Annie Perks
Budding teen Author and screenplay writer keen for some support ・We’re all bloody inspired
Annie Perks
Budding teen Author and screenplay writer keen for some support ・We’re all bloody inspired
Budding teen Author and screenplay writer keen for some support ・We’re all bloody inspired
Budding teen Author and screenplay writer keen for some support ・We’re all bloody inspired
I wrote you letters.
I wrote you letters that tore open my souls to lay at your feet. Victim to your words that would scupper those pieces into the air. My vulnerable soul longed for the sanctity of your loving, to be loved and to love, what is love now? The words would come. I anticipated it. But to what extent, and to what affect, I dared breath out for fear of turning fate in on itself. The words came and struck, struck hard.
The soul lay their barriers down turned to stone as your words peirced my heart. A sword, an arrow. Anything would be better than your words.
I’m sorry.
I don’t know how many times I can say this before you tell me to go.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I’ve tried. Over and over and over and over.
You will never understand.
This isn’t fair on you.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
My dearest Bird. These are likely to be the last words you ever receive from me. I wanted to write everything down and not have them spoken in my voice, words that I would not recognise and you may not have listened to. From the second I met you, I knew you were a fighter. You always have been. I saw it and, even though he would kill to admit it, Bear saw that you were always stronger than us. In spirit as well as stature. I need you to be strong now, Birdy, please. You can curse my name to the heavens, break everything that we ever shared, hate me, oh Bird. I’m sorry. For everything, please believe me. You have brought me so much happiness and I’m so proud to have watched you grow. Look after yourself for me. And however hard it gets, however many times you feel like giving up, you have the two most amazing people watching you for me now. You were the other pillar on which my soul stands, but I am crumbling, and I can’t hold my weight any longer. Stand tall, little bird. I-
The rest of the letter was ineligible due to the flames licking at its corners. The amber glow spiralling towards the tear-stained ink. Memories began to fade as the ink began to sing, words of terrible pain and anguish like an arrow striking the heart.
The dancing flames started unfurling the lies and deceit that hung in the air like kindling, taunting the heat to get closer.
Tik tok.
The tongues were now slithering over the wallpaper, spiteful and writhing, screaming hate at their tormentor.
Tik tok. Tik.
The inferno found the Spinet, where the keys mourned the two boys that would sit and play for hours.
Tik tok, Tik tok.
Snatches of childlike laughter emitted from the uproar. Tears dripped silently down the faces of the portraits adorning the corridors, longing to hear that laughter one last time before time took it from this place. Joy was swallowed by the ebbing and flowing of time, sweeping it out to sea. Tik, tok. Tik tok. Tik.
Outside this bubble of emotions, the moon stood watching.
The man on the moon had always waited. This house brought him the most souls. One by one. It wrecked him to wait for him. One last soul. Can’t be long now.
Tik.
The grandfather clock’s hands waved its solemn goodbye. Till the next life.
Blood poured down the face of the boy. Hot tears of blood. An outstretched hand clasping the signed letter. An inaudible scream adorning his face before a roof tile slid from the roof.
Tik. Tik. Tik.
Boom.
Maybe my loudness was a cry for help. Maybe. Not maybe. Help.
Mental health Helpline, how can I help?
Sorry. Wrong number.
Numbers and lines. Lines on the road. Lines that the planes drew across the blank canvas that encompassed this all.
The drone of the engines could not drown out this silence.
Silence.
My silence so loud I’m shouting.
Shhhh. They will hear you.
Your silence is escaping. Be careful. Don’see.
Crack. Hold it together. Sew it together. See? Good as new.
You ok?
No. No. No. No, no, no.
help me.
I’m fine. I’m just tired.
Tired of all of this. Empty. Empty words from empty souls. Empty voices on an empty call.
The lines on my skin silencing my shouts.
Silence.
Such an awful sound.
Maybe this silence isn’t so bad, if there would just be silence.
No more pain. No more sound. Just-
Jot the promot but first five chapters of book wondered what people thought…
Fear of Those
ONE
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Tables, chairs, the window ledge behind the bay window overlooking the west court.
Six. Seven. Eight.
I’ve never been good at this. Hiding. Not my strong suit.
Nine.
We used to play all the time. All of us. All of us turned to the two of us. Now why am I the last one? Alone. My fault. My blame to bear like the world was placed on my shoulders as I tremble, wracking and crumbling beneath the weight.
Ten.
They would find me. They would find me and all of this, all of it, would be over. I just want it to end. The running. The hiding. Find me. Find me. I want to be found. Please?
TWO
One. Two. Three. Four. Five pairs of feet slammed hard into the harsh dirt. Crying with mirth. Yearning for air. Bumbling over stones worn over time and time again, embedded in the earth. They wouldn’t find us here.
I stopped just ary of the group, my lungs screaming for attention. The looks on the others’ faces said more than words could tell. They were coursing us. Like a poacher to his rabbit, a setter to his grouse. We were the prey and there was no stopping the hunter.
