'Angel' Megan Turner

As I’m preparing salads in the kitchen, Jamie tells me that he went fishing with this girl the other evening, but assured it ‘wasn’t like that’ and asks me if was okay with it. I reply, questioning why that should matter to me.                                                                                                                                                             The face goes from smile to sinister as the atmosphere changes from awkward to unbearable. He pushes past me and goes to sit outside to have a cigarette. Eerie silence is sometimes better than hopeless talk. I question at times whether this is normal or not.

I’m offered a moody lift home by him after the shift but I walk instead. I’ve always preferred walking.                                                                                                                                                       I stumble through the front door and up the stairs shaking, feeling blood flood around my body. My mind rushes uncontrollably, along with my heart which races at the speed of lightening, zapping me perpetually. I can barely breathe. I sit on my bed rocking myself backwards and forwards feeling trapped inside of my body. I run about my room like a headless chicken, unable to keep myself still. Ghostly wails murmuring gibberish. Frustration ran through me like waves crashing, tearing at my every limb as I shake with an outer-body experience of helpless bewilderment.                                                                                                    I resume back to the same position on my bed. Remaining that way until morning. I’m surprised the lodgers never heard my screams. But then again, they never seemed to notice before.

My alarms go off startling me from a drained yet wired daze and I set off again for another shift, still dressed in my work clothes. I ponder on my way, as I look out to sea, imagining what it would be like to board one of the ships and just keep sailing. The day hasn’t seemed so bad. The others are working too as it’s the weekend and the restaurant is always hectically busy, so there was barely a second to spare for talk. But we always found the time to give each other a little smile along the way. Even Jamie.

‘I care about you’. Those constant words ring in my head. I am perplexed by his overall actions and intentions.

Everybody left me and Joavan to end the shift. As Jamie left, he told me that he’d come back in a couple of hours when we were done and take me out. I was propelled to confide in somebody. So I spoke to Joavan. To my relieved surprise he seemed to faintly understand. He told me that Jamie had been a bit curious with somebody else before. Confused, I pried him for answers but got nothing. Until just as we’d finished up, he told me her name. Mabbie.                                                                                                                         

I needed to speak with her.

It was my day off, I ignore the candlestick ringing as I leave the house. He’s not going to be best pleased tomorrow. I wonder if I do not already see him enough anyway.                                                                   I arranged to meet Mabbie at the beach. I feel scared. After a while I eased enough to confront her.            Somehow, after chatting a while, comparing, we found our scenarios almost too similar to be real. And then…we formed a plan like no other.

Trip To Farnham Castle

Last week, myself and Creative Writing students went to Farnham Castle to explore time, imagination and to indulge me in my passion for trees!

Dr Yuwei Lin has blogged about the trip, so follow the link:

https://hiyashi.wordpress.com/2015/02/17/writing-at-farnham-castle/

Creative Writing Workshop- Afraid by Alex Pritchard

Bonjour young Boy, choked by darkness.

Enjoying this lonely void, forever endless?

There’s a warm light, you feel nothing but coldness,

Little Boy, how does it feel to be so powerless?

No pain, no feeling, no binds. Captured?

No sound, no direction, no sight. Fear?

No thought, no future, no sanity. Angered?

No presence, no warmth, no touch. Near?

Poor blind Boy, you were never entitled to happiness.

Boy, was this ever dubious?

Boy, your words, they were lifeless.

Boy, your hope, it was always hopeless.

Boy, you never noticed that your sky was starless?

That persona crumbles, they’re closing in, Shadows.

Forget it, drop that flimsy mask, unidentified.

Tick tock, Boy, tick tock, can you see the gallows?

There is no deception, only what you lied.

PLOT AND STORY- Alex Pritchard and Melissa Robertson

The plot of a story describes the series of events that make up the story whole. While narratives are also a key component of non-fiction recounts, this post will exclusively discuss plot in terms of fictionalised stories. Plot is often thought as making up a series of linear events chained together via cause and effect, though the plot can just as easily be presented out of order to the reader or viewer experiencing the story for whatever artistic purpose. One can look to Quentin Tarantino’s filmography including the cult classic Pulp Fiction for examples of a non-linear narrative. The plot is often the most recognisable aspect of a work of fiction, blurbs for novels, for example, will almost always give a brief outline of the premise, the setting and possibly the main complication of the story, more so than the themes or the characters. In the case of very popular and long standing characters, however, such as superheroes such as Superman or classic characters such as Sherlock Holmes, the character and the overall premise or Status Quo of these characters could be argued to be more important to a buying consumer than the plot of whatever individual story they are currently in. Here's an illustration of how the plot structure effects tension and audience engagement in the classic Star Wars movie.

Do I Exist? - Melissa Robertson

Do they know that I am here?

Does he know that I breathe?

Does she know that I stand here?

Waiting,

For you.

As I always have, never moving.

Everlasting.

Strength in knowing that I've found

What I've but dreamed of.

Do they know that I'm around?

Does he know that I'm taken?

Does she know that you are?

Doubts,

Of you.

Things I've never felt, though true.

I'm scared. Can't you see?

You can take it away.

Do you want to, or are you now cruel?

Please don't change,

You are perfect.

You're the one

I've always wanted.

"Not good enough"

Are you kidding?

I don't know

Just how to

Explain it now.

Just a kiss,

Just a cuddle,

Or three words ...

Five if you

Remember our days

Of secrecy and

Passion. Exploration. Beginnings.

I love you.

Do you understand?

Untitled

By Victoria Vinet

A beautiful burrow

To solace my sorrow

A stream of youth

Defying half truths

Run like a child

O leppers and liars

Make haste in your step

And no more be tired

Name your source

Tear down your enemy

I run like a child

Cast heaven upon me.