Note! 2

So I've uploaded a bit for now.
Leave comments as said in the first post.

One thing;
When there is an extract out of a story that isn't a main project, I am open to plot lines or thing that could happen. If you think that random scene is onto something, please say so and I'll concerntrate on developing it for you. Thank you!

If I have a story that I am developing at the moment then I will post the blurb. The story will come when I think it's up to scratch. If you want to hear more from that story sooner, comment!!

Hope you enjoy reading and be inspired.

[Don't copy. Be inspired; Sonia]

An Unwanted Trip To Old Friends - Version 2?

My head hung low, my fists clenched, my breathing getting shallow.

How could he?

That was the thought running round and round in my mind. I couldn’t hear anything - it was all just … white noise.

I was marching down the high street, on the way home from school. Nameless, faceless people stared as I stormed past, but I just didn’t care. The anger and fear boiling up inside, forcing me on. I was blind with rage.

How could he? How in the world could he?!

I caught only blurry glimpses of the people I past … They were laughing, talking, chatting their way past me … but in my fury I couldn’t even begin to make out what they were saying.

Over the noise, I heard a familiar voice, singing a familiar song. Outside the post office, Homer Simpson was singing ‘Jingle Bells’ – complete with a fire engine red Santa Suit. Small kids laughed and danced along with the mechanical doll – laughing, happy. I remembered happy – just twenty minutes before, I was happy. A lifetime ago, I was happy. But not now, perhaps not ever again. Not after he …

How could he? How in the world could he? Didn’t he know what he’d said?

My breath was coming in great gulping gasps now … Ragged, coarse … My asthma kicking in.

“Damn asthma!” I hissed - gasping to take another painful breath, “he’s gonna kill me without even knowing!”

And I stormed on – locked in my tussle with the world and everything in it … My battle with him and the memory of what he said …Especially that …

How could he? How in the world could he? Didn’t he know what he’d said? Didn’t he understand what he’d done to ME?!

“Why did you run off like that?” He asked, grabbing my shoulder and turning me to face him. “Just what’s wrong with you anyway?!”

And there we stood … In the car park of Sommerfield – me and him, him and I … And as he kept on talking and talking and talking I just stared at him, listening to every word he said, but not hearing him… not hearing anything …

*
Everything is white … But not snowy white, not the white of freshly washed sheets … sickly white, milky white, deathly white …
I open my eyes.

I’m at home, back in my room, my own dark purple place …

“Oh, get over yourself!”
“Shut up, leave me alone!”

But she won’t, she won’t go, she won’t leave me be, she’s never done anything I’ve asked her before and she’s not about to start now.

“Look at me ..” she demands.

But I bury my head in my hands … “Leave me alone,” I say again, “you’ll get me into trouble again if you don’t.” I plead with her.

“You can’t keep blaming me for all your problems,” she says, “after all … I’m not even here.” When I look up at her, she smiles, her favourite, mocking little smile. I turned away and closed my eyes - She is not here. She just a stupid hallucination! That’s all… She is not real.

“I am real,” she laughed, “as real as you are anyway!”
My eyes flew open.
“You know I hate it when you read my thoughts!”
I picked up my bag and headed for the door.
“I can’t believe you’re going back to him. Especially after what he said.”
I turned back, to tell her exactly why … But there was no-one there to tell.

*
The white flickered and flashed on the edge of my vision … But I blinked it away and walked, with false confidence, into the restaurant … Looking for him.

There he was, in the corner. He looked up as I flopped down.
“Hey,” I said, and received a hey back. And it was all fine, easy, entirely sane … Cheese burgers - check; large cokes - double check – with ice. Just, me and him and a room full of familiar strangers..
“I can’t believe you, I can’t believe you just sit there like that – after what he said!”
Fortunately he couldn’t hear her – no one ever can – and I tried my hardest not to. But she’ knows me too well.
“You remember don’t you, you remember what he said, even you aren’t so stupid that you’d forget that!”
“I’M NOT STUPID!”
“I didn’t say you were,” he said. But it was too late.
I stood up and just screamed at her … incapable, unable, unwilling to stop.
“Why do you always do this to me?! why can’t you just leave me alone?! Why do you have to be so cruel!”
“Who are you talking to?” he shouted, “what is wrong with you?! Are you mad?!”

