crime of no sight

My heart is pumping. Thudding, pounding, beating faster like a bass drum. I’m panting, gasping, struggling to catch my breath. All I can hear is the blood thumping through my ears and the distant sound of sirens fats approaching, the lower part of my body, moving of its own accord, desperately trying to escape. Questions that I have no answers to are bombarding my mind. Why are they after me? What have I done? Where am I going? Who am I? I don’t know why I’m running; I just know that something in my blood is telling me that I need to get as far away from here as possible. Some may call it a sixth sense, but in my case it’s a fifth.

The unmistakeable sound of loud, punishing thunder is instantly followed by a burst of merciless rain. It comes gushing down in sheets upon sheets, soaking through my clothes, and beating down lashes upon my hunched back. At this moment shelter is the one and only thing on my mind.
All thoughts of shelter vanish as I realize that the sirens behind me don’t seem as far away as they had been before. My only two options? Find somewhere to hide and be protected from the abusive rain as well as my captors; or surrender.
The police are in dangerously close range now, tires screeching, engines roaring, voices yelling: “Oi!” “You!” “Stop right there!” before I know it I’m on my hands and knees, crawling as fast as I can manage without getting injured.
Unexpectedly a sharp pain bulldozes its way through my skull, and the sounds of car doors opening, people running and unknown voices fade into nothing.

I’m startled awake by the sound of a door slamming shut and footsteps coming towards me as I lay on the bed. The unknown person crouches down to my level; “we’ll try this again shall we?”
Immediately I am alert due to the putrid smell of tobacco and stale coffee that invades my nostrils.
“What happened on Friday July 13th at number 3 Frockwed road?”
“I’ve told you once and I’ve told you twice, I don’t know! I’ve lost my damn memory!”
“So are you telling me that you don’t know anything about the pen knife found around your neck when you were caught?”
“What part of memory loss don’t you understand?”
“Fine have it your way” he spits in my ear “but believe me when I say you will talk”, “it’s only a matter of time”.
The door snaps shut and I am left alone once again feeling like a helpless caged bird. I’ve been here for two days now; racking my brain for a solution to the odd and confusing predicament I have found myself in. so far I can tell that I’ve been imprisoned in a small room which has one door, one medium sized window, and a bed. The window is my only means of escape, unluckily for me the window is very high up, I sigh as I hear the beeping car horns and faint voices that come from below.

An overwhelming wave of hopelessness and grief washes over me; it drains me of every ounce of energy left remaining my body. I slump back down on the bed and burry my head in the pillows attempting to imagine that it’s all a dream, and it isn’t long before I doze off.
Memories that have eluded me for the last few days come flooding back, a penknife; my penknife, the unforgettable smell of blood on my hands, the gut wrenching screams for help, I remember it all. My name is Naomi Phillips, I’m 16 years old, and I am faced with the unassailable truth that I have killed my mother.
You may think I’m mad for doing it and I don’t care, I’m proud to say that it was most definitely not an accident.
I remember that ill-fated evening as if it were yesterday. It all began when I was walking past my mother’s bedroom and I heard her sobbing on the phone.
“It’s Naomi… she’s not like the other children”
At those words I freeze, my blood starts to boil, and my heart begins an erratic hammer in my chest. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried but I just can’t- I can’t… love her!”
My lips start to tremble uncontrollably and I feel like a dam has burst inside my head as stinging tears pour down my cheeks.
“I knew I should have given her up for adoption the minute I found out about her condition”
“I don’t think I can take...
My mother didn’t get to finish off the sentence because at that moment all the bitterness, hurt and anger that I’d kept bottled up came exploding out of me like a volcano.

Not having any control over myself I grab the penknife from around my neck and slit her throat, I’m not fazed by her screams of agony or her blood splattering across my face.
I wait until there is silence and as I stand above her lifeless body my shuddering legs give way beneath me as I faint.

I awaken abruptly and sit up on the bed; instantly I am aware that I’m not alone.
“You remember don’t you” growls a gruff voice from the corner of the room, I reluctantly nod my head.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do you have any idea of what it’s like to be blind?”
“Do you know what it’s like to hear about clear blue skies and rainbows but never see them?”
“I’ve learnt to live with it, after all I had no choice, and somewhere deep inside me I think I always knew that my mother couldn’t handle my blindness; I simply decided to put her out of her misery and I have no regrets”.

The man on Christmas day

Task 17

1:From the North Pole he comes down the chimney,
Has come to give presents to girls and boys
He is an old man who rides on his sleigh

2:Father Christmas has come tonight
He knows when we are very bad
Better not be naughty today!

3:We like to leave him his favourite drink
Through the night he’s working a tight shift
Off he goes to the next house he flows

4:So when its dark he’ll come
To fill your stocking up
And make sure your day’s good

5:Sometimes we write a note and put it in the fireplace
So that he knows what to get
So on Christmas day we’ll have a happy face
So is it a toy or, a pet?

6:So where did saint Nick come from?
And who makes all the toys?
So here’s a tale of my friend Tom.
Who questioned Santa and turned to an adult from a boy.
So in bleak December
You can’t say on the twenty four at lay
That it feels like November
So on the twenty fifth-its blooming Christmas day!

trust

Trust
Have you ever experienced something so dreadful that every time it crosses your mind, it feels like your heart is being slashed open and you despise yourself for it? No one in their right mind can ever imagine what I went through. That’s why I decided to write this story, to explain my unimaginable past.
3 YEARS EARLIER
HELP! I screamed out continuously, hoping that someone or something would save me. He came out of nowhere and dragged me off the small park bench. He threw me on to the cold, damp, filthy floor and forced his self on top of me. Squashing me. Caressing me. He pinned my hands to the ground and I struggled to get free. The pain of it all was unbearable; it felt like my soul was being pulled out of me. He tore my clothes apart and calmly gnawed his way sickly down me. That’s when he forced down my underwear and I knew what he was going to happen next. He took of his own trousers and I started screaming like I had never screamed before. I tried kicking him, I tried beating him of me, but he was too strong. I just gave up in the end. I felt stupid and useless. I even tried telling the moon to help me, only the moon could’ve saved me. That’s when he did it. That’s when he raped me and changed my life forever.
Why did it happen to me? Why did he have to kiss me patronisingly before he left? The kiss. The kiss had felt very familiar. I couldn’t believe the way he left. Shamelessly. I was left there, all alone, left lying on the cold, muddy grass still in shock from what had happen to me. I was still staring at the malevolence moon, thinking about what I had ever done that was so awful that he couldn’t even save me. Save me from the evil monster.
3 years ago this happened to me. I guess I’m over the trauma of it now. I had a lot of time to find myself again and put the past behind me. Don’t get me wrong I still hate that animal for what he done to me, for what he put me through. It was just another typical day for me that day. I remember that I was really excited, because I was going on a date with this stunning guy that I really liked. Not in a million years would you think that he would be capable of doing something like this.
He had told me to meet him at 6:00 at the park. I remember getting ready from 4:00 and even going to the park 20 minutes early. 1 hour had passed and he still didn’t show up. I still wonder why I didn’t realise that he wasn’t going to show. I guess I really thought he liked me. Instead, I waited for hours. He was still nowhere to be seen.
I can still remember how I spent those hours, reminiscing about him. All the romantic thoughts were pumping around my body with every heart beat. I was just in my own amorous world, full of flowers, romance and exquisite thoughts. I think I was at the park until 1:00 to be exact. I knew it was really stupid to stay at a park for that long especially when it was dark; but it was something I had to do for love, for me. That’s when I turned from being a clean juvenile virgin and had my world shattered to be known as a dirty slag.”Damaged goods”, that’s what my parents called me, before they disowned me, when they found out what had happened to me.
No one understood me. Why couldn’t they see that I was the victim? I would’ve stopped him if I could. He never really said anything to me whilst he abused me.” You fucking slag, you deserve everything you get”. That’s all I remember him saying. I really can’t believe I never recognised his voice. His deep, husky voice. The person I considered the closest and the dearest, did that to me. What had I ever done to him, apart from love him? He really despised me. There’s no other explanation. Why else would he take my life and chew it up and spit it out like it was anything?
Well his really paying for it now. Every ounce of pain and suffering, every drop of water he caused to fall out of my eye, his really paying for it now. They think his nutty. He’s in a mental institution now. I hope he bloody rots there. I hate him, I really do. Now do you understand how I feel? I may sound cold-hearted, but you would only now how I feel if you’re beloved boyfriend raped you and exposed you of all your pride and dignity. Yes, it was Jay who raped me. He was the one who screwed up my life. I knew something like this was going to happen to me. I deserved this for hurting people. I guess getting raped was the only way all the hurt people suffered because of me reflected back to me. The memories of what happened will always remain within me. But I’m happy now. I’m alone. I prefer to be alone, because then I will never have to experience the pain and suffering deceitful humans cause ever again.

