THE MUDDLED MYSTERY OF THE MURDERED MUSE, Chapter 9: The Suicidal Dare-Vampire

The Muddled Mystery of the Murdered Muse is a full-length novel, presented to you in Medium-sized chapters twice a week (Tuesday and Friday), that tells the story of Sebastian Holden, a paranoirmal investigator who solves the strangest cases this side of Jersey City and Brooklyn.

If you missed the previous chapter, read it here; if you’ve already read this chapter, read the next one here.


Carrie Donovan had her eyes on the edge of the razor, and tried numerous times to end her dark midnight of the soul that seemed to go on as farther back than she might ever realize. She never gets it quite right, though.
She’s tried hanging herself like the vintage clothes in her closet; drowning herself in the bathtub; slicing her wrists to pieces with a kitchen knife — up and down, across, and even sideways, just to be sure.
She’s even tried most of the methods that have worked wonders for the most literary of suicides, like filling her lungs full of natural gas, Sylvia-style, and, of course, Ernest Hemingway’s tried and tested and true shotgun blast to the head. She figured if it worked for both Hemingway and Cobain, it had to work for her.


Nope. Carrie made a full recovery from both within days of each incident, though getting the gas out of her took a tad longer than it took her head to seal itself back up into the face she hadn’t seen in a mirror for years now.
Immortality’s kinda like that. Y’see, Carrie’s is a 100% legit vampire.
She also happens to be a professional daredevil, and one if the best in the midwest, mainly because there’s no stunt she can’t survive, so there’s no stunt she won’t try in the sheer hope that it just might end her forever night. She attempts the most dangerous motorcycle jumps, sorta like Nicolas Cage in that terrible Ghost Rider movie, and she’s even been shot out of a cannon numerous times at small town Kentucky circuses and midwestern traveling Minnesota carnivals.

She specializes in the kinds of exploits that would surely kill any mere human being. But she always makes it out on top with a big bundle of bills to pay for her condo on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. 
During the winter months, she supplements her income showcasing the near perfect body she hides beneath her stuntwoman’s slightly baggy suit in front of classic cars and trucks for companies that still print those kinds of pictures as pin-up calendars. 
She always gets June. That was the month in which she first died.

And came back to live in, too.

Well, came back to unlife. That’s what the vamps call it, anyway.
And yes, Carrie sleeps in her native soil of Hoboken, New Jersey. She avoids garlic slices at the Five Star Pizza after going out every Friday and Saturday night partying it up.
And hunting them down…

On Sundays, she goes to church and prays. She prays for it all to come to an end, but that end never finds a way to stake its claim in Carrie. (Pardon the pun.) It’s almost as if God or whatever’s out there in the vastness of the Universe believes that Carrie Donovan has some hidden higher purpose in this life –– this unlife –– than simply entertaining tens of thousands of fans at monster truck rallies, Ringling Brothers’ three-rings, and during the month of June all across the expanse of the American wasteland.

As if she held tight to the answer to all the mysteries of the known Universe, and all she had to do is survive long enough to deliver it.

>>> Continue reading: Chapter 10: The Grunter >>>

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