A Condemned Man's Regrets

With each step he takes,
Across wooden boards; creak,
Towards his fate; he shakes,
His knees becoming weak.

And through his mind shot:
Every moment he'd lost,
Every moment forgot,
And every moment crossed.

A young boy's first love,
Seen across the courtyard:
Young girl; skin, white as dove,
Lips red as fruit orchard.

Remembered her eyes,
Like blue ponds of jewels.
But remembered the lies,
And remembered the fools.

A fond heart given,
From a young boy in love.
But thou's heart was stolen,
By the young girl, thereof.

Another thought dread:
Of a soldier's farewell,
Kiss to his beloved,
Quick, for he cannot dwell.

A sacrifice made,
By a man who was forced,
Wishing he could've stayed,
But his love reinforced.

But oceans apart,
His death most feasible,
It broke her loving heart,
Made second love plausible.

So on his return,
He discovered instead:
Another man did yearn,
Atop his love in bed.

Another does pain:
When his life's dream was stole,
But the devil to blame,
Was a popular troll.

His stories so great,
Were envied by the thief,
But court's judge, he did mate
Found convincing, if brief.

So bias was judge-
Found the thief innocent,
Gave our hero new grudge,
Made revenge imminent.

And revenge he took,
Upon the one's who hurt.
Sinned upon the prayer book,
His faith he did desert.

The knife he did wield,
And the lives he did take.
Four bodies were revealed,
With each, his heart did ache.

Young woman, lips red,
Pale skin, eyes: blue ponds.
Found by family, dead.
With sadness- they respond.

Another woman,
Her partner taken too.
But by the bed, a gun,
A soldier's would be true.

Alas just one more,
A great tale writer.
Usual face at church door,
A well known sin fighter.

But back to present,
As the condemned man walked,
His head in sorrow, bent,
His knees in fear, rocked.

The noose pulled over,
And the black hood pulled down.
His pain worse when sober.
The crowd: all of the town.

As the trap door went,
As his gross body swung,
His last words begged repent,
And still to life he clung.

For, the last regrets,
Of a condemned man's mind,
Can plague his final debts,
And render the soul blind...

Death in Autumn- Part 5

Ella Bular was a familiar face at the local newsagents, returning daily to purchase her usual chocolate bars, crisps, coke and half of the stock of junk food. And today was no different, "These thanks," she grunted to the shop assistant, slamming her chosen foods down onto the till. 

"Sure," he murmured in reply. "Bit late isn't it?" he warned, checking his watch and glancing nervously through the windows where it was already getting dark.

"Pah!" she spat. "Wimp," she sneered, taking the two bags full of junk food from the short man and stumbling out side.

Now the newsagents was on a high street, the other shops long since abandoned, and Shalley Forest towered over the right side of the street. And as the overweight Ella waddled down the street, huffing as she did, the tops of the trees swayed, catching her eye and holding it. But dismissing this immediately, she continued on, getting to a bend in the street that led down to a block of houses. Pausing for a minute to get her breath back, she went to take a step when she heard a light scuffling. 

"Its probably nothing," she told herself, about to step again when another, similar noise stopped her.

"Its probably the boys from school taking the piss," she told herself, then said slightly louder, "Oi! Jeremy, I know its you!"

Silence.

Ella nodded to herself and stepped forward, to be halted by a louder noise. A growl.

Anger and fear flooded through her as she turned around, expecting to see the boys from her class in year 10 laughing at her, but there was no one there.

"Come on! Where are you then? Come to take the piss?" she called, her voice noticeably weaker. 

Something ran behind her, rattling a couple of metal bins by the side of the street, knocking two completely over.

She spun round, dropping her bags. 

"Come out!" she screamed, still trying to convince herself it was just lads larking about.

Her hands were trembling, her legs shaking. 

Hearing a quiet shish as if material or hair was brushing against something, her head snapped round. Still, she saw nothing. She was sweating uncontrollably now and her breathing was increasing rapidly and becoming more erratic, she knew she couldn't run without having an asthma attack and she had left her inhaler at home. But a small sound of something scratching the concrete lightly surged her into a run, sprinting down her street, her weight dragging her down. Shadows became monsters all around her, the noise of the wind becoming their howls. But it might interest the reader to know that the huge moon that shined cold light on her scene of panic, was only half full tonight...

Ella, remembering the legend about the full moon, looked up quickly to check for herself and noticed quite so, but that wasn't the only thing she saw above her.

Suddenly it dived on her from the roof, its strength overpowering her, its claws tearing at her. Ella's eyes remained glazed and staring towards the half-full moon, the only clue discovered the following morning after her ravaged body was found bleeding on the cold concrete of her street. 

Rose Manor- Part 3

As the gravelly country lane suddenly appeared before the small, blue Peugeot, the huge looming mansion soon followed. It’s derelict tiles lay broken and detached from the walls around the house. Cracked, eerie windows, glared solemnly at those who dared look back. It’ four stories became infinite, as it reared up towards the heavily clouded sky. The large oak front door, splintered and hanging off its hinges, enticed unwelcome visitors in a bewitching curiosity to enter the foreboding labyrinth beyond. Dead, barren land stretched acres in every direction behind it, an ancient tin sign hung on fallen barbed wire, warning people against trespassing there.

Emilia smiled the smallest smile at the thought that popped into her head, ‘Yeah, because people need to be told not to wander into the field, let alone the house.’

