I am running through darkness, completely naked. The ground is covered by ice and snow causing a sharp and bitter pain to run through my legs with every stride. Though my sides are splitting and I have little breath left I don't turn around and I don't dare slow down. Without the knowledge of why I am running, I am struck with the feeling that I am running toward something and not away from something. Completely void of emotion: I am neither sad nor glad, I am not excited or frightened. I just am. I am running, cold, and in pain... nothing more.
Suddenly I am stopped, flipped over, knocked flat on my back by something, I don't know what, but there is a stinging, burning pain at my waistline, across my stomach. I roll over and draw my knees underneath me to meet my chest. I reach up slowly into the utter darkness until I found what it was that had sent me tumbling. It's thin barbed wire. Two strands run close together.
My body frozen, I can feel the warmth of my blood turning cold as it rolls down my abdomen and over my legs. Blinded by the darkness I feel for the damage. I… read more
Walking through grassy corridors, hemmed in by lines of cars, looking for that elusive bargain at my local car boot sale, I spotted a statue carved in ebony, an African dancer, perhaps six inches tall, kneeling with hands in the air, as if praying to a god in a magical trance. Without a second thought, I purchased the sculpture, knowing exactly where in my house it would go, seeing it standing on my mantelpiece between clock and candlestick, a happy figure to keep me company. But having positioned it in the chosen position, that night in my bed, I woke with a fright, sure that I’d heard a noise, perhaps of splintering wood, a sound that reverted to a silence so deep I could not bring myself to break it by breathing for what seemed like a lifetime. Lying there in bed, my mind started racing, not letting me sleep, leaving me wondering what the noise had been. Perhaps the statue held evil, its magic infecting my home, its witchcraft seeping into my house, its very presence invading my space. I tossed and turned, not able to rest, too afraid to rise out of bed, growing weaker and more… read more
A sputtered whirring pierced the silence. He winced slightly as the first flash of the bulb contrasted the black, rubbing bloodshot eyes with worn fingers. The ceiling shuddered as the door creaked, eerie in the tested knowledge that the hinges had been replaced, oiled and polished fanatically.
She was punctual, just like clockwork. Her figure leant gracefully against the frame as she gazed distractedly into space, toying thoughtfully with an earring. The cigarette smoke trickled lazily towards the ceiling, smothering the putrid air and weaving through the cobwebs. The man below wheezed slightly as the smoke wafted forward to greet him, his vision still growing accustomed to the light as his eyes traced the ivory banister of the spiral staircase, resting on her stiletto heels far above.
As if to acknowledge his presence for the first time she smiled, playing with the rouge-stained filter between varnished nails,
“Sleep well honey?” she mocked in a teasing American accent, letting the twisted stub fall carelessly through the grating.
He murmured weakly, ash splaying like snow across his knee. Strands of unkempt hair lay strewn across one side of his unshaven face, a prominent split of murk-red curved upstream from his jaw, disappearing… read more
I hated the therapist’s office. It was like a living room in a hospital: Out of place, medicinal. The smell clogged my sinuses. “More name calling?” the shrink ventured, mistaking my silence for shyness. She wasn’t my usual psychiatrist. I blinked in response. “It says here you endure an awful lot of teasing and verbal abuse in school,” she scrambled, reading through the blurb of my life on her clipboard. She stared at me, her brow furrowed, and removed her gold-rimmed glasses. “Had they been bothering you today?”
I watched the pretty, blonde therapist contentedly for a moment. She was very young. Probably only out of med school. She repeated her question, her voice sympathetic. “Paul,” I blurted out. My eyes never left hers. I could see that this bothered her. She was clearly confused, so I answered her question before she could ask it. “They called me Paula.” My mind shot back to the sniggering girl with the peroxide hair and denim shorts. I hadn’t bothered correcting her. She knew full well my name was Paula.
“Did that upset you?” The therapist kept her tone sympathetic, pen poised b her clipboard, as though awaiting a torrent of emotion to… read more
Jim was naturally sociable - he found it easy making new friends, he always had. Any opportunity to meet new people was useful and travelling, in particular, presented many opportunities. He was now at the check-in desk for his flight to Hong Kong, where he would be staying for a week. Always smartly dressed, he smiled at the desk clerk and was offered an upgrade to business class, which he accepted and, on boarding, found himself seated beside a young woman perhaps five years his junior. She smiled at him, introducing herself as Jane and as he sat down, and the pair started chatting.
Jim had business in Hong Kong, but was flying out early to look around the island beforehand. Jane was standing in for her boss, who had had to pull out of her trip at the last minute. She too was there for the week and they soon realised they were to return on the same flight the following Friday. An unusual coincidence, Jane commented and Jim smiled in agreement.
He turned the conversation to the island they were visiting, and its many attractions. Jane seemed to enjoy listening to his soft voice, and soon he found… read more
I usually travel as companion to my aunt for six weeks in summer and for three weeks in spring. Sadly, my parents are dead. During term time, I suffer boarding school, cut off from the outside world in a secluded part of North Yorkshire. This spring we are travelling in Northwest America, and had arrived in Seattle this morning.
My aunt tells me that travel broadens the mind, especially while one is young. She reminds me that I am still a young girl at eighteen. She informs me that for this trip, she will be allowing me a little more freedom. I will be able to leave the hotel for short periods without her.
We are now finishing dinner at a smart restaurant close to our hotel. Our waitress is friendly and introduces herself as Judy. She asks us about our accent. My aunt replies that we have just arrived from England. In between tables, she returns to chat some more. We enjoy her company, and during desert, she asks whether I would like to see a little more of the city with her.
