While I’m still deciding on if I should write and publish under my married name or not, I had a chance to check in with my inner child, The Davis Girl. Coming all the way from 1987, here she is with what looks like a plate of cupcakes with the frosting licked off.
Me: Hi, The Davis Girl, thanks for joining me today!
The Davis Girl: Don’t have much choice, do I?
Me: Not at all. So, why do you write horror?
The Davis Girl: Well, if I don’t, how will they know what to do?
The Davis Girl: What.
Me: Ok. When did you know you wanted to be a writer?
The Davis Girl: I don’t want to be a writer. I want to shut them up.
The Davis Girl: The ones that make me listen to the stories.
Me: Are…they here with you now?
The Davis Girl: Well. You’re here. So. I mean, that’s two.
Me: How many are there, exactly?
The Davis Girl: Next question.
The Davis Girl: Seven.
The Davis Girl: I thought it was thirteen.
Me: SO what do you do in your spare time?
The Davis Girl: I wait in the hollowed out log. However long it takes. Day in. Day out. Out there behind the old school house and wait for the children with the black eyes to bring the cupcakes. It’s cold there.
Me: Hey! What’s your favorite color?
The Davis Girl: Dorian Gray.
Me: Oh, look at the time.
The Davis Girl: You didn’t eat your cupcake.