Artemia Episode 3


(( Dearest Devils & Ghouls, I am making Artemia a novel series !))


Artemia Part 3

      I despise grocery shopping. The lines, the prices, my appetite. To top it off, the frizzy haired obese woman in front of me smells of a marlboro and puke mixture. I hate the check out lines. Especially those self service ones… I don’t work here and unless I’m getting paid, I should not be checking myself out. The damn computer voice annoys the hell out of me. Of course, being the bachelorette I am, I only needed a few select items and no express lane is available. Walmart. You guys must be so proud to demolish the hopes and dreams of the mom and pop shops.  I wonder why they don’t play the generic super market music they do in sitcoms. I grabbed a newspaper “Gloria Roberts, 17, Still Missing”. It’s always a shame when young people go missing.

         I was greeted by a woman with too much make up. $108.50 for a small amount of items. On the drive home, I was jamming out to the radio when The Ripper by Judas Priest came to play.Sparking very delightful memories. I am amused by those that claim the ripper case is closed. No one knows who the ripper was… but me. I was friends with the ripper until it’s death in 1896. A lot of people came to mourn the ripper… shedding tears, wishing condolences and not one of those individuals new of the dark deeds that were committed. In 1888, I was living in a small flat in England. Right above the bakery where I worked, and sometimes played piano for the guests at a nearby hotel. I remember one foggy night, I was walking home in the dark. An unfortunate had passed me by, stumbling from having too much to drink. A dark carraige followed her. I guess the well off need loving too. Shortly after I saw her get into the carriage, I heard a muffled scream. Who ever was in that carriage had some pretty insane fetishes.

         I seriously became obsessed with the ripper case. I put together pieced of information better than the police. The police wouldn’t take my findings into consideration because I was a young woman. The best thing I remember was that rainy night in 1888. A knock on my door that changed my life. I answered the door in my night gown. “Yes?” I said, wiping my tired eyes. A tall man, whom I recognized as a carraige driver, was at my door. ” Your company… is requested.” He pointed out down the front door and to the carriage. The same carriage I saw when stalking the ripper. I was taken to the carriage, greeted by the ripper and a bloody knmife. “I know you’ve seen my doing, Kathleen.” Yes, i have.” I said, firmly not showing fear. “I admire your fearlessness.” The ripper handed me an exquisite amount of money. “Go have yourself a grand meal… and this is our little secret.” I saw the ripper smile and was excused from the carriage. I wish I could get a meal like the one I had that night. But, sadly no one cooks like that anymore.

      At home, my cats greeted me one by one. I turned on some music and begane to work on my artwork. ” Oh You.” I said to myself.The Ripper was the inspiration for this art piece. I kept thinking so much of David. He could very well still be a live. He would be an elderly man now. I often wonder if I’ll ever search for him. I kept working on my art until 6:00 AM I had to get some sleep. I awoke at noon to have some french toast and home fries at the local diner. I took my laptop to look up agencies that specialized in helping people find lost loved ones. I wanted to find David and get over my fear. Maybe finding him will bring me some sort of closure on that past life. The agency around me was a fifteen minute drive. “Hello, my name is Artemia. I’m calling to make an appointment.” A polite voice answered me, “Sure. Who may we help you find?” I thought about it. I couldn’t say my son. “A distant relative.” I heard typing on the other end. “Hmmm, well ma’am we have an opening tomorrow morning at eight? Come on in with some pictures and family history.” I wrote it in my plan book. “Okay, sounds good.”

    Tomorrow begins that search. I shut my laptop and had my brunch. Angel came in and sat next to me. We had a great conversation about her engagement. I wanted to talk to her about David so much.but I couldn’t. “You need to go on a date and stop being such a cat lady.” She said suddenly. I hated it when other women got engaged, they automatically think that you need to be too or else it’s just a bore. “You can’t bring one of your cats as a date to my wedding.” I rolled my eyes. “I can go as an individual.” I said simply. Back at home, I dug out my old photographs Me, Roger, and David. I cried and listened to some Dean Martin. My emotional state about that life is quite terrifyiing. I could never forget Roger’s Love or my only child.

© Mercy Desdemona 2013


Artemia Update


Hello devils and ghouls!

I apologize for my lack of posting an Artemia Episode. I wasn’t happy with the way part 3 came out so I am spending tonight editing the version that i have written. Tomorrow I shall post part 3 and 4!

keep in mind my followers, that the short story is basically a sneak peek into the novel Artemia. Artemia will be a novel series which I will publish through createspace!