But even her sarcastic thoughts couldn’t prevent the inevitable flood of butterflies quickly clutching her stomach. She knew the stories that went with the mysterious bodies that lay around the manor.

Quickly, she drove on, until reaching No. 24, where she parked hurriedly in the paved driveway and sat back in her tight, over stuffed seat, in exhaustion. Closing her eyes for a minute, she counted slowly back from ten, her ears picking up- while winding down the car window- as she heard a distant sparrow chirp. Focussing her conscious thoughts on the woeful song, she allowed herself to relax momentarily- the melody emanating from the nearby hedge soothing her stress and anxiety for the space of a few short minutes.

Before a warbling cry, coming from the front door of the large bungalow in front of the car, snapped her out of her short meditation with a jolt. Her eyes flew open and she saw her mother with her arms flung up in the air, an open grin stretched across her lightly wrinkled face. Her caramel coloured hair waving graciously down past her shoulders, “Emilia!” she cried in joy. Running over to the passenger door in her well-worn slippers, her place on the front porch soon replaced by Emilia’s Aunt Maeve, who repeated her sister’s actions exactly and dashed over to join her by the car door.

Emilia’s mother, Michelle, had divorced her husband fifteen years ago now, and continued to live with her sister since two years before she had gotten the divorce through. Emilia had left home at seventeen after having moved to No. 24 in Grenwich when she was four, a result in the escalating aggressiveness of the fights between her parents, thus resulting in Michelle’s quick retreat to her sister’s. This was just one of the reasons that Emilia was so ashamed of her mother and enjoyed her five year absence before they’d met again at the funeral and she had been enticed to break her promise to herself, to never see her mother again.

They knocked on the door and Emilia leant over the passenger seat to reluctantly wind the window down, “Hiya,” she smiled gingerly.

Her mother and her Auntie Maeve were alike in so many ways but at least their looks varied, if only slightly. For, Auntie Maeve had thick wavy blond hair, if slightly shorter than her sister’s, coming just to her shoulders, and had a much fuller build, whereas her mother was an awful lot slimmer and an additional four or five inches taller.

“Well, come on out of there then love!” her Auntie grinned fondly.

Stretching a tight smile across her face, Emilia reluctantly switched off the engine and stepped out of the car. She was then led through the white polished front door, into the cosy house beyond it, to be immediately greeted by two little boys, bounding down the hall to fling themselves at her.

“Oh…” she grimaced at the small boys, currently clutching at her legs with worryingly snotty hands. “Hey you little bastar- Sam,” she corrected herself qucikly. “And Mark…?”

“Michael!” my mum hissed at me.

“Yes of course, Sam and Michael, how could I forget these two little… silly billies!” Emilia managed through gritted teeth.

After a vile dinner of lots of green things, Emilia had retreated to the living room, where she currently lounged; her feet resting on the black leather stool matching the sofa she sat on. The TV was on the news channel, but muted, as Emilia read her weathered copy of ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’, propped on her crossed legs. The sun-leeched pages rustling against each other as she sped through them, subtly admiring the beautiful, in-depth language of Victor Hugo. Paralysed in her faraway land, a mysterious, slight smile playing on her face- when a sudden yelp caused her to leap to her feet, sending the hardback flying across the room, burying itself in the jungle-like cream carpet.

“Hi Emily!” beamed one of the small boys, his short curly brown hair bouncing around his head.

Emilia focussed not on remembering the boy’s name and which one he was anyway- although a small suspicion told her it may have been Michael, the younger one- and instead on not shaking his little bony shoulders until her name rattled into him, and not just the first couple of syllables.

“It’s Emilia, Michael,” she informed him as politely as was possible with a tightly clenched jaw. “What’s up?”

“Do you wanna hear a story?” the little boy asked, before jumping to sit where Emilia had just leapt out of, and grinned up at her, discreetly studying her flamingo pyjama bottoms and burgundy hoodie, clearly two sizes too big.

But that one sentence made her blood go cold.

If the people of Grenwich were to ever acquire a catchphrase, ‘Do you want to hear a story?’ would’ve easily been it.

Emilia was all too aware of what that sentence led up to. The story it beckoned toward.

Black Manor and the insane Victoria Black who haunted it.

Swallowing, she desperately fought the irrevocable, sneering thoughts of her childhood that began to cloud her head.

No! She told herself as firmly as she possibly could. It’s been eight years, just forget about it.

But of course she never could.

However her determined thoughts were suddenly interrupted by another voice.

“Go on Emilia,” it was her mother’s, who had entered the room and gracefully sank down onto the adjacent, identical sofa, carrying with her a steaming cup of tea and a plate of three round healthy looking biscuits- which she placed noiselessly on the birch wood coffee table by her slippered feet. “Go on,” she repeated. “He loves to tell his stories!”

Emilia’s grimace was replaced by a compulsory smile that urged for his continuance, at her immense ungratefulness.

“Well, you know the huge Victorian House- like the scariest one in the whole wide world, on the country lane?” he began, proceeding after Emilia’s unenthusiastic nod. “Well…! It’s so scary because a mad woman called Victoria used to live there. She used to be nice but that was just pretend! She was actually evil, Sam says she’s the evilest person times a million. And then she married a man called Mr Black and then she killed all the people who stayed at the inn. Oh! And she owned the big house, Black Manor and it was an inn. And anyway, she killed everyone in it! And then she had a baby and she left the baby on the street to die too, but a nice lady picked her up and the baby became her daughter instead. And then Victoria had a son and sent him away to work in a bad factory in a different country. And he was never seen again! And then she killed her husband too! And then she went crazy and killed herself in the big old house because she felt bad. And that was hundreds and hundreds of years ago and the manor is still haunted because her ghost is still there. And Jamie from school says that he’s been in the house and seen the ghost and it tried to kill him but I don’t believe him and mum says he’s telling fibs too!”