And that stopped me dead, stopped me cold.

And she sat there next to him with that smile, you know the one, that smile that says everything.
“See” she said. “I told you …”

And I turned and ran, and ran and ran … Into the night, into the darkness … Back towards the white …
*

“… ‘people in mad houses should all be killed’ …”
“What?”
“Apparently, that’s what he said to her”
“Who?”
“The boyfriend …”
Flash, flash, flash … The lights flare and fade through the blood red darkness of my tightly shut eyes. But I can’t shut out the voices of the two of them - My ‘carers’, my ‘keepers’, my ‘captors’ – as they push me closer and close to the white …
“Boyfriend? Well … I suppose she’s pretty enough … For a mental!”
And I could hear her smiling at that, her silent, endless laughter ..

*
“Here you go love,” the older one said, opening the door and helping me out of the chair. He was all white, white clothes, white hair – pale, lifeless white …
“You’ll be ok now, safe in here …”
I felt his bony hand on my back.
Push.
I Hit the floor.
Slam.
“Hi,” she said, with a knowing smile.
The heavy key turning was still loud, even through the padding on the door.
White, all white. Soft, safe … But not welcoming, never that.
“Here we are … home again … safe again” she whispered … “It’s just me and you again …”
And I couldn’t help it, I laughed … After all, that’s what mad people do, right?

