People often ask me where my stories come from.
Actually, anyone who knows me knows exactly what my life is like and where my stories come from.
Here’s an example and it will explain what’s been going on.
On January 11, 2010, I gave my resignation at my job so I could move from my home in Arizona to my new home in North Carolina. I don’t really have a new home there, but I would be staying with friends until I could find a new home. My family was going to join me in May once the kids were out of school for the summer.
I gave my notice and I was moving to North Carolina to open our bookstore, Barnhill’s.
Did you really click that link? I’m not there yet! Save it for later. I’ll tell you when. Now pay attention.
Within an hour of giving my notice, my husband arrived home to discover we had been robbed. My first concern was the saftey of my fifteen-year-old son, Joey. He hadn’t felt well that morning and stayed home from school. My husband leaves before me in the morning and didn’t know my son was home sick.
He was still in bed, sleeping.
However, earlier in the day, he woke to discover the kid who lives behind us coming in the back door. They scared each other with Joey yelling, “What the hell are you doing in my house,” and the kid taking off running and jumping back over the fence. Joey went through the house. The living room looked fine and my bedroom door was still closed so he went back to bed.
My husband came home, opened the bedroom door, saw the blinds askew, the window open, and my laptop gone. Apparently, when Joey surprised him, the kid was coming back in the house after taking his first load of stolen goods out.
Word quickly spread through the neighborhood and reports of seeing him carrying my laptop began to circulate. The police came and took a report. Word from the grapevine got back to us that the kid was trying to trade my laptop for a gun or enough money to buy a gun and he was coming back.
Everything that was gone was just stuff. Sure… my laptop had my latest book on it and some personal stuff like our Christmas pictures, but I have most of my book on backup and the pictures are just pictures and video.
The scary thought was that if this little punk had a gun when he broke into my house, he probably would have shot Joey. And if not at my house, he wouldn’t stop breaking into people’s houses and someone would die.
This was supposed to be a happy week for me. After a lot of planning, it was time for me to take the next big step in my life. I was packing and planning my trip.
On Tuesday, my husband remained home in case our visitor returned as promised. He was seen several times and the police were called but they didn’t come out.
On Wednesday, I was coming down the street from work when a neighbor tried to squeeze between me and parked cars. He hit the mirror on my truck and it folded. His broke. He called the police and said I hit him. Hours later, when the police came out, they stopped by just to let me know that he wasn’t pressing charges but he did have witnesses. The “witnesses” didn’t mention they spent every Friday drinking with the “victim” or that they weren’t actually outside or in view of the accident.
After that, we changed our plans. We’re all moving. I’ve been packing. This neighborhood has gone downhill and I don’t feel it’s safe for my children. Yesterday, they arrested the kid, but he will probably be released today. He had one of my rings in his possession and the police impounded it. It’s now being held as evidence. The kid confessed. They’re still going to let him out.
Welcome to my world. I’m leaving.