“Sounds good,” Emilia dismissed, stretching down to retrieve her book.

“That’s nothing!” Sam had entered the room to assist his brother in the telling of the story. “Black Manor was once an amazing inn, where everyone loved it. But the owner, Victoria Black had merely made this up, because then something changed… Something clicked in Victoria’s head and suddenly she was no longer nice and kind to people, but instead she hated them for their happiness and began to kill them, she would slit the corner of their mouth, then their nostrils and then gouge out their eye! She married a man called Charles Black, and they had two children- a boy and a girl, she abandoned one on the street and sold the other one in Ireland. Then she went completely mad and killed herself after her poor husband finally managed to escape, he then got all of her money and was finally rescued and was never heard of again. But to this day, she wanders the halls of her inn, searching for the happy residents left, and they say you can still hear her jingling the room keys…”

“Right,” Emilia swallowed and proceeded to leave the room and make her way to the guest room, her bed for the three nights she was to stay there.

She sighed at the thin cotton, floral patterned curtains that let in the glowing orange light from the streetlight outside, the small single bed pushed to the very far corner of the room had a variety of sheets and blankets atop it, clearly made to prevent the cold for the sleeper but did little to nothing. A baby blue counter top ran the length of the two other walls of the room, with small cupboards that were home to old toys and dead insects, the top now shelved Emilia’s toiletries and underwear, her clothes were still folded and packed in the black solid plastic suitcase, lying on the floor by a flimsy blue spinney chair.

Déjà vu rang in her ears, but ignoring it, Emilia set herself in bed for a long, restless sleep.

Rose Manor- Part 2

The day Wendy Hugh discovered the crying baby on her street, was one of her most memorable, yet worst moments. Since the neighbours had begun discussing the woman, Victoria Black, who lived in the long since deserted mansion- everyone had forgotten who she used to be, what the house used to be. But Wendy had been pressured so often, that, by now, she too had forgotten and begun to associate Victoria Black, not with the charming and beauteous Rose Manor that seemed so long ago now- but instead with the murders and fears that haunted the small frightful village and plagued its nightmares.

Her inconspicuous home was only a few houses away from the dreadful manor and none of her close friends would let her forget it.

It was that afternoon- while she had been hounding her two sons, John and Peter- her oldest, John named after his father-, to refrain from skipping through the kitchen whilst she baked the birthday cake for her young nephew- that she had been nipping outside to subtly conceal the boys’ toys from sight of the ever-judging neighbours. When a peculiar sound had diverted her attention. Twisting her torso to make sense of the cause, she caught sight of a small wicker basket laid carefully by the road. Curiously stepping forward to investigate, she gasped and almost fell backward when she saw its contents. Covering her gaping mouth with her dainty fingers- lightly dusted with white flour- she gingerly approached the basket again, to certain her shock. And her now wide eyes had not mistaken her, for a barely month-old baby did lay, crying erratically, inside the small wicker basket. Reaching for the delicately folded note laid upon the baby’s blanket covered feet, the elegant, if slightly rushed ink writing, read:

To Whom It May Concern, this may be one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, abandon my only baby daughter to the mercy of the residents of Grenwich. Care for her, is my desperate plea to you, and never let her know of her true origin- which was of Victoria Rose Black. My babe can no longer hold her faith and hope upon me, for I can no longer bestow such luxury upon her. So please accept her and protect where I no longer could. Her name is Anne-Rose Black.

Yours, V. Black

Such a compassionate act of gracious humanity occurred that starry night, as Wendy Hugh carried the innocent, vulnerable little baby back into her home. But there was none to see it, save a tall, selfish woman who was known around the town as Mrs Spritt, an extremely prejudiced religious woman who destroyed people with her viscous gossip. And she had witnessed everything happen from Victoria Black leaving the baby by the side of the road, in more tears than her child, to Wendy Hugh cradling the baby in her arms as she returned into her home. Alas the malicious twinkle in her eye and the hushed curse under her breath at the incredible act of blasphemy before her, told the sparrow in the crisp-leafed hedge beside her (the only other body present) that they were not to be the only ones who had discovered the evil secret of No. 24, Hugh House.

Sand Timer- Part 3 (Charlie)

After arriving in a small city called Brunsden, which would be my home until I could afford otherwise, I cautiously opened the door into the flat. A groan escaped my lips at the sight before me. It was a two room apartment, the main room being the living room, kitchen and bathroom (a small block of wood jutting out of the wall to conceal most of the toilet.) and the other room being my bedroom. The main room was, at most, maybe six or seven metres each way, the kitchen taking up the right corner and the bathroom hidden to the side of the kitchen. The bedroom was through a small door from the kitchen, its cleanliness not any better than the main room. Dirt and grime forested here, blooming in thousands in every corner. Mould covered most of the wooden cupboards and stains patterned every piece of furniture. The kitchen consisted of two cupboards on the wall, a mini fridge, a disgusting-looking sink with taps covered in lime scale, a stove with one hob that didn't light and several other boards and cupboards. The living room had a second hand sofa with holes revealing rotting stuffing and rusted springs; a rug which might have grown its own hairs; and a box radio. The bathroom had only a toilet that had never seen soap and a toilet roll holder without a roll. The bedroom had a single bed, without sheets or blankets, which wobbled precariously when I sat on it; dark curtains that made sunshine a distant dream; a couple of shelves on the far wall; and a small, rickety bedside table. 

