Post by James Gilmore on Feb 9, 2018 16:01:26 GMT
”If I didn't care
More than words can say
If I didn't care
Would I feel this way?
If this isn't love, then why do I thrill?
And what makes my head
Go 'round and 'round
While my heart stands still?
If I didn't care…”
More than words can say
If I didn't care
Would I feel this way?
If this isn't love, then why do I thrill?
And what makes my head
Go 'round and 'round
While my heart stands still?
If I didn't care…”
IN THE PRESENT DAY...
James Gilmore looked as if he’d seen better days.
He felt worse than anything he ever imagined.
His mind was scarred following an accident that should have been prevented, his face unrecognizable from how it looked when he was running for Corpus Christi mayor, and it seemed as if the once-proud alumnus of Texas A&M-Corpus Christi was, given everything he’d endured over the course of nearly four months, he was about ready to end it all right there as an old 1939 song played softly from a 21st century iPad Pro tablet. Truly, he had hit rock bottom as he sat at the small desk in his spartan living quarters in Grapevine--a far cry from his Corpus Christi villa--staring at a .45-caliber pistol on one side and a spiral notebook Fiona McFly had given him on the other.
Both items were symbolic in nature…
...at least, when one puts things into their proper context.
One of them represented James’ dark past, haunted by the notion of placing blind trust in people he knew nothing about in terms of motives and overall character. The other represented a potentially brighter future should he take the time to accept it, given to him by a fellow colleague who saw something in his heart that was good, but aching and in need of comfort.
The choice was presented to him--and it was hard to make.
Deep in his heart, James had a strong feeling for Fiona--platonic of course, but still quite strong. She always had a way with words that could impact even the most downtrodden of human beings. Remembering her soft-spoken lines of hope and courage, Gilmore placed the gun off to the side and began to put words on paper…
...this was his story.
=====
Journal Entry #1 - “Palace of Lost Souls, Part I”
“Grapevine, Texas--population of around 46,000 as of 2010.
It was a far cry from the swanky beachheads and palm trees that lined Ocean Drive in Corpus Christi, a far cry from anything I ever know to be true, yadda-yadda-yadda. Of course, people like you might be wondering 'oh James, how the hell did you end up in a place like that after spendin’ all this time talkin’ politics and bein’ a champion to your cause?’ To be honest, any answer I give might be construed as...convoluted, complicated, or maybe a little bit of both.
Sto to straighten things out, I figured...why not start from the one place every life story originates.
From the very beginning.
Last year, sometime in October, I was having your typical day on the beach. Skies were clear, gentle sea-breezes were coming in from the Gulf...you’d THINK it was gonna a beautiful day to relax, hang with friends over a cold on, that kind of thing. Then again, I thought the same thing too…
...then, my life changed in one blink.
A guy had walked onto my private sandy beach to ask if I was a Republican. I told him yes, then thought none of it...that was, until he pulled a gun out and started firing at me. As the lead flew by my noggin, I turned and ran...yet I looked back for a moment to see my bodyguard Mikhail jump on the no-gooder and try to grab the gun away. I knew I couldn’t keep running, I didn’t want to leave anyone behind...so I jumped in as well. You know how the story is gonna go from here, so there’s no need for a big recap.
In short...I accidentally pulled the trigger instead of pulling at the barrel like they taught me in self-defense.
The result was something I never imagined would happen--and to think that the woman I trusted to manage my career in that other gig was the one who hired that Plinkohead to have me murdered?
The whole thing left me scarred, disillusioned, and...regretful that I wasn’t strong enough to say ‘no.’
Thing is, I would never hurt a fly, much less kill anyone even in the name of ‘stand your ground.’ Texas law was on my side, and I was cleared of anything related to the accident. Yet when the nice detective named Abby told me the good news...I was left with more questions than answers.
The biggest of which: ‘will I ever trust anyone again, especially after what Lindsey did to me?’
So I left Corpus to try and get my head on straight--nothing more, nothing less. Yet as I deplaned my American Eagle flight at DFW Airport…”
NOVEMBER 23, 2017 - 10:30 AM
Nearly three months ago...
James Gilmore stepped outside the door to gate #6 of DFW’s Terminal E looking as dapper as ever--clean-shaven, hair neatly trimmed, the works. Yet this wasn’t an “ordinary” getaway from the waters of Corpus Christi Bay. The core of his very being had been shattered beyond belief, and on this busy day during the Thanksgiving rush, he stepped onto the carpet with his long rolling luggage bag in tow, trudging towards the exit whle avoiding the mob scene around him.
Yet as he headed towards the taxi pick-up area, a man in a strange black robe--seemingly out of place with the airport’s present clientele--approached and took a slight bow of respect.
“Welcome Mr. James Gilmore,” the stranger said, prompting James to perk up his left brow. “‘Scuse me?,” he asked.
