Monday, 21 October 2013

The first three chapters of The Other Side of The Mirror

Fifteen year old Leighton hates school, her home life, just about everything. Until one day she changes place with the girl in the mirror and realises just what she has given away. Finding Noah, a drifter just passing through until he finds what he's looking for, Leighton discovers that all is not what it seems. As she searches for a way home the distance between her reality and her existence grows dangerously apart.

The Other Side of The Mirror

Fate and Death skip hand in hand,
Along life's Merry Dance.
With time they sing a soulful tune,
With nothing left to chance.
And though life's dance will always cease,
The soul still carries on.
For when life's journey is at an end,
Death's Dance as just begun.


Time was ticking by very slowly, or maybe it just seemed slower looking at it from the wrong way round. Either way Leighton Mathews was becoming more agitated by the passing of every slow minute.

Sitting all alone on her bed with nothing but the tormenting hands of time as company she thought of how she had gotten in this mess and sighed. The old cliché of 'Be careful of what you wish for' seemed to ring loud in her ears.

Hearing the door slam and the familiar yet now disturbing vocals that she had heard herself say many times before echoed up the stairway. It was home. Moments later the bedroom door burst open and large smiles beamed her way as her reflection dropped the school bag carelessly on the floor to admire the image in the mirror before jumping ceremoniously onto the bed. Leighton felt the vibrations beneath her.

Staring at her own image was not something she enjoyed. It was a stark reminder of what she had given up with no regard of the consequences.

It had been a week since they switched places and the novelty had soon worn off. Seeing as her reflection seemed in such a good mood, she decided to be brave.

“I don't think this is going to work anymore.”

Smiling sweetly, her reflection feigned confusion. “What's not going to work anymore?”

Leighton swallowed the fear rising in the back of her throat. “Erm...this situation.”

Slowly rising from the bed her reflection sauntered to the mirror her blue eyes darkening like clouds before the eruption of a great storm.

“And what situation is that?”

Leighton hated her reflection. Hated herself even more and worst of all this was all her own stupid fault. She was trapped on the other side of the mirror.

'Within the Mirror the Soul reflects, through eyes that shall not lie,
For those whose hearts are cold as stone are always doomed to die.
Within the Mirror the Soul reflects, through eyes now drenched with sorrow,
Tears may fall for yesteryears and all those lost tomorrows.
A heart grown cold will never know, what grace does lie ahead,
For a soul that's never loved before is already the wandering dead...

Chapter One: The Mirror

Leighton shuddered awake the poem still fresh in her mind. Sitting up slowly she was relieved to see that her reflection still slept. It was a strange feeling looking at herself sleep, though it wasn't really her that slept. It was something else.

Tired and exhausted she brought her knees up resting her arms across them. Lowering her chin to her hands Leighton sobbed gently. It would find this amusing; her tears were something that fascinated her reflection greatly.

The words of the poems tormented her restless dreams; they were from the old woman's journal that Leighton had found at the run down house her dad was clearing out. For a small price he had bought the house contents to refurbish for his second hand store 'Mathews Second Helpings'.

John Mathews eventually hoped to add daughter or son but neither of his children were interested in the refurbishment of old furniture. Leighton's brother thirteen year old James was determined to be a policeman though Leighton was adamant he was more suitable to be a criminal mastermind as he was quite excellent at cheating and lying.

Scribbled in the journal were mostly morbid rhymes bizarrely written backwards and strange drawings of beings shrouded in smoky darkness their claw like hands reaching out from black tendrils of smoke. The images held an element of fear that immediately imprinted on her brain; Leighton had not lingered on the page.

Whilst flicking through the aged paper a piece of card had come lose, gently shaking it free she saw it was a black and white photograph of two identical girls standing side by side. On the back written in faded ink and in the same handwriting was, 'Miss Mauralia & Miss Roseline 1925 aged 15', the same age as her. Neither of the girls looked happy. One looked almost afraid.

Soft snores told her that her reflection still slept peacefully. It had been a silly wish, even now Leighton still struggled to believe this was happening, that this was really some twisted reality that her over imaginative brain had conjured up to entertain her self pity.

It had begun with the Mirror in the old lady's bedroom. An antiquated brass mirror hung on the wall in the darkened room, for a split second she could of swore something moved within the mirror but as it was only herself in the room she dismissed her silly imagination.

When Leighton had gone to try and open the thick heavy set curtains to let some light into the musty old room she had found them woven tightly together. Her dad explained the woman had been agoraphobic, which was why the whole house was so dark. Old and frail the authorities fearing for the old lady's sanity had removed her from the house and she was now living in a care home.

