Welcome to my page! I’ve been wanting to practice writing more but I know I have so much to learn so I’m totally open to constructive criticism on anything I write.Happy writing <3
Welcome to my page! I’ve been wanting to practice writing more but I know I have so much to learn so I’m totally open to constructive criticism on anything I write.Happy writing <3
The rule for my oulipo poem is that I’m not allowed to use any of the letters featured in the word oulipo (o,u,l,i or p)
The trees ache when she enters
Maybe they remember her
Maybe she remembers them
The sky hasn’t remembered at all
She can see the way that the red beam
Fades darker than the regrettable days
At her nest she can escape
Escape and dream that her tree may stay
That she can fly awa...
I’m six years old and I’m sat at a table
My eyes are met by buttons
Small curved faces
Held together by small spools of thread
“Do you want to know something
That makes me sad?”
“Well I’ll tell you anyway
Else you’ll just be wondering…”
“I never see any of you anymore
Because I spend all day at school”
“And while I don’t hate school the tiniest bit
I miss you the greatest”
“It makes me sad to t...
I dove through the doors just before they closed and immediately felt myself sardined between two men: a stocky one whose eyes were comfortably tied to his phone and a tall one in a dark tracksuit whose head dangled to one side like a lamppost. Hurrying away from them, I shifted out onto a wide space of train-floor. The floor was once a mottled dark grey but the rubber had long since faded away an...
As the hazy light filtered through the trees like rich coffee into a pot of frothing milk, Talulah Hart fiddled with the warped wooden handle as it slipped and slid away from her fingertips as though it were drenched with the tears and mucus of some tricky goblin from a children’s story. When the old fashioned lock finally gave in she felt into the familiar dryness of bilge, it was even collecting...
My hair hung damply down the back of my back and I instinctively reached for the ends of each tress and began mechanically braiding them into pointed,flat rows that looked,in the mirror behind me, as if they belonged on a piece of graph paper rather than my head. I glanced over as James and he was balancing a pencil on his fingertips,staring down a void white notebook and huffing “Well that doesn’...
A dark rot seeps through the land like mildew snaking it’s path through the cloth seams of a canvas. A lot of people think that the curse came from a neighbouring trades-kingdom, some lonesome creature prowling around a cave in the high hills or maybe a wizard with soulless voids for pupils and a temper that can break through the steel bolts of chains but those like me who look so closely they can...
The fingertips of my right hand fidget along the ridges of my thigh and my left arm wraps between the bars of my ribcage.Nothing she says is able to make it’s way into my brain, each word blurs together into a cloddy cacophony as it hits my eardrums which isn’t uncommon these days. I sometimes feel that my eardrums have curled in like earwigs or shrivelled to pink pipes in a way that leaves me una...
Every winter Sam has come to Westmire lodge she has stayed in her own lane. She trains on the ski slopes, visits the local coffee shop with her friends and most importantly: never gives a shit about what the snowboarders are doing.
Until this year…
When a winter sports competition is announced with a prize bigger than Sam has ever dreamed of, old rivalries build up between the two sports and she f...
The ideas are there or at least sort of.They’re all scattered around my brain like shredded clippings of a newspaper that I have to put in order.Stumbling my pencil over the dented paper,I let my mind chew on the ideas.If I write them all down then I’ll be able to order them about and make them do what I want (or so a poster once told me) but every time I think of a new one my brain doubles back o...
The sun fell down in slices through the blind shutters and pried open my eyelids like the two halves of a walnut.I wish I had closed that blind.I wish Marnie had closed that blind.I wish whoever built this apartment all of those years ago with its stocky uneven floors,spitting drywall and doors imprisoned in lichen had never installed that window.Pain rattles through my skull as I stretch a greedy...