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Blood, Guns and Whores -- Chapter 39. The Plight Of The Living

Blood, Guns and Whores -- Chapter 39. The Plight Of The Living

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Published by W. Ross Ayers
Blood, Guns and Whores ~An All American Tale of a Boy and His Dog

“Blood, Guns and Whores – An All American Tale of a Boy and His Dog“, is a coffee table novel made of micro chapters and illustrations about a boy growing up in the small farming community of Blissfield, Michigan and on to adulthood in San Francisco. It is filled with edgy stories and equally gripping illustrations, art and layouts. This is not your typical novel. This is an object of art.

Chapter 39. The Plight of the Living

Written and Illustrated by W. Ross Ayers

An SFWC Co-Publishing Studio Production © 2011 by LND, inc. All rights reserved
Blood, Guns and Whores ~An All American Tale of a Boy and His Dog

“Blood, Guns and Whores – An All American Tale of a Boy and His Dog“, is a coffee table novel made of micro chapters and illustrations about a boy growing up in the small farming community of Blissfield, Michigan and on to adulthood in San Francisco. It is filled with edgy stories and equally gripping illustrations, art and layouts. This is not your typical novel. This is an object of art.

Chapter 39. The Plight of the Living

Written and Illustrated by W. Ross Ayers

An SFWC Co-Publishing Studio Production © 2011 by LND, inc. All rights reserved

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Published by: W. Ross Ayers on Jul 19, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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01/04/2013

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Blood,
 
Gunsand Whores
 
~
An All American Tale
 
of a Boy and His Dog 
Writtenand Illustrated by W.Ross Ayers
 An SFWC Co-Publishing Studio Production © 2011 by LND, inc. All rights reserved 
 
is a coffee table novel made of micro chapters and illustrations about a boy growing up in the small farming community of Blissfield, Michigan and onto adulthood in San Francisco. It is filled with edgy stories and equally gripping illustrations, art and layouts. This isnot your typical novel. This is an object of art.
W. Ross Ayers
Goto http://www.BloodGunsAndWhores.com to read all the posted chapters and check out how this is cool and different. Or just buy the book to get the full rich experience of the illustrations, artwork, and story in the way it wasmeant to be experienced.
 39. The Plight of the Living
Five days into my sophomore year at the University of Florida, the city of Gainesville changed forever.We woke up to rumors. By noon everyone knew for sure that Christi Powell, 17 and Sonja Larson, 18, hadbeen murdered in their sleep. Both students. Both brutally murdered. Both petite and brunette.We c
ouldn’t believe something so horrible had happened in our lovely town. Our lovely, little, fun, safe town.
 All day everyone walked around on campus in a daze.
“Oh my god, how awful.”
 
“I can’t believe it.”
 
“Those poor girls.”
 
We all went to sleep that night still in shock.Then it continued.The next morning University of Florida student Christa Hoyt, 18, was found decapitated in her apartment.Petite and brunette.Hundreds of students left school that day.By noon, news crews from around the nation flocked to our little town.Helicopters flew overhead scanning the streets day and night.The death watch was on.Girls bleached their hair blonde. Boyfriends stayed awake all night.
 
They were all girls. I was shocked but not frightened for my life.But Jackie, she was petite and brunette.At sunset the streets were empty. An empty ghost town. Only the brightly lit helicopters roamed the cityafter dark.Parents came and picked up their kids taking them home to safety.I stayed. Where else did I have to go? Plus, there were thirty-five thousand students. What were the odds of me being killed...?Jackie was in an intense pre-med program. She thought that if she left she would lose her place. So shestayed too. I think Amy stayed because Jackie and I stayed.Jackie and Amy asked Lee and me to stay at their place overnight.There were eight of us all in their apartment that night.Jackie slept upstairs in her bedroom with the current guy she was fucking. The rest of us lay on the cheapworn gray carpet downstairs in the living room.We all cowered like sheep and babbled like idiots during the night trying to fill the time and darkness tillmorning.At 5am grayness crept around the blinds of the sliding glass door at the end of the living room. We turned onthe news, half alive not having slept, to see who had been murdered in their sleep.Tracy Paules and her boyfriend Manuel Taboada, both 23, were found each stabbed to death in theirapartment. Both University of Florida students.
Fuck. A guy was killed and he was a big guy too.
I lived within a mile and a half of all of them in my apartment on South West 16th avenue.I felt like a fish in barrel with someone shooting into it with a shotgun.I could feel the pellets splitting the water and see the cloudy blood-red fog around the other fish, the corpsesfloating up and away from me.Random, violent, unpredictable, death.That day more and more students withdrew from school. The president of the university said that anyonewho left would be welcomed back without penalty.More news crews from around the nation crowded into our little town.
A friend of Jackie’s parents lived in Ocala and had an extra bedroom. We all slept there for a week. Kinda
slept. Thirty miles away we still felt unsafe. We talked and joked every night taking turns dozing and resting.

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