A Walk Through Helll

By TJ Weeks

Autobiography by award winning horror author TJ Weeks. The life he led was rough, but he has pulled through and is coming through as one of the best horror authors of this day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TJ Weeks
• Release date: Jul 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512176025

Book preview

Table of Contents

Younger Days

THE CRAZINESS

MY FIRST SCHOOL

GOOD OLE’ MOM

HERE COMES THE CRAZY

DOPEY DAYS

Eighteen

09/11

CAITLYN AND KIDS

DAVID WITH BLACK HANDS

MILITARY

A NOT SO GREAT R&R

THE BEST WOMAN EVER

MILITARY AGAIN

REGULAR LIFE, KIND OF

SANDY

PTSD

SANDY AGAIN

FIGHTS

BETTER THAN I WAS, BUT STILL FUCKED UP LIFE

Younger Days

Well, let’s start this off with when I started this most awesome life! (Sarcastically said). Throughout this book, let me apologize in advance if I offend anyone and just a warning, my sarcasm is infinite.

I was born March eighteenth of nineteen eighty two in the slow growing town of Odessa, Texas. It was a town in the desert part of Texas, where quality entertainment was chasing tumbleweeds. I have looked back at the town these days and almost don’t recognize it fore it has grown so much since I was a child. Now it is over populated from the oil boom and even has an ice skating rink in the mall.

My mother was four foot eleven but not a small woman, if you get my drift. She had brown hair and was soft spoken. She was quite timid and introverted. She did spank me and gave me discipline when I did wrong, but most of the time it was the whole wait until your father gets home process.

My Father was a semi skinny man. He had a mustache and a thick country accent. He was the one that made me do the things that HE wanted me to. If he wanted me to be something that is what was going to be.

My Sister is three years older and has always been very skinny and tiny. She has blue eyes like me. She was always hip with the styles at that time. She wore the big poofy hair and all. She was always very quiet and timid like my mother.

One of the greatest memories I have about my sister, (and yes this is mean) is that when we lived in Odessa, she had a pet bull named Bossy. Bossy used to get out of the fence all the time and my Dad and Grandfather used to go catch him and put him back and repair the fence all the time. One day, my Dad got tired of fixing the fence and took Bossy to the butcher shop. He told my sister he had gotten out again and they could not find him. Soon after that we were all sitting at the dinner table and my sister just had a bad attitude, so I told her she was eating Bossy. Needless to say, I got in trouble and my sister is now a vegetarian.

My Grandmother, my mother’s mother, which we called Granny, was the best woman I have ever known. She was four foot eleven, however if you asked her she was four foot eleven and three quarters, she had the brightest blue eyes, which is where my sister and I got our blue eyes since our parents had brown and green eyes. She was stern and would get on to you, but was a bit lenient on the ass busting. She was very outspoken and blunt. She was a strong minded woman that kept the family together. She loved all of us. She was the one that kept everything cordial. There are many people to this day that will tell you that she touched their lives in a positive way.

I remember we used to spend holidays at her house in Odessa. It was not ever a request or an invite that you would be there, you just did as she told you to. Not just me, but the whole family, (Which I am sure many of them are regretting that I became a writer at this point).  You didn’t eat at her house, you feasted! If you didn’t get full, then you didn’t put any effort into it. She used to let me and my cousin rent horror movies and stay up and watch them. We watched Pumpkinhead a lot, which is still to this day, my all-time favorite killer.

She was the light of my life throughout my life story. No matter what was going on in my life, she was always a part of it and never made up any excuses to not be there, which I will get into later.

My Grandfather was Charlie. There is not much I remember about him. I remember that he was short and very stocky for an old guy. He had very broad shouldered and gave out ass whoopins with no problem.

I remember that he used to wake me and my sister up with doughnuts and would sit and eat them with us and drink his coffee. He used to do things like put his truck on cruise control and drive with his knee and put his hands in the air and tell us he had a magic truck.

My grandparents lived in one of the old World War II houses. It used to have a bunker before they remodeled some of it. I remember when we were little my grandmother used to use it as a pantry and we used to go into it and thought it was the neatest thing, but going in alone was quite creepy.

I want to start with as many stories that I remember from as far back as I can remember. So bear with me.

My first memory was when the circus came to town and my Granny, had bought tickets to take us. I barely made it inside before having an asthma attack, and had to be rushed to the hospital, where I ended up staying for about a week. I remember getting so many shots that I had told the nurse that I was afraid to drink because she had poked so many holes in me. Yes, I was sarcastic even back then.

I was a very sickly young child. Obviously I had asthma; I was also allergic to all of the poisonous plants, like poison ivy, oak and sumac. Not just allergic. I was deathly allergic. My eyes would swell shut and I looked like I had been in a fight with Mike Tyson and I would have to go to the hospital for a shot if the wind blew right to blow it in the vicinity of where I was. I also got strep throat constantly.

Right before I had gone into the hospital with my asthma attack, my Dad had bought me a puppy. While I was in the hospital our neighbor killed it with a pitchfork because it went into his yard. That was my first experience with hate.

My parents told me that I was not old enough to know about love and hate, but they were wrong. Throughout my life, even at this young age, I was given examples of love, hate, anger, chaos, and any other feeling you can imagine.

My Dad took on a new job which led us to East Texas. We moved to Grand Saline, Tx. I can say that I don’t remember the inside of the house we moved to much at all, but I still remember the outside very vividly. It was a small white house on a big hill with a carport attached. We never used the carport for cars; instead I had an old plastic horse that was on springs. When you bounced on it, it would make a sound like a horse running. There was also a square hay bale that sat under the carport with a plastic bull head spiked into it. I used to sit on that horse and try and rope the bull all day long.

Sounds like a great life starting out right? Well, keep reading.

THE CRAZINESS

I am going to break it down to the actual realization of things.

I was not old enough to go to school at this time; so when I say I used to rope all day long. I don’t mean I woke up and decided it was what I needed to do. My Dad was a cowboy and decided at my birth that I was going to be a real live cowboy as well. So he would put me on that old plastic horse with a blue and white rope and would have me throwing, trying to rope that bull head all the time. If I missed it, he would yell about what I was doing wrong. If I roped it, he would yell at me about how bad my form was while doing it. I grew up thinking I was pretty worthless from that point.

This is probably where my whole twisted mind starts, but the greatest thing I remember from living in that house was a night when my Mom came running in the house screaming. My Dad jumped up not asking a question of why and grabbed his rifle and ran outside. My Mom pointed up in the tree outside of our house at a possum that was hanging by