Gazing at my new home, I sighed and took out the cleaning supplies I'd bought downstairs at the small supermarket. This was going to be a big job but cleaning was always something I'd been particular about, I fired up an awful storm if someone cleaned something out of my order. But I was living alone now and could do things as I pleased...

Lost in the Forest- Part 3

Glancing guiltily at Tanya’s unconscious body, his thoughts wrenched away to his home in Canada.

He was barely seventeen and had already mastered at his family hunting business, they poached and hunted a huge range of animals, travelling worldwide collecting exotic carcasses to sell on the black market. He and a group of his employees had travelled to Iceland in hope of finding a newly sighted pack of extremely rare black and grey mixed bred wolves, which had claimed the territory of the Icelandic mountains and forests. And they’d found what they had been looking for, however they were much larger and vicious than they had expected. All that mixed with an apparent undaunted outlook on humans, was very deadly. So much so, they had slaughtered his whole team, he hadn’t really known the others, but with Tanya he’d sustained a good friendship that had collapsed when she began to fall for him. He watched the wisps of her platinum blond hair, dance and twirl in the breeze. Gently, as if to preserve her defiant, horrified expression, he lifted head to face the other way; he couldn’t meet her glazed eyes, highlighted by a thick layer of mascara and eyeliner. Another tear broke free and escaped down his cheek as he checked her pulse, and no beat met his fingers.

He shifted back to Shimone, “How can you live here?”

She just glared and stalked off, to return a moment later carrying a whole human leg in her mouth, which she dropped onto the ground in front of Daniel. She nudged the fresh meat with her nose, an offering.

Daniel gagged and fought the instinctive urge to retch.

Cocking her head on one side, Shimone frowned again, puzzled at his resentment to the still bleeding flesh. In an attempt to reassure him, she knelt down and tore a chunk off with her teeth, blood dribbled down her lips and chin, dripping onto the forest floor.

Almost fainting, Daniel backed as far away as he could, leaning on a large, cold stone for support. Shimone continued to devour the vile aliments, after she’d finished, she snarled at Daniel, spitting blood and bits of flesh at him. The rusty smell of the raw blood that covered her mouth and chin overwhelmed him and forced him to heave violently.

Oblivious to his repulsion, she growled again, beckoning for him to follow her.

Gingerly, he got to his feet and lumbered his exhausted body to the den, hesitating to whisper goodbye to Tanya’s corpse, he didn’t expect to see it again. Turning back to stare solemnly into Shimone’s feral bewitching eyes, he crept forward, entering a terrifying new world, following a beautiful, savage beast who was the reason he desired to venture further into this mystifying, twisted labyrinth…

Rose Manor- Part 1

This story is one I actually did for my English homework in secondary school and was told it was too long, but I've decided to post it on here and find out what you think instead. It's a dual narrative which means that every other paragraph is set in the past and the rest are in the present, I hope you enjoy it and it interests you as much as it did me to write it. :) Here are the first three paragraphs...

Grenwich, would be a lovely town- with the homely little houses, dotted around neat and tidily; with the large Grenwich Lake, in Wolfson Park, a perfect crystal mirror to the sky; even with the absence of the cherry blossoms that once made a scheduled appearance each spring it would be lovely. Grenwich would be a lovely town, if the inhabitants didn’t live in fear of the huge, eerie mansion that plagued the small country lane at the edge of the village. Black Manor was a name the residents of the town shied away from, but if ever asked by tourist or traveller, every soul- alive or dead- had stories to tell of that house. However, every story- true or otherwise, was formed around the legend of the mad woman whom once lived there.

Rose Manor was once a beautiful, famed inn, favoured by all whom visited. The baby pink cherry blossoms would envelop it in the spring, with joy and freedom. And the dustings of snow would make the warm fires inside, all the more cherished during the winter. In the year of 1906, little bad was to be heard of Grenwich, for it had never been such a widely adored place of homeliness and glee- an intoxicating drug to rid yourself of the fears and sadness barred by the town boundaries. But, of course, this was all back in 1906.

The gentle hum of the car stereo proceeded to lull her into a continued state of false composure, as she desperately attempted to ready herself for her arrival. Flexing her stiff hands on the leather covered steering wheel, Emilia James counted slowly backwards from ten- and silently rehearsed her greeting, “Hi mum! Auntie! How nice to finally see you again. And look, there are the little brats-!”No!, she scolded herself. You must not refer to them as brats this time, the funeral was bad enough. She grimaced as she recalled the last meeting between her mother, auntie and little cousins- it had been her Grandmother’s funeral and little had prepared her for the lack of restraint on her tongue as she’d addressed the little cousins as brats, much to the snickering amusement of her audience of supposed relatives.
Tensing her jaw, she let her mind swell up with anger and regret at ever accepting the offer of visiting her mother and aunt at their house in Grenwich. Urgh! She shuddered at the name. Emilia despised Grenwich, it’s superstitious, ever fearing residents; its gaudy flowers and homes; the stories of the supposedly haunted house on the country lane leading into it. She loathed it. Having been born and raised in Grenwich herself, she had heard a fair few hundred different retellings of the same ghastly story of the dreadful mad woman who butchered travellers who came to stay at her inn, and then married a degenerate man who together discarded their daughter on the street and then sold their one son into slavery in a factory in Ireland eleven years following. After the factory in Ireland had been closed no one had ever seen the son again- many a theory to be heard, though, was there in Grenwich. But there was a rumour that the daughter had been found and adopted into a family by a young mother somewhere within the town. Emilia no longer had compassion for any of the presumed victims, favouring instead to forget about her traumatic childhood there. But now, she had been mercilessly entangled in a forced invitation to return, goaded by bait of a promised inheritance. So she had returned, against her will, to what would soon become her permanent residence.