Somebody should have held on

So yeah, I was depressed: that was me alone, alone and more alone. At least I put on a marvellous act, one that no one could see through including my mother. But it was hard being a clock without hands; it was hard being something I wasn’t. Everybody knows that no one can keep up an act all their life and not get caught, well I thought everybody knew. Obviously I was wrong.

Six and a half hours of smiling, having conversations about blue skies, boys and butterflies; walking around the school with big burdens on my shoulders that no one was willing to take off was stressful, but I guess I couldn’t blame it on them, how were they supposed to know that smiley, bubbly, lucky charlotte had a demon, one that wouldn’t leave her alone- it more or less had her possessed- but who was I to moan it was the only comfort I had, the only thing that was constantly with me.

I have to admit it got to me. I have to admit that there was an urge inside me to tell someone, an urge to break out and show people the real me, the depressed me. That was the me that no one saw; no one wanted to see. Eventually that feeling overcame me, I couldn’t do it anymore, and it leaked out of me. I couldn’t stop it. I tried, but then suddenly WOOSH it came pouring out – as fast as the Niagara Falls and as painful as being exorcised.

I went back down the next day. I knew it was going to be different; but I didn’t know that the people that once loved, adored, cherished me would no longer even smile when I looked their way. The look changed from an ear to ear grin when they used to see me, to a look of pity; the one look I never wanted to be in the firing line of. I knew they didn’t want to be near me so I set myself a mission, a mission to make distance, and trust me I made distance. I sent them somewhere where there is no return flight home. They wanted distance so I made it for them.

Maybe my decision was harsh, maybe my reaction was harsh, maybe the whole thing was harsh but at the time it seemed like an awfully good idea; it still seems like an awfully good idea. Technically it wasn’t my fault when you have a baby the birth certificate you sign is a short contract just without the small print, you promise to feed your child, look after your child and be there when they need you! My parents weren’t there, they didn’t hold me when I cried, they didn’t ask me how my school day were, sooner or later it just came back round on them. My parents ended up felling the physical pain for a short fifteen minutes that I had to deal with mentally everyday. In a way I helped them, I helped them see where I was coming from and where I was going I helped them find out in fifteen minutes what it would have taken them the rest of their lives to understand. Not everything’s what it seems. I had to do it o only for me but for them.

Since that I haven’t been back. I’ve lived my life without them, without the people I once needed. I’ve now realized I never needed them because I never had them in the first place. I bet they never thought that smiley, bubbly lucky Charlotte would ever make a harsh decision like that, want to be alone or see through their rubbish charade. So yeah, I was depressed that was me alone, alone and more alone, but now I’ll always have something to keep me company on cold, rainy nights.

The Midnight Killer [Task 17a]

The Midnight Killer

It was almost midnight. The moon shinning brightly above his head. Walking steadily along Tomswood hill with music pumping loudly in his ears from his headphones. There was sounds of footsteps, of his own but of someone else’s too however he did not take note of them as the sound in his ears blocked out anything else which may have saved his life.

He walked without turning as he believed nothing was there to be feared of and if there was it would be no threat to him. He took a sharp left into the alley way and within a blink of an eye he saw a glimpse of a hideous face and blinked again this time he was being strangled up onto the wall. A sharp metal feeling piercing the skin on the side of his neck. Blood beginning to leak slowly. Now pain flooding in and blood out. The flesh beginning to rip. Silent screams leaving his throat but being blocked by something covering the mouth.

He felt his life being dragged out of him slowly but surely. The killer as if purposely watching the life being sucked out as if he was enjoying the scene, he wanted it to last. His phone hit the ground with a thud and the music burst out loud and clear. The murderer stopped, waited, heard footsteps and ran into the darkness.

The anonymous passer by was now on the floor in a pool of blood lying by his phone which was producing sound surprisingly loudly. The last thing he recalled before his eyes shut and his senses with them, there was a familiar pretty face and a girl’s soft voice saying

“Kurum, IS THAT YOU?!” The last thought which went through his mind; “what a fantastic question”.

There was darkness. He heard footsteps and some voices in the distance. His eyes opened slowly and the light began to flood in, the ceiling was white, so was everything else it seemed. Questions stampeding his suddenly, he looked to the right then to the left it came upon him that he was in a hospital. There was a face to his left staring down at him with a lot love in its eyes.

“Heya Kurum, You better? Are you feeling oryt? Are you hurt? Do you need anyfin? Should I get you a glass of water?”

“Relax!” He interrupted quickly to silence her.

The questions she shot at his ear fast and hard they seemed to dent a different part of his brain each time they came too however the way they came in had some beauty in it, concerned and anxious. After a second or two of getting his brains together I quickly discovered who the girl was. But that wasn’t his main concern at this point.

Kurum could now see with usual eyesight and everything seemed normal except this awkward stiff feeling on the left side of my neck. His memory began to crawl gradually back, he quickly realised what happened last night, he realised what had happened last night. But why?


The doctor walked in, he had a kind but forceful smile on his face. He seemed to be rather exceptional at putting fake smiles on, as he did this one rather well.

“Glad to have you back with us, Kurum.” He said in his deep ordering voice.

“Glad to be back” Kuram replied “doctor, is there something wrong with me?”


Just as he finished his sentence a swift mysterious feeling suddenly rushed through his body, as if to give out a warning.

“Well, the cut on your neck isn’t the regular cut we deal with. It seems it wasn’t a knife, or any object we can identify. Furthermore your skin had sealed the cut up automatically as soon as u fainted and it’s now as hard as rock. Not only that but… there also seems to be something anonymous in your blood. We need to do further testing before we can discover exactly what it is. In the meantime please relax and do not leave the hospital.”

“DOCTOR, will he be alright?!” Cassandra burst out with a hint of a tear in her eye which she hastily smudged away.

“No need to worry my dear, he’s looks fine to me, don’t you agree?” The doctor replied with a wink.

As soon as the doctor turned and walked off the next thing he knew he was in a great big hug involving him and Cassandra, and she didn’t stop anytime soon either.

“Ok, ok that’s enough I’m fine”

“SHUTUP you were gone for so long! Do you know how worried I was?!”

“IM FINE, really, thanks for taking care of me though” And he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. This seemed to have been the key, as she let him go immediately.

“Thanks” said Kurum

“Your welcome” She replied

“By the way, was it you who found me when I got attacked?”

She hesitated,

“Yep” she replied with uncertainty.

“What the hell were you doing there?”

“I…errr… I… just happened to be passing by”

“AT THAT TIME IN THE NIGHT?! AT THAT PLACE?!”



“… ok well… basically the truth is I followed u… I saw you walk past my house and I told my mum I’m going to get some fresh air but followed you instead” her cheeks were now light red. She looked so cute, I just had to smile.

“Well thank god you did follow me then, otherwise I would have been wearing a black suit with my eyes closed then eh?”






***

11:55 and he couldn’t get any sleep. This urge of running around and doing something dynamic haunting him constantly. The clock struck 12 and suddenly something inside me burst open with fury. It attacked his insides and he couldn’t help but scream out loud. The pain spread around his body fast, he felt something inside himself change. Desperation filled his mind as he frantically tried as many different actions as possible to rid of the pain that tortured him mercilessly but he failed to do so and the pain continued to conquer him and his body continued to change. All of a sudden it stopped, he felt altered, stronger perhaps, upgraded even.

The next morning he woke up back in his bed in the hospital however something had changed, he didn’t feel how he felt two days ago. In fact he felt like a completely transformed person. Problem was… he didn’t know why. Panic steadily arose within him, he looked around hurriedly only to discover that the room was deserted. No one to be seen or heard off anywhere.

He got up, out of bed and walked around. Strangely nothing seemed usually. Once again questions began popping out in his head. Why? What? When? How? Where? He asked himself repeatedly now racking his brain to find explanations however failing miserably.

He sped towards the door and shook the handle wildly. It was locked. Anger mounting up inside him, he screamed out for help but received no reply, he knock the door hard and fast, still receiving no reply, his knocks turned to thumps and soon he found himself in a tantrum. Still no answer to his constant pleading.

