Her Impression

The clothes I wear make me feel like I’m acting. Accompanied by a smile that tells no fewer lies. They only ever asked how I felt, not what or who I felt like. But why should they. I always imagined everyone to feel just as uncomfortable. Yet I don’t see it in every pair of eyes I share a glance with across the street, in the class room, in my home. Some but not all. When I talk I don’t recognise her voice, sometimes her words sound foreign to me. People still laugh, smile, nod, they must understand her better than I do. I had a childish confidence once. Now I can only pretend to have retained it, with great effort. When I can’t keep it up they think of me as rude. My eyes can’t meet with theirs, it hurts to return their prying glances. What they see, the person they hear, that isn’t me. She wraps her arms around me and locks me tight in her embrace. She takes my place when my head and my heart can’t stand to be surrounded by people. She is the impression I present when I’m at my best. At night I hold her close and let her sleep, her cheek at my chest. Only we know the naked honesty behind the mask. I don’t mean to hide from the world. But there’s an impenetrable wall in my mind. The door to which was sealed by my own traitorous hand when the little girl said goodbye.

I fancied a bit of an uncensored mind exposure today, although it’s not to be taken too seriously. This is a site for creative writing after all. 

Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Impression


The Notorious

“What do you make of this one?” Roger asked. He nudged the body with his foot.

I leant over and looked into the girl’s glassy eyes. “The wounds are unmistakeable, it’s them,” I said.

Roger sighed and dragged the body through the sand. He pulled her up and over his shoulder, and asked “What are we on now?”

I flicked through my note book and scribbled down the name we found on her licence. “She’s the sixth,” I said.

“That we know of,” Roger added.

We walked to the car and Roger tossed her into the bloodstained boot. He wiped his brow and got into driver’s seat.

I rested my head back and closed my eyes. We had been collecting bodies for the past three weeks. With each new girl we found, the longer and harder the storms would rage.

“I don’t know how many more I can bury,” Roger said. “How do we stop them?”

“We reanimate her,” I said. “If that doesn’t bring them out nothing will.” I sat forward and looked across to Roger, “Let’s not waste any more time.”

He turned on the engine and we made our way to the bunker.

The girl looked peaceful. Once we had covered up her wounds you could have mistaken her for sleeping. Soon she would be awake again, and hopefully her scent would bring them to us.

I placed my hands on her chest and took a deep breath. Roger put his hands over mine and whispered a prayer.

“If you feel it slipping, stop,” he said.

“I’m bringing her back. If anything happens to me, you know what to do.”

“This isn’t worth your life,” he said. He pulled my hands away from her body. “We will find another way, I won’t lose you.”

“It’s the only option we have left. We brought them into this world, Roger, and I will die taking them out.”

There’s nothing better than a speed write to get the creative mind spinning. Who knew a daily prompt could create a world ending species? I’ll definitely be working with the Notorious again in the future, this was a fun one to write. Thanks for reading!

Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Notorious

The Wrong Road

This is a short I wrote last Halloween, but not many people got to see it. As I’m currently getting back into the swing of things, I’m going to be re-uploading some old work from my now off-line website. Enjoy!


The Wrong Road

Blood spills around her

Steadily her heart beats now

Death is all she knows


Liv tapped aimlessly at her phone as the frozen blur of a message she had received taunted her. She jabbed at the home button, before she thrust it into her pocket and let out a sigh. Her dad would have to wait for a reply.

“Come on,” she uttered, looking up and down the now empty street.

Kyle had said he would pick her up at half past four, and looking at her watch she saw that he was almost an hour late. With another sigh she shuffled her feet, and rubbed her hands together.

Her mum and dad would be sat in the hall with her little brother, waiting with bowls and bowls of candy and sweets, for the trick-or-treaters that so rarely passed their house. Stood beneath the buzzing streetlight she wished she was with them.

After a final look up and down the abandoned road, she threw her bag over her shoulder, and started to walk. She took out her phone again, but it was still frozen on the same message.

Hot chocolate, and an overflowing bowl of peanuts with your name on them, waiting for you. Love Dad. X

She smiled and looked up into the black sky. Half a moon lounged there, surrounded by glittering stars. Liv had always loved the stars, since she was a child they made her feel safe, and no matter how dark it was, if there were stars she told herself that she could find her way home.

Ahead of her she could see headlights fractured by the opening to the woods that lay beside the road.

“Kyle,” she said in a breath. The thought passed through her mind that he had been in an accident, and without a second thought she started to run towards the lights. “Kyle,” she shouted, straining her voice so that he might hear her.

She skittered to a halt as she saw the car, it wasn’t Kyle’s, she didn’t know whose it was as it was empty. The driver side door was open, and the keys were swaying in the ignition.

She peered through the windows of the car, and stood beside it for a moment. She couldn’t call the police, and she didn’t want to shout, in fact she wished she never had. Regret pulsed through her, before fear took its place. She looked back in the direction from which she had come, and then ahead to the road she had been heading towards. She swallowed hard and continued on ahead.

“People stop to go to the toilet all of the time,” she uttered to herself, keeping her voice low. The sound of her voice settled her, and she shook off what fear had found her.

Her phone began to ring and her heart hammed in her chest. She fumbled around and answered, cursing having the volume on so loud.


“Where are you?” he asked. “I’m outside.”

She looked back, and rolled her eyes. “I started to walk, come meet me.”

Within minutes she could hear the steady rattle of Kyle’s old car. He pulled up beside her and motioned for her to get in.

“You didn’t mention the abandoned car on the phone,” he said, as I threw my bag in the back seat, and quickly put on my seatbelt.

I shrugged. “What is there to say, someone stopped to relieve themselves? I’m sure it’s all fine.”