It had only took several hours to load up the contents of the house that had any value to it but still Leighton had been worn out as though the energy was being drawn from her, she had dismissed again her over imaginative imagination and continued to help her dad load up insisting he take the journals that maybe they could send them over to the care home. Leighton was curious about the old woman and the journals intrigued her, she had found it quite sad that this woman had lived all alone with fear in such a dark foreboding house and all that was to show off her possessions were now packed into cardboard boxes.

It was on the drive home that Leighton asked if she could have the Mirror, she had seen her dad's quandary as once it was cleaned up would fetch quite a bit at an auction. She had feigned a renewed interest in the refurbishment business and promised to help out some Saturdays without payment. That had clinched the deal.

Alone in her room she had sat curled up on her bed quickly writing up the history homework that she had been putting off when she heard what sounded like her wardrobe door opening and her drawers sliding back and forth on their hinges. There was no one else in her room and the wardrobes and drawers were completely still. But she could hear someone moving around in her room. Feeling freaked out as her heart pumped the blood around her veins causing a whirring noise to pulse in her inner ears.

“Hello!” she said her voice strained. The rummaging noises stopped.

The loose floorboard where she kept her diary hidden away from James creaked and she held her breath.

Hello, you have a nice room though your garments are a little strange!”

Leighton had screamed and bolted for the door but the handle wouldn't budge sending her into sheer panic.

Oh please get a grip child.”

Shaking the door handle with all her might Leighton thought her heart was going to explode inside her chest.

Look if you stop these hysterics then I'll let go of the door handle!”

“Are you a ghost?” Leighton had asked terrified of the answer.

No I am not,” responded the voice slightly annoyed. “But if you don't calm down you shall not be granted your wish.”

Letting go of the door handle in shock, she saw it turn and open then close again. No one was there; she was talking to a ghost. Ghosts don't give wishes! Do they?

Leighton remembered how foolishly ignorant she had been or maybe she had been desperate and it knew exactly what to say.

Slowly she had backed away from the door. Catching her reflection in the Mirror she saw herself smile. Her reflection gave a little wave and Leighton's mouth must have dropped open in shock because the moisture from her throat evaporated rather quickly.

“I'm dreaming.” she had said aloud convincing herself that this was all in her tired mind.

A slow chuckle filled the room.

No you’re not.”

Looking in the Mirror Leighton saw the wardrobe door open and the clothes half hanging out the drawers. “How is this possible?” she had asked curiously drawn towards the Mirror. Naively she listened as her reflection drew her in.


The magic word had been said and all the warning signals that blazed brightly in her mind seemed to distinguish like a power cut to her sub consciousness.

“What wish will you grant?”

Leighton recalled the sly smile that slipped across her reflections lips. She thought about all the other questions she should have asked instead, like why the hell was her reflection talking to her. But she hadn't thought; all she had wanted to know was what she could gain.

Freedom is yours if you wish.”

Confusion befuddled her mind, her reflection smiled; the look had been kind and warm. Maybe if she had looked closer she might have seen a hint of the deception that It had planned.

“I would like more freedom.”

Her reflection had smiled encouragingly.

“To do what I want when I want.”

I understand.”

Leighton couldn't describe the feeling of excitement that had surged through her body. Thinking about it now, it was more likely her reflections excitement that she had felt.

Take my hand and your wish will be granted.”

And that was when she had thrown away her existence.

Reaching through the Mirror her hand had passed through the glass like it was water. Taking hold of her reflections hand they stepped into each other’s world like crossing a bridge. A strange feeling of vertigo hit her and Leighton had fallen to the floor. Darkness swooped quickly and the sound of laughter faded with her sight.

Sitting on her reflective bed her tears now dried upon her cheeks Leighton felt the wariness of her tired body. Laying back down the quilt did little to force out the cold that penetrated deep within her soul, 'her lost soul' she thought sadly as her heavy lids closed and sleep finally took her blissfully away.

Chapter Two: Glass Prison

Morning arrived with the sounds of accusations flying in the air. Leighton could hear the argument between James and her reflection was now in full force, any minute mums aggravated tone would pulverise the ear drums of all in the near vicinity. She supposed that her reflection was certainly keeping things authentic in the relationship of herself and brother or maybe James was just annoying to everyone unfortunate enough to share his company.

Rubbing her aching eyes roughly, she blinked away the kaleidoscope of shapes and colours that appeared in her vision before stretching her stiff muscles as far as her spine would allow without serious injury. Leighton had not heard her reflection rise this morning. Sleep had not been peaceful; exhaustion in the early hours of the morning had swallowed her whole, thoughts of the old woman disturbing her already strained mind.