An Unwanted Trip To Old Friends

My head was hung low, my fists clenched, my breathing getting shallower. How could he? Was all that was running through my mind. I couldn’t hear anything-it was all just noise.
I was walking down the high street, coming back from school. Nameless and faceless people stared as I stormed past, but I didn’t care. The anger and fear that was boiling up inside me was forcing me on. I was blind with anger-How could he? How in the world could he?! I saw blurry glimpses of people talking, though I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Over the noise, I heard a familiar voice singing a familiar song. I raised my head a little and looked across the road. Outside the post office was Homer Simpson dressed in a Santa outfit and singing ‘Jingle-Bells’. Of course he wasn’t real, it was a mechanical doll-but still it amused the small children who gathered round it. Some of them had joined in the singing, others just danced and laughed. I looked down again thinking about how happy I was just twenty minutes before. The jingle merged into the background noise as I turned up a small alleyway.
Everything was silent, except for the sound of my shallow breathing. It was hard to breath; my asthma was kicking in.
“Damn asthma,” I muttered gasping to take another painful breath, “typical. He’s gonna kill me without even trying. Great way to go-suffocation.”
I stormed on, emerging in the car park behind Somerfield.
Suddenly I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder. I didn’t know who it was or what it was; I wasn’t stopping. I tried to break free, but whoever’s grip it was, was too strong. I whipped around to find Jason. Why was he here? He was saying something. His mouth was moving but no sound was coming from it. I looked down and closed my eyes.
“why did you run off like that?” I heard him ask.
I didn’t reply.
“Chelsea,” I heard him say. His grip loosened. I looked up at him; his face was full of worry-fake worry as far as I was concerned. I didn’t say a word, not a sound, as I turned and left.
* * *
“Stop it.”
“Why?”
“You’ll get me into trouble again.”
I turned around to see Jakie looking at me. I turned away and closed my eyes- She is not here. She is a stupid hallucination! She is not real.
“I am real,” Jakie began, “how could you say that I’m not?”
“I hate it when you read my thoughts,” I opened my eyes, “I have to go.”
I picked up my bag and headed for the door. Jakie stopped me.
“I cant believe you’re going out with him again. Especially after what he said.”
I stared blankly at her, then opened the door and left.
* * *
A distant glimpse of white reminded me of bad times. Choosing to ignore it, I stepped inside the restaurant to find Jason. He was sitting at a table choosing something to eat. I walked calmly up to him and sat down. We greeted each other then Jason asked me what I wanted to eat-Cheeseburger and fries.
“Why did you run away the other day,” he asked me referring to last week’s incident. I didn’t answer. Jason got the message that I didn’t want to talk about it.
“I’m just gonna go check on something,” he said as he stood up. I smiled and Jason walked away-another glimpse of white-another bad memory. As soon as he left, Jakie slid into his place.
“What are you doing here,” I hissed at her. She replied with a smile.
“you can’t be here,” I argued, “you’ll get me into trouble again.”
At that moment, Jason returned.
“Who are you talking to,” he asked me, looking confused.
“No one,” I muttered and lowered my head. Jakie budged over as Jason sat down. He was staring at me as if I was mad. Jakie started to make faces at me, then she jumped up onto her seat then stood on the table. I was willing her to get down, instead she walked across the table to stand in front of Jason, who stared straight through her at me.
“Shame on you,” Jakie was saying to him. My heart was pounding and my eyes were wide.
“How could you say something like that to her,” Jakie continued. She then turned and jumped off the table. I watched as she walked off and out of the restaurant.
“What’s wrong,” Jason asked, “you’re acting like you’re seeing ghosts.”
I looked at him, trying to find an excuse. A man walked up to our table, “Chelsea Randing? Phone for you.”
Glad to have an excuse to leave Jason, I nodded. As I stood up I thought about how much this man seemed familiar. He led me into a back room. I couldn’t see a phone.
“How did you know I was Chelsea Randing,” I asked the man. I was answered by a thick needle entering my arm. Everything went black.
* * *
“… ‘people in mad houses should be killed’ they told me the boy said.”
“What,” I asked, finally becoming conscious. I was being pushed along a blurry corridor in a wheelchair. The man pushing me sighed and said, “Don’t worry, the drugs will wear off soon. Always hated them, I did, makes people all groggy.”
I was confused and disoriented. All I could see was white walls.
“What is going on,” I asked the man.
“Oh great, I have to repeat everything I just said. Stupid protocol, have to tell everyone who enters this place why they are here… right, let’s start again …”
He was confusing me-my head hurt.
“So who are they,” the man asked.
“Who’s who?”
“The people you keep seeing.”
“Jakie?…why are you asking me this? Where am I?” I recognised this place, “How do you know about Jakie? She’s not even real, she’s just an hallucination.”
“Exactly! So this is your third admission. You must really like it here.”
“Why am I here?!” I tried turning around but found that my wrists and ankles had been secured to the wheelchair. I was getting irritated.
“Calm down dear. Do you remember what that boy said to you last week? ‘People in mental hospitals should be killed.’”
The conversation between Jason and his friends came roaring straight back into my mind.
“That’s why.”
Ahead of us was a door. I calmed down in the silence that followed the man’s last statement. We reached the door and stopped. Through the confusion as to where I was, I recognised the door-but why? My head hurt.
“Here you go love,” the man said, he stepped in front of me to let me get out the chair. He was wearing all white and opened the door to a white padded room. I remembered why I recognised the white, the man in the restaurant, the corridor, the door. I felt a hand on my back.
Push.
Hit the floor.
Slam.
Jakie.
“Hi.”
Click.
“Great.”

War - Blurb

Following the horrific and magical death of revolutionist Terry Dunbar, the supernatural world and the natural world we all live in collides with cataclysmic effects.

Dunbar’s idealistic vision of a world where the two communities live side by side peacefully goes up in flames, or should we say his own blood, when the natural community declares war on the supernatural people due to the mysterious death of one of their great leaders.

Tomas Oliver, a humble and unconfident man is left in charge of declaring the war and sending the natural men into combat. But his fumbling and reluctance to go against his old mentors vision gets him a new partner in the form of Tessa James. Miss James, the strong, witty, gun-wielding character shows reluctance to take part in the war however. Her unobvious moral compass points her away from declaring the war, but due to her stubbornness and pay-check, she carries on regardless.

Will the war be won by the natural people of the world? And just who is this ‘Muriel Salamander’?