Scars. Cuts. Blood.
Always bleeding. Scars that never healed. Deep inside, memories swirled. Billowing and flowing, hanging on by a thread. They claw inside me. I want to scream, louder and louder and louder. They claw harder and harder.
I was there though it all. The blood. The scars. The tears. The lies. The screams. The bullets. The notes. The droning of the undertakers. Now I bury my emotions six feet under.
THREE
One. Two. Three. Four pairs of bloodshot eyes sat round the table that night. His blood was still stippled on my shirt. My brother's cries echoed in my mind. Round and round and round. No one said a word. Each lost to their own thoughts.
We sat tight in each other's company through the night. The levels of whisky in the decanter slowly lowering. Our senses were troubled only with the emptiness that flooded the room, castings its snake like tendrils into the most complex of souls.
A sudden wave of emotion crashed against the anchor that bound my soul to its body.
He’s gone, it whispered. He’s gone and he’s never coming back. It’s your fault. He took the gun but it’s your fault. Your fault. Yours.
My brother’s auburn eyes met mine. Eyes. A portal to the soul. He knows. He’s always known. He grew up with me. He raised me. He knows me.
He knows.
FOUR
One. Two. Three am it read on the old grandfather clock. The reflection in the silver tankard told more than the emptiness would in a lifetime. Three boys sat around me, heads lolling on each others shoulders. Fitful sleep. Sleep disturbed by nightmares that would not fade in the days that followed.
It’s my fault.
Henry went first.
Darling, charismatic, jovial Henry Boldham.
Warning shots turned to pummeling shrapnel exploding like fireworks on the 5th November.
Stripping trees of their bark. Stripping cars of their paint. Stripping a friend of their life.
Charlie had gone second.
My brother, my older brother. His blood flowed fast like the flood that had wrecked the village a month ago.
I had found him.
Face down. Eyes a dying flame. Books still resting under his scared forearm. Peaceful. He seemed so peaceful.
One would have thought he was sleeping. For not the whiff of smoke and the tinny, nauseating, metallic stench of dried blood that carried on the air like a feather.
My Dearest Bird.
I didn’t want to read it. I had put it off for weeks. I didn’t forgive him. Maybe I wanted to. Maybe I didn’t. My mind was at a crossroads with no exit in sight.
The letter was addressed to me.
Rowena Solace.
Solace. Only needed in a time of grief or bereavement.
I didn’t feel needed.
I felt unloved.
FIVE
Run.
Start running and never look back.
Thoughts pacing Clouding my vision. Words
Pointless words
Words would never bring him back.
Faults Blame
My fault My blame My burden to carry like a tide crashing to the shore.
The gun shots still rang Bells ringing Children laughing Crying Screaming
I want it to end To be over
Do it
Go on Do it
I dare you.
Alone sat the maiden in the tower. Alone with her thoughts. Alone every day.
Alone rode the knight. Until he came across the tower. That held the maiden captive.
Alone flew the dragon overhead. Watching the maiden and the knight. Would anyone ever save him?
Alone sat the tower. Looming over the horizon. Misunderstood. A part of the story that no one noticed.
Alone stood the trees. A wood full of trees. All alone.
In this world, Is anyone truly Alone?
Alone sat the maiden, Waiting for the knight.
Alone rode the knight, On his loyal steed.
Alone flew the dragon, Flying high with the birds.
Alone sat the tower, A part of the story that was most important.
Alone stood the trees, Waving their branches towards each other.
I bet, If you looked really carefully, You are never truly alone.
Not the prompt but fuck I need to do this.
She cut me first. Through those unbroken fake smiles. Those rushes of anger She broke her cage and broke me first. She hurt me. Deep down where they wouldn’t see They say they understand my pain. The pain that lives inside of me. When I tried So hard To end this I told her How she’d cut me first. The smiles were fake The adrenaline pumped through my body like a gas My fists clenched and itching to strike. But I didn’t break my cage
Because she broke me first.
And in her cage stands all the things I love best in this world. She keeps them there. Controls them. No one comes to help. When she breaks her cage. She hurt me.
She cut me so I was powerless to stop.
She cut me first
Behind the scenes What really goes on?
Behind that mask Are the faces really shown?
Behind this smile Do they really know?
What goes on behind my eyes.
Behind my eyes My spirits talk
Whispers and lies Screams and cries.
These voices never cease But I force a smile to crease From behind my eyes.
The music is blaring, Too much Too loud.
The music and the voices grow louder. The voices clamour for attention When all the audience see is the glamour of this pretension.
And when this ends. Who knows then?
Behind the scenes.
Behind my eyes. I’m stuck. I’m helpless. Trapped inside my mind.
Her wings beat the pattern into the sky. Threading the droplets Beading the night. The moon was hers. The sun was hers. But she sat in her cage. And no one ever heard
The wings that beat the pattern of the sky. Threading the droplets Beading the night. The moon was hers. The sun was hers.
Would she ever truly be free?