Main Characters:



David Birham

Roger Birham

Mary Roberts

Lilith Roberts


Artemia Episode 2 & More!


Hello Devils & Creeps.

It is my pleasure to present to you, Artemia part 2. Whilst writing this, I’ve grown an attachment to my Artemia and have decided to make this a book series! I have created a create space account to have my Artemia published once it’s finished. I hope you all enjoy this.

– Mercy Desdemona


Artemia Episode 2

                         In 1933, I was a young seventeen year old girl living in a small village. I lived with my mother and father in a boarding house in the center of the village near the village hall. My father was the supervisor of the village and needed to be close to the hall in case any emergencies shall erupt. He was a good man and we had lots of good times in 1933. 1933 had to be where I felt the most human. So genuinely happy and also where I experienced my first true love. Roger Albert Birham was a lovely young man. He was tall, around six feet, with brown hair and dark eyes. He enjoyed playing the piano, even thought he’d never own one. His family was not well off like my family was. Which was a main concern of my father when we started our courtship. We would go to see a moving picture or two, picnic by Black Heart Pond, and plan a life together.

                        My father was not keen on me falling for a Birham. To my father, status was everything. I think, it was because he came from nothing and never wanted me to go through the same hardship. “Abby, if your hear is true to Roger, you have my blessing.” My father gave me his blessing in the August of 1933. In 1935, we had a wedding. It was a beautiful, fresh, spring day. The flowers were in bloom and the air smelled so fresh. My mother was proud and my father took me down the grassy isle to Roger. He had a stern look on his face as he held back the tears. We honeymooned at a cabin in the mountains. It made me the envy of my peers. It was during that time I knew I wanted this to be my final life. He was my one and only, and simply not replaceable. We made a home together in a small apartment looking over the park. It was a great location near my dress shops and Roger’s work place.

                                I became good friends with our neighbor, Lilith Roberts. Lilith would always come over for tea and discuss her father’s business. She was proud of her father ever so much. She was a young lady who adored children and always asked me, “When will you and Roger have a young babe?” She would always giggle and I would always respond, “Within the year.” I had my doubts of being a mother again, I would sometimes have frequent flashbacks to my Linda Mae. In the spring of 1937, on our wedding anniversary, I gave birth to a health young baby boy. We named him David Richard Birham after our fathers. We were a complete family.

                                    Roger was the ideal husband. He put food on the table and allowed us to have romantic dinners and family picnics. It wasn’t until David was the  age of five when things started to change. Mary Roberts was the older sister of dear Lilith. She was very wealthy, refined, had business connections, and always got what she wanted. Mary and Roger courted before I was his lover. She left him cold after a young fox came her way. I knew deep down Roger never let the incident go and I also knew he would never give into temptation. I could not help my jealousy though. I was a good young wife. I kept my jealousy just fuming inside me instead of exposing it.

                                   Roger started to grow tired of his status in society. He wanted to go further with his business and considered talking to Mary about helping him. He never said it to my face, but I knew that’s what he had planned deep down. He would keep his meetings with Mary secret. He started to not come home and David and I would spend a lot of time alone. I was happy I at least had my son. One day, after dropping David off to see the grandparents, I went into a bakery to apply for a position. I wanted to help Roger in this financial slum. The dress shop would not hire a woman that was not good at sewing, bakery was the only option.  After obtaining the position, I went to my apartment so full of glee. I walked in on a business meeting between Roger and Mary, but my presence wasn’t known. ” Roger darling, I’ve missed you.” Mary stated as she took a drag of her cigarette. Roger smiled. “I’ve missed you to Mary.” They exchanged glances as I entered the room. “Mary. So nice to see you.” I said with a clear smile on my face. No need to embarass Roger in front of his lovely company.

                       Roger looked at me. “You know how much I’ve missed Mary since when we were courting.” I nodded. “Yes, I know Roger. I’m sorry for jumping to any form of conclusion.” Mary walked over to me. She had long dark red hair, a marvelous figure. “Congratulations, Abbagail… for marrying such a wonderful man.” With that she walked out of our apartment and I went on to making dinner. Mary started becoming a more prominent person in Roger’s life. David and I began spending more time alone while Roger moved up in the world. I had to deal with the snickers and sneers by the public and my peers while Roger went out galevanting around with Mary Roberts. His smile soon faded from all family dinners and he would sometimes not come home.