He looked around and he found one other escape route, glad to find more hope he quickly relinquished his door plan and moved swiftly on to plan B, the window. The main glitch in plan B was that his room had been built on the 9th floor of the building. However the urge to escape still haunted him madly. He decided he wouldn’t stand around and wait, instead he would go to plan C.

Plan C was quite simply, breaking down the door. Two days ago he would have never even had a thought of trying something so dramatic let alone worrying about escaping in the first place. It seemed something had infected his delicate mind and slowly taken over. Attempt one (a simple run and barge) was a failure yet he tried again, the pain didn’t seem to phase him now, somehow. Attempt 2 (fly kick), like the last attempt he took 4-5 steps back and charged towards the door this time lifting himself into the air (which he found extremely easy somehow) and kicking hard when he thought was appropriate. To his gleeful surprise the door fell flat on the ground alongside him.

Unhurt Kurum rose healthy as ever, and sprinted down the corridor unaware of which direction to go but a feeling inside leading him on, almost like a 6th sense. The hospital suspiciously deserted still. His legs didn’t stop once they reached the staircase instead kept going regardless the fact they had no idea where they were heading. He sensed someone near now, his eye caught a glimpse of a white coat swiftly move down and his ears picked up the slightest sounds of footsteps down below.

“HEY, STOP!” hey cried out helplessly

“WHATS WRONG WITH YOU?!” he added

He got no reply to his ordering questions instead the person seemed to just run faster and faster, even so Kuram didn’t rest. His legs sped down the stairs, he moved like he’d never moved before. While he ran thoughts in his head suddenly occurred one by one, why didn’t he just take the elevators? Why the stairs? Perhaps they weren’t working? When did he learn to run so fast? And why does it feel like he’s being driven by something not himself...

His immense speed proved too much for the poor doctor who was caught with ease. Now was his chance to get answers. But before he could speak;


“PLEASE… don’t… hurt… me…I’m…only…an…old…doctor” The man panted with fear in his eyes.

“What you talking about? Why was a trapped in a room? Where is everyone? What’s wrong with you people? Why were you running from me? Why wouldn’t anybody let me out my room?” Kuram demanded.


“Oh, you don’t know yet, not fully transformed? The reason I ran from you is because last night, at midnight you attacked a doctor and killed her. Its best for me not to tell you all but the reason you were trapped in a room was because you were meant to stay in there until you could control the thing inside you. Obviously it didn’t work.”

“WH… what... ME? I murdered someone? IN MY SLEEP? So what you’re saying is that... I’d been isolated for everyone’s safety? But how’s that gonna help me?!” Rage built up in his veins again; this seemed to be happening a lot now.

The doctor seemed scared and Kuram let him go and he walked hastily out of sight while leaving Kuram to stand there thinking of what next.

Unexpectedly the clock struck twelve and a volcano of fury lashed out from inside him as if it’d been waiting to attack all day. He buckled and found himself kneeling on the floor holding his head in his hands. It all seemed too familiar. He quickly realised it was the same agony and pain he went through last night however this time he’d gotten slightly better at handling it.

He climbed up slowly on to his feet. He felt lighter and so much hungrier, this deadly thirst inside him needed to be attended to urgently. He walked towards the mirror on the wall. What had he turned into? Why did he feel so awkward what’s happened to him? Once he got to his destination he finally realised. It all made sense now. The killings, the blood thirsty feeling, the excruciating pain of every night, the whole hospital fleeing for their dear lives and the reflection in the mirror, which turned out to be; no reflection in the mirror. He’d become a Vampire…

By Faizan Mohammed :P

Task 17a

Painful Love

His eyes were shining bright like the stars in the mysterious dark sky. It was the only thing that I could recall from last night. I don’t know what happened after. Slowly my eyes started to open, and I found myself to be in a room; you would never guess who was staring at me. I thought to myself, I must be in heaven. “Are you feeling alright” he said. I saw the worried look in his face; I think there were tears in his eyes too. I realised that I was in some hospital and the doctor came in to check on me. The thoughts that were running in my mind were unbelievable. He left his scarf lying next to me and went away before I could say anything.

2 weeks later. At the hospital was the last time I saw him. I wonder where he is now. I don’t really know him, yet he is so close to me and is the only person in my mind. Nothing else matters but knowing that we could never be together kills me. I’m going to be in a grave sooner or later, so why fall in love now? I just didn’t understand and neither was I sure if I was really in love or what. Images of him kept flashing in the back of my mind, especially his shining bright eyes: that was a treasure I would bury in my heart forever. I was way too tired to be thinking about all this so I went back to bed.

The sun was shining in the wonderful blue sky. Days and days went by but still no sign of him. Looking in the mirror, I could see my eyes had gone red because I hadn’t been able to avoid crying myself to sleep last night. All this was definitely getting too much for me. I just had to see him one more time and let him know how I felt about him. I couldn’t keep it inside me for much longer or else it would be too late. Most of my time was spent listening to love songs or writing poems; it’s not like there was any meaning to my life. Expect one and that was the love I had for him.

There was a knock at the door and it felt like I was going to get the second biggest shock in my life. “Come downstairs, there is someone who wants to see you,” shouted my mum. I thought to myself if only that was him. I wished it was but that wish could never come true. Still with the hope that I wanted the person to be him, I slowly went downstairs. To my surprise there was a tall boy standing at the door, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. He turned out to be my one and only love’s friend; he had sent him to me so that his friend could give me a letter. Why didn’t he just come himself? That was the question in my mind. But I was so excited that I didn’t really care about that for now. I ran to my bedroom as fast as I could and sat on my bed.

I was shivering so much that the letter nearly fell out of my hand. But I got it open at the end, just couldn’t believe it and when I started to read it, tears fell down my cheeks.

Hi…

Sorry for leaving you without saying anything last time but I had my reason. Hope you are feeling better now and I need to tell you something really important; can’t keep it inside me anymore, it has been haunting me ever since I met you. I just wanted to say that if possible would you please meet me by the park, near the lakeside tomorrow at 2pm. I really need you and I know we just met for a little while but it feels like we have known each other for years.

Hope to see you there. Love Jay.

Did he love me too? Emotions were flooding in me like a river. I stayed up all night and watched the stars in the sky, ‘will tomorrow ever come or will I be gone by then?’ No one can understand the pain I am going through right now. I was going to tell him that we can’t be together because before anything can happen, I’ll be in heaven by then. My heart was broken but I couldn’t bear the fact I was going to break his.

I went to the lakeside and I was a few minutes early. Was this the right thing to do? I thought to myself; I can’t let him be with someone like me. He has his life ahead of him and I can’t be in that life of his. There he was, coming towards me with a bunch of roses in his hand. What do I do now? His happiness was mine. I decided to walk away and leave him there. I had to see my only love disappointed but I couldn’t help it, this was going to be the best for us. He had to move on with his life and I had to live mine as long as I could. My happy days came to an end sooner that I thought but my love for him will never end.

Jay didn’t seem to be happy though. Silence surrounded him like a spider’s web. Every morning he would go to the lakeside and sit there. As if his life ended. Love can be so painful...so cold.

Task 16

Incident Report:

Name: Tommy Book
Age: 8
Date: November 1st 2007

What happened?... well mummy and daddy had an argument. I don't know how it started i was colouring and didn't care at the begining because it always happens. I don't like it. I think its stupid and fightings bad. Daddy said mean stuff about Mummy and then Mummy cried but said mean stuff back. Something about Mummy wasting everything of Daddys. It got too scary after a while so i cried too then Billy came and told them to shutup and he had a headache. Then everything went silent and dad went to bed even though he just got back from work.

---------------------------------------
Incident Report:

Name: Tommy Book
Age: 9
Date: November 2nd 2007

It happened again today but worse. Today was my birthday and i was really exited but Daddy came late and we were waiting. When he came at night Mummy got angry and started shouting at him about coming late. Daddy shouted back. I was still sitting there waiting to cut the cake and waiting for them to stop and everything will be back to normal in a while. But then Daddy slapped Mummy and pushed her onto the floor and swore at her. Then he looked at me and just walked out. I miss Daddy i want him back. Can somebody help?

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p.s: sorry for late reply interenet was off.

Childhood

Exercise 1: Iambic Pentameters

1. Anaesthetised by adulthood at last
2. The calm before the adolescent storm.
3. If adults could remember they would cry.
   