Death in Autumn- Part 4

"Detective Hudson, you're not honestly implying that the cause of these attacks is an imaginary fairy tale monster?" Sgt Coulson accused, shouting across the office at the man stood explaining his theory towards the recent attacks.

"Well Miss Coulson-" Det Hudson started.

"Sergeant," Sgt Coulson corrected immediately.

"Sergeant Coulson, what's your opinion of the attacks then."

Sgt Coulson began shouting at the detective and without warning the rest of the room erupted in noise as the whole office verbally debated the mystery of the killer of Shalley Falls.

The whole town of Shalley Falls was in a similar state of uproar, hurling accusations between themselves, suspicious of everyone who gave them a second look in the street. Everyone was afraid, no one knew what was going to happen next. Doors and windows remained shut and locked each night and social interaction became minimal.

Alice Foster was still staying at her brother's house, while decorators painted her house in Lincoln. She currently sat in her brother's kitchen, bent over his wooden table, studying a newspaper clipping from 1973. Cain was in an identical position opposite the table and was reading aloud, "-a huge number of animal attacks have been reported over the past few months, and the locals of Shalley Falls are starting to stir...'

Cain looked up at his sister, meeting her gaze.

This had happened before.

Lost in the Forest- Part 2

After hiking through endless tall thin trees, that scratched and clawed at Daniel’s loose clothes, the girl halted. Daniel peered around, searching for what had prevented her from continuing, when he noticed a large ditch that opened out into blackness. The girl checked behind and scrutinized Daniel and the twitching meat he cradled. Then she entered her lair halfway and stopped to bark at him, calling him in.

“I-I won’t fit-” he started, but she had already disappeared.

Daniel started to turn and jog the other way when a howl from the entrance of the cave compelled him to return to where she waited impatiently. She crawled out and snarled behind him, herding him into the darkness.

Unwillingly, he knelt down and edged his way ungracefully into the perilous shadows. Immediately, he noticed an audience of yellow eyes, illuminating the darkness, accompanied by an eerie silence.

He felt the girl behind him, shifting him forwards; he gripped onto Tanya’s dying figure and continued on. Tears dripped steadily down his flushed face, echoing as they hit the stone floor. He kept inching his way through the countless bodies of coarse fur, built together with stones and trees, killers.

That’s all he could think about as he wept over Tanya’s corpse, killers; he was trapped in a cave surrounded by killers.

When suddenly the darkness was swallowed away and they crawled into a clearing. Bending down to lay what remained of Tanya’s body onto the mess of pine leaves and branches. The girl slunk round to study him.

“Who are you?” he sobbed. “Where is this?!”

She just remained emotionless and stationery, silently examining his weeping figure.

“Shimone,” she growled.

Frowning, Daniel asked, “What did you say?”

“Shi-mone,” she snarled, carefully lifting a clawed paw-like hand to push into her tough chest.

“Your name!” Daniel realised. “You’re Shimone?!”

The girl frowned and repeated, “Shimone.”

Daniel cleared his throat and explained in a slow, calculated pronunciation, “Daniel.”

He pointed to himself.

“Dan-yell,"she tried.

"Dan- yull," he corrected.
"Dan- yall," she tried again.

Grinning at being able to teach the untamed girl simple language, Daniel clapped.

But Shimone misunderstood the baring of his gleaming white teeth, and growled loudly, showing her own.

Daniel was caught off guard and tried to soothe her.

As he did, he got a chance to really look at her. Long, wild hair slithered its way around her head and down her shoulders, tints of fiery red shone through the deep black as the sun bore down on them.

Despite her accomplices’ identical eyes, hers were rich brown, as if thousands of tiny velvet trees grew behind them. Her lips, a deep scarlet, were chapped and menacing however they were kind and welcoming in comparison to what waited hungrily behind them. When she snarled, she revealed her sharp, tough, blood-stained teeth. Daniel tried desperately to resist from thinking of whose blood it was and whether its source could be Tanya.

Wearing nothing but a mixture of fresh green and dying brown leaves entwined in long thin sticks covering her chest and torso, Daniel could see multiple bites and winding scars. He also noticed a relatively recent cut where a piece of rope must have been tied around her ankle; he wondered who would try to capture her, why the wolves accepted her and why she carried such a lupine personality and look about her. But as they watched each other with such interest and wonder- two identical worlds, with countless differences, colliding- Daniel couldn’t help discovering something so enchantingly fascinating, it gripped him with such force, compelling him to register the fierce, untamed beauty that seemed to radiate from Shimone. 

200th!

Just hit 200 page views! Let's keep the numbers soaring! Also, if anyone has any requests about particular genres they would like to read on this blog, please comment! :)

A Brief Peek Into Pandora's Islands

I am also currently writing a book titled, 'Pandora's Islands' and this is a sneak peek into one of the scenes after eleven teens are trapped on a mysterious island and they meet an enigmatic inhabitant boy named Coal, whom the main character, Sarah, can't help but feel like she's met before.

