Horse Heaven

Ponies are awesome

So as they say.

Hope riding them

Don't take my breath away.

They trot with a trace,

They gallop with grace

And walk with no worries.

This was written by my 10 yr old daughter Kaya.

The Story of my Heart

Plucking heart strings
The same old song
My love is blind,
I'm always wrong

So madly deeply
I'm fuckin drowning.
Lost in emotions
Can't stop what I'm feeling

Addicted to the taste
Your words so sweet
Slip slide melting
My heart at my feet

So intensely amazing
But I threw it all away
Not sure what I was thinking
I regret it everyday.

That was then
This is now
So much has changed
You've since moved on.

Choking on tears
My heart is aching
for what once was
Life's not the same
It sucks again..
I'm such a fool.

My Better Half

You slipped into my life
Like an angel in disguise.
My fairy tale prince,
I saw forever in your eyes.

An introduction so kind and alluring
I was flattered with your romantic charm
I felt myself falling oh so quickly

An instant connection
A race car to love
Long lost twin souls
Yin and yang split up
Reunited...a magical bliss.

We sat upon a pedistal
Looking in the water
Our reflections were as one

We savoured every moment
It had never been like this.
Unexpected lightning strikes
So intense
We awe at its beauty

Something too good to be true
I had to go and say it..
Then the waves came crashing down
Houdini waved his wand
I looked and you were gone

Devastated,
My soul cried out
My heart tore to pieces
As black flower petals
Fall and shatter.

I cried a thousand tears
I begged to know why
I fell to my knees
Crushed and broken inside

You stepped into my life
When I didn't know I needed you
You lifted me out of my dark despair
And made me feel alive.

My twin soul
So like me, yet opposite
Our bond eternal
I love you
Unconditional

Quiet Sadness

I know you see
The pain in my eyes,
I can't tell you
What makes me cry.
You would understand but...
Think I don't see your side.

In matters of the heart
We're on a different level.
You can't fall in love
When your heart's still broken.

My feelings lay beneath the surface
I don't want to scare you away.
I savor what is right now
And try not to wait and expect
Something that may never be.

Zombified

So Numb
I'm inundated.
Forsaken heart,
Time after time.

Tears
Beneath the surface
Remain frozen,
Crystalized.

Off in the distance
Descries oblivion beyond.
Silence consumes me
I'm catatonic.

Longing to drift away
In solitude.
Wrapped in silence,
Lost

Metamorphosis

Stumble out of bed
Rub my eyes...
This life is
So Mundane.

Craving for change
A shift to erase
A timeless episode,
The rerun seen so often.

Life's perplexing ways
Will feed the craving;
A challenge from
The soul.

Knowledge from within
The journey will begin.
Change is inevitable
The comfort zone
is fading.

Catatonic Heart

Sadness always hides
Behind these eyes
This heart only knows
Happiness based on lies.

Thoughts steer much too often
Towards fears that grab hold
And spin
Kaleidoscope of pain
The darkside takes
The win.

Solitude is numbing
Where as sleep
Is to vanish.
Dreams are but a ghost
That doesn't consist.

A love so strong
That completely fell apart
Trust is now so lacking
In matters of the heart.

Mother

"Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children." ~ Quote from The Crow

Some believe that we choose our parents before we're born. I chose well. My friends on the other hand, not so well. Over the years I've heard so many people complain about their parents. How they drive them crazy,  they're so annoying and they just can't stand them. My friends all fell in love with my mom and unofficially adopted her. Most called her mom.
I'm not going to lie, my relationship with my mom hasn't always been perfect. Teenage years...my bad, I drove her to drink. Those years were a drunken blur for myself too. But when the ride was over and I realized that I wasn't the shit that knew it all, it hit me that boy did I ever fuck up. I really put my mom through hell too. I smartened up, apologized and began respecting her again, feeling like shit that I ever stopped.

When I was about seven my dad was diagnosed with bone cancer. He became very sick very quickly and had chosen to die at home. When I was eight I had a dream in which my dad came to me and said that he wouldn't be around much longer and that he wanted my mom and me to look after one another. Shortly after that he passed away.
My mom was his caregiver. I remember that night like it was only days ago. I had a friend sleeping over, but I couldn't fall asleep. My dad was in the next room and had a terrible cough keeping him awake. My mom was awake all night, I remember her checking in on me and asking why I wasn't sleeping yet. My dad's coughing sounded terrible, tears were welled up in my eyes. I asked my mom if she could call the Dr or take him to the hospital but she said there was nothing they could do for him.
In the morning there were paramedics everywhere and my mom was in another room devistated unable to speak. There were family and friends there as well and I was told that my dad had died. It all just felt like a dream for me.
Some years later my mom told me what happened that night. After she checked in on my friend and I she went to check on my dad. His coughing finally stopped and he told her he was going to try and get some sleep. She was doing laundry so she told him she'd come back and check on him when the load was done. Later she walked in the room to see how he was doing...he turned to her and as their eyes met she saw the life leave his eyes. That was it, he was gone. She said goodbye and closed his eyes.

