HOSER ALERT - CANADIAN BACON IS HAVING DINNER WITH JAWS

Afternoon ladies, gents ... its FEEDING time!

Who could forget Charli's interview with Kris Andrews? My fellow Canadian, featuring Doug and Bob McKenzie?

Their Canadian eh? Do you have any idea how much fun it is to say EH? All joking aside Canadians are all over the EH's.

And trust me, A.J. is no American, uh huh, no way, Canadian all the way. Now that I've thrown red and white in your face with a little enthusiastic pride, lets toss Kris into deep waters and see if she makes it back up.

OBSESSION IS A FUNNY THING ...

Prologue

Obsession is a funny thing.

It’s a strange, manacle mistress that takes your soul and leaves you barren. I never expected to be here. Never expected to have lost absolutely everything that ever matter to me. But I think what makes me cringe the most, the one thing that keeps me up at night staring at the tiny cracks in my ceiling-is the fact that I don’t care. I know for certain that I’m not crazy. I know that the sky is blue and that there are no purple monkeys hiding in my closet waiting to kill me while I sleep. I am fully aware of what I am doing. I am fully aware that I have deeply hurt people. I know that I will not be forgiven for my actions. I don’t deserve to. But with all that knowledge piled into my very sane head- I still don’t care.

My life before seems like a distant memory. One that was happy and full of promise. It’s a stark contrast to the disheveled landscape I inhabit now. But it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is her. Just her. I can’t explain it. There’s no rhyme or reason as to why a very regular blue collar schmuck such as myself would give everything up for a chance to be near her. She doesn’t even know me. I could walk by her on the street and she wouldn’t even glance my way. She wouldn’t have a moment of “where do I know you from?” I am a ghost in her world. But it’s her world that has sucked me in and rattled the very structure I once stood upon. I have to know her. I have to reach her. I have to be with her.

Obsession is a funny thing.

Chapter 1

Just another day...

“Owen, I need your help for a sec,” Hannah called, as she fumbled with the pickle jar lid.

I glanced up from the Monday morning newspaper, over my squared shaped glasses and gave her a grin.

I got up from that table and sauntered over to my beautiful wife. She held out the glass jar at arms length, frustrated at her inability to crack open that jar. I said nothing, I just took it and placed a hand over the lid.

“What am I going to when you’re gone? I can’t even open a pickle jar for Christ's sake!” she huffed and bared her weight against the black granite counter top.

I merely smiled and popped the lid without much effort, handing it back to her, “You loosened it up for me,” seeing that my answer didn’t ease my wife’s irritation that a pickle jar had bested her, I pulled her in, placing a small kiss on her cheek.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Hannah whispered into my crisp grey collar.

“I’m going to miss you too, but I’ll be back before you know it. Besides it’s only for three days and your mother is coming up to visit,” I said, tenderly squeezing her, breathing her vanilla perfume.

I found it amusing that one little innocuous thing could evoke all the pleasure and love I had within me. That quick waft of her delicate perfume was enough to recall our entire relationship in a split second.

Flashes of the day we met, the day I asked her to marry me, the day we got married. I immediately felt relaxed and safe. Hannah never knew what her tiny bottle of sweet vanilla perfume did to me. I’d never tell her, it was my own little secret.

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HOT DAMN! Was it just me or did your skin crawl reading the Prologue? Your wondering, who the hell is this guy, or girl, its difficult to tell, and very tantalizing.

Owen's clear adoration of his wife comes across very well. Bravo, Kris! What connection does this unknown person have with Owen and Hannah? My imagination is running away ... allow me to bath this lovely piece of work in red before my muse hijacks imagination and thumbs a ride to parts unknown.
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Prologue

Obsession is a funny thing. I would leave this sentence to itself for impact. I adore short paragraphs.

It’s a strange manacle mistress that takes your soul and leaves you barren. I never expected to be here. Never expected to lose (keep in the present tense) have lost absolutely everything that ever mattered to me. But I think what makes me cringe the most, the one thing that keeps me up at night staring at the tiny cracks in the my ceiling is the fact that I just don’t care.

I know for certain that I’m not crazy. I know that the sky is blue and that there are no purple monkeys hiding in my closet waiting to kill me while I sleep. I am fully aware of what I am doing. I am fully aware that I have deeply hurt people. I know that I will not be forgiven for my actions. I don’t deserve to. But with all that knowledge piled into my very sane head, I still don’t care.

My life before seems like a distant memory. One that was Happy and full of promise. It’s a stark contrast to the disheveled landscape I inhabit now. But it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is her. Just her. I can’t explain it. There’s no rhyme or reason as to why a very regular blue collar schmuck such as myself would give everything up for a chance to be near her. She doesn’t even know me. I could walk by her on the street and she wouldn’t even glance my way. She wouldn’t have a moment of “where do I know you from?” I am a ghost in her world. But it’s her world that has sucked me in and rattled the very structure I once stood upon.

I have to know her. I have to reach her. I have to be with her.

Obsession is a funny thing. I'm not sure I would repeat this. Your ending already has creep appeal. Rock on sista!

Chapter 1

Just another day...

"Owen, I need your help for a sec," Hannah called, as she fumbled with the pickle jar lid.

I glanced up from the Monday morning newspaper, over my squared shaped glasses and gave her a grin.

I got up from that table and sauntered over to my beautiful wife. She held out the glass jar at arms length, frustrated at her inability to crack open that jar. (I want to know what her frustration looks like, show me, instead of telling) I said nothing. Just took it and placed a hand over the lid.

“What am I going to do when you’re gone? I can’t even open a pickle jar for Christ's sake!” She huffed and bared her weight against the black granite counter top, arms folded over her chest.

(Too many sentences starting with I, vary them) Smiling I, and popped the lid off without much effort, handing it back to her, “You loosened it up for me.” seeing that My answer didn’t ease my wife’s irritation that a pickle jar had bested her, so I pulled her in, placing a small kiss on her cheek.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Hannah whispered into my crisp grey collar.

“I’m going to miss you too, but I’ll be back before you know it. Besides it’s only for three days and your mother is coming up to visit,” I said, tenderly squeezing her, breathing her vanilla perfume. scent.

I found it amusing that one little innocuous thing could evoke all the pleasure and love I had within me. That A quick waft of her delicate perfume was enough to recall our entire relationship. in a split second. Flashes of the day we met, the day I asked her to marry me, the day we got married our wedding ...

I immediately felt relaxed and safe. Hannah didn't know how intoxicating she was to me. never knew what her tiny bottle of sweet vanilla perfume did to me. (Repeats to many words that have already been used, and is written in past tense, try to keep it in present tense)

I’d never tell her, it was my own little secret.

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Whew! I'm full, may have to loosen my belt buckle. Who am I kidding, I'm typing in my pajamas! Besides Kris' tendency to repeat words, structurally, there was very little wrong with this piece, in my humble opinion, of course.

I was intrigued from the very beginning. Her cleverly written prologue pulled me right in! Her voice is fresh, and clear. What are you waiting for? A royal invitation? Dive right in!

AJ