Going to the mirror she looked out her glass prison and sighed. The bedroom door remained closed as it always did; the warning of being lost into oblivion if she tried to leave was something that was repeated quite regularly. Leighton had tried the door the first opportunity that presented itself but her reflection locked the door without fail.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs as her reflection all flustered and angry charged into the bedroom. The door was left wide open. Distracted and muttering curses that would have her grounded for a month if her mum heard, her reflection searched the room.

Leighton decided to keep quiet and not ask what she was looking for. She could see the landing; no black holes loomed ready to swallow her up. Trying to be subtle she glanced around and slowly moved to the door in her bedroom of reflection. It seemed bizarre to look out and everything be on the opposite side. She had grown use to her bedroom being the other way round now that it almost seemed normal except for the big fact she was trapped.

The door beckoned her closer. Her reflection was distracted. She could make a run for it. A heavy weight filled her bones. And go where she thought sadly. No one could hear her, she had screamed at the top of her lungs when she had realised that her reflection had tricked her, no one heard her pleas only the dog had barked but Beau always barked. A sudden thought occurred to her what if Beau had heard her shouting.

“I do hope that enthusiastic expression is not aimed at a silly escape plan?”

Leighton jumped. Her reflection stood with her nose almost pressed against the glass of the mirror her eyes barely containing the rage that threatened to spill over and drown Leighton.

“ no I was just...looking.” Leighton hated the sound of defeat in her voice. Even if the dog did hear her, what could he do? He was just a dog.

“Good.” said her reflection simply, all rage evaporated like rain under hot sunshine.

The sudden smile from her reflection was so unnerving that Leighton didn't want to keep eye contact, she felt a tell tale twitch niggle at her eyelid; something she did when she felt nervous. Trying to act casual she sat upon her bed breaking away from the piercing glare that seemed to penetrate into her mind.

“What were you looking for?” she asked politely.

Her reflection glared accusingly and Leighton instantly regretted speaking.

“My diary.”

My diary?” said Leighton in surprise and recovered quickly enough not to glance at the loose floorboard that her reflection was standing on.

“Yes, as I said my diary!”

Sarcasm dripped teasingly from her reflections lips but Leighton wisely chose to ignore it. The anger was too apparent in her reflection eyes and she was certainly not in a position to aggravate It further. Not if she wanted to get her life back. And that was what she intended to do.

“What exactly do you need my diary for?”

Her reflection repeated the sentence in a whiny mimic trying to bate a response. Leighton held strong and remained silent, waiting patiently. A thunderous scream of her name made her jump.

In a blazing fury James burst into the room charging straight at Leighton shoving hard.
Leighton watched with a mixture of horrified pleasure as her reflection went crashing to the floor shock and pain spreading across its face.

“You ever set me up like that again Leigh and I swear I'll show mum and dad what crap you write about in that bloody diary of yours!”

Having angered James many times Leighton knew pissed off but the look that was in her brothers eyes was pure hatred and hurt. She could see the skin around his eyes was all puffy and swollen from where he had rubbed them dry. His laboured breathing told her that this wasn't over. Her reflection flinched slightly as James stepped closer fist clenched. Leighton couldn't help but feel a small leap of satisfaction at the flicker of fear that flashed in her reflections eyes before the look of irritation returned.

James looked like he was going to say something more but their mums voice called out for them to get a move on. As fast as he came into the room he was gone. Moving closer to the mirror Leighton pressed her fingertips to the cold glass.

“What have you done to my brother?” she snapped as a slow burning fury uncurled in her stomach. No one but her was allowed to torment James that was the unspoken rule of sibling law.

A sly smile stretched across the reflections face as it stood up straightening the dishevelled school uniform. “I was merely playing my part in this role of yours.”

Curling her fingernails into her palms Leighton rested her fists against the mirror resisting the urge to pound the glass and break free. “What do you mean? What did you do to him?”

“I may have spilt my drink on his bed sheets.”

Pour James thought Leighton horrified. No wonder he hated her; or the thing that was playing at being her. James had suffered night terrors as a small child and would often wet the bed. Even though he no longer suffered any mishaps it was still a sensitive issue. Many times she had helped him change the bed and hide it in the laundry. Their mum knew the routine but was happy to let James believe she was unaware if it helped ease his embarrassment. Leighton had never used it against him; until now.

