evergrey wrote:
Ah, let me tell you about the Month of Death.
My poor, poor mother. She was kind of afraid to leave the house for a while after that month. This was about 14 years or so ago. Holy crap, it really has been that long!
First, she was jogging early one morning out in the suburbs of Santa Barbara, when she glanced into a pretty ravine, as she often did. On that day, however, she did not see the pretty ivy or the merry little babbling brook. Instead, she saw the bloody, naked corpse of a man.
Turns out some other men had taken this guy home, they'd all gotten drunk, they fought, and he was murdered. image
A week or so later, an elderly man keeled over into some potted rose bushes a couple of feet away from my mother an I, out in front of a Safeway. His face got split open by the side of one of the pots. I'll never forget that.
The next week, the church choir director (if I remember correctly) walked off the end of a very, very tall bridge. It was purposeful, but he didn't leave a note or anything. He'd just gotten married. He was a psychologist, who specialized in veterans with PTSD. Maybe he just heard too much. I don't really know. No one will ever know why he did it.
I don't think mom had ever seen a dead person before.



That might make reluctant to leave the house.


Indecision may or may not be my problem - Jimmy Buffetimage