My mom and I went through many more trials and tribulations over the years, many times struggling now that she was a single mom. One thing that remained the same was the bond we shared. We stuck together through thick and thin and when times were tough we helped pull each other through.

My mom is an amazing person. She has a heart of gold, she's so gentle and kind. But at the same time, when something traumatic happens she's tough as nails. Her blood pressure is always perfect cause she doesn't stress or worry about anything. She has taught me much through example. Her wise words for me at thirteen..."the easiest way to quit smoking is to never start at all". I listened.

I wish my grandmother would have given that advice to my mom when she was young. My mom started smoking when she was nine! She was a heavy smoker for 60 years. I always begged and pleaded for her to quit growing up, especially when I learned in school how bad it was.

Last summer in July, my mom noticed the book The Secret sitting on the table. I told her, "it's a good book, you should read it." She told me she couldn't. I figured she needed  stronger prescription for her glasses but she said that she could only see through her right eye. I gave her shit for not telling me before and phoned the house Dr to come see her. He told me to take her to the hospital immediately as she could have had a slight stroke. She got in fairly quickly and saw many Dr's and had tons of tests done. They couldn't figure out why she was having vision problems. She hadn't been for a physical in some time so they checked everything.
They got me to take her to an eye specialist who diagnosed her with glaucoma. He said her left eye was too far gone to do anything so she's now blind in her left eye and requires drops daily to retain sight in her right eye.
Once all the test results came back we went to see a respiratory Dr who said my mom has lung cancer. The Dr's had mentioned a mass in her chest but didn't want to say anything until they knew for sure what it was. My mom and I had talked about it and weren't surprised. Her tumor is right behind her heart so surgery is not an option. Radiation and chemotherapy can be done but she has chosen not to do either treatment as she has no pain right now. With both procedures comes many symptoms, pains and she could very well die from them.
Like my dad, my mom has chosen to stay at home and I'm her primary caregiver. She also has nurses from Cancer Care that meet with her. I have to say that I'm very grateful for cancer care, they are wonderful.
Through all of this, my mom remains in high spirits. I swear nothing can get this woman down. I cherish every moment I spend with her. Her positive attitude and strength inspires me and gives me strength. I love you mom xoxo

Interview With Dark Fiction Writer James Cheetham

Most kids are scared of the dark, I wasn't. I remember staying up late, sitting in the dark watching scary movies. I wasn't afraid..that is until my nephew would jump in front of me in a Halloween mask and scare the hell out of me! This happened numerous times and was probably about the time when my night terrors began. 

That kid was me, and my nephew is James Cheetham. That was then, this is now...

  James Cheetham

is a dark fiction writer who also has a unique talent to transform ordinary people into zombies. James was born and raised in Winnipeg, Manitoba and now lives near Bird's Hill Park with his wife Tanya, daughter Stephanie as well as their two golden retrievers and three cats.

About His Books & Accomplishments

Fade to Pale was published in 2007 by Wild Child Publishing out of Culver City, California and was voted Best Horror novel of that year at Preditors & Editors.

The Beekeeper was published by the same company, in the same year, and won Best Short Horror Story at Preditors & Editors.

The zombie series was scheduled to be published in 2008 but James left the publisher for agent representation. The series is called Seasons of The Brittle Harvest (the first in the series called Prairie Frost) It remains unpublished though it launched the Cheetham's Zombies franchise that takes photos of customers, turns the images into zombies, and places them on everything from 

T-shirts to edible Halloween photo-cookies.

James has been published in every volume of the SNM (Steven N Marshall) Horror magazine anthologies Bonded by Blood, and was voted SNM's author of the year in 2008.

James was also featured in Careers magazine in 2009 as Canada's own Stephen King.

 He was interviewed for the 200th Birthday of Edgar Allan Poe 

alongside Michael Connelly and Alan Parsons 

and is the host of Unconventional Interviews.

The Interview 

As kids, what surrounds us growing up molds the person we become. 

What inspirational people, places, or things such as movies, music, or life experiences 

stand out in your mind that you feel molded you to become a fiction writer?

For me personally, I think that transformation from child to adult when one realizes the innocent fun is over was the biggest inspiration for me to write. I’ll always be a kid at heart and it just seemed the older I got the more I saw the people around me at work, or in simple day to day life, seem unhappy. This only confirmed for me that childhood is the greatest part of being alive. It’s all downhill after that don’t you know…and as my own childhood drifted further and further away, I felt that writing was a way for me to revisit the things I so often wondered about as a kid. Reading & writing is an escape from the doldrums of life and a chance at least for me, to relive those childhood moments when I could still be truly astounded by something.  All my stories have dabs of my own true life in them. I call on old friends from my memories to name streets or places. I use tidbits from my childhood in the plots of all my stories. It’s a therapeutic way to hold on a little bit longer…

Describe your writing process. Is it always the same or does it differ with each story? 

