This is the beginning of my journey, one I feel I'm destined to go far in. I'm determined I will, it's something I don't feel I can give up. It's writing. With every person that clicks on this page, every person who reads my work, every person that becomes a follower and every person that gladly comments, I thank you. Because you are making me a better writer every time.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Magpie 25

This is a picture prompt from Magpie Tales

Yes, it's rusty and I know there's a crack here and there.

It's been touched and used and also loved.

I know that my heart may be old but you will always have the key to it.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Magpie 23

This is a picture prompt from Magpie Tales

The memories in my mind, the visual as clear as if it was just yesterday.
I still cry sometimes.
Mostly late at night, when I lay in bed, thinking about everything, mostly you.
My heart aches for you.
It aches because you're gone, it aches of sadness and emptiness and guilt too.
Two disasters that night.
One greater than the other.
First the power is lost and then you.
But it didn't happen that way, that simply.
Quite unfortunately.

The fire alarm went off.
It took it's time to detect the smoke that started off from such a small candle.
But luckily we had the smoke detecters.
Otherwise Jon might not have made his way out in time.
And I probably wouldn't have too.
But then again, maybe that would've been better.
Maybe then I wouldn't have to live with this guilt.

So the ringing woke me and Jon up.
I was so scared.
The fire had begun in my room and stretched right down the hall through the house.
Right up to your end.
Jon woke you up, after much pushing and shaking.
He tried to help you out the window but you ran through the house, through the fire to my room.
You should have listened to Jon.
I was out my window.
I had already climbed out.
That's what he told you I would have done.
So, why didn't you listen?
Why didn't you save yourself?

You had said to me to go to bed.
I told you I wanted to read.
I told you I wasn't tired.
And you listened to me.
But I didn't listen to you.
You told me to put out the candle before I went to sleep.
But the book was very good.
And I read until I grew so tired that I eventually just fell to sleep.
My window had been open and the breeze blew the flame to the curtain.
Setting it up in scary, red flames.

I should've listened.
But you should've listened.
We all should've listened.
But it started with me.
And ended with you.
Unfortunately, the fire ended you too.

I waited outside.
Shivering in my night gown.
A firefighter told me to stand by the truck.
And they used big hoses to try and put out the building that stood there in flames.
I watched Jon climb out the window.
And a smile spread across my face.
Relief spread through my body.
I could just imagine you climbing out after him but you didn't.
"Help!" Jon came over yelling.
"My wife is stuck in there. I couldn't get to the fire extinguisher, it was past the flames in the front room!"
"It's okay, sir!" he shouted and signaled to some others.
"She went after her daughter!"
That's when he saw me.

At first he looked upset, and despair was all over his face.
But then he ran over and he hugged me.
He hugged me tight and for a long time.
As if I was his own daughter.
Even though he knew his wife was in the house, that was up in flames.

Together there, as we were tight in each other arms we cried.
I'm sorry my mother.
I love you.
And I miss you.

Scary Movies-Resulting in Ninja Behaviour

Scary Movies. Love 'em, hate 'em, I'm sure everyone's seen at least one scary movie in their life. I for one, am not a fan but I tend to find myself watching them when it's the choice of my friends. Even watching them during the day doesn't do it for me. I usually end up holding someone else's hand, missing half of the movie because I refuse to look when I can sense something frightening is coming and I am usually absolutely terrified for the days that follow. Scary movies in the past have had their short-term effects and long-term effects as well, such as acting like a ninja through the house in the middle of the night to the toilet. I'm more a comedy girl. I enjoy movie's that'll make me laugh and with lines that last for ages of repeating. But I guess Scary Movies are like pickles in hamburgers from HJ's for me. I don't like them but sometimes I just have to grit my teeth and eat them.

So what do you think? Do you like Scary movies or Thrillers? Or do you prefer the funnier sides of things in Comedies like me?

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

It was a beautiful and sunny day outside but Jon Heath was inside the Macdonald Residence painting the ceiling of their large dining room. He was all set up in his hat and white overalls with a blue t-shirt underneath. He stood on a tall ladder that sat upon a large white sheet in case any of the paint dripped down onto the floor. Next to the ladder sat his radio that he always took to work with him to keep him company and his lunchbox. He often found himself whistling to the songs as he painted. The Macdonald family had gone out for a picnic in the park to enjoy the beautiful weather so Jon was the only one at the large house besides a bored little dog called Rusty.