Exercise 2: Trochaic Tetrameters

1. Childhood is a stormy ocean.
2. Turning twelve was really tricky.
   
3. I remember sipping snowflakes.
   

Exercise 3: Dactylic Trimeters

1. Adults they simply don't understand.
2. Rose-tinted glasses don't help at all.
3. Adulthood seemed such a mystery.
   

Exercise 4: Anapestic Dimeters

1. What a long time ago.
2. They just don't understand.
3. Back when winter meant snow.
   

Exercise 5: Quatrain; abab; iambic pentameters

1. If I could travel time and surf my youth,
I think I'd give my teenage years a miss;
Cos sometimes fiction's better than the truth,
And ignorance can certainly mean bliss.

2. In adolescence all of us acquire
The injuries we nurse throughout our life.
Exhausted as we tread the teenage mire,
We never quite recover from the strife.

3. I cannot contemplate a simpler world
Than back before your adam's apple drops,
Before the leaf of life becomes unfurled -
When you can tell the robbers from the cops.

Exercise 6: Quatrain; abab; anapestic tetrameter/anapestic trimeter/anapestic tetrameter/anapestic trimeter.

1. To be young is a blessing but also a curse
And I'm not sure I'd go there again,
But it took a disheartening turn for the worse
On the day that I stopped being ten.

2. Though the winters were cold and the snow was routine
And the summers invariably mild
Nothing else can be said of my time as a teen
Which would recommend life as a child.

Task 17a - OPTIONAL task (Year 10 and Year 11 ONLY)

Since it is holiday time, and some of you might, perish the thought, be at a loose end at times over the next fortnight, I am setting you an EXTRA task. This is OPTIONAL, and should be done AS WELL AS (and NOT instead of) Task 17.

The task is simple. Most of you will have recently completed a draft of your Original Writing coursework for your GCSE folder, and I thought it might be a useful exercise to post your draft on wordvoodoo, so that your guest moderator(s) can comment on that too. Not only will this give you yet more feedback on that draft, enabling you to improve on it still further before I mark it (should you wish to do so), but it will also give your moderator(s) an added opportunity to get to know you even better as a writer.

Just make sure you: a) give it a title; b) label it properly (Task 17a); and c) get rid of any careless errors before you do so.

Try to do so as soon as possible if you are going to do so, to give them the best possible chance of commenting in time.

Task 17: Scales and Arpeggios

Any of you who learn a musical instrument will know the importance of SCALES and ARPEGGIOS. For those of you with no idea what I am talking about here, these are the routine, arduous, methodical exercises any musician needs to practice in order to improve their technical ability with their instrument. They can be fiddly, difficult, even annoying - but only through mastering them can a musician learn to play the most exciting, complicated, and challenging pieces of music.

For Task 17, we are returning to scansion and meter - or, in other words, rhythm, feet, iambs, that sort of thing...

I know lots of you found this difficult last time, but it is also true that almost none of you mastered this completely, and I promised at the time that we would return to it in due course. So this task is the poetic equivalent of a musician's scales and arpeggios.

I am going to set you 6 exercises, and you may make as many attempts at each exercise as you like. You may choose your own topic or theme, but please stick to the same topic/theme for ALL your exercises (so choose it carefully). For example, in my attempts below, I have chosen the topic CHILDHOOD for all my exercises. But remember that it is your technical skill that is being examined here.

To help you, I strongly suggest you go back to some of the earlier tasks, especially:

• Task 2
• Task 3
• Task 4
• Task 5
• Task 7
• Task 8
• and Task 10.

Remember, also, that there are a couple of podcasts to accompany the early tasks.

Also, as before, I highly recommend this website, if you are getting really stuck. And you might also like to read this excellent article on the iambic pentameter from The Guardian's website.

And remember, sometimes a word can be said in more than one way - and this might help you if you get stuck. However, there are some ways that a word can NEVER be said, so when you have finished each exercise, try reading it out loud with the stresses where the EXERCISE says they should be, and make sure it doesn't sound silly!

Once you have refamiliarised yourself with the different feet and terminology, here are your SIX exercises for Task 17.

Exercise 1: Iambic Pentameters
An iambic pentameter has five feet, each consisting of a dee-DUM pair of syllables. In other words: dee-DUM dee-DUM dee-DUM dee-DUM dee-DUM. For this exercise (and indeed for exercises 1-4) you are being asked for individual lines. You may make several attempts - and therefore write several lines - but they need not be linked, as it is a ONE line exercise.

Exercise 2: Trochaic Tetrameters
A trochee is, in a way, the opposite of an iamb - in that the stressed syllable comes first: DUM-dee. And remember that a tetrameter has FOUR feet (and therefore, here, four trochees).

Exercise 3: Dactylic Trimeters
A dactyl consists of 3 syllables, with the first stressed and the next two unstressed: DUM-dee-dee; and a trimeter has THREE feet (here three dactyls).

Exercise 4: Anapestic Dimeters
An anapest is the opposite, really, of a dactyl: still three syllables, but this time the two unstressed syllables come BEFORE the stressed syllable - dee-dee-DUM. A dimeter is, obviously, a line with TWO feet.

Exercise 5: Quatrain; abab; iambic pentameters
A quatrain is a stanza (or poem) with FOUR lines. This quatrain should have an abab rhyme scheme; or, in other words, Lines 1 and 3 must rhyme, as must lines 2 and 4. All four lines must be iambic pentameters (see Exercise 1 above).

Exercise 6: Quatrain; abab; anapestic tetrameter/anapestic trimeter/anapestic tetrameter/anapestic trimeter.
Like exercise 5, but this quatrain must be written using anapests, as follows: Lines 1 and 3 = tetrameters (i.e. FOUR anapests), and Lines 2 and 4 = trimeters (i.e. THREE anapests). See Exercise 4 above for what an anapest is.

For my own attempts, please see the separate post. Notice how I have entitled it; labled it; and laid it out. Please do the same for yours, to make moderation easier for all concerned.

The deadline for this task is midnight on Saturday 5th January 2008. How generous is that? Giving you until next year to complete it! :)

Ballad

She was lonely and eager for Love

Then a tall and foreign stranger appeared

Introduced her to a world of fun and lust

Well he seemed to have stolen her heart.

An English Rose with Egyptian Spice

Tied the knot on a sweet summers day

She believed she was blessed with her man

They began to joke, laugh and play.

Until one day she was forced to forget

Forget her religion and burn her rosary

He converted her to something she was not

She overcame and realized with him, she could never be merry.

The marriage began to fall apart

Then they produced two bundles of joy

She hoped it was a fresh start

For now she has a girl and a boy.

The years have passed and their love has died.

Threats and violence is what their house contains

Her Egyptian Spice had gone past his date

Now her children have matured with her pain.

part of me

Part of me is always bright – the darkness never shown
Part of me’s a floating kite – I fly but I’m alone
Part of me is winter’s frost – the ice runs through my veins
Part of me’s fading, I’m lost – nothing inside remains
Part of me is teary – I let the river flow
Part of me is theory – there’s nothing I don’t know
Part of me is oh so sweet – your favourite dessert
Part of me’s unbreakable,
But most of me is hurt.

Part of me is a charade – all things aren’t what they seem
Part of me is a façade – my surface falsely gleams
Part of me you’ll never know – you see me in disguise
Part of me is all for show – It seems like I am wise
Part of me is bound in chains – I try, but can’t break free
Part of me has no real aims – can some one please help me?
Part of me’s oh so charming – some say that I’m a flirt
Part of me’s rather vengeful
But most of me is hurt.

Betrayel

Jerry:So here we are, we've both be fools
Robert:Explain to me how I'm a fool, you had my wife now what was your tool?
Jerry:I had no need for tools, she loved me you see.
Robert:Whatever happened when we played squash?
Jerry:My Interest faded Robert though it was a laugh.
Robert:It was, you're right there!

debut 2

It’s dark tonight. Just hanging round a mates chilling and watching a film. It all went ok until he asked me. “You want some mate?”. This was completely out of the ordinary, I didn’t know he swung that way. I was flattered that he was willing to give but I didn’t want to ruin things. He didn’t seem to take no as an answer. He laid her on the table, she was hopeless, paralyzed. I didn’t want a criminal record. How could I touch her? She looked so hopeless, I wasn’t that kind of guy. He gave me a stern look pushed my head onto her. I was panicking, shitting myself to be honest. She was so white and soft. Laid there on a line. He whispered to me…

“SNIFF”

Haiku

Atul:

Unjustified man

Dad’s boring and outshone son

‘Dutt’ just isn’t me…

Eeshwar Dutt:

Elbow Game master

Reminice in the sweet past

My best friend is gone…

Lopa Dutt:

The past can’t erase

Clings onto my every thought

He was my TRUE love

Jai:

He is not worthy

Her beauty captivates me

But we cannot be…

Vina:

Consumate? My arse!