                Not matter how much Roger did to me, I still loved him. On David’s sixth birthday, I had a party for him in the park with his boyhood friends. It was just me and David. Roger wasn’t anywhere to be found. It wasn’t a worry to me anymore. I became accustomed to Roger disappearing for weeks without contact. Lilith would come over to check on David and I periodically. She had a look on her face that she knew something I didn’t and she couldn’t tell me. I knew deep down inside that Roger’s love for Mary outweighed his love for me. I couldn’t blame him. On September 3, 1942, I heard from Roger in the most gruesome way. His obituary was in the newspaper. He had been found stone cold dead in an alleyway. It was said he suffered of a heart attack. I let out a few tears but didn’t cry as much as I thought I would. My one true love had died, and I couldn’t cry anymore than a few me mere seconds. I believe it’s because I knew, he was more dedicated to Mary Roberts. What hurt the most was the reading of my darling’s will. He left it all to David and Mary. I was a no one. I wasn’t even anyone to the love of my life!

                   After a while, I started seeing less and less of my own son. Lilith would take him to her home and he would live like she did. Mary was acting more of a mother towards him as time went on and even had me thrown out of the apartment building. I never saw Lilith, Mary, or David again. I moved into the old boarding house where my parents lived. One day, I decided my soul needed a new host. Abby Birham died of influenza in 1948.

                      My alarm went off at 6:00 AM sharp. Today was the day I agreed to pick up Aiden. The nine year old boy would be waiting for me at the bus station to be picked up and taken to Avery. Aiden is Avery’s son from Avery’s previous marriage. This would be the first time that little Aiden meets Avery’s girlfriend, Angel. She was a good fit for Avery and always supportive of his tattoo shop even though she would never get a tattoo herself. I quickly rose from my bed and let out a yawn. I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t look half bad in the early morning. I couldn’t even remember the last time I woke up this early in the morning. I quickly got dressed in jeans and a Motorhead t-shirt. I brushed my hair and put it up in a bun, I wasn’t about to mess with make up this early in the morning. I hopped into my black 57 Chevy and went to the bus station. Little Aiden stood there with his blue little mohawk looking around for me. “Hey there little guy!” I leaned down so he could give me a hug. “How was the trip?” He smiled, “It was awesome! I got to see a lot of towns on the way from mommy’s!” I laughed as we walked to my car. I helped him put his bags in the car and made sure he was safely in it. “Are you excited to see your dad?” He nodded. “Yeah… are you dating daddy?” I let out a small laugh. “No. But his girlfriend is happy to meet you. She’s really nice. You’ll love her.” Aiden scrunched his face. “Really?” I nodded. “Really.” Looking at Aiden, I saw a resemblance to David. I never knew what had become of my son. I have this urge to research it. After all, it was my son. I partially believe I see a resemblance because I remember times being a mother. I’ll start looking for David tomorrow on my day off. I don’t know how I’ll take it. I truly hope he had a long and lovely life.

                  We made the turn into Avery’s Tattoos. Avery lived above the shop. I was debating going to art school part-time to eventually be a tattoo artist myself. Avery loved that idea and has been pushing me ever since. He always tells me that I’d have a secure job with him and that I should really let out my artist passion. In all my lives, I never thought I would feel content or go to college. Angel picked up Aiden. “Hey little guy.” She smiled at him. “My name is Angel. You must be Aiden. I just love your mohawk!” He smiled and I knew he enjoyed being held by her. Avery and Angel made a lovely couple and I felt honored to have them as friends.

                 Avery came over to me with a manila folder. “I appreciate you pickin’ up the little man.” He smiled. “Not a problem. He’s a kick ass kid.” I laughed. Avery handed me the manila folder. “Here is some info for you to succeed as a tattoo artist. Angel and I really want to see you succeed. You’re part of our family.” I took the envelope and smiled looking at the contents. “Thanks guys.” I spent the rest of the night chatting with them about what I needed to do. I even stayed the night on their couch.

               I awoke at 8:45 AM. The news was on the television. A young woman was missing from town. Angel handed me a cup of coffee. “I hope they find her.” She said in a sombre tone. “Me too.” I said blowing on my coffee, nodding in agreement. “…We here at News 7 wish Gloria Roberts a safe return…”