Rusty was brown and white and often quite a playful dog. The family had planned to meet up with another family that weren’t too fond of ‘friendly’ pets and they also had a son severely allergic. So the family had decided to leave Rusty at home that day much to the children’s disappointment.

When Rusty woke up late because no bubbly or loud children had, he wandered through the seemingly lonely and empty house. That was until he headed downstairs and heard Jon’s music and whistling. He ran into the room through the slightly open door. Jon didn’t hear him come in and carried on with his whistling. Raymond Macdonald was a whistler. He always used to, especially when he gardened so Rusty didn’t find the whistling strange but more the strong smell of the paint. He barked a few times and this caught Jon’s attention.

“Oh, hey little doggie,” he said. When Rusty was satisfied he had been noticed he began to sniff around the room and Jon went back to his painting and his whistling.Rusty couldn’t find the source of the horrible smell that burnt his nose so he gave up and curled up next to the end of the white sheet. The ladder which sat at the other end of the sheet had proved Jon steady over the years but was about to take a huge turn around. Rusty had always been a playful dog and more or less a mischievous one. He grabbed onto the end of the sheet and prepared to pull.

Monday, July 12, 2010

The Stray Friend

I was walking to school and I saw a stray dog. It had no collar and it was very dirty. My mum had told me about dogs like that. "Infested with diseases, dirty beyond imaginable, aggressive and hard to train." Plus my parents had never really been fond of pets. It was crying, like a sort of moaning. It was laying on the sidewalk and it was shivering in it's thin coat. I walked over to it and patted it on the head. Pulling my school bag off my shoulders I placed it on the ground and pulled out my sandwich. For five minutes I sat there with the dog that I had already nicknamed Susie because it was the name I wished my parents had named me. For that five minutes I rubbed all up and down Susie's back to warm her up. I couldn't risk being late so I left her there on the sidewalk with the last few crumbs of the sandwich I'd given her and headed to school.

I arrived at school to find Jonathan Turner and William Welders by the gate. They were sitting down and were attacking people with spit balls.
"Oh look! Here comes Freckle Face!" They called. They attacked me then with their spitballs but I just turned the other way and ignored them. I didn't want to make them feel like they'd defeated me, that they'd hurt me or upset me. Although they already seemed to have made that assumption.
"Now she's going to go crying to all her friends! Oh wait! She has no friends." They laughed their heads off then and high fived several times.
"Except for the one that looks like a rat!"
And as much as I tried to ignore them and not let them get to me I failed. My eyes watered but I pushed them back and headed to the bathroom. I stood there and stared into the mirror. I pulled some of my hair nearer to my face to try and hide them but again i felt like I failed. So I just tied it back and told myself I didn't care what they thought even though they'd made me feel really self conscious of my freckles. I heard giggling and a group of girls from my grade walked into the bathroom. The type of girls that wore their skirts so high it was a belt and the sort that were as horrible as Jonathan and William. I kept staring into the mirror at myself, even when they walked in behind me and pulled their fingers through their own hair. One pushed me out the way with her elbow and washed her hands. I stormed out and I heard them giggling once again after I left.

The bell was rung and I waited outside my first class. Everyone was standing around loud and rowdy. Melissa walked up to me. She was wearing a bright red headband that was hard to miss.
"Hey," she said, "How are you?" I shrugged my shoulders. I suppose she guessed that meant I wasn't really in the mood. I turned towards the door and the other students turned away and laughed. I wondered what was so funny and came to the reality they were probably gossiping about me. This upset me even more than it should since I had never given anyone at this school a reason to hate me. Probably because I was a pretty easy target. I was ugly, not the smartest person, usually quite clumsy and Melissa says the stupidest things really loud sometimes.
"I liked your kick in PE," one of the girls said deliberately loudly. I stared down at my feet. Like she was perfect at PE!
"Your so much of a suck up in Science! That's crap you came up with that idea alone!"
"I did!" I said. Everyone at this point had turned around and was looking at me. My eyes started to sting as they prickled with tears. I pushed them back as hard as I could but I felt them coming.
"Sorry? I couldn't hear you!" she said, tormenting me. Everyone laughed at something that was hardly even funny. Melissa put her hand on my back but I shrugged it off. Couldn't she see this wasn't the time. She was only going to make things worse. I felt the tears coming through and again I fought them hard.
"Her hair would look so good if she had a shower once in a while!" her friend said. Now that was hardly true at all. I had a shower every single day. The fury built up inside me. Why are they doing this? The tears came spilling out and I turned and ran away. I heard them laughing behind me but I didn't care. I just kept running and running. It was until I reached an alley.