Maybe he doesn’t want me

I can’t escape now…

Laxman:

That canoodling cow

I wish she would disappear

Vina is my world.

Lata Patel:

Want the best for her

She is a grown woman now

I want to feel loved.

Task 16

I see darkness arriving, like an army going to battle. Hate surrounded us everywhere. Where did that love go? My family was broken into bits and pieces and the only thing we did was watch it end. I miss my mother’s smile and the time we used to spend together as the ‘happy family.’ The laughter was gone and now there was only hate and sadness in the atmosphere.

Here we go again but today was going to be different than any of the other days. I wanted to close my eyes, as I watched them shouting, roaring and tearing each other apart but I fail to. Tears fell down my brother’s face; he was too innocent to understand what was going on around him. I kept close to him and made sure he was alright. Another vase broken and the roses inside it is no longer the beautiful bright red, instead it was lifeless. I would rather be watching a scary movie than this. I watched in horror as my mother was force to the ground, with blood all over her hand. I looked at her and saw the fear in her eyes and I knew deep inside she was crying out for help, even though she was strong enough not to show it on the outside.

My life became a living hell. I could no longer take it. “Stop it, Stop it, STOP it.” I shouted at them. They didn’t care about me or my little brother at all, just carried on with their war. I thought that my mother could be more understanding and caring but she turned out to be the worst one. Well, it wasn’t really her fault she became like this. I think it was dad’s fault, we all knew where he was going late at night everyday. The thought that mum knew where he was going; droved her mad and she couldn’t stop herself from it.

The war ended but it destroyed every little happiness we once had. She didn’t even say goodbye, just closed the door and never came back. Dad sat there on his special chair. He looked at us. I could see that was not what he wanted. Deep inside his heart, he still had feelings for mum. I stood there…in silence. I didn’t say a word and left him there so that he can think about the disaster he caused.

The last words of my mother was, “I will come back for my children and that day you will paid for the damage you caused.” My father didn’t care; he carried on with his life and tried to bring things back to normal. I was left in tears and pain which no one would understand.

Where did that love go? I still ask myself that question.

Daddy?

The celebration has begun.Trust my family to go for the works on my graduation day.Well that's Asians for you.
Mum is there the tears of joy in her eyes.My grandparents aka extra parents are there smiling at me in admiration for my achievements.Aunties and uncles with my presents.Siblings and cousins up to no good.As always.Well that's my family and I love them.I wouldn't change them for the world.
I wonder what it would be like if my biological father was here.
He'd probably take the glory for himself.
I remember the days when I was a child.The slamming doors.The walking on eggshells.The tension in the air.The days dad used to live with us.
No one really listened to victims of domestic violence then.They wanted everything to be black and white.Must be lots of bruises as proof.My mum lived in silence for ten years but then he really did it.

"Look woman.Whatever I say you do,you understand!"
No comment
"I click my fingers and you run behind me."
"Or what!you think I'm staying silent any longer."
He wasn't expecting that
"You bloody embarrass me in front of my family.You beat the shit out of me.You treat my daughter like shit just because she isn't as close to you as your other 'princess'.Oh and don't forget the time you bloody hit me while i was pregnant with your heir as you say-"
"STOP woman!This is my house and I will do as I like."
"Correction this is my house.Look at all the bills and letters and you will find that it is MY house."
"Well if it is YOUR house you won't need me then wuill you."
"No I won't .Pack your bags and leave me and my children.Don't ever think of coming back into our lives again"
"Fine!But remember this.Without me, you and your children will become nothing.Your daughters will be housewives and your son will be working in Asda or Tesco,putting away people's trolleys and baskets.Remember that"

I remember that night like it was yesterday.I remember having to protect my brother and sister and try to put them to sleep despite the noises coming from downstairs.
I remember the words "Without me, you and your children will become nothing.Your daughters will be housewives.
I remember these words while I'm at my graduation party having graduated and become a Doctor.

Family Warfare

The ear shattering silence is suspiciously unnerving, and there is no doubt about the obvious volcanic currents brewing beneath its immaculate surface. The grandfather clock is idly ticking away, totally oblivious to the bloody battle that inexorably draws nearer with every little jerk of its hands.
The clock chimes eight and I wince as my heart violently convulses; the peal reminiscent of a bell before a boxing match, I stare on in dread as my father takes his corner and my mother reluctantly takes hers.
My little sibling is gazing at me with his bottom lip trembling in terror; he is too young to fully understand why my father and my mother can’t help but to partake in this daily sparring match.

The fear and panic swirling in the depths of my mother’s eyes are apparent, as my father opens his mouth and fires sharp bullets of verbal abuse and expletives at her with palpable force.
She bears the hit like that of a true soldier and fires back with her own damaging grenades full of corrosive wounding words coming from her heart.
Seeing the challenge in my mother’s eyes my father seems surprised at her boldness, but he immediately recovers from the shock and prepares to bombard her with his biggest attack yet.
My mother doesn’t give him a chance as she lays her own nuclear mine in his path; the explosion that comes from this confrontation results in the instant destruction of the happy family image that we had all strived to achieve.
They both cease fire acutely aware of the devastating wreck that they have caused.
I glance at my brother who is clinging to my side with tears rolling down his pudgy cheeks, and I know that the damage done here today is irreversible.

My father and my mother stand still, both panting and both glaring accusingly into the eyes of the other.
My father is the first to break the stare realising that my mother has become just as tough as him in battle.
He turns stiffly on his heal and retreats.

Task 16

Roar.

Hiss.

Roar.

Hiss.

The predators are ready for attack. Both their eyes burning with fury. Two beasts out to get one another but I feel that really I’m the prey. They both wish for ‘happy families’.

Happy my arse… She is sharpening her liquored claws as he grips his feet into the ground. I can almost hear both their hearts pounding synchronized with each other. Oh, this is tense; the fight of the century.

They Charge. Roar. Hiss. Roar. Hiss. I usually feel safe here, my haven, but now, its but a war zone. The violent movements increase. I’m warm but the screams I hear are cold and bitter. I feel a thud and she is on the ground…as well as me. At this point, I want to break free and stop this violence. But, I am weak and powerless.

My mother is paralyzed on the floor. I kick to try and conscious her; she does not stir. Father has killed my home, my tranquility, my life. My little heart is pounding wildly. Then, silence…

Task 16: Satin

I think she thought she played me, But who turned out to be the lucky one; who has the children, who ended up with the money, who has the new and definitely improved wife. I know it’s not her, God knows where she is, probably half way around the world in a dustbin. Your probably wondering who I’m talking about or what I’m talking about…satin, otherwise known as my ex wife she was the salt in my coffee, the sugar on my chips, the pepper up my nose she was my anomaly. Until the best thing in my life happened, SHE LEFT.

It all started with her ridiculous argument; “Darling I don’t think we should move house, I like it here” she said after somehow persuading me to put the down payment on a £250,000 house, so me being the lovely husband I was I replied “Sugar Muffin, we put the down payment on the house yesterday but I’ll see what we can do tomorrow” so the bitch replies “Tomorrow, but baby I want to sort it out now” so I reply “Honey drop the estate agent is closed now I can’t do anything until tomorrow” that’s when it turned nasty she dropped the darling and the baby and replaced them with stupid little twit and ugly bastard ( I know, it’s a very big leap ain’t it ). By the time the argument had finished she had accused me of killing her slowly, cheating on her and apparently it was my fault that there was no world peace and to top it all off to put the cherry on top of the cake our children were sitting with us on the wobbly unclean dining table watching with disbelief as their mother gradually turned into the hulk.

And then after getting a “touch” angry she patted the children’s heads and said to them “It’s not mummies fault that daddy doesn’t make her happy.” I sat there and watched as she tried to convince our children that I was Dr. Evil and she was just a female Austin Powers, but obviously it didn’t work so she packed her Luis Vuitton luggage set and headed off, and I’ve never seen her since but I’m not complaining as I said; who turned out to be the lucky one, who has the children, who ended up with the money, who has the new and definitely improved wife. I know it’s not her, Because she’s gone trust me she’s gone far.