My process is simple (yeah right I says to myself), scratch out a hundred grand worth of words—

which can take a few months or a few years depending on other aspects of your life. Then leave it for a week or two (or three). I hate writing first drafts. When I say I love being a writer I’m really talking about editing the story. For me, editing is the truest creative process in which my voice starts to get along with my ideas. The more times you edit a book, the more ‘well-polished’ it becomes. I love that part of writing. I love having the entire manuscript in front of me in all its ugly grandeur before ironing out all the details, plot-holes, and errors. 

Writing the manuscript is making a baby, editing is birth.

Do your ideas for stories come to you via dreams, being channeled through, long sessions on the throne, or other…please explain...

Actually, Fade to Pale was born from a reoccurring dream—at least a subplot of the book was anyway. The dream had me finding a living quarters existing in a newly purchased house.   

I always sensed somebody had just abandoned the quarters once I entered. 

A TV would be on or I’d smell food cooking on the stove but nobody would ever be physically there once I opened the door. It was a very creepy experience and I incorporated that into Rita’s situation in the book. Another example came from a relative who spoke about an abandoned church near Grandview, Manitoba that became the home to a swarm of bees. I couldn’t resist, and wrote The Beekeeper. It’s the little quirky things in day to day life that stay with me that I find worthy enough to end up in a story. At one time, I wrote down my ideas so as not to forget them but don’t do that any longer. If an idea is that good, you’ll remember. If you can forget it that easily, chances are, the reader will forget your story once they’ve read it too, so why bother? 
Good ideas are like mosquitoes while you try to sleep at night, they won’t leave you alone no matter how hard you swat your own head.

Do you have any personal rituals that aid you in your writing? 

Nope. For a while I tried making soundtracks that might inspire a particular plot, but soon found the best atmosphere for writing is complete silence. I am a terrible pessimist when it comes to writing and will find any excuse these days to avoid it. It’s the editing that gets me back in a good mood again. Writing in itself is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. 

What kind of advice would you offer to someone wanting to become a fiction writer?

Don’t for a single moment expect it’s an easy ride. Don’t think you’re the only one out there fighting for the opportunity to have your book published. And if you want to survive, find a way to stay sane while waiting months at a time for an email from a publisher or agent that might very well never come at all. It’s an ugly world out there in book writing land. Be prepared to bleed and be prepared to stab. I’m not going to tell anybody any clichés about writing for the love of it. 

The real writers out there will know it’s not about love, it’s about sanity. 

Getting five books published to some is a career; getting one book published 

is a curse I can only compare to a heroin addiction.

 Are your books available online, offline, or both & where?

Fade to Pale is now out of print and last I heard, Weirdly will be out of print this year but there are used copies at all the familiar places online, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc. The Bonded by Blood series is available at these sites as well. I am hoping to have the first volume of the Prairie Frost series out this year and available at McNally Robinson in Canada just as Fade to Pale and Weirdly were. I believe Bonded by Blood lV will feature my story ‘Fragments of Mavis’ as well.

I know you fear no zombies, but what would you do if aliens came for you?

What kind of Aliens? Are they pretty?

Don't worry about it, those things don't matter. You'll probably sleep right through it..I did. 

Thanks so much James for being my guinea pig and letting me conduct my first interview on you. 

I look forward to reading more of your books and stories. Even your answers to interview questions are metaphorical and thought provoking. You are a true writer in every sense of the word. I wish you the best of luck in all of your endeavors.

Links for websites, books & merchandise, and additional info:

http://www.jamescheetham.ca 

http://www.cheethamzombies.blogspot.com 

http://www.officiallyinfected.blogspot.com 

http://www.unconventionalinterviews.blogspot.com 

http://www.myspace.com/jamescheetham 

One Eye Open One Eye Shut

I've decided that this is how I shall walk through this year. Not literally of course, I'm not going to walk around like a freak stuck winking at everyone 24/7. Perhaps I'd break some sort of stupid record, but I think I'd also develop very sore facial muscles & lines on my face I could do without.

Just a figure of speech, a metaphor if you will. One eye I will keep open, to see all of what is now. Observing what is right, I will be grateful for. That which is wrong, I also will be grateful for as there is a lesson to be learned from it which will help me grow. My other eye will remain closed, not to be distracted by present but rather to imagine & dream wonderful things in my future that will soon come to be.

I will be very aware and mindful of my sense of well being for I know that when that feeling is good I'm on the right path. As my life unfolds before me I'll open my other eye to take in all things I am grateful for. The more grateful I am, the more I'll have to be grateful for. Life is good and I'm grateful for everything it has given me.