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Of course, we had no social media back then. I have fond memories of living there. The street, Trigo, where I lived my sophomore year, was a crime scene. It is temporary displaced living to the nth degree. It was not uncommon for people to shuffle around and rearrange themselves each year with new roomies and new living quarters. You may not even know all your roommates.

Students are stuffed to the gill into these apartments with little room to breathe. My senior year, I lived in party central on Del Playa. I had six roommates and because I wanted my private space, lived in an actual closet, a small closet. How many college kids could say they had a skylight that allowed them to sit on their roof with the Pacific ocean before them?


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Isla Vista was a unique experience and its own subculture. Students rode bikes or walked everywhere. The student population back then was wealthy and white. As I later found out, I grew up poor. My fellow students experienced the luxury of ski trips and a more privileged life. Isla Vista was the great equalizer.

Parties were open to all, and I had a lot of great times. It was reckless abandon and we procrastinated together, probably a little too much. These were also mixed-up times for me, too. I might be at a party in full swing, and had never felt more lonely and isolated. I remember being rejected, oh many times. I remember hoping I would see him, and hoping he would call, even though chances were slim. But the physical sex, that, they may be talking about, oversharing about and flaunting. I could see how someone might think everyone is having sex and having so much fun. That it would drive someone to hate with malicious intent to kill is horrifying and sad.

All of it sickened me. Clearly, he was a misogynistic madman, capable of harm, seething with hate and anger. I could feel the hate as I watched. He talked crazy shit, which although warranted a visit by the cops, did not result in a search of his apartment.

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To realize that the whole massacre could have been prevented, there are no words. Does this make sense? To anyone? Once again, as with all shootings, we must think about guns in this country. To all who have lost a loved one in this tragedy, you have my deepest sympathy. When a person inflicts such a senseless act of violence and then self-destructs, I think we need to look at ourselves as a society.

Why does this keep happening? When will it stop? We also need to look inward, and exercise compassion, humility, respect, and civility. I am on the side of the human race, and I still have hope. He heard the soft-spoken wisdom of their mother. They collapsed on hard, cracked dirt, their feet tangled in barbed wire. Thanks to the wonderful leadership of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and to all of the talented writers I have the pleasure of knowing through this amazing group.

I will write of story about them someday. I can feel it. I hope you will indulge me in my experimenting here. If you are interested in participating, all are welcome. It has been a tremendous help for my writing. Why not give it a try? Click here for instructions. For more stories from the Fictioneers, click here. File in, collect a number, determine destination. Sit down, complete paperwork, wait to be called.

Talk to the hole in the glass, return paperwork. Talk to the glass; learn you need a Specialist. Repeat Step 2, add paperwork. Walk through long, white corridor. Hint: Turn left, left, right, no left. Just follow the red tape.

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Why not give it a try? Click here for instructions. For more stories from the Fictioneers, click here. File in, collect a number, determine destination. Sit down, complete paperwork, wait to be called. Talk to the hole in the glass, return paperwork.


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Talk to the glass; learn you need a Specialist. Repeat Step 2, add paperwork.


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  6. Walk through long, white corridor. Hint: Turn left, left, right, no left. Just follow the red tape. Repeat Steps 1 and 4. Talk to the Assistant who talks to the Specialist. Learn it is the wrong Specialist. Repeat 2, 4, and 9. Take multiple flights of stairs. Read the sign: Sorry. Come back tomorrow. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for her dedication and leadership to this group. If you would like to give it a try, visit her Addicted to Purple blog for instructions. Thanks to Sandra Crook for the photo today.

    I like this one a lot. I tried a little something new today. Tell me how you feel at the end of this. Thanks for reading. Click here for more stories from the talented Fictioneers.

    Greetings to All!

    I am always delighted to read her posts. I have a short story, a medium-sized short story, and a longer short story possible novella! The short story, Ghost Walk, I presented on my blog and then rewrote, and it is still hanging off a cliff. Lastly, my possible novella, Knock Knock, is a horror story.

    It is sometimes tricky to pinpoint why you like a particular voice of a writer. It may be nuanced, subtle, and small and calculated things, but it is something that pulls you in and stirs you up inside, making everything in the story so real that it becomes an extension of what is possible in your mind, your imagination, and how you experience life around you. If it is unforgettable, the words will linger in your subconscious, and give new meaning to the world around you.

    It would be a little dream to write like that.

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    My mother has always encouraged me to write a book, and inspired my love of reading. As far as my writing goes, I gravitate towards stories that merge reality and fantasy, or that perhaps question reality. I like to see reality flipped upside down.