MONEY:S

money.the amount of hate i have for that. i don't understand what people love about it. what pleasure and good does it bring to them? every bloody evening they fight over over it. i thought my dad was going to tear my mum's hair out today, that's how serious their arguments have become. they do this all the time. they fight over the littlest of things, always causing problems for me and my younger sister. it's always us that has to suffer in the end. always us that are forced to stay up at night not able to sleep because of all the sceaming and shouting. we use to stay up at night hoping and wishing that they will stop, stop bloody fighting. why can't they just stop?

today dad came home and they were at it again. for hours they were screaming and shouting at each other, but today they just went too far.he exceeded the limit. i
think my mum was actually bleeding. when i saw her it felt like my heart was being ripped out of me. i couldn't belive he would go that far. i couldn't even look at him, he knew what he had done was that horrid. he couldn't even face looking at the pain and damage he caused my mum and us. he just walked out in the end. out of our lives, all because of money. money.... yeah, that really doesn't give you pleasure i know that better than anyone.

LOVE IS........

love is the reason i want to die
love is the warmth i feel as winter passes by
love is the only reason to why i cry
love is...

love is the sugars in my tea
love is sweeter than the honey made by the bees
love is forever like the trees
love is...

love is what brings together you and me
love is friendship, without it where will we be
love is a padlock with an assigned key
love is...

love brings you closer to my heart
love is a feeling we can't live without
love is a promise that will never be apart
love is...

love is a feeling greater than the moon
love is a pleasure i hope to feel soon
love is the dreams i visualisevat noon
love is...

Friendship is a key when your locked out you house
Friendship is a cat when your house has a mouse
Friendship is a mum when you’re arguing with a spouse
Friendship is. . .

Friendship is cream when your skin is dry
Friendship is the answer when you’re wondering why
Friendship is a tissue when you want to cry
Friendship is. . .

Friendship is glasses when you can’t see
Friendship is the sugar in your tea
Friendship is the child on your knee
Friendship is. . .

Friendship is the wick in your candle
Friendship is the horse that easy to handle
Friendship is the boat with the paddle
Friendship is. . .

Friendship is torch when it’s dark
Friendship is a patch to make your mark
Friendship is the swing in the park
Friendship is. . .

I hate you like a cleaner hates a stain
I hate you like Charley now hates her “fame”
I hate you like a Tabby hates Great Danes
So you can see it running miles
Like a murderer hates his trial
I hate you like an oily pan hates water
I hate you like a cop hates a fraudster
I hate you like a Vegan hates to slaughter
So they protest and have riots
Like fat people hate diets
I hate you like Nazi’s hate Jews
I hate you like fiction hates the news
I hate you like winners hate to lose
I hate you.

I love you like a book loves it’s pages
I love you like mums love to take ages
I love you like rich men love their wages
So they can rub it in people’s faces
Like cameras love exotic places
I love you like a dog loves his master
I love you like worshippers love their pastor
I love you like racers love to go faster
So they can experience the thrill
Like a carpenter loves his drill
I love you baths love bubbles
I love you like bad boys love their troubles
I love you like maths loves doubles
I love you.

I need you like a printer needs paper
I need you like a toy needs a maker
I need you like clouds need vapour
So they can show how pretty they are
Like the sky needs a star
I need you like a dictionary needs words
I need you like a nest needs a bird
I need you like a lecturer needs to be heard
So they can get through their point
Like a bone needs it’s joint
I need you like a door needs a key
I need you like dogs need to wee
I need you like a doctor needs a PHD
I need you

Task 16

Spears of rain pummelled the window, the deluge sounding like feet thundering down the road, and a thousand tiny arrows hitting a corrugated iron roof all rolled in to one, and being unleashed in one continuous ear-splitting wave.

Of course this loud outbreak of noise from the rain sounded like a small trickle to my ears. What really hurt my pale and transparent ears were the two women arguing downstairs. They were arguing about who was to have the pet dog. I rolled over in my sleeping place trying to get back to the eternal peace of a ghost sleep. I’d nearly dropped back off the pitch blackness just brushing my fingertips when,
“OI! Don’t turn your back on me!”
rose up through the floors and slamming into me and propelling me away from my peaceful sleep.

I glided downstairs invisible and hovering approximately 10cm from the ground to see who these two people were and why they were arguing. My pellucid body barely visible at all in the bright light. Suddenly for no apparent reason the dog lying at the bottom of the stairs started to bark and growl as if an intruder was trying to come in. Its fur practically standing vertically on end, and its barks were the warning sort. Loud and meaningful. The two women came to see what had made the dog start to bark. As there was nothing to see they soothed the dog by petting it and whispering kind words to it. Once the dog was calm they continued with their argument. By now I had named the two women. One I had called Frizzy because of her springy and buoyant hair. The other I had named Slippers because of her thick and woolly slipper socks.
“I hate you so much!” Frizzy was shouting when I glided into the room.
“To tell you the truth I stopped caring ages ago” Slippers said this with complete calmness, and with an artic wind. From this I guessed they had moved on or sorted out who was to have the dog, and now they were arguing about something totally different.
“You never listen to me! You always manipulate my words so they fit to your liking! I absolutely ha….” Frizzy stopped in mid sentence. While they were busy squabbling I had crept up to the glass of wine that was resting on the table and flung it across the room. It flew through the air like a golden eagle and smashed into the clean white wall painting red wine all over it. They were both speechless.
“Arhhhhhhhhhh! This place is haunted! I’m not staying in this freak house for another second!” screamed Frizzy.
With that she bolted for the front door and dashed out of the house.

“Finally!” I thought as I drifted back up stairs avoiding the dog that was sleeping on the top step stretched out like a barrel. I glided swiftly up through the ceiling to my little sleeping space and promptly fell asleep.

Task 16

They're there again. I hope I can slip past without them noticing me. Oh no, they've seen me, RUN!!!! That never works either. I mean they're award winning runners on the school athletic team, and i'm just the girl who hides in the library corner reading a book. My main intention in life is to remain invisible. And most of the time it works. Except when i walk along the corridors. Then they see me, all four of them. Rachel, Carol, Jane and Paige. The most feared people at school.

Even at home i seem invisible, Dad's always too busy fighting with my brother. And mum's always too drunk too take any notice. So it's always me on my own. I spend 90% of the day locked in my room trying to block the outside world. Life seemed to stink, like the dustbin I landed in yesterday breaktime.

I had already made five attempts to end this torture. Yet I always did it at the wrong time. My mum came in from the pub and barged into the room, the slits starting to show on my neck. James kicked his football through my window and and nocked the bottle of pills over.

Everyday things get worse, it started with names, then threats but then it happened, the slaps, the kicks, the punches across my face. No one noticed when I wasn't at school from a broken arm, and no one noticed when I would bunk to try and get away from them, to everyone at school I was known as the freak. Even the teachers didn't know who I was.

If I'd known today was going to be the last that I would have to suffer I would have made something special of it. On my way home, the burn from their punch this breaktime made my face feel like it was on fire. I would always try to be as far away from them as I could. Seeing them at the end of the road made me panic.Without thinking, I ran across the road, not seeing the big double decker bus in my way.

Me

Part of me is Bad- Im the devil's little tool
Part of me is Sad- I always play the fool
Part of me's a Drunk- Wasted at sixteen
Part of me's a Punk- Life is just a dream
Part of me was Closed- I can't do that anymore
Part of me is Posed- Just another myspace whore
Part of me is pretty- Or maybe Im just vain
Parts of me I pity-
'cause most of me is Pain.

Part of me is Happy- But only for a while
Part of me is Chatty- Although sometimes that turns vile
Part of me is Craving- But not for what you think
Part of me is Wishing- Hoping I don't sink
Part of me's a Druggie- In need of another kick
Parts of me are Foggy- My mind likes to play tricks
Part of me is lifeless- Locked up with a chain
Part of me is careless-
But most of me is Pain.

Part of me is stupid- I never get it right
Part of me plays Cupid- I hate it when we fight
Part of me is Poetic- Most of my rhymes are in the bin
Part of me is Pathetic- I never seem to win
Part of me still loves you- That part always will
Part of me is Through- There is a hole you cannot fill
Part of me is Hate- don't call out my name
Part of me is Late-
But most of me is Pain.

Part of me is Crying- Mostly on the inside
Part of me is Dying- Swept away by the tide
Part of me is Sick- Twisted and obscene
Part of me's a Trick- Im not nice, Im mean
Part of me's Confused- What is the point to life?
Part of me feels used- It's a never-ending strife
Part of me has grown- But most parts are the same
Part of me has shown-
That most of me is Pain.