With a burst of laughter her reflection disappeared out the door shutting it firmly behind. A few seconds passed before she realised she had not heard the tormenting click of the lock!

 Chapter Three: Open Doors

Alone with her thoughts now that the house was empty Leighton wished the voice in her head would quiet down. It seemed so loud against the back drop of the soft rhythmic ticking of the backward clock that she wanted to stick her fingers in her ears; but as she found out before that just magnified the screams that she wasn't doing anything to help herself out this insane situation she had stepped into.

Beau growled low in the back of his throat the sounds of the outside world captivating his attention. It was bizarre what you noticed when there was nothing else to do with your time. Everything had a routine, birds singing, alarms beeping or the mad morning dash for the bathroom and the curses that follow when toilet seats aren't put up or down. Dad’s remarkable ability to grab the paper from the letterbox before the dog can rip it to shreds. Mum telling them to hurry up and eat their breakfast then moaning that their not chewing the food properly. Leighton could put all the pictures to the noises she heard each day. It had all seemed so boring and unimportant once, now it was something she was determined to get back.

Hearing the front gate swing open and an excitable bark announced the arrival of the post man. Mail was shoved with lightening speed through the letterbox by skilled fingers nimble at dodging canine teeth followed by a satisfied muffled bark as the envelopes were successfully mauled.

Resting her hand on the unlocked door fear and apprehension kept her from turning the handle to freedom. A sudden wave of sadness swamped her initial excitement, she let go and went to the window. The sun was shining brightly today, hearing Beau bark again she smiled it was a shame she couldn't take him out, she missed it. Leighton smiled sadly to herself she actually hated walking the dog, but right now it was something she would love to do now. A steely determination filling her bones she took a deep breath and shouted as loud as she could.


Beau howled in anticipation to jumping over the pet gate and bounding up the stairs. Scratching at the door impatient to get in he cried pitifully.

Returning to the door her hand shook as it gripped the handle tight, a quick turn and the door sprang open. A gust of energy sent her sprawling to the floor, Leighton sat confused, she could hear Beau barking but couldn't see him. Looking back at the mirror she saw his big wet nose sniffing wildly at her through the glass. Scrambling to her feet she headed quickly to the mirror, as she did Beau's reflection appeared next to her, mimicking his every move.

Gently Leighton touched his fur and marvelled that it felt exactly the same as the real thing. Beau must have felt the vibrations of the caress; as he dropped to the floor showing his stomach. Laughing Leighton knelt down and gave the reflections belly a rub. With her suddenly out of his sight Beau jumped up searching for her which caused the reflection to do the same sending Leighton falling to her bottom again.

Feeling guilty for the confusion the dog must feel Leighton got quickly to her feet. “Sorry boy, this is messing with my head too!
Nervously Leighton stepped onto the landing to find Beau had disappeared. Confused she quickly looked back at the mirror in the bedroom and could see Beau waiting at the bedroom door. When he saw her he barked again.

Of course!” she thought, it made sense now. Coming onto the landing again she called out to the dog and could hear him beside her even though she couldn't see him. Reaching half way down the stairs she looked into the decorative mirror that hung on the landing, she saw Beau the reflection wagging his tale on the stairs next to her and the real Beau through the mirror. His reflection could only be seen by her when there was a mirror nearby, which must mean that she could be seen too in another mirror! That was why her reflection didn't want her leaving the bedroom because she would be seen by her family.

Heading downstairs Beau followed after her disappearing and reappearing depending on where there was reflection. It was quite disturbing that she tried not to think about it too much, her head was beginning to pound as her brain tried to make sense of the mixed signals her eyes were sending it.

Tentatively moving to the front door Leighton took a deep breath letting it out slowly as she focused on the door handle. Giving it a turn she found it locked. 'Stupid! Of course it would be locked!' The spare keys were kept in mum’s desk. Hoping and praying that this would work she pulled at the drawers and gasped joyfully when they opened. She hadn't been sure if she would be like a ghost in this world and not be able to touch anything but she had felt Beau's reflection and he had been as solid to touch as the real Beau. Grabbing the keys they jangled noisily in her hand, returning to the front door she willed her shaking hands to steady as she placed the key in the lock. At the sound of clicking metal Leighton felt a rush of relief.

Fresh air washed over her warm cheeks, the sun shone brightly that Leighton took as second to enjoy the feel of it on her face. Closing her eyes the sound of the birds singing over head soothed away the weariness that loomed over her like a black cloud. She was free.

Beau barked somewhere nearby and Leighton laughed out loud for the first time in weeks. “I agree boy this is wonderful.”

