to the floor, her expression stunned.  “You’re not real,” she whispered.  “You can’t be real!”

            My eyes burned and my throat tightened.  “It’s me, Kylie!  I am real!”  Monica’s face was the color of her shirt and her eyes were a little too wide.  She looked like she was about to go into shock.  “Monny, honey, please tell me what’s going on!”

            Monica blinked and slowly pushed to her feet, her body tensing as she stared at me.  Her eyes flicked down the hall toward the stairs, measuring her escape route.  “You’re dead!”

            She bolted then and I followed, running down the stairs.  Bandit nearly tripped me up but I regained my footing, catching Monica as she ran through the kitchen toward the back door.  I got my arms around her and she kicked back, tripping me and I did lose my footing then.  We crashed to the floor, me still hanging on to her.  She yelped in pain as we slammed into the cabinets but I kept my hold on her.

            “Let me go!”  Monica started struggling against my hold, not having enough leverage to get herself free. 

            “Monica!  Stop!  Listen to me!”

            “LET ME GO!”  She was sobbing now.  I had lost my towel at some point in the pursuit and her skin was warm where it pressed against mine, smelling faintly of sun block.  “Just let me go, please.”

            I was crying as I pressed my lips to her ear.  “Do you remember when we first met?  I was on the beach, playing volleyball with my friends and the ball got away from me and I had to chase it.  You gave it back to me and I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.  I purposely fumbled the ball when it came to me because I wanted another excuse to go talk to you.”

            Monica stopped struggling, sagging in my arms.  She was crying so hard she was nearly doubled over with the force of her sobs.  “You picked this house because you loved the view from the backyard at sunset,” I continued, resting my head on her shoulder.  “I’m going to let you go now.  Please don’t run.”

            I slowly released my hold on her and she scrambled away, putting her back against the cabinets across from me.  Her face was red and blotchy, tears streaming down her cheeks and I felt something knot painfully in my chest.  I had done that, I had put that raw, unimaginable pain in her eyes but I didn’t know how.  We stared at each other for a long, long time as she took several deep breaths, trying to bring herself under control.

            “I thought you were a total klutz that day on the beach, always missing the ball.  I didn’t know you were doing it on purpose until you asked me for my number.”  Her voice was a strained whisper.  She was crouched, her elbows on her knees.  “I was going to be with you forever and I…”  She choked on a sob, her chest heaving.  “I buried you nine months ago, Kylie.”

Worshiping the Public Goddesses

I read something the other day about Rihanna and her reaction to a fan who modeled a jump suit after one Rihanna herself wore.  The 16-year-old girl idolized the singer, looked up to her and Rihanna mocked her.  On Instagram, for EVERYONE to see.  The poor girl was understandably heart broken by Rihanna’s reaction and the taunting she received on social media from her own peers.  It’s very easy to lapse into calling Rihanna names- believe me, I’ve got a few rattling in my brain- but I won’t stoop to that level.  Instead, I’ll say this: how disappointing.  How disappointing that Rihanna has that high of an opinion of herself that she openly mocks a young fan instead of taking the high road with grace.

Whether they want it or not, performers of all things music, stage and screen become someone’s idol.  They become role models and they are held in high regard by those who want to attain what they have.  It’s why I shudder in fear (or is revulsion?) when I hear a seemingly smart 20-something with a college degree declare she wants to be a Kardashian.   There are plenty of famous people who do accept their status as role models with grace.  They understand the weight of their words, actions and reactions.  They encourage diversity and imitation without scorn.

I’ve always liked Lady Gaga, for her music and the message she purveys about love and acceptance.  She admitted to being bullied when she was younger because she was different, because she marched to the beat of her own drum.  I found myself relating, even choking up as I remembered being bullied myself.  I had wished for someone who understood what it was like to be different and ostracized by your peers.  I didn’t have someone like Lady Gaga to look up to, to see that it did get better.  I went to one of her concerts in Philly recently and as I looked around the arena, I saw so many people dressed up like her.  She encouraged the crowd on a few different occasions to be themselves, that they were in a safe space to just let go and be free.  One brave woman who isn’t afraid to let her freak flag fly, out there for the masses.  Even though she’s admitted to drug use and other behaviors that the main stream says is bad, she voices her flaws and shows that even with the sold out venues, the millions in album sales and the awards, she’s still human and in many ways, just like us.

Our idols- actually, most of them tend to be ‘idles’- need to take a page from Lady Gaga.  Instead of making fun of someone who definitely does her own thing and wears meat to award shows, maybe they should learn to walk their own way and to step with care.  So much damage can be done with careless words and actions but so much good can be done with the right words and encouragement.