Venus and Adonis

Venus and Adonis

Venus:
You hurt me. So much....
But you know that.
You hurt me more than I can put into words,
You know that too.
Everytime you leave, I die a little bit more inside.
But you know.
You know you're the only one who can make it better
You hurt me so much, it hurts so good..
But you know, don't you?

Adonis
I hurt myself by hurting you...
But you know that.
I try my best to pretend I don't care,
You know that too.
I leave for hunting because it hurts to be near you,
beside you,
knowing what you have done,
We are falling apart...
but you know, don't you?

I sat there imagining it to be a sitcom. A delightful inconsequential flick through the, lets face it, constant barrage of negativity that life is. It played out smoothly, failing to acknowledge the flaws of character revealed by the situation. The argument, sparked by the presence of rosemary on the chicken that we had layed in front of us after ' slaving in front of a ten million degree sterilisation machine for five damn hours'. The only thing my father failed to remember after being in front of the oven for an hour and a half was that if my mum came into contact with the aforementioned herb she would sneeze violently for fifteen minutes straight
(CANNED LAUGHTER).
Me and my sister lau ghed cautiously watching as my dad sighed, waiting for the blood that was rapidly reaching boiling point opposite him. She stood up and silently walked into the kitchen. Dad stayed and and mindlessly twiddled a cube of parsnip with his fork.
' I think she wants you to go in there dad' my sister blurted out, lifting her eyes from her roasted allergen.
' did she think that maybe i want her to come back in here and behave like she isn't five' (CANNED LAUGHTER).
Then mum burst in, her face blood red;
'how dare you undermine me in front of my children'
' i'm sorry, did you mean our children? the only things that have stopped the last fifteen years of my life being a pissing shambles'. This was followed by an unimaginable silence which didn't cease to plough through the butter like tension of this last supper.
I decided to block out the rest of the evening, sweeping the trauma under the carpet. Even though the lump under the carpet is still there, ten years on i don't mind lying on it, stepping on it or even lifting it to take a look at the lump before i take the carpet to get washed.

Falling Apart

I try so hard not to hear but they’re so loud. Their piercing sounds fill my ears leaving me in doubt. The only goal is to keep this family from falling. With no love left how can we be saved, from this aching loneliness that comes our way? They don’t understand what it’s doing to us. They carry on for hours while my brother and I starve. I try to put him to sleep and tell him “everything will be fine”; though I know he is much smarter than he looks. Yet he forces himself to believe me and pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on; whilst I lay there in silence remembering the good times.

Everything now silent I only hear cries. I stand still in wonder. The front door slams shut, with a sound like thunder.

one nights tale

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
When the children were tucked up with care
A problem between their parents began to stir,
‘Your good for nothing, cold as the wind that blows’
‘You cannot repay me the personal debts you owe’.


As the snow started to fall it blanketed the world from the heated debate
But as the clock struck ten the argument reached its fate.
‘It can’t end this way’ he howled, but it came to no avail
‘You cant leave me! I’m much too frail!’
With bags in hand she braved the snow,
Twas only now that heart rates began to slow.

With his head in his hands he began to think,
Think of the times he had pushed her to the brink.
It was only now that he could understand
How all he used to do was command.
All the more he sat there, it became clearer
Whose heart he valued all the more dearer.

As the clock struck eleven all were at rest,
Heads down. Lights out. Asleep in their beds
They were still unaware of the forthcoming quest.
As Father Christmas swooped above their heads.

Now Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring.

Not even a mouse.

Task 5

I didn't see the play that you're talking about so I just wrote a sonnet about erm... stuff =D


I have become so comfortably numb,
The words you speak, I cannot hear them now.
The night calls my name, tells me to come,
My heart breaks for you, that I cannot allow.

I cut myself from the inside out,
I get scared but I wont crawl on me knees.
My head is always filled with so much doubt,
I get scared but I wont be begging please.

It's hard to keep an open heart and soul,
Open your heart and all you do is bleed.
I'm falling, I feel myself lose control,
On my own pain, guilt and misery I feed.

I know that look I see in your blue eyes
I wont stand around and wait for goodbyes.

Task 16- A friend of mine

The story didn't go the way it should have, it wasn't like in the movies. There should have been a warning. The sky should have turned dark and the wind should of picked up, Depressing music should have been playing in the background and I should have walked slower through the woods, I should have paused before walking into the ruins of the factory- to build up the suspense and create tension.
It wasn't like in the movies at all. The sky was a brilliant blue, There was a gentle breeze and the only music in the background was the sound of the childish laughter and screams of joy coming from the nursery down by the river.

She was a selfish, heartless cow and I started to really hate her. I know it wasn't her fault, really. It was that boyfriend of hers, he wasn't as perfect as she tried to pretend he was and he didn't stand by her when it happened.
Of course we where friends before the drama, but you don't remember the good times once hate fills your head. Once everyone is on your side, you can't stop and say "Okay, Im sorry. Let's make up and be friends again and I'll be there for you, like you were there for me." I should have... But I didn't And I wasn't there for her when she needed a friend.

I heard them by the old tire swing near the opening of the woods. We used to have so much fun there.. The swing went so high, you couldn't help but laugh once you got off. The woods were one of my favorite places to be, Even when I moved 2000 miles away, when I came to my Grandma's for the summer, I loved the woods. The memories, the echos of the laughter..
I heard them arguing, I heard him shove her and roar at her like the animal that he was. Through the muffled sounds of her cries I could make out the threat of suicide and his reply of "I dont give a fuck, do it."

My 'friends' laughed. They laughed when I told them what I saw. They said she deserved everything she got after she abandoned us like that.
"Friends don't just leave you for some stupid guy" they said.
"What did she think was going to happen, she gets knocked up and he stays with her and the baby for ever?"
Of course he wouldn't. She was stupid to think he would, blinded by that sickening disease people call love...
Guess what I did? Not wanting to feel bad about not going after her, and not wanting to look like I care; I laughed too. An empty laugh.

Going home that day, I took a shortcut through the woods and something caught my eye inside the 3 walls and ruins that we still referred to as 'the factory'. My curiosity got the best of me and I went to have a look.
It wasn't like in the movies at all. You see, in the movies, the actors, they never get it quite right. They neck isn't actually snapped and they aren't actually stone-cold dead. In the movies there isn't as much blood all over the walls and floor or, there is too much. In the movies the rope they use isn't the one you held on to and laughed while sitting on that tyre swing you loved so much as a child...
I broke down, and just sat there staring at her. It wasn't the dead fetus hanging off her that got to me the most though, it wasn't even the sound of blood dripping off her corpse. It was the sadness in her eyes. Those eyes that haunt my dreams and make me re-live that moment every night. Those eyes that make me feel more guilt then you can imagine.
I am forever condemned. I don't hear the echos of laughter in those woods anymore. The woods forever mourn the loss of an angel. My friend..

Demolished

A blue ford.
An old, rusty, blue classic ford.
I never thought I’d be sitting in one. It could have been any other car, just not this one.
Dented doors with scratched paintwork, and nothing but a feather duster in the back seat to clean the windows. My knowledge hasn’t expanded more than eleven years, so why me? She got to stay with my aunt, who hasn’t realised that she’s nothing more than hard work.
The sky shouldn’t be blue. Dark blue maybe, but I prefer black.
Birds shouldn’t be birds; they should be magpies searching for their last piece of silver to crave the satisfaction. Satisfaction that they never get.
They couldn’t just shut up once could they? Evening after evening, I sat there, at the top of our mahogany staircase, staring at what was supposed to be the anniversary gift from June. A glass vase. Nicely shaped with a high opening, and every Saturday, filled with a fresh bunch of sunflowers. Until one Saturday, they weren’t there.
I could never forget that Saturday. An autumn day with what seemed to be a magnificent dinner. Gosh, I should’ve put my plate in the sink that night. Maybe mum wouldn’t have ended up with two scars for life, running like the wind down her face. And maybe dad wouldn't have-oh, never mind.

Those hot tears, scorching every inch of my skin as I covered my ears from those cries. She never knew what was happening, I could have held her, told her it was okay, but what kind of big sister am I? One who ends up like this, staring out of the window in a stranger’s car.

Flashbacks. Fragments of hate bouncing off the walls, I never knew it would have come to that.