The robed man nodded his head. “Please come with me,” he said, pointing to a black-painted Mercedes-Benz crossover SUV. “The Palace awaits you,” he continued.
”At that moment in time...I began to realize that my whole world was about to be turned on its head.
And I was going to be in for a wild ride.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
James Gilmore looked as if he’d seen better days.
He felt worse than anything he ever imagined.
His mind was scarred following an accident that should have been prevented, his face unrecognizable from how it looked when he was running for Corpus Christi mayor, and it seemed as if the once-proud alumnus of Texas A&M-Corpus Christi was, given everything he’d endured over the course of nearly four months, he was about ready to end it all right there as an old 1939 song played softly from a 21st century iPad Pro tablet. Truly, he had hit rock bottom as he sat at the small desk in his spartan living quarters in Grapevine--a far cry from his Corpus Christi villa--staring at a .45-caliber pistol on one side and a spiral notebook Fiona McFly had given him on the other.
Both items were symbolic in nature…
...at least, when one puts things into their proper context.
One of them represented James’ dark past, haunted by the notion of placing blind trust in people he knew nothing about in terms of motives and overall character. The other represented a potentially brighter future should he take the time to accept it, given to him by a fellow colleague who saw something in his heart that was good, but aching and in need of comfort.
The choice was presented to him--and it was hard to make.
Deep in his heart, James had a strong feeling for Fiona--platonic of course, but still quite strong. She always had a way with words that could impact even the most downtrodden of human beings. Remembering her soft-spoken lines of hope and courage, Gilmore placed the gun off to the side and began to put words on paper…
...this was his story.
=====
Journal Entry #1 - “Palace of Lost Souls, Part I”
“Grapevine, Texas--population of around 46,000 as of 2010.
It was a far cry from the swanky beachheads and palm trees that lined Ocean Drive in Corpus Christi, a far cry from anything I ever know to be true, yadda-yadda-yadda. Of course, people like you might be wondering 'oh James, how the hell did you end up in a place like that after spendin’ all this time talkin’ politics and bein’ a champion to your cause?’ To be honest, any answer I give might be construed as...convoluted, complicated, or maybe a little bit of both.
Sto to straighten things out, I figured...why not start from the one place every life story originates.
From the very beginning.
Last year, sometime in October, I was having your typical day on the beach. Skies were clear, gentle sea-breezes were coming in from the Gulf...you’d THINK it was gonna a beautiful day to relax, hang with friends over a cold on, that kind of thing. Then again, I thought the same thing too…
...then, my life changed in one blink.
A guy had walked onto my private sandy beach to ask if I was a Republican. I told him yes, then thought none of it...that was, until he pulled a gun out and started firing at me. As the lead flew by my noggin, I turned and ran...yet I looked back for a moment to see my bodyguard Mikhail jump on the no-gooder and try to grab the gun away. I knew I couldn’t keep running, I didn’t want to leave anyone behind...so I jumped in as well. You know how the story is gonna go from here, so there’s no need for a big recap.
In short...I accidentally pulled the trigger instead of pulling at the barrel like they taught me in self-defense.
The result was something I never imagined would happen--and to think that the woman I trusted to manage my career in that other gig was the one who hired that Plinkohead to have me murdered?
The whole thing left me scarred, disillusioned, and...regretful that I wasn’t strong enough to say ‘no.’
Thing is, I would never hurt a fly, much less kill anyone even in the name of ‘stand your ground.’ Texas law was on my side, and I was cleared of anything related to the accident. Yet when the nice detective named Abby told me the good news...I was left with more questions than answers.
The biggest of which: ‘will I ever trust anyone again, especially after what Lindsey did to me?’
So I left Corpus to try and get my head on straight--nothing more, nothing less. Yet as I deplaned my American Eagle flight at DFW Airport…”
NOVEMBER 23, 2017 - 10:30 AM
Nearly three months ago...
James Gilmore stepped outside the door to gate #6 of DFW’s Terminal E looking as dapper as ever--clean-shaven, hair neatly trimmed, the works. Yet this wasn’t an “ordinary” getaway from the waters of Corpus Christi Bay. The core of his very being had been shattered beyond belief, and on this busy day during the Thanksgiving rush, he stepped onto the carpet with his long rolling luggage bag in tow, trudging towards the exit whle avoiding the mob scene around him.
Yet as he headed towards the taxi pick-up area, a man in a strange black robe--seemingly out of place with the airport’s present clientele--approached and took a slight bow of respect.
“Welcome Mr. James Gilmore,” the stranger said, prompting James to perk up his left brow. “‘Scuse me?,” he asked.
The robed man nodded his head. “Please come with me,” he said, pointing to a black-painted Mercedes-Benz crossover SUV. “The Palace awaits you,” he continued.
”At that moment in time...I began to realize that my whole world was about to be turned on its head.
And I was going to be in for a wild ride.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Well howdy there pardner.