Excerpt: Splash Paint (Make Of It what You Will)

This is basically just a small sample of a book I started last November in honor of National Novel Writing Month. Plz check it out and I'll will be more than happy to share more if asked (^_^)
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Synopsis: Splash Paint (Make Of It what You Will)

Collection of Stories and Poems:
Angst? Nah...
Exit Strategy
Sharp Shooter
Mediocre Greatness

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Angst? Nah... Excerpt:

3:47 am. I laid flat on my bed, staring at the clock in silence, watching as the little fluorescent light flitted again, instantly displaying a new time. 3:48 am. I had been awake for hours. I sighed. I knew this would happen, I told myself, it always happens.
I prayed at night to not only get to sleep, but to stay asleep. I prayed, with a small glimmer of watered-down hope that my mind would rest, that it would stop continually putting these traumatic images in my head. I prayed whole-heartedly with asthmatic breath, to a god I didn’t know, and could barely say I believed in. Who could blame me? This God, or whatever higher being that may or may not be out there, had never come to my aid. If he was out there, watching over me, then the only thing he was doing to acknowledge my pitiful existence was pointing and laughing.

Exit Strategy Excerpt:

“I jumped out a window to be here on this early Sunday morning.” I said it politely, but the undercurrent in my voice was nothing short of evil directed to the sorry excuse for a human being sitting in front of me. Early, indeed. It was four in the freaking morning. I really had jumped out of a window, honest. Damned curfew for In-town Heights Apartments was set from 1 AM to 5 AM. Until it was over, the front and back doors were locked from the outside. Strict much? I never knew why they did that. I didn’t really care to ask, seeing as I’m not usually out of the house at this hour. So, when Kameron rang my phone, I was totally unaware that he’d ask me to drag myself to his executive office at the local bail bondsmen company. I was pretty stupid to let him talk me into coming. “It’s important!” he said. “You’ll love it!” he said. And I fell for every bit of it, just to be staring into his annoying, arrogant face. Love it my ass. The doors to my apartment complex were locked, as expected, so out my front window I went. It was no more than three feet from the ground, but I wouldn’t let him know that. It was a window, no less.

Sharp Shooter Excerpt:

“Aren’t you a little young to be handling a gun?” Jacob asked, looking at a girl no more than fifteen. Katherine’s father was the Chief of Police at the New Jersey Police Department, and if he taught her anything, it was how to handle a gun.

“What’s it to you, Jacob?” she asked, sighting down her arm at the target ahead.

“Look around. Everyone here is over twenty years except you,” he said, aiming as well. Jacob was twenty-three.

“And you say that”-she took a shot-“to say what?” The shot hit right below the bull’s eye in the chest of the target.

“Holy crap,” Jacob muttered, surprised. He lowered his gun and went over to size up Katherine’s shot.

“C’mon J, you know that I’m no amateur.”

“Yeah…now.”

Katherine smiled and went to remove her shooting range gear just as Nick came over. He patted Jacob on the back. “Underestimated the Chief’s daughter, Jake?” he chimed.

“So what? I’ve never seen her shoot before,” Jacob said, shaking his head for emphasis, sending his blonde curls everywhere.

“She learns from the best, man. Why wouldn’t she know how to shoot? Nick asked. Jacob just shrugged his shoulders.

Mediocre Greatness Excerpt:

The lank, dried out rose weeps in its glass prison, a constant reminder of my gears wearing themselves to dust. I don’t see far in my handful, but sterile desert of monotony and apathy. Dim embers drop into the crystal, my end and the cigarette’s. The smoke, acrid but sweet, cancerous but life-giving all the same, curls around my nose and tickles my eyes. I blink. In the momentary darkness, my existence, for my life has yet to begin, flashes before my eyes in the geriatric cliché. A child, happy and benign, with all of his needs and every want fulfilled. An adolescent, stereotypically confused and rebellious, with an untroubled home and a stormy head. A young man, disillusioned and angry, finds his proof of the insignificance of existence. Finally, a decade shy of forty, that steel-trap age, sitting in a cheap apartment drinking cheap booze and purveying the noble services and cheap whores. I down a slug of whiskey that tastes like fire and smells like brimstone.

I sleep, and I dream.