“I should’ve known you would never stick it out! The girls? This house? What the hell have I lived for all these years? You come home, stinking of beer! I-“
“DON’T YOU EVEN DARE PIN THIS ON ME! WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”
“Your wife! I couldn’t cope when she came along, I should have just run away then. You and your sluttish girlfriend.”
“SHE’S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND! DON’T YOU DARE CALL HER SLUTTISH.”
“Take a look around Dean! Who the hell doesn’t know? You’re just fooling yourself now, take a look at yourself-“
The shattering of china came next. Followed by the repetition of the same thing, like a broken record. Every portion of my breath flew into my head, gasping for the realisation of what had happened. I remember flinging down the stairs. So fast that I didn’t even feel my ankle twisting, that came later when the police took me to hospital.
Looking into my father’s face, nothing but pain and sadness and torment.
All I could conjure up at that point was the fury, the anguish I felt. But my mother told a different story. Lying on the floor beneath a pile of demolished china plates, she seemed so helpless. The mother I had always known, so willing and dedicated, she just went out of the window with what was left of her. The blood was enough to know what had happened.

So now; I’m here.
Rewinding the past six months as the world carries on with another fantastic day.
Without me.

Task 16

Last night on the 15Th of October 2007 was the night Joanne Bingley and Derek Fortatude divorced leaving there children with Katherine Bingley for the night as the court case was taking place in Hertford Court on Liverpool Street.
Joanne told us: "We were all happy families until I met her, I won't name names because I am not like that (glares viciously at Derek). He saw her more and more until every night he came home late I knew where he was as it was quite bait."
Derek Fortatude said nothing in defences.
The Jury was becoming more and more frustrated because the normally should sign divorce papers but there was a jam in the waiting list and was forced into court.
There was a break half way through were we got an interview with the Judge:
"Do you believe any of the participants?"
"I believe Joanne more because she has more to say and complain about than Derek Fortaude, as he said nothing when she made her statement, so I think the Jury will believe her more than Derek."
So there we are the court judgement will be made next Wednesday, there is completely no romance or love in this couple its just a "Dry Stone" as Joanne told us, during the interview.

From Helena Redbridge
Hertford Court.

Screams

Screams. Screams. Screams. DON'T SCREAM. DON'T SHOUT. DON'T ARGUE. JUST STOP. I don't like it when you scream. WE don't like it when you scream. Evelyn don't cry. It's OK. Big brother Joseph is here. Why are mummy and daddy shouting? I don't like it when they shout. Mummy's so red right now her eyes look like they're about to pop out. Daddy says not to worry and that they're just having a 'heated discussion'. Mummy disagrees and says they're simply arguing and not to complicate or confuse our little minds with such 'complex' words such as 'heated' and 'discussion'. They argue some more. Evelyn cries so more. I cry some more. It's so late at night right now. We should be eating dinner round the fireplace right about now. As a family. A FAMILY.
"MAYBE YOUR WHOLE ATTITUDE TOWARDS ME WAS A FARCE! THE ROMANCE... THE LOVE... THE EMOTION!" shouts mother.
"MAYBE OUR WHOLE MARRIAGE WAS A FARCE!" Father shouts back. I hear a noise. A loud noise. It wasn't a noise of muffled screaming either. It was the sound of the front door going SLAM.

Task 16

"...You never look after the children!" 15-love.
"I never look after the children? Well maybe that has something to do with the fact that I work my arse off day in and day out unlike some!" 15-all.
"see here we go again, you always put work before the family!" 30-15.
"And what? You think I'd like to hop on a train every bloody morning and to be put under the watchful eye of my boss and have him breathing down my neck?" 30-all.
"As a matter of fact I do. Because while he's supposedly breathing down your neck during work hours, he's bloody on top of you in your lunch break!" 40-30.
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. Late nights out, working late. You can't hide it from me, from us anymore"
"Well, that has to be your guilty conscience, or have you forgotten last year?" Deuse.
"I thought we wern't going to discuss the past anymore 'coz I could bring up a whole load of stuff about you, besides it was a misunderstanding with your mother" - advantage. "Just remember how I've helped you" Game. Only it isn't a game, it's real life. Dad walked off and mum sat back down at the table, sobbing, her eyes blinded by tears.

Everyone knew what mum was up to, they just couldn't bring it up - well not until now. We wouldn't know where to start. "Hey mum, you know Eric, the one your secretly having it off with behind dad's back? well, when can we meet him? Can he come in for a cuppa???" That wouldn't pan out to well. And anyway, turning a blind eye just made it easier for us all. We could enjoy pretending to be one happy normal family. Although I wanted to take my dad's side and question her 'til the cows came home, I couldn't. So i simply put my arm round her shoulder and hugged her. It wasn't her fault dad went out a lot, and didn't shower her with attention, it just wasn't him. He wasn't Romeo-like, he never did a romantic thing in his life. Even flowers still had the tesco value sticker on, revealing the slashed price. Fish and chips was his speciality, and a romantic gesture from him would be a chinese from Woo lot down the road. Soppy cards reading "roses are red, violets are blue, you are like honey and I love you" just wern't cutting it anymore. So it was understandable that Eric, who left her secret coded messages and bought her champagne, had swept her off her feet almost immediately.

Trouble was, where did all this mess leave me?

Task 16: Same Difference

The secret of successful writing is invariably not WHAT you write about (i.e. the CONTENT) but HOW you write about it (i.e. STYLE).

This week's task is a challenge in style - and, unlike other weeks, you will HAVE to read other people's attempts before you do your own. You are all going to write about the same content; but you must write about it in a different style to everybody else. In that sense, the sooner you post, the easier it will be. Those of you leaving it until the last minute will have the hardest job of all - because most of the good ideas will already be taken...

The piece of GCSE English coursework you will all complete in due course is described, in the syllabus, as ORIGINAL WRITING. And this is no accident. The way to impress the examiner the most is by making sure your writing is ORIGINAL; or, in other words, unique to you. And this week's task will help you.

Those of you familiar with the wiki may have seen a presentation of mine on the Explore, Imagine, Entertain page entitled 'Getting Started'. Here you will see five different attempts at beginning the same story - in that case, a story about a girl getting bullied. I suggest you visit the page, download the presentation, and study carefully how each opening is very different. This will help you tremendously with this week's task.

So how can you make your writing different? It is all to do with risk taking; experimentation: try playing around with some of the following:

• Tense: why not try the present tense? Or even the future? Either can be used to very good effect.
  
• Mood: most writing is Declarative (i.e. it is just a series of statements). Why not use the Conditional mood (e.g. he would); the Imperative (i.e. commands); or the Interrogative (i.e. questions)?
  
• Genre: Try exploring atypical/non-standard non-fiction genres for your narrative fiction. Anyone who has read Laura Esquivel's Like Water For Chocolate will know how the cookery recipe format can make for fascinating fiction. Or how about the school text book? Or a set of map directions? Or a news report? Subverting (i.e. twisting) non-fiction genres for fiction can be very effective.
  
• Narrator: 3rd person narratives are commonplace. How about using a 1st person narrative (i.e. I/me); or even a 1st person plural (we/us)? And what about the underused 2nd person narrative (you)? And who will be the narrator? Will it be the main protagonist? Or an onlooker? Or maybe there will be several?
  
• Fragments: Sometimes, full sentences are essential and de rigeur (i.e. necessary). However, it can be fun playing around with what Microsoft Word would call 'fragments'. Individual words and phrases which exist apart from any sentence. This can be very effective at times.
• Time: a linear narrative is easy to follow; but a narrative which starts at the end and works backwards can be much more fun. And what about parallel narratives (i.e. two thread which flit back and forth between each other)?
• Subverted stereotypes: try tricking us into assuming characters will behave a certain way and then showing them behave anything but...
• Setting: Try focusing on seemingly random objects or aspects of setting. Use them to explore emotions within the characters themselves. An ashtray, perhaps. A doorknob. The way the curtains never quite meet in the middle etc...
  

And these are just a few ideas.

A word of warning: different does not necessarily mean better. Indeed, you could use any or all of the devices above and your writing could fall flat on its face. But unless you experiment in the first place, you will never know what works and what doesn't; and, even worse than that, your writing could end up just ORDINARY. And WHO in their right mind would want to be ORDINARY???

So the only RULES this week are that there are NO RULES.

I am going to give you a simple plot synopsis. And then each of you need to tell the same story, but in a different style. Your own, original style. Your own ORIGINAL writing.

No need to write too much, by the way. It is definitely QUALITY over quantity I am looking for this week. It is fine only to begin the story, and to leave it unresolved - as long as your writing stands intact in its own right.

PLOT SYNOPSIS: Family conflict. Evening. Young children listen as parents argue. At end of argument, one parent leaves.

Deadline: Midnight on Saturday 22nd December (N.B. This is the deadline for ALL overdue tasks too.)