A fitting title to the story, but I have to disappoint you from the start; if you expected a death-bed of the blog confession of two unsolved murders, you'll be disappointed beyond imagination.
This is the tale of two stories which I trashed, even though sales and declining readers of the stories show that I lost my power to enchant, out of over 100 short and medium length stories which I wrote over the past two years; only two got totally trashed which I think is a good average considering I'm my harshest critic.
Story 1 was about a writer who was forced to leave the country he grew up in and be separated from his lovely wife and family. I trashed this story after about two pages as I was getting depressed while writing the story, the story of a man who wishes to be read yet unrecognised was a personal theme which recurred in stories with P A Canella, especially the ending to Chronicles book 2.
Story 2 was more recent, this was the only time I tried to write for the market trends - I don't count Sexual Explosions 1 which I was writing a good month or two before it went on line - my attempt to write a zombie story died (unlike the genre) after less than a page as I had no sense of being able to instil my personality in the characters which is what made my work so well liked.
The other story I would have liked to kill is the well known story of "The Old Church Ghosts" which went on to be my most read story. I didn't like the story because after writing two 7,000 word stories doing this 1,500 word story, I felt I was letting my friends down.