Getting the dog back inside wasn't an easy challenge as Leighton soon discovered. Not being able to see him hindered any chance of manoeuvring him inside. Picking up a tennis ball from the garden she shook it around in the air until she felt something sniff playfully at her hands, throwing the ball back into the kitchen and hearing the excited dash that followed she quickly shut and locked the door. Beau's cries could be heard through the glass. Whispering her apologises Leighton tucked the keys safely into her jeans and made her way down the street.

It seemed so strange everything being the opposite side of what she was use to. Birds sang joyfully their high pitched tweets picking up Leighton's pace as she walked along the streets so familiar and yet so foreign. Hurrying along the pavements she rounded a corner and gasped as Mr Harbour one of the neighbours from a few doors way appeared out of nowhere skimming her arm as her pasted her by. Looking directly at her Leighton held her breath in hope, a quick confused shake of his head and Mr Harbour was gone disappearing from view, his reflection lost to her sight.

Standing there lost in the moment Leighton pushed away the disappointment treading slowly into the street, her mind whirled like a cyclone as she saw more people random appearing and disappearing. Vibrations from the honks of cars horns as buses took up road space reached her ears, the aggravated chatter dancing in the air from strangers desperate to be on their way.

A dog ran past her feet snapping at a cat that caught its attention, she watched as they vanished and appeared as their reflections were captured like a Polaroid picture, the scene stretching before her like an old fashioned Cinematograph film, the flickering images made her feel nauseous.

Reaching out for the wall behind her Leighton felt some relief from its solid mass, dizzy from all the activity she leant against the brick work taking a strange comfort from the pain as she slid down the wall. All around her the buzz from the world she had lost from her grasp stung like a thousand bees. Strangers reflections all oblivious to the falling tears of the distraught girl that sat on the ground her knees pulled tightly to her chest passing her by like she was invisible. 'I am invisible' she thought sadly.

Several precious minutes had passed; reflections of passers-by were like gentle gusts of winds as she slowly got to her feet her decision made. Knowing it was foolish and dangerous only spurred Leighton on; she needed to see It.

Wiping away tears with her sleeve she walked focusing on the path ahead. Leighton took a deep breath, It was destroying her slowly, this monstrous torture that she had brought on herself with her own ignorance had to stop. She needed to find a way back home but to do that she needed to know more.

In the distant the grey building looked like some monstrous Tombstone. Leighton had always hated school and now tried to recall why? She was never bullied physically but sometimes emotions cut deeper than a fist. The bullies had soon grown bored when she didn't react to their taunts, fearful of wasting their energy on somebody insignificant she was left alone.

Leighton stood pressed up against the wall of the main hallway, the familiarity brought no comfort. Like a graveyard of shadows the reflections of students from Harlen School moved about the daily routines. With the school bell announcing dinner she followed the crowds into the dinner hall finding what she was looking for. Herself.

Surrounded by an adoring crowd Leighton's reflection was laughing wickedly at something Lucas Wilkinson had just whispered into her ear. Coldness crept over her body as she saw the way people were looking at her or It. Adoration beamed from eyes now being privileged with the whispered secret. An eruption of caustic giggles rippled around the group falling prey on its unfortunate victim, hiding unsuccessfully behind the ginger hair that was the source of ridicule.

Leighton saw the tears glisten in Martha Grittle sea green eyes before dropping her head her fringe creating a weak shield for her emotions. 'Poor Martha'.

Laughter welled up, overflowing like some acidic water fountain eroding all in its path. Feeling the pain of one of her oldest friends Leighton cringed at the betraying words coming from her lips. Secrets of a trusted friendship laid bare for the amusement of a callous audience.

'How could It know? Could her reflection read her mind?' Fear grasped tightly at her chest. 'What if It could sense her now!' Feeling suddenly visible Leighton held her breath waiting to be seen.

Someone howled with hysterics as Martha dashed from the room, her shield unable to hide the floodgates of tears that spilled down her face. Leighton watched her reflection smile slowly, the look chilling her blood. 'The mirrors!' She had forgotten about the mirrors. With every step she made her heart pounded louder in her ears until eventually it was all she could hear. Moving back into the hallway Leighton thought of Martha. Friends from primary school, they had both remained close sharing heartaches and secrets, one of those being how much Martha fancied Lucas Wilkinson. 'What had she done to her dear friend? The hate. The hurt she saw flash in her eyes as she ran from the room; the most important treasured secret revealed to be shredded like waste paper and recycled again to cause more pain'. Not wanting to see any more she left.

