Mine Own Executioner:
The Gurney Is Almost Ready
Immortality Haiku
Don't weep for what's gone.Tomorrow's overrated.
Flash-frozen in youth.
The following work is a series of e-mails from Lisa to her friend, Lynne. From time to time, Lisa confides in her buddy because nobody else---neither her family nor other friends---knew about her dangerous daliances with a group of Internet misfits. Lisa doesn't always write these letters in order to procure a response from Lynne. It's an almost stream-of-consciousness way of telling her story. Lisa is hard at work on a novel and realizes that much grist for her creative mill is being garnered by her real online life. Was this the real world? Or was it a pale immitation of it? Were there laws being enforced on the information superhighway, or did anything go, as long as people remained safe?
But Lisa Schultz was NOT safe. In fact, she became more endangered as time went on. She was surely and deliberately setting herself up for a big fall, a real tragedy of epic proportions.
Hi, Lynne. I'm just going to rattle off some random thoughts, so I hope you don't mind being a sounding board for me. Here goes: Nothing bad was supposed to happen. I had my project laid out before me, but like a picnic blanket dotted with ants, the writing canvas before me was becoming obscured with spindly-legged predators clamouring for a free meal. It was a veritable feeding frenzy that threatened to spoil the moment for me. How could I have been so wrong about so many people? Why had my life sunk into the soft and cloying tar that would, in time, engulf me and carry me into the caustic caverns of Hell?
Wait a minute----I have to abandon this negative thinking. How can I be expected to produce quality fiction if I veer off into a potentially disasterous fit of paranoia? Nobody is really out to get me, are they? I know this all sounds quite whiny and desperate, the stuff of drama queens and love-sick teenage ruminations. I'm twenty years old and therefore, should be capable of dealing with whatever problems and stresses come my way. I'm better than them----aren't I? I mean, I didn't seek those people out; rather, they came after me, infecting my message boards, their rage and pessimism boring holes in the fabric of my sanity and hanging bits and pieces of my courage and stamina out in the screaming sun of morning.
Okay, Lynne, I'll dispense with the heavy-handed crap and save that for the book I've wanted to write for two years now. I felt that I was ready at last to take the literary world by storm. I had a publisher, a half-finished manuscript, but over the past several months, my whole storyline, replete with characters and events has been set adrift, probably for good. So what does that mean? Well, it means that I have to come up with something brand new, a grand and spectacular work that would win me accolades and Pulitzer prizes. That shouldn't be too difficult, should it?
As I sit here, perched on the edge of a morning drenched in streaming sunlight, I begin thinking about Timothy McVeigh. Could it be at all possible to weave his sad and unspeakably horrific tale into an original character, created by me? Would I be doing something so slimy as to make a name for myself on his memory? There are people out there who believe just that. But his life story has intrigued and fascinated me for a number of years----it was a modern horror story, the stuff of Stephen King novels, only more potent because it was rooted in reality, not the product of a brilliant mind at work. So what do I have here? I will let my fingers tap dance on my keyboard, while creativity makes room for a truly original tale. I will keep you abreast of every new developement, Lynne.
Lisa.
Me again, Lynne. With regard to the Internet, I have been doing a lot of soul-searching and looking for answers in a world that seems to be completely falling apart. I know for certain that if I had never bought this computer and modem and had just bought a word processor for my writing, all of this wouldn't be happening. I unwittingly unscrewed the lid on a Pandora's box from hell and now I am unable to put it back on and secure it tightly. All manner of debauchery and evil came screaming out, leaving everyone and everything tainted and corrupted. My computer has become my enemy. It's just not fun anymore. As I spend more and more time online, the barrier between reality and virtuality has been forever blurred and out of focus. I have encountered people as vicious and vindictive as any out of a finely-crafted horror story and what's more, I cannot shake them from me. This chokehold has been so very constricting that at times, it is difficult to breathe. I've had the police over on three different occasions because Roberta and Brenda have been stalking me for over a year. The last time the officers crossed my doorstep I came way, way too close to being locked up for a long time. It took me over three hours to convince the constables that I was going to be okay. It took some doing because, as you know, Lynne, I have spent many years locked away from society at large in places reminiscent of death row. I was not willing to travel that road again.
The Internet has re-educated me on the subject of society and its influences, be they good or bad. I do not regret building a tribute site for Timothy McVeigh, but along with that I must accept, it seems, the sad reality that I am going to attract a lot of disturbed individuals. It's a trade-off of sorts and I suppose I should have seen this after going in. But I was still trusting almost everyone I met online. Big mistake, Lynne. Now, when I connect to the Internet, my stomach lurches when I see e-mails from those women. Nobody understands that it's just not that easy to ignore them. You keep telling me that I should just delete everything they send un-read. Lately I have been on the receiving end of viruses hidden in attachments. You know that I never open attachments from people I neither know nor trust and that I scan them for viruses as well. Finally, when I confronted Heidi, I discovered that she was behind this idiocy.
Lynne, one thing remains and that is: The Internet didn't hunt me down and invade my quiet, unassuming home.
I invited it in.
Love,
lisa.