When I suddenly awoke, it took several long moments to realise why. That was when I heard the music. Faint and wispy but unmistakably, music. Standing up, I listened to the beautiful notes being whistled out of what I imagined to be some kind of wooden flute. Closing my eyes, my ears pricked up as I figured out where exactly it could be coming from. When I opened my eyes, I took a ginger step forward, and then another, and then another, each step surging curiosity and wonder through my veins. Climbing over a fallen tree, I lifted myself over a rustling nest of stones and twigs. And then, as I pushed a cluster of giant rubber-like leaves out of the way, I could see a clearing in front of me. And there, as if he'd been waiting there, for me, all his life, was Coal. As soon as I saw his tasselled, jet black hair, his big moss green eyes, and his ragged clothes fashioned from leaves and twigs, I once again felt that wave of ache and longing.
"Coal," I whispered, frowning, trying to clear my head. "What- what are you doing out here?"
As if in answer, he smiled, and stretched out his hand- still covered in dirt and grime- and whispered, "Come, follow me."
Pausing briefly, I wondered where he might lead me but after another moment hesitation, I realised I didn't care. My body felt exhausted, as if tired of trying to tell me that I would follow him to the end of the earth just as long as I felt his hand in mine. So I climbed forward and took his hand; it felt rough and firm but it was like I had just grabbed hold of a live circuit- everything inside me was tingling, alight with fire. This single moment was my whole life, all the waiting, all the feelings of love and loss I'd never felt, but they'd been biting at the back of my neck the whole time, waiting to be discovered with him, with Coal. The whole time they'd been trying to lead me to an impossible place, to an impossible island, to an impossible boy, to an impossible love. Marvelling at his existence, he led me over to an old split tree, a warm glow emanating from inside the bough. I peered over and gasped in shock and wonder, "Fairies!" I exclaimed, a smile of amazement already on my face.
"Fairies," Coal confirmed behind me, his breath showering sparks over my ears.
Inside the stump was an orchestra dressed in suits of leaves, playing wooden violins and flutes. An audience in such forest finery, danced in the centre. Each of them couldn't have been taller than six inches, their delicate limbs twirling and leaping about the floor as graceful as birds in the sky. And each of them, their own pair of shining wings, glowing like a dim bulb. Then, the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, rose from the floor with her partner, dressed in a gorgeous flowing silver gown, her golden hair shimmering and floating about her back. And they began to dance, the most graceful and elegant of them all, their pointed ears and sharp features conveyed all the love their sparkling, emerald eyes whispered. The sad notes of the music began to merge and highlight all the feelings my body was twisting, making them seem so blindingly obvious, I felt almost mocked. Turning to face Coal, our noses were almost touching. A shy but cheeky smile steadily stretched across his face and he held his left hand up to me, fingers spread. The yearning for him in my stomach made my head spin and slight nausea threatened to become more as I felt the same smile invade my lips. Lifting my right hand, I entwined our fingers, sparking lives wires running right the way through my arm to my body, sending my heart pounding- echoing around my insides. He placed his hand on my waist as I placed mine on his neck, and we danced. We danced as the heart breaking notes of the violins enveloped our bodies together, as the symphonic notes of the flutes swam around us. Every shiver, every tingle, ever pang of hunger and wanting I had ever felt, erupted from my heart, cascading through my finger tips, swarming me and Coal. Each step pressed our bodies closer, I could almost feel the desire wafting off him almost as much as I could feel mine. And then I looked up, into his eyes- as if gazing into a heavy forest- and the world halted for a few minutes, everything around us became unimportant and thus, silenced. Right then, it was just me and him, nothing else mattered, not surviving, not fear, not hunger, not trying to get home, not even life itself. Because I had found him, I had found my soul's counter point. Forever we danced, again and again, twisting and twirling, leaping and whirling. Until eventually, we stopped dancing, and he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine- a moth's wing, but to me he could've just as easily lit a thousand fireworks on my lips. My fingers, almost irrevocably, weaved themselves into his messy, knotted hair and pulled him closer to me, closing my eyes as I kissed him. Our limbs entangled as we stumbled back onto the leafy undergrowth of the forest floor. Our lips moved together in ways I'd never experienced, they knit together as if designed for each other. I felt Coal's warm hand gripping my thigh, interlacing our legs further. This wasn't the lust I'd imagined, this was our puzzle pieces slotting together perfectly. This was love and it was exploding out of every tree, every leaf, showering us in a lava of excitement, of joy, of a lost being found. Love wasn't just happiness or just sadness, it was a jealously mixed with trust, it was grief and joy, it was every muscle aching until it couldn't tense at all. And it made every denial, every debate of love seem like an insignificant joke, disappearing into the warp of what was once my life. I felt Coal's palms sliding my filthy shirt over my head and in turn gently peeled away the leaves and vines laced over his muscled chest. And as we kissed and touched, every cell, every part of me was charged, electric. And I felt something deep inside me, caged within my soul, writhe and howl, and I knew it was smiling, the most evil smile, because it knew I was changing. It knew I was changing beyond control, and when I did, it would be released.