Walking along with no destination in mind she felt like a piece of her soul had been ripped from her, chewed up and spat out to be trampled on till nothing remained. Across the path that led to the park Leighton marvelled at the random flights of birds. Their random criss-cross of flight in the warm afternoon sun was hypnotic. As the days sunshine warmed her skin it dawned on her how she could feel anything at all, how could a land of reflection feel anything? She asked herself as she reached for a rose bush bending down to smell the petals inhaling the sweet scent. Glancing around the park Leighton went and sat on the wooden bench dedicated to some stranger whose name she had passed on the other side many times but never stopped to read. Getting use to reading backwards had taken some getting use to but slowly Leighton ran her finger across the metal plaque where deep grooves had gorged out the name.

‘…....a beloved Son and brother, Forever missed x'

Did the family still come and sit on the other side to be close to their loved one. Thoughts of her own family caused a lump to form in her throat, so near yet so far out of her reach. Breathing in deeply the crisp aromas of cherry blossom that stretched out amongst the sea of lavender that grew furiously in the park Leighton sighed, 'Why had she not noticed these things before?'

Aware that time was ticking by she got to her feet noticing a dark haired boy across the street. Leighton studied him curiously. He was staring straight at her. Not vanishing like the shadows around her. A rush of nervous apprehension filled her stomach. 'He can see me!'

“Hello!” she called in desperation and waved at him furiously, in any normal circumstances she would have been mortified at her behaviour, the boy was extremely handsome and smiled lazily back at her before turning in the opposite direction.

A bubble of excitement burst into her blood stream fuelling her strength. “Wait! Please.” she begged but the boy carried on down the street his pace seeming to grow faster. With a surge of adrenaline pumping wildly around her body Leighton ran across the streets dodging the reflections of road traffic, out of breath and her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she feared for a second she was having a heart attack Leighton reached the corner the boy had turned down. He was gone, disappearing like the others. Bitter sobs welled up and spilled blinding her view. She had been so sure he had seen her, like a shadow out the corner of her eye she had seen him smile at her.

Heaviness crept into her bones. Like a snake coils around its prey squeezing the breath slowly out of its victim Leighton to felt like she was trapped and unable to move, waiting for that last breath to leave her body she fell to the floor unable to breath. Darkness enveloped her in a thick blanket taking her blissfully away.

Old Posts 25th October 2013

I have kindly been nominated for the Liebster award by the delightful
I entered the world of blogging cautiously, with the good intentions of saturating it with my thoughts and snippets of my workings! Until now I have only splashed about in shallow puddles so I think for 2013 I need to invest in some waders and get stuck in!

My sincere thanks
for also nominating me, I am touched. However, Lindsay did get in there first so it is only fair and also in the spirit of ‘girl’ power’ I honour her questions first! J

Here are the inner workings of the award:

I list 11 random facts about myself.I will answer the 11 questions asked of me by the person who nominated me.I will then nominate my 11 picks for the award along with my 11 questions for them to answer when they post a response.If you’re nominated, your name/link will appear at the bottom of this post along with your questions. Follow the same format; paste the award badge to your blog, give us 11 random facts about yourself, answer my 11 questions, and choose your nominees…but you cannot nominate the blog who nominated you.

11 Random Facts About Me:

1. I am a Mother of three children.

2. I'm a Pisces

My Chinese Zodiac sign is the Snake! AND!... 2013 is the year of the Snake in the Chinese Lunar    Calendar! ;) “Rich in wisdom and charm, you are romantic and deep thinking and your intuition guides you strongly. Keep your sense of humour about life. The Snake would be most content as a teacher, philosopher, writer, psychiatrist, and fortune teller.” There is of course another side to a Snake, but hey! No one is perfect and I prefer to focus on the fact a snake is quite laid back, likes exploring, enjoys the feel of the sun on their scales, they are quite happy going about their business.....until you back them in a corner! Then they bite!....I’ll say no more on this.

4. My name should have been Helene, but the last song on the hospital radio before my dear mother passed out from having me was 'Sweet Caroline' by Neil Diamond!

5. I have one kidney. It does not stop me living my life to the full.

6 .I love red wine, but alas because of the above my body does not. So I enjoy sparingly and bore people terribly with my obsessive behaviour of the importance of not becoming dehydrated.

7. Green tea is must.

8. I love animals and whilst at present it is 2 dogs and 1 cat. We have had fish, snakes, rats, mice, guinea pigs, ferrets, and my treasured bearded dragon who I named after a character in one of my children novels.

9. I like running.

10. I get excitable about food.

11. I am a loyal friend and extremely protective of my family and those close to my heart.

L.E Pate’s question to me!