I sat there with my face in my hands. Crying my heart out. I was offended, humiliated and scared. I don't know how long I sat there in the alley. But no one bothered me and that was fine. It was at least a couple of hours. I drew pictures in the dirt with a stick and threw stones against the fence opposite to the one I leant against. My eyes were tired and sore and i sat there resting them closed. I heard footsteps and my heart started pounding. I looked around alerted and rested my heart when i saw who it was.

"Susie," I said, "Come here girl." I waved her over and she laid down next to me. Then Susie put her paw on my hand. It hurt at first, pushing my hand into the stones and grovel but then I realized something. She was my friend and she could sense when I was sad. I smiled at her as she rested her head down on her paw. Stroking her head and kissing it I told her about my problems. About the pretty girls and tormenting boys at school. About my parents always fighting and my grandparents dieing and having no one to talk to. Until now.


I'm worried about death,
about what will happen,
when my time is up,
when i must go to heaven

is there such a thing?
either way it scares me,
because after my time is up,
what will be of me?

people believe things,
and some choose to not,
but if i don't believe,
do i even get a shot?

if i've been bad,
will they know of my sins?
if i don't believe in heaven,
will they not let me in?

i guess im just scared,
because it is unknown,
but right now im safe,
in my home

or am i?

if right this second,
i was to go,
would i see god?
well, no one really knows

either way for now,
i've chosen not to fear,
everyone will one day know,
even if 'one day' is not near

Is there a heaven? Well, I don't know. Where do we go? I don't know. Who will we be, or what for that matter? Again, I don't know. I think that is what scares everyone in life. The unknown can be exciting but usually mostly scary. We don't know what will happen and we don't know what we'll be. But it's all about what you believe. I'm still very young and I've been brought up in a more spiritual than religious family. So nothing is set out for me to believe. I don't know what to believe, but I suppose in life I will decide. And one day everyone on this earth will answer those questions. Even if they already think they know...I wish you all long and happy and healthy lives before then. Before the day those questions are answered for us...

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Big, fake Smiles

Mrs Ribbon knocked on her neighbors door and heard a dog barking almost immediately.
"Charlie, go away!" she heard someone call. She heard the slamming of doors and then put on a big, fake smile to hide her concern when Mrs Timothy opened the door.
"Eleanor," she said when she saw Mrs Ribbon, "How are you?"
"I'm quite fine," Mrs Ribbon said, "and yourself?"
"Yes, yes, I'm good," there was something about Mrs Timothy's voice that said she was in a rush so Mrs Ribbon hurried to what she had come over to say. However, just as she was about to speak a voice from inside screamed.
"Mum! Eloise kicked me!"
"I did not!"
Clearly embarrassed Mrs Timothy turned away, signaling with her finger to Mrs Ribbon she would only be a second. She stepped into the hall and saw two of her children fighting on the staircase.
"The two of you!" she said, cross, "Grow up!"
But one of them screamed, "He pushed me into a wall and almost broke that expensive frame!"
"I did not! It was you that hid my pencils in the fridge! She almost blew it up!" the other one fought back. Her eldest daughter then came down the stairs, eating a chocolate bar.
"Hey!" the youngest child whined, "You said I couldn't have a chocolate!" Mrs Timothy sighed.
"Whatever, whatever! I'm trying to talk to Mrs Ribbon, be quiet!" She stepped back out the door and they both put on big, fake smiles to both hide their concern.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Sun Aware, Story of Skin Cancers

i lay on the beach,
sun on my skin,
it will burn
and it will sting

but thats my fault,
the price I pay,
to get a tan,
the unhealthy way

they say there's skin cancers,
but i bet they're real rare,
i bet i wont get them,
so i don't care

spray-on tans make me orange,
that's happened before,
so i don't use spray-on tan,
at all anymore

id much rather spend,
my summer days,
getting a tan,
the natural way

by laying on the beach,
and feeling my skin,
sting and peel
and the tan that it brings

but now i'm thirty,
i'm still pretty young,
but ive got a skin cancer,
probably from the sun

'we can only do so much',
the doctors say,
you should've worn sunscreen,
while laying in the bay

so now i cry,
because my chance is low,
and now i am sick,
because of what i now know

i should've listened to mum
and worn sunscreen,
i should've been protected,
from the harmful sun beam

but i didn't listen,
and i chose this way,
so now for what's been done,
i must pay

Be careful in the sun. Look after your skin! You've only got one chance!


