Time has a face and time has two hands Time can be water and time can be sand Time can pass quickly in the flash of an eye Time can pass slowly when you're waiting to die Time is everywhere, but it cannot be found Time is neither in the sky nor the ground Time … Continue reading Time
I want to get lost in words not weeks, I want to drown in love not sleep, I want to dream of cloudless skies not debts I want to wake to see the sun rise not set- I want to dive into a crystal river not a sea of paper, I want to climb green … Continue reading Lost in words
Although we had many servants, I rarely saw them and on the occasion we happened to meet, I was always met with startled and apologetic mumbles and perhaps unremarkable small talk. As a young girl you can understand that this was not interaction enough. I would dream of meeting other little children, of sharing my … Continue reading Chapter two from my novella continued
The wind blew around the hull of the Pearl, shrieking through the ripped sails as her stern creaks and groans. The black rain hurls itself against the deck fast and hard. Above the dark waves the bruised sky crashes. The black masts push against the air as the Pearl cuts her way through the wild … Continue reading Chapter One from My short story inspired by The Pirates of The Caribbean franchise.
On my wooden table, there lies a jar of smoke. Dark grey tendrils curl and twist inside the glass. I look into my jar to reminisce and to remember- The days which have long since passed. I look into the heart of that ashen black unfurling cloud, To see my life, my loves, my fears … Continue reading My Jar of Smoke
My childhood years were spent in a beautiful stately home in the south of England. An imposing stone masterpiece set within the rural moor speckled countryside. The house had several hundred rooms and a gloriously stocked, high-ceiling library. My personal room was situated towards the front of the house. I remember the large sweeping bay … Continue reading Beginning of Chapter two from my unnamed novella
As I stood on the roof I watched as the orange sun sank behind the ruins of London. The shard looked as if it were on fire, the fractured glass reflecting the burning sunset behind it. Ash still fluttered down from a blackened sky onto the empty shell of the city. The London eye now … Continue reading The first lines of my short story: Rise Again
I had always thought the curtains in this room were opulent and graceful; they perfectly matched the rich colours of the dark wine walls-for they had been designed to- they were made from the finest crushed velvet, and hung in rippling waves of extravagance from hand-made golden rails. Now with great effort I turn my … Continue reading Chapter One