Sand Timer- Part 2 (Zoe)

"-and we will always be here for you if you ever need someone to talk to or fall back on," Perry went on.
I yawned, bored with longing for this session to end. Checking my watch again, I saw that we only had about five minutes left- thank god. It was the last session of my terminal, ordered by the court following my hospitalization after overdosing on heroine. I shivered slightly, to remember that night was not something I planned on doing.
"Now I would like to congratulate you all in turn," Perry smiled, oblivious to my glowering stare at this comment. No way was I going to go up there in front of all these people. It was like some graduation day for primary school kids and some of my 'fellow classmates' were really putting on the dumb, excited kid act.
"Natasha Foster," Perry called, clapping and smiling as Tasha walked up to the small stage. Tasha was almost 20 and had chin length gingery blonde hair which I was supposed to call strawberry blonde.
As the rest of them went up to accept a certificate, a chocolate bar and a handshake, I checked my phone for messages- two from Greg, probably asking if I'd read the latest Heat or documenting how his date night with his partner Terry had gone.
"Zoe Nickson," I was drawn back to the scene of pretend excitement around me, as Perry called my name.
I scowled at him from my seat at the back of the room, my legs bent up on the chair with my head rested on my knees and my back hunched, I was pretty sure the overall position made me look like a preying vulture.
"Zoe Nickson," he called again, slightly louder, his expression slightly less friendly.
I sighed, exasperated as he glared at me pointedly, and stood. Everybody began clapping again and soon the room had erupted with cheering and clapping. It swelled over me, grabbing at my limbs, making me sweat with anxiety. I began to panic, I couldn't breath as I walked slowly toward the stage. Suddenly I was trapped within claustrophobia itself. My muscles froze, my heart raced, blood pounded in my ears. Too many people, too much noise, too many eyes watching. Watching me, everybody watching me. Panic flooded throughout my body, nausea burned my stomach and my throat. I ran, towards the side door leading out to the staff car park. Flinging the door open I ran outside and collapsed against the wall, breathing in the fresh air and rejoicing in the absence of people.

Lost in the Forest- Part 1

Daniel continued to search for an escape as the pack of vicious, snarling wolves enclosed on him further.

“Help!” he shrieked, but he was much too far into the forest, for anyone to hear him besides the birds who called warning songs to each other overhead.

Growling and snapping his giant jaws together threateningly, the huge black wolf- with coarse fur like charred dust- sent a younger wolf to the back of the crowd; shoving his way closer to Daniel. Daniel tried to stop looking into his merciless eyes, like yellow poison dripped into a steady puddle, but he couldn’t, and it sent the wolf into a frenzy.

He pawed the leafy ground and snapped his head back to howl, a petrifying, devastating song, across miles of sparse trees to his den hidden in the vast undergrowth.

Beside Daniel, Tanya suddenly kicked at the pile of dirt and crushed leaves, shooting a cloud of brown dust into the black wolf’s eyes. Then she kicked off the tree and ran back to the poacher’s truck, several metres away. The black wolf growled in pain and fury, and quickly grabbed her ankle in his teeth.

“No-!” Daniel tried to scream before the wolf had torn her leg in half- as if all she was made was rubber- and pounced on her.

The wolves all started at once, snarling, whining, howling and barking, tearing through each other to get at the fresh meat.

When all of a sudden he heard another howl, and then another body came flying through the trees- as graceful as a deer, leaping through fields. Except this was a girl.

“Help! Help us quickly! Hey!” Daniel called, but the only reply he got was a snarl from the girl.

Tanya screamed in agony as the wolves tore at her clothes, ripping at her flesh. When the mysterious girl leapt onto the huge black wolf, clinging onto his body -beneath the mass of fur- with long sharp claws. Howling in frustration, the black beast shook her off and lunged back towards the convulsing meat.

Shocked and confused, Daniel remained petrified with fear, unable to move from the damp tree as the girl snapped her head back and let out a long, piercing howl.

It shot through the trees, powering into the wolves, sending them whining and whimpering, dragging themselves reluctantly away.

“Thank you,” Daniel gasped through his chattering teeth.

The girl cocked her head to one side and studied him with curiosity. Cautiously, she crept over to his feet and sniffed his legs, slowly working her way up to her leg’s extent, until she stood on all fours, her arms and legs stretched.

He looked into her eyes, formed in the middle of an intricate labyrinth of faded scars. Growling softly, she nipped at the skin beneath his knee and turned to slink in the direction the pack had headed. Pausing only to pick up Tanya’s limp body, he warily followed the lupine-like girl.

Death in Autumn- Part 3

October had come and gone, and it was becoming harder to convince Shalley Falls that there was still a possible threat. Children began to once again play within the forest- however still avoiding night fall, as did everyone- and people once again began to thrive within the town, confidence growing and fear relenting.

That was until the night of the full moon dawned once again, beckoning its monster.

Mary Jane, a young teenager, had been stumbling down the street this night. Bottle of vodka in hand, heeled shoes in the other, tears streaming down her sobbing face, her makeup distorted. She was returning from Kurt Ronald's house after spending the night with him previous and giving up her virginity, but had later discovered his secret second girlfriend's erotic messages on his phone.

Her falling tears splashed down onto the leaf covered pavement beneath her, each one in mourn of her stolen virtue.

A sudden crunch of dried leaves averted her attention and she turned to look to her right, towards Shalley Forest. Between her and the shadowed confusion of trees was a mere several metres. She was down the road from her street, currently stood on the country road, surrounded by only two buildings, one was a fishing hire store and the other a bus shelter. Swallowing, she hesitantly turned back towards her path and progressed on, but the prickling feeling of unwanted company persisted.