her name was Tiffy,
she was my cat,
but Tiffy died,
killed by a baseball bat

i know her killers,
i know them well,
i've told almost everyone,
theres no one else to tell

she went wandering,
but she didn't return,
when i found her dead,
my heart started to burn

i hate them,
the ones that killed her,
they have no hearts,
those horrible killers

it was those boys,
that lived down the street,
but no one listened,
i went down in defeat

but those boys,
that killed my cat,
will get their justice,
with my baseball bat

i'll get my revenge,
a plan I shall make,
to get those boys
for my poor Tiffy's sake

The seriousness of the squashed Carrot

My little brother Cody and I ran through Grandma's garden.
"Be careful of the lettuce," she had warned, "Sitting by the fence."
Cody and I lifted our legs high and tiptoed carefully across the path.
"Remember there's potatoes there too," Grandma had told us.
We watched our steps as we walked past the potatoes, only just visible above the soil.
"And the carrots, petals, especially careful with the carrots. They've taken their time to come up!"
"Yes Grandma," we had said in unison. Cody and I stepped past the carrots. I watched his as carefully as mine but his foot slipped on the path and came right down on a carrot. Cody turned to me with alarmed eyes. They watered and I told him it was alright. I pulled up the mangled, squashed carrot.
"What are you doing?" he asked in a panicked voice, "Grandma can't know. We should just get out of the garden and play in the sandpit where she said we didn't have to be careful of squashing anything." I opened the small gate that was old and rusty and Cody followed behind. I heard his footsteps stop when we walked past the sandpit. I turned to face him. He was standing slouched, and visibly upset. He threw his hands up in the air, as if in surrender.
"I'm not having anything to do with this!" he shouted. But it was too late. We were caught red-handed by Grandma who was coming up the path. She was smiling but shaking her head. Like, she did when we told her silly jokes. I was terrified and the expression on Cody's face said he was too. I knew she would be mad. She said to be careful of the carrots. I looked down to her feet where a grey rabbit was passing.
"The rabbit got into the garden, did he?" she asked. I nodded, feeling saved and my heart slowing down.
"It's happened before," she said, "they just trample right over the carrots to get to the lettuce." She clicked her tongue, "Those mishcevious rabbits."
"Are you cross?"Cody asked her.
"Not much we can do about it now, is there?" she said to us as we shook our heads.
"Well, c'mon," she said, waving us over, "You might as well put that bad carrot in the compost. The muffins we baked are ready, so come back to the house." I looked at the squashed carrot in my hand and couldn't help feeling slightly guilty. We followed behind Grandma back to the house. Cody leant over close to me and whispered quietly, "I won't say nuffin' if you don't!"

Friday, July 9, 2010

Magpie 22

Gardening was never my thing, nor my brothers' or my sisters'. I much preferred to write, and my brother would draw and my sister different still, would much prefer to play with her dolls. Outside my mother would work, most the time and on most days. She'd spend countless hours out there harvesting food for our dinners. She had to work much harder after my father left and spent even more time out there. We'd all been unhappy since he'd left and were as broke as ever. I'd sit inside writing, staring out the window. Mother would be in the garden and it would be raining. I would think to help her but push the thoughts aside as it would be much too boring and I didn't feel like getting wet.

One day when I got home I found my mother in her bed. My sister told me she'd fallen sick, most likely from the cold rain.
"But what about our dinner?" my brother asked and my tired mother didn't reply. She sighed long and deeply and that's when I started to cry.
"What about our dinner?" my brother asked a second time.
"Go get your boots on," I told him, although he only crossed his arms across his chest.
"Go get your boots on!" I screamed at my stubborn little brother. I felt the tears run down my face and the fury build inside me. He stormed out of the room, realizing how serious I was. I knelt down by my mother. Her body was cold and her eyes stayed shut even when my warm lips touched her cheek.
"Tell me what to do," I said.
"I don't know," she whispered, "I can't remember what was almost ripe." This time i was the one to sigh.
Just like I had, she sighed too, "Tomatoes," she whispered.

