Monday, 4 July 2016


not being sad is hard, especially when everyone else does this:
"Killjoy"             "Ungrateful"
"Buzzkill"                          "wrong
"Mean"                                                             "stupid"
Until the words they say echo in your own head. They build up, you can't kill someone with a drop of water but you can with a small puddle, you thought I was going to say a lake, a river, a vast expanse of water but no, it just takes a puddle, that's why the little things hurt too. But when one person says a mean thing it's a drip, then one more says something and the drip is bigger, until you get a teaspoon each time. The longer it takes for the sun to evaporate those things they said, it starts to feel more and more like everyone's a rain cloud, like the whole world is against you. Every attempt you make to fix it makes it worse, cause face it, its always the people who everyone likes who are the people who hurt you in the end. Victims wear masks, because then no one can see how strongly the tears throw, but they can't catch your drips, you hit back, trying to make them a puddle, to make them feel like you do, but you're never as "cool" so you're never as powerful. Bullies where makeup, and along the way they poke themselves with the mascara and smudge it, that was your fault. In the end everyone fights back, but you're the raindrops, they're a storm. They have lightning and thunder, influence and confidence. You might have a crackle, you might have a spark, but they can't see it and you always lose in the end.

the junk

It looked strange sitting in the stream, rusted and broken maybe but it seemed out of place. It's exact form I couldn't be sure, a fire screen? a park bench? who would know, who would care? it was a piece of rubbish, it didn't have space. But maybe one day it would sprout rusted brown wings from its frame, soar out of the back, and fly to a new place.

Wednesday, 29 June 2016

qrcode.35658460.pngIMG_2623.JPGThey dispatched and carelessly dotted amongst the trees. I called down into the sea of noise and they called back with their strange hissing sound they associate with the cease of  speech and to call for silence so the elders can purvey their knowledge  with patience and dignity .


Azure stars shine bright
Seven sisters gazing down
Twinkling through the dark

The pathway’s lit with
coloured lights on darkened trees
And a silver moon

Lanterns guide the way
To the fireworks that burst
Bright colours and light

The sky curves over
Surrounding us in an orb

Of a starry night

Thursday, 16 June 2016

The forgotten- 2 Gravesands tale

He said the words proudly, his chest puffed out and he presses his fingers together as though in prayer. I know I shouldn’t trust them but for some reason I felt safe.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you?” The words tumbled out of my mouth and I’m scared I’ve said something indelicate.
“When I was young” said Gravesand, the sadness welling in his eyes.
“I thought I’d found true love in a woman, Amara and I gave her everything I had, she told me it wasn’t good enough and requested my leg. I gave it to her and she welcomed me with open arms, I was young and foolish with too much to lose. She left me for another man and I was destitute on the streets of London. Seven years past like that, a beggar on the streets. I found a job in a sweet factory and fritted away my pittance on alcohol, I had a tiny crutch for my missing leg and got by okay.  i had no thought of a future life, and thought little of my health. I was sure it would be a short road to the end. I was working the sugar syrup and was surprised to see a rich painter and his pregnant wife stop beside me, watching my work, it was Amara again with the painter husband Michael Chappuis whose work has long since died in the pages of history. He bent down and spoke to me like a simpleton, I did not catch the words he said as the rage built up inside me and I screamed at her,
“You!” Micheal looked afronted and in my anger I tipped the boiling syrup at the small family.” Gravesand looked like a little child caught with his hand in a biscut jar. The rattling breath
“I killed an innocent man that day, I had aimed to kill Amara but I missed. I was sent to court and I argued my case that I was aiming for a woman who had convinced me to give my left leg for her faithfullness and had betrayed me and as the judge raised the gavel to send me to the gallows Amara burst into the room and called an objection.
“I greive my departed husband. I loved him with all my heart but this man gave me everything at my request, I was young and cruel and I apologise, don’t destroy a man for a fate I pushed him into.” the tears poured down her cheeks and she collapsed onto the floor and was carried from the room.
“Life imprisonment” called the judge and I was roughly pulled from the room. I was dragged into the darkness and after fifty years they abandoned me. My skin cracked and turned grey but my spirit stayed strong. After one hundred years the chain that fastened me to the wall rusted and broke and the walls crumbled around me. I ran from the darkness, craving the light that once hit my face. The air above me was grey and cloudy, the sky full of soot. I backed away and followed my feet to the docks and breathed in the salty air.the sea was grey and the smell reminded me of my father, a fisherman on the coast of Grimsby. It reeked of oil and sweat and  as I breathed in the homely smells the men mending nets and cleaning the boats laughed and through stones at me. I think they were afraid but didn’t want to look weak infront of the young girls walking along the side, gutting fish and collecting shellfish for bait. I longed to be on the water, to never set foot in England again. I stole into the crowd of holiday makers heading towards a ship, the Titanic. Once we had set off it became apparent that I was a stoaway, but they let me stay as I took neither food nor a bed. I loved the wind and the cold grey sea churning below. I awoke from one of the outside chairs to screams and the ship lurching heavily to one side. The news spread quickly that we had crashed and there were not enough lifeboats to save everyone. Screams echoed behind meand I turned to see the servants and the factory children and paupers locked under the deck. Water rushed round my ankles like ice and the wind whipped my cheeks. I ran to the door, trying to prise it open as the water lashed at my back. Behind the door the screams muffled as the water swelled over their heads.
“Please Sir, please, my daughter.”
Leaning out of the only window that wasn’t underwater a heavily pregnant mother leaned ont the window holding a sleeping baby in her blue hands.
“She doesn’t deserve to die like this, innocent. Her name is Emily, and I want her to do more with her life than I ever did with mine. Even if she dies in your arms, she needs a second chance.” the tears pored down her cheeks and I tugged the baby out of her arms, she only just fit.
I was only just in time as the water swelled round the mother and all the others trapped and sent so harshly towards a watery grave. I clung to a resue boat as the surging water tipped me off my feet. With one arm I tried to push  Emily onboard and screamed at the people to save her. Over and over again I whispered she would be alright, until the words peatered out and I just said her name, over and over again. The time past slowly in the torture and I had no strength to hold onto the boat. I held her tight as her face turned grey-blue with cold. She was no longer asleep but she could’ve been, she was so still and queit, only breaths broke her stillness, but she stared up at me with her big brown eyes, your eyes Emily. As I gave her up for lost the face of a young girl appeared, I would hazard a guess of around fourteen. She reached into the water and took her from my arms,
“Emily,” I whispered for the last time as I sank beneath the waves.