Mel and Jack - Premeditation

“Jack!”
He just stared at her, a dead look in his eye. He knew what her next words would be and he knew they would be right. He didn’t say anything, but clenched his jaw. Melanie shook her head with a warning look in her eye. She knew Jack knew what she was going to say.

Click

Mel clenched her jaw and Jack saw a flame rise in her eye. He knew she felt betrayed at this moment, but he believed he was doing the right thing. He turned his back on her in order to move out of the door, the hard metal object in his hand warming to his touch.
“Jack…”
He stopped, staring at the patterns on the marble floor. There was silence. Jack turned his head to face the side to let Mel know she had his attention, for one of the last times.
Mel clenched her fists and flexed her jaw. Her lip trembled. They knew each other well enough for him to know how this made her feel, she knew that. Her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to make up her mind. Shout or cry? Neither would help.
She breathed sharply out of her nose.
“One word,” she said through clenched teeth, “Premeditation.”


------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is just the start of a possible story. Anyone got a plot line?

As I want to be - Note: I'm NOT a poet...

I am good with a pen.
I am good with a pencil.
I am good with a brush.
But not as I want to be.

I am not good at showing my mind.
I am not good with lines.
I am not good with colour.
Not as I want to be.

Instead I sit here, pen
In hand.
Poised and ready
To express my mind in
Words

As I want to be

Love, let thy be renewed

Words uttered by those in close acquaintance with the god father of all writing. The expresser of love. The creator of tragedy. They apply here, as the weakened foundations of my heart are pounded upon. The plundering attacks are unknown by the assailant, but they rain down on the pumping hillside without fault.

This only happens in the movies, only happens in fiction. Surely I am not just another character in The Bard’s writing? Surely we are not all playing a part in one of the greatest playwright’s imagination? Why does it feel so? In times like these?

Love

Love… the bitter word that lingers on your tongue after it has been said. How can four letters cause such pain? Such joy? Such confusion? Now there’s a question.

The statement that love is a rollercoaster is completely true, there is no doubt about it. Any mind, however experienced or no, can recall love in its many forms. The love that stays. The love that lingers. The love that regrets. The colourful range of emotions conveyed by the simplest word, the less than three, are many and plentiful.

Lovers lost. Lovers gained. Lovers yet to come.

Love blinds us. The poets are right. When our trusted friends warn us of forthcoming tragedy, we ignore it. We all do. For it is intrinsic to our nature, our nature which we claim not to have control over if only to relieve us off embarrassment.

Love can hurt. Pain and torture all thrown into a word used with such trust. Even to the inexperienced love hurts. The dust that flows through two symbols is tainted brown with age. It is dangerous, never having the powder tainted back, especially with the force of creativity lurking in the depths of our minds.

Our minds, the space in which sparks of many colours are shown and created by the angel and demon inhabitants. Fuelled by the outside’s version of right and wrong, the sparks…

Soul

I speak from the soul. The words that pass through my lips rarely meet up with my mind to have coffee. The words on this course page are my own and forever will be my own; straight from the depths of the sparkly swirl within. It swirls and shines, brightening my life and defeating the darkness of my heart. When the light catches my eye you can see it. The silver swirl of light and life.

New Posts

Hey dudes,
Haven't posted much writing in a while and have been requested (at 5 AM....) to put more entertainment up. After all I am the entertainer!

I have to warn that (at least in my opinion) 'Head, Heart or Body?' is the pinnacle of that sort of my writing so far. I will post the peices I wrote in an effort to duplicate it, but I don't think they are up to scratch.

But they're something to read right?

So here goes,
Have fun guys!

Three
Two
One...!

Happy New Year Guys!!

Happy New Year Everyone!
It's 2009 (for those who live under rocks....and me) so let's make this year count.
It's THE year.

Have fun everyone. Make 2009 the year you recall to your grandchildren when retelling the many adventures in life.

Do something that scares you everyday and see how much fun you have. Make your own luck.

Be excellent to each other, Rock on.