My brother stood by the back door with my sister by his side. I knelt down in front of him and stared right into his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I said, "for yelling at you. But we all owe apologies to our mother who has worked outside all this time for the benefit of all of us. Now it is time, for us to work for her so she can get well again." We all went out to the garden where stray weeds covered the once brick path that sat outside of our home. I stepped past fruits of green and red and vegetables of all sorts. Most of it would not survive and most of them looked bad. I went to the back where I saw circles of red. There where some sun shun through the trees sat 5 red tomatoes. I carefully pulled them off the stem and knew what I had to do. I would make tomato soup and my mother would be well after some time of rest. I felt horrible for leaving my assistance so long but from that point on my mother would not have to be the only contributer to what we all benefited from. I looked at my brother and sister skipping in the garden. Maybe we would all be happy again aswell.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

First Story Posted

Today I've decided I'm going to get right to it and post one of my finished stories. It's a short story and it's called Unfaithful. I actually wrote it quite a while ago and I hope to get some of my newer work up soon. Not that I think anyone has actually seen my blog yet, but I would just like to say I would be so thankful if you have any feedback at all. Also, by getting a follower it can always lead to another. I will also become a 'follower' for you if you do so for me.

Thanks :)

As Morgan Cambridge applied her makeup in her small apartment’s bathroom she stared at herself in the mirror. She heard the door open to her apartment.

“Sweetie,” her boyfriend, Jonah called.

“In the bathroom,” Morgan called back. He walked into the room and gave her a kiss.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, “are you going out?”

“Yeah, Teresa rang before and we’re going to go out with a few of the other girls from uni,” she lied.

“Oh,” he said, his tone filled with disapointment, “will you be back late?”

“Probably,” Morgan replied. Morgan and Jonah walked out to the dining room. It was already dark outside. Through the large windows you could see the whole city. Morgan grabbed her bag and went to give Jonah a kiss.

“Give me a call if you need a lift home,” he said.

“I’m taking my own car,” she said.

“Okay, well have a good time. I love you,” he said. But as Morgan said those three words back she couldn’t look Jonah in the eyes.

She hurried out the door and into her car. Jonah watched from the window as she drove off. Then he turned towards the kitchen as he heard a familiar sound. It was Morgan’s ring tone. She had left her mobile behind as she had hurried out the door. On the screen of the mobile, ONE NEW MESSAGE FROM DAMIAN YORK, appeared. But the message was locked with an unlock code. Jonah phoned Teresa so that she could let Morgan know that she had left her phone behind.

“Hi Jonah,” Teresa said when he called.

“Hi, Morgan just left to meet with you guys but left her mobile behind. Would you just let her know when she gets there,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, Morgan said she was going out with you and a few others tonight,” he said.

“I don’t know why she’d say that. We hadn’t arranged anything. Derek and I are just staying home tonight,” Teresa, said.

“Oh really, maybe she got mixed up or something. I really don’t know,” he said, “Well, if you do hear from her or anything tonight let me know what’s happening, right?”

“Will do,” Teresa, said, “See you.”

“Bye,” he said and he put down the phone.

“How strange,” he said aloud.

That night Jonah waited in the lounge room of the small apartment surfing the television channels. It had gone 2am and then there was a loud knock at the door. He slowly opened the door hoping it was Morgan but instead a tall man in a dark outfit. As he opened it a bit further and some light came out of the apartment and into the corridor he realised it was a police officer.

“Hello Mr Spencer,” he said.

“Hi. What is this about?” Jonah asked.

“I’m Sargent John Courtly and I’m sorry to inform you that Morgan Jollettes has passed away,” he said. Jonah was absolutely speechless. His throat went dry and his heart seemed to slow which was the complete opposite of what would normally happen when he was shocked and start to panic. He felt numb and almost fell to the ground.


“I’m sorry Mr Spencer. I understand this information is hard for you to take in. She was in an accident earlier tonight but died at the scene of the crash,” The Sargent said.

The Sargent helped Jonah to a chair.

“She was not in the vehicle of her own,” he said. The shock was too much for Jonah. Tears prickled at Jonah’s eyes. He almost fell from the peach, wooden chair that he sat upon.

“There was a male and he was driving. His name was Damian York. He has also died. Do you know this man?” York-Jonah had heard this from somewhere. He knew this name but not this person, the txt message from earlier on Morgan’s phone. That must have been who Morgan had gone to meet.

“She received a m-message from someone by that name but sh-sh-she wasn’t h-here to get it. She left her m-mobile here.” Jonah burst out in tears. He felt as if someone had just ripped his heart out.

A few days later, when Jonah felt the sun had been destroyed and his life was not worth living Morgan’s messages were unlocked and it was thought Jonah had the right to know what they said…

When Jonah looked at them, the ones from Damian York had kisses and hugs and ‘I love yous’ and then it suddenly sunk in that Morgan had not been faithful to him.

The hardest thing for Jonah when losing the one he truly loved. Was finding out he wasn’t loved back.