1. What is your favourite thing to rant about? Bad parenting, being a ‘young’ or ‘single’ parent is no excuse for not bringing your children up correctly.

2. What is your favourite aspect of writing? Escapism, not from my life, but to disappear into a world where I can do whatever I want and not have to be concerned about the consequences.

3. What makes you feel the best that you have ever felt? When I have created something new, the feeling just cannot be matched.

4. How structured are you with your writing? I just grab the moments to write whenever I can.

5. What has been the best book you have read in the last year? Chris Carter ‘The Executioner’ was the book I have just finished. Brilliant from start to finish but definitely not for the weak stomached!
6. What is your favourite genre of books to write? To read? I like many genres, but mainly fall into YA, fantasy, thriller, and on occasion a splash of romance just to stop the cynic inside swallowing me whole!

7. What or who inspires you to write? My children and their belief in me. Simple everyday occurrences that we may sometimes overlook as tedious.

8. How do you picture your writing career developing? Oh I’m going to make millions and take all the Goosepimp Squad plus a few extras on a bloody good holiday!!!! 

9. Who is your favourite classic author? Why? There are many but I have an undying love for Roald Dahl.

10. Do you enjoy writing true to life events or creating your own world? I like to squeeze the juices out of true events and add a hint of zest before placing them into a world of my own creation.

11. What is your favourite short story you have ever written? I know this is a copout, but I can’t pick! But if I have to, I would say ‘Zombie Siren.’ The encouragement I received was magical and inspiring.

Here are my nominations. Click on their links below and it will take you to their websites:

Julie Hutchings:
Vik K Ramsey:
Vince Considine:
Danielle Tauscher:
Alice Dark:
Tom Fanthorpe:

Here are your 11 questions from me:

1. What gets those creative juices of yours flowing?
2. What genre to you seem to fall into and why?
3. Who is your favourite Authour and why?
4. What well known story books do you ‘wish’ you had created?
5. If you could spend an evening in the pub with an Authour of past or present who would it be?
6. What famous quote makes you smile?
7. If you could be an animal for a day what would you be and why?
8. What is the most creative lie you have told to spare the feelings of someone?
9. Tea or Coffee with milk or without?
10. The grape or the grain?

11. What is the best feeling in the world? (and you can’t use sex!)

Zombie Siren 21st November 2012 A twitter tale inspired by the amazing

Zombie Siren

Twisted pleasure I take as they descend the waters in sweet delight. Empty are their hearts as they so easily fall. Blinded from truth by lust and desire they hear my call and follow like a moth to a flame; drawn to the light to burn in its brightness.
My heart aches from deep inside the emptiness of my soul, blackened now by a thousand deaths. Hunger grows with my need, the thirst unquenchable. I taste the salt of the sea and it burns. It is not love I desire though my heart beats from longing; it is the taste of life slipping through my fingers as I destroy those who destroyed me.
I was but a child on the verge of womanhood when they broke my soul and ravaged my innocence for their perverted cravings. Tossed to the sea to meet my angel of death I sank in blissful surrender to the oceans calling. Tender hands caressed my wounds before a sharp bite punctured my damaged skin; my floundering attempts to escape the creatures’ onslaught were in vain as darkness came and I was gone, reborn into a creature of darkness and desire.
Beauty was in the eye of the obtuse answering greedily to my call, they came to me so easily, their minds cloudy by desire and yearning. I found fulfilment in the ease at which my charm could persuade even the most astute.
Hunters, pirates, men of all ages through time seek us, desperate to catch a glimpse of the oceans fallen angels, we tease with music and small glimpses alighting the passion of deep desire until insanity drives them into our world where we await with welcomed arms.
Falling into my embrace, they see only beauty, an angel’s face. As they smile in blissful ignorance I give offerings of a last kiss. Not until the moment they pull away desperate for air do they see death reflected in the cloudy film that covers my once blue eyes. The rotting decomposed flesh of my existence shatters my allusion of grandeur into tiny fragment of realisation as they scream.
The cries of grown men feed my voracious appetite; my longing for the flesh of the corrupt soothes my tainted soul as a frenzied battle of instinct begins.
Revulsion and fear dance together in a synchronized need for survival as those pitiful pleas are swallowed by the ocean as I drag thrashing limbs desperate to escape to the sandy bed to which their bones will rest amongst.
Blood surges through my desiccated veins as I feast upon the flesh of men’s corpses, fuelling the dimming flame of my spirit I become alive for a moment. Sated from my fill of fleshy tissue I bathe in the blood of my kill, I have no remorse for those who easily follow my song; I pity them for they are weak.

