Author Aija Monique Butler, was born in San Diego California, in 1979. She currently resides in the San Francisco Bay area where she is a student of Medicine pursing a graduate degree in Healthcare Management. She is an Advocate and Philanthropist for non-profit program development in the areas of Youth and Social Service Development. She is a grant writer and holds an extensive background in Psychology and has a host of medical certifications. Aija has a love for the arts and is a writer of poetry both fiction and non-fiction novels and memoirs.

Aija Butler is the Author of the Fiction Mystery Suspense Drama, My Nemesis a book series, Non-Fiction Memoirs, “Life Honestly After, The Undeniable Truth,” and “The Rebirth of My Soul,” an intimidate look at her walk with illness, sharing her journey through recovery and independence. She is also the Poet/Songstress of the Poetic Experience, My Butterfly Effect, and Non-Fiction Poetic Memoirs, In the Mourning.

Latest works involve freelance article writing,and an album of musical and poetic memoirs. Aija also looks to put together her first script and plans to release three new books in the year 2012. Look out for this creative genious she is taking on the world of creative arts by storm.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Excerpt from The Essays of a Ticking Time Bomb


He came into my room abruptly, grabbed my paper and pen, and looked at me questionably.

"How dare you barge into my private quarters, invading my thoughts!” I gazed from the empty space whence my items of solitude were stolen, and looked into the face of my attacker delirious with rage and invincible spirit.

"I will take these," he said simply turning on his heels to depart as if he had won.

"Cocky! Aren't we,” I replied clenching my teeth.

"Get some sleep," He whispered over his
shoulder disregarding my warning of explosion.
Angrily, then without warning I leaped onto his back, scratching the meat from his bone. Exposing his rotting flesh for the world of spectators to view. He would serve as my example.
“Bear the scars, Let Freedom Ring,” I scream, kneading the craters in his face smooth. Biting and tearing the skin from his bone, “You will not survive! You best leave me alone.”

Defensively, he flung me from my clawing and slung me onto the bed. I would stand and face my attacker. I threw my legs and arms into a windmill of terror beating

him about the head and shoulders. I hit him hard in the face, yelling obscenities and foul slurs.
"You have raped me for the last time. you can't keep me from my most precious love. The words on these pages may creep during the night; and murder you while you sleep. I'm not afraid of you. I have overcome the troubles of my heart. You may not be so lucky.

I command my words to slay you where you stand. No more will you deface me. Spew my hidden thoughts to the public, and force me to counsel. I will prey on your soul with my voodoo pen, writing your sins on your face for the world to see."

You are just as I, human with odd feelings. Some of which I may regret, but shall not repress. Your are the one in which should seek the comfy whites of a cell and a cot for living a lie. You live in the dark, hosting many closets as I don't waste time with frivolous things."

“Speaking the thoughts of my mind may not always be appropriate, but my pen and pad will tell it all. TICKING NOW..., You have opened the doors to my wrath, slithering invading the pages of my diary, stealing my secrets."

I lowered my eyes and pointed at him with conviction and authority, "I say to you once and only once. This I say. I will spare you, and forget this moment of ignorance you so displayed; but never again will you be allowed to leave these enclosed walls without the damnation of your soul, becoming a vivid reality.

The Bomb in my hands is ticking. Look down onto my hands. You may find that I have past it onto you, and it has crept into your bed. You will cease to exist.
My rights are constantly challenged in the world by conformity and the society’s norm.

I have peace here, within the pages of my diary. I allow my anger to release its wrath, my self counsel.
Passing these thoughts of anger, disappointment, and hurt, onto the pages of this book, I bring closure to these ill feelings and become strong. Acknowledging the truth and setting a path anew.”

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