I look at my aunt. She is taken by surprise at first, but then smiles. Of… read more
1
The night was still. The air seemed thick and heavy, as though the world had been encased by a small, glass dome. Not a sound could be heard on the long, country lane, save for the occasional hoot of an owl, or the rustling of a bush. The small, comfortable houses were quiet, and the happy, peaceful families inside were all asleep. This was the kind of neighbourhood where everyone was asleep by ten o'clock. The kind that Edward Davies loved.
Mr Davies must have been the only person awake for a mile around. He stood in the kitchen, wearing his favourite blue cotton night-gown, and his furry white slippers, and waited for the kettle to boil. He hummed some unnameable tune as the kettle sang, then poured the boiling water into his favourite, 'Grand-dad's the best!', mug. He smiled to himself as he thought, 'I'm going to make this tea, then I'm going to get a hot water bottle. The one with the lovely fur. Then I'll grab my book, and read until I can barely keep my eyes open for tiredness'. Mr Davies was content with his retired lifestyle.
A few minutes later, he climbed the… read more
Pieces
Satine has always been an insomniac, even before, when in elementary school she couldn’t sleep. Satine would stay up late watching horror movies on cable TV on her nights of restlessness. Her mother would joke “ Even vampires go to bed before dawn!” , and other sly comments as such. It was never the movies that kept her awake. She was truly a creature of the night. She felt more awake, more alive. It actually came in very useful for college. The late nights up studying and finishing work were nothing,shed be popping her second set of PM pills while the others were brewing their third pot of coffee. She fit right in the whole college experience, but still seemed to fall right out.
Eived was Satines best friends since Jr. high. They went to high school together and some of college they both decided to stop at the same time also. Satine and Eived were very close, they used to joke about the shinning, they could finish each others sentences. A look would be enough to figure out what they were going to do next. Partners in crime. The bobbsey twins. Everyone had a name… read more
I am awakened by a screeching sound like that of nails being drawn along a classroom black board. Screeeeech. There it is again. I tuck my blanket tightly around my feet and up around my chin and ears. I don’t want to look. The lamp is right beside me on the night stand but I’m afraid, afraid to reach from the safety of the cover to fumble for the switch. It’s so dark. What if I knock it over onto the floor groping for the switch? I would have to reach down quickly to retrieve it. I know things lurk under beds at night. That’s why I never climb out until day break. What if I feel something unfamiliar brush my arm? What if something is waiting, sensing my fear, tasting it, smelling it and anticipating my every move? What if it’s only being silent now to entice me to try, waiting to shred my hand with its razor sharp teeth the moment I make my attempt? Screeeeech. Oh my gawd! I’m trying so hard not to make a sound. I’m breathing open mouthed as slowly and as shallowly as possible. I don’t… read more
The Shining Night
I crash through the entrance doors, heaving for breath. If I could see my eyes, I know I'd see them bloodshot; my face is raw, red from cold and blue from last night’s bruises, and my appearance is so wild as I glance at sign after sign that people are muttering and staring, but they don't know that I'm calm. I'm calm. I'm calm. I'm only here to get a mistake corrected. Such a stupid mistake! I have to keep from laughing out loud. It's so banal!
Signs. Signs. Signs! There's too many damn signs! Where the hell do I go?!
"Er... sir, do you need help at all?"
I spin so fast that the girl who spoke struggles to keep her smile intact; she's dressed in starched white and seated behind -
- a reception desk! Thank God! The girl actually presses back into her seat as I rush over. I try to speak but I only get as far as "N-” before a spasm of coughing strangles me. Too much running, I'm not damn fit enough and it's costing me too much time! But I should stop being so worried: it's… read more
Basically I'm practising coz I like the idea of writing a thriller where dangerous events happen to people who would usually never get tangled up in anything dangerous. Then you can talk about how they have to wise and get themselves together to save themselves or those they love. So I made up these rich sort of snobby people and in these first pages I just tried to discribe their evening as best I can to make them seem rather boring, over protected people whilst hinting at their problems like Eleanor's mother. Obviously at the moment I'm writing the fantasy trilogy but this may or may not be the next book. PS this may have mistakes in it.
CHAPTER ONE
WE INTERUPT THIS FAMILY
The day was ending outside the Wilson's manner in Sussex England and the night was setting in. All was a carpet of deep black by ten o'clock that evening and the many acres of gardens, hedges, trees and flowerbeds were in darkness. The manner itself was illuminated by the outdoor lights that shinned upon its orange bricks which turned amber as they basked in the gentle glow of the light bulbs. The windows… read more
Mrs Chivers edged closer. Dr Kade already knew what she was going to do.
"Doctor," she said, her voice as always little more than a whisper. He felt the lightest touch on his arm; she drew back her hand immediately. She looked, indeed, like the sort of person who would avoid any physical contact: small, slight, pale. There was a perpetual contest between her timidity and the need for reassurance, the faint possibility of comfort.
Kade turned to face her. "Mrs Chivers," he said, "do you realise it's a very annoying habit of yours, the way you tap people on the shoulder?"
Dr Kade was a believer in the therapeutic value of confrontation.
Mrs Chivers looked anguished. "I'm sorry..I didn't mean - it's just I feel so dreadful."
"Yes, well, there's a ward conference later today. You'll be discussed along with the other patients."
For the moment, she seemed satisfied with that: the widespread quasi-religious faith in the medical profession extended to psychiatrists, especially consultants. Kade watched her as she walked back across the room; her every movement was slow, laboured, performed against the dragging resistance of despair. He thought, wryly, that if the woman suffered from… read more