The forgotten- 1 the dark ship

The skeletal shape loomed at me through the shadows. In the darkness everything stood still, waiting for its new prey like a cat waits for a mouse. I put my arms around my shoulders, listening to what sounded like the rasping breath of the ship, like it was alive. A rotting dead smell filled my nostrils as I edged forward. I knew I like the other children from the town was forbidden to play round the shadows but the voices had called my name.
“Sophie, Sophie” I listened past the low rasping breath to where it came, echoing like a breeze through autumn leaves. The words were distorted and muffled but unmistakable. A hatch opened ontop of a ship opened and sent spirals through the mist. The light was strange, as none came out of the broken potholes. A shadow, warped the beam of light, a man, or what was left of one. His hands were as thin and grey and his fingers were bent outwards like a rake. His left leg was clumsily cut off at the knee and he held a broken oar in his left hand which served him as a makeshift crutch. As he edged towards me I saw a grimy black dice in his right hand. His eyes were black as charcoal and his lopsided smile was toothless. His lips were thin and chapped and his long nose was broken. He wore grey breaches, blackend with the grime of what looked like centuries and a ripped stiped shirt, covered with filth. Around his narrow shoulders was a jacket, large and black with lots of pockets. Around his neck swung a dark chain splattered with dirt and crusted dry blood. He moved quickly in slight zigzags and a slight shuffle tap echoed just before his crutch hit the ground. A sudden breeze blew through the still and I covered my nose with my hand. He smelt like the rotting corpse of a dead animal. I looked up into his black eyes and could see a glimmer of hope in them. Something in his smile was reasurring and I felt my shoulders drop. His scaley hand reached up to my shoulder and I didnt pull away. I felt a stabbing pain as his nails dug into my shoulders. I felt my jacket tear and my heart pounded even faster than normal. Slowly he drew his fingers back and I stood in anticipation. The smile on his face grew wider and less mangled with the joy hiding the darkness.
“It is she who bleeds and sees us, did you here us calling, are you the Sophie they all talk about?” I slowly nodded my head, not daring to speak. All around me other sketchy warped people edged towards me, most with one eye or one leg or arm. The children looked the most like humans but they still had the scaly skin and vacant expressions. More and more drifted and scuttled from the top of the ship. I heard them close in behind me. There rasping sick breath cold on the back of my neck. I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat and heard my voice shake as I murmered,
“W-who are you?” I hadnt wanted to offend but I truly didnt know. Lots of the figures behind my sighed and the shadows told me that it wasnt just the people I could see who seemed to shink towards the fog. The only person who didn’t seem downheartend was the man who had first spoken in his gravely voice. He rose his chest with a look of pride on his ugly face and said\
“I am gravesand, and we are the forgotten.”

Monday, 2 May 2016


When you're alone and sad you can count on me, cos I am annoying and I invade personal space. If you want a piggy back, I will give you one cos that's what friends are for. I will always give you a high five, but I can't promise it won't be in the face.
I will answer all your calls, even if you call me at three am but it could take a while as I will be dancing to the ringtone. I can promise you the things I say to your face will always be kind as long as you can't read minds. I will always have your back, and if I don't its because i have a shift on another friends back but i promise to reserve double shifts for you cos I love you (and you have issues) but sometimes my back gets tired and I need to sleep, but your mattress or one of your other friends can have your back then. And if you ever need expert advice I will give it to you, even if your eyes are swollen and your hairs a mess. You can count on me to throw you in a bush if you want it, but I will always drag you back out, and laugh at the leaves in your hair and the fact that a twig just poked you in the face. If you get hurt, l
I promise I will punch it back into shape. Everything I do for you has a reason. If I ignore you its because I love you but your voice gets annoying after a while. And you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me and if you kill someone ( as long as its not me) I will help you hide the body cos that's the kind of friend I am. If I find you dead on the floor covered in blood I will cry on you unless I'm wearing makeup, then I will laugh and try not to step in the blood until the police get there, because I love you and you are the best friend I could ever have. :  )