Another couple of steps and rain began to fall, beating heavily on her shoulders, she paused momentarily to sling a coat over herself, dropping the glass bottle as she did and shattering it.

Rain drops fell over her eyes, blurring her vision. She wiped her eyes furiously, paranoid of undistinguished creatures around her.

Over the drumming of the rain she swore she heard a footstep splash in a puddle somewhere behind her.

Her heart began to race uncontrollably; her blood pounded in her ears; her breathing became quick and erratic; her bare feet slapped down on the pavement as she ran. The immense amount of alcohol she had consumed this night began to weigh her down, spasming her muscles, shaking her limbs, rattling her thoughts until she knew nothing but the terror all around her.

It was dark and late, no one would be up, but she could make out the distant shapes of houses maybe a quarter of a mile away. Hearing a loud rustle of leaves as they were disturbed by something big, Mary knew she couldn't run all the way home, she immediately thought of the fishing hire store and turned to head for there. But her drunken haze suddenly shook her balance and she slipped on the wet curb. Her heart was in her mouth and she couldn't swallow as she tried to leap out of her sprawled position and dive across the road to the little wooden shack. Flinging herself at the small door she slammed her arms at the window, beating in time to the rain. Screaming, her voice was stolen by the frosty air, swirling in white before her. Her throat burned, her insides ached. The inside of the small shop was dark and empty.

She stopped.

Her body froze.

Her breathing halted.

Her heart became iron.

Something hard snapped on the ground behind her. Big footsteps padded along the dead, wet leaves. In the reflection of the window she saw two glowing red eyes. She felt warm breath on her neck, accompanied by a quiet snuffling- which was immediately replaced by a growl.

Mary Jane's head whipped around too late. Her blood curdling scream echoed for miles.

The remnants of Mary Jane found early next morning, were nothing more than bloody handprints against the wood of the small shop and a bodiless head. Lips parted in an eternal scream and tear-dried skin forever in grief of her stolen virtue.

Sand Timer- Part 1 (Charlie)

I was being let out. I was actually being let out. They thought I was finally cured, I could barely contain myself. Six years had gone by since that awful night in November when I collapsed from exhaustion and starvation in the middle of the high street. I could still remember the commotion I'd caused, the confusion of noise and people as I was rushed to hospital in critical condition. But that's all behind me now and, although I still suffered from occasional panic attacks, the hospital obviously thought me stable enough to finally have a life. I'd written my bucket list while in hospital, it read:
1. Get a girlfriend and have a stable relationship 
2. Get married 
3. Travel to another country 
4. Start a family- children 
5. Get a job
6. Sing in front of an audience
7. Record a demo
8. Become a famous singer
9. Go on X-Factor
10. Do something extreme
I'd tagged the last one on to inspire confidence, which was hard considering I had none.
"Charlie Todd?" the receptionist called, signalling that my taxi had come to pick me up.
My whole body suddenly froze, I couldn't do this, what the hell was I thinking. How could I leave, how could I trust myself to cope on my own. Holy crap, the taxi driver was beeping his horn at me now, I couldn't do it, I needed to run back up to my room, to lock myself in, to never leave again.
I began to feel beads of sweat prickling my skin. My hands were fists, gripping the chair I sat on. They couldn't make me leave, they couldn't physically force me off this chair and out the door into that huge, terrifying world of danger...
But I could. Releasing my hands, which had become iron claws, I stood and took a deep breath. And then walked out of the door, into my new life.

Short Acknowledgements

With special thanks to my best friend Shannon, whom has always inspired me to write more :)

Sand Timer

They knew they wouldn't have much time together, but they fell in love anyway.

Charlie Todd suffers from anorexia nervosa and anxiety, he was admitted to hospital at 13 and now at 19 he is being allowed out. But his many fears still continue to swell inside him and hold him back from the adventures in life he cant help but wish for.

Zoe Nickson spends her life travelling from place to place, refusing company and interaction. She has become addicted to drugs, craving heroine, and has spent her last two years in a rehab centre in Yorkshire, dreaming of her freedom.

But one dark and miserable Thursday night flings them together, beginning the sand timer...

Death in Autumn- Part 2

The following commotion in the town, the next day, was unbelievable. An uproar had been caused after two small children discovered the body of Eloise Smith. Will and Sammy, both five years old, stumbled across the gruesome corpse while out playing in the woods, they had run home in a terrified state, breathless and traumatised by the time they had reached their parents to explain their panic.

"Police have identified the death of 26 year old Eloise Smith, of 17 Falcon Road, as an animal attack. We have not yet had identification of this animal or the confirmation of whether this is the only attack. We also don't know if his animal is still on the loose and if it is still dangerous, so we strongly urge everyone to stay inside, unless of an emergency, until further notice, thank you," the local newscaster signed off.

Switching off the TV, Cain Foster accounted the latest news to his sister who sat on the sofa behind him, her face went pale. She knew which animal had done this, Cain knew which animal had done this, everyone in Shalley Falls knew which animal had done this. As Cain and Alice looked at each other's matching expression of horror, they remembered the old legend- now but a fairy tale to warn children away from the forest. Few still believed the ghastly tale, told around camp fires, but those who did had good reason and those who didn't still stayed away from Shalley Forest at night. Especially on one night in particular, one night to make the residents of Shalley Falls' blood turn cold.

Full moon- the night that brought with it, a monster.