I am not alive nor am I dead, I am the beauty of fantasy that swallows the souls of men and feeds on their foolishness. 

Fair Maidens Rule (A cheeky one!)

Fair Maidens Rule
In times of old, when men were men,
And fair maidens actual did exist.
There was a code of conduct,
A treaty of tranquil bliss.

A maiden must be sure to supply
An heir to the gentlemans throne.
Without complaint or attitude,
Compliance would always be shown.

Now I’m all for obedience,
It has its certain charm,
But if a man had treated me such
I’d have broke his f**king arm.

In days of now the rules have changed
The woman rules instead,
So with that said, be my bitch,
And get your backside in my bed!

Lashings of Imagination Old Post 22nd December 2012 Created for the delightful & the naughty

Lashing of Imagination

A good dose of spice with a big pinch of tease,
A selection of vocabulary aiming to please.

Wicked desires or sweet sensations,
Add copious amounts of blissful flirtations.

A swish of a whip or crop held in hand,
A dominate desire, a lusting demand.

The lonesome soul, full of starvation,
May take control with required vibration!

A sweet caress and a simple kiss,
Sometimes that is all a person can miss.

A simple wish, an art of creation,
Can cure ones boredom, ease their frustration.

All recipes for disaster? You would think this indeed,
But with Lashing of Imagination, any fool can succeed!

Old Posts: 'Word Quarrel' 26th November 2012

When I have a 'Word Quarrel' (a moment where the realm of creativity on the right side of my brain becomes snarled amongst the vines of my reality) I find the only solution to unravel this (excluding a cup of black coffee!) is to rhyme.
Whatever opens the door way to your imagination should be embraced with open arms.
Rather than sit with my head in my hand and a pen in the other, feeling sorry for myself (and trust me I do have those moments, I am after all a woman, it is a hormonal gift from Mother Nature that allows us too freely!!) I like to play around with words and see what happens.
With instructions from my daughter, who has picked this evening’s poem I share with you one of ‘Word Quarrel’ cures!

“A slip of the tongue, an allusion of bliss,
Suggestion of truths, in a magical twist.
An ancient art form, a skill in itself,
Not accrued by status or lashings of wealth.
A hint or an overtone, combined with generous charm,
As the power to bewitch; an enemy disarm.
An enchantment of words that leads to a crescendo,
Long live the power of the great innuendo.”

A pleasant evening to you all, God bless J

Caroline x

Old Posts: A Good Morning 23rd November 2012

Good morning to all, today is ‘Friday tidy’ day for me as I am not at work. I have made a steaming pot of black coffee and breathing in the aromas with relish as I set myself up for a little writing marathon....but first a little wander into my new writing garden!
As told by the delightfully charming Ksenia Anske blogging is a new world for me, it terrifies and I do not scare easily. Entering in the wonderful realm of writers I feel like a bit of a fraud. There are so many talented ladies & gents some with degrees and other qualifications that I feel impolite calling myself a writer. When do you qualify to make that statement?
But....and it is a big but....I simply love to write, it creates a natural high for me that just cannot be competed with. As I said before in a tweet, ‘I work to live...I write to breathe!’ It is that simple.
It is with a guilty shame I admit my spelling and grammar is not the best, but hence why I write absolutely everything down by hand first so I am not distracted by this hideous flaw. As I have yet to meet a perfect person I will not give myself a hard time about it.
I get excited buying new notebooks, fuelled by anticipation of what will spill out onto them later. Much to the exasperations of my oldest children who have to wait whilst I’m choosing the one that feels right! ‘Mum its just paper! Pick one!” No dear children it’s not just paper, it is the blank canvas that my dreams will rest upon!
My daughter is definitely the one who has spurred me on in writing, though she is only sixteen her attitude to life never ceases to amaze me, she said ‘You can either sit there talking about doing it, or just do it!’ I remember feeling quite inspired by this then she added, ‘And if your crap I’ll tell you so don’t worry!’.....
I have read many writing books, advice on this and that, I always chuckle when its suggested that we sometimes make excuses to put off succeeding in completing anything, well I am guessing that those people are not single parents with a household to run! Those dishes and clothes are not going to get done by matter how hard I tempt the house fairies to come out and play! I write whenever and wherever I can!
Well I think I have rambled enough! Coffee is calling and as the house is quiet (a rarity in this abode) I shall bid you all a lovely day, I’m off to seek my creative side think she needs a cuppa first! J
Take care