He raised his brows and looked in his rear-view mirror. “I don’t know, maybe we should call the police?”

Liv nodded, and dialled 999.

Kyle froze beside her. “Liv,” he said. “Liv, look.”

She looked up into the mirror and her breath caught in her throat.

“Drive,” she whispered. “Drive, Kyle,” she said, raising her voice, as she dug her fingers into his leg.

With mindless grace the shadow cloaked in grey crept closer to Liv and Kyle’s car.

“Kyle, why aren’t you driving?” Liv turned to Kyle and shook him. “Drive, why aren’t you driving?” she asked, her voice was strained, desperate.

Liv’s nails buried deeper into Kyle’s thigh, and blood pooled beneath them. Her teeth cut through her lips, and she could taste a coppery warmth in her mouth. Yet she barely noticed any of it, as a voice, frozen in the bitter grasp of the October night, whispered between them, “Yes, Kyle, why are you not driving?”

Neither of them could say a word. Kyle’s eyes were staring through the mirror, through the reflection he saw there, and into nothing. Liv was clinging onto Kyle, whilst trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest.

Ice-cold fingers wrapped around their throats, and she began to laugh. The grip loosened around Liv’s neck as laughter continued to bubble from her lips. She took in a rugged breath, and reached for the door handle. With all that she had left she pushed open the door, tore her seatbelt out of the car, and jumped out onto the road.

Her feet found their balance and she ran. She headed towards the trees, slamming her hands against them to propel herself deeper into the darkness that surrounded her.

The world around her fell silent, for all but a tiny stream that flowed at her feet. She knelt down and took a moment to breathe. With weariness she looked at her hands and saw Kyle’s blood, blood that stained her fingertips. She plunged her hands into the water and held in a cry. After a moment she fell back and dragged her frozen hands through her hair.

Kyle, she had left Kyle behind with the phantom, the demon.

Leaning forward her phone slipped from her pocket, and as she moved to pick it up she caught a glimpse of herself in the stream. Her face was paler than the moon, and her cheeks were painted with dirt and blood. Her focus on her image was hazy, until shocking white eyes opened, and a small, sly smile gleamed in the water’s unforgiving reflection.

Mock Me Not

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked. She walked around to Johnny’s desk and plucked the note book from beneath his crossed arms.

He sat back and sighed, before he said, “I was trying to make a start on my novel.”

“By sleeping on it?” she asked. She laughed and slid it back across to him. “What is it about?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” he said.

“Try me,” she uttered.

His eyes lit up, and the unwritten masterpiece played out in his mind.

There are two people walking into an alley way submerged in the darkness, and their shadows are thrown in front of them by the flickering orange streetlight at the entrance of their path. Neither of the figures have faces or names, they don’t need them, because suddenly the scenery changes and we are in a field. 

The sun and the delicate breeze soak the couple that are lying on their backs, looking up into the canopy of trees. Exotic birds are singing, and in the distance sirens can be heard, but the couple have yet to notice. 

The young man – tall, dark, and handsome – leans up onto his elbows and kisses his young lover on the lips. She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck, but they both stop and look across at the road as two police cars and an ambulance speed past. 

With reluctance they pack up their picnic and return to their car to drive back into the town. When they reach their home they take off their clothes and throw them onto their bedroom floor, and in one torturous minute of bone breaking pain they transform into wolves.

Once they are in their supernatural form they set off into the town, and before long they find the bodies. As soon as they turn their noses to the crime scene they know what has come to town.

“Vampires?” Sarah asked. She raised her brows and bit her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing.

“What’s wrong with vampires?” Johnny asked.

“Doesn’t everyone write about vampires?”

“Yeah, but mine are different. I have werewolves too.”

“That’s basically the plot to Twilight, but in reverse,” she said.

Johnny frowned and closed his notebook. “No it’s not,” he said. “Perry and Lisa are the town’s guardians.”

Twilight,” Sarah uttered.

“They fight crime and solve murders,” he said. “The wolves in Twilight don’t do that.”

“Wait, so you have crime fighting werewolves?”

Jonny nodded and Sarah started to laugh, but she apologised lightly and turned to leave the room as she caught sight of his scowl. She reached out to the handle, but the door opened before she touched it.

As the door slowly came to a stop, a rough voice asked into the room, “What’s wrong with crime fighting werewolves?”

Sarah stood back as the naked figure stepped into the room, and her face drained of colour.

Perry?” Johnny uttered in a breath, before he put his hand to his forehead and collapsed beneath his desk.

Hello! Thanks for reading, I hope that you enjoyed our brief encounter with Sarah and Jonny – it was as brief to write as it is to read, my favourite kind of story. Today I was kindly informed that it is my one year WordPress anniversary, so I decided to do a supernatural short story to mirror the story I posted when I first arrived here! See you next Saturday for more five minute stories!


Knowing Your Own Characters

Yesterday I did something that should have been done on day one of my novel’s creation –  I made notes on all of my characters and scenes in Corruption, especially focusing on dates.

I sat down to write the sequel to my first novel a while ago and it suddenly hit me, I don’t remember a lot of what happened, where, when and to whom. It was a year ago almost that I finished the novel and I can hardly remember my own name, let alone my characters’ –  an exaggeration, but you get the picture.

I have found myself having to search through my novel to find the small things, like what colour hair did they have? Eyes? Where did they meet the main character? How old are they? Are they an immortal? Are they important? When did this happen?

Now I realise just how important it is to really know your characters, to know where they are in your novel. With my new found knowledge if I could give any advice it would be to make sure you know everything about your character, from where they were born to how they take their coffee – it could crop up, trust me.

This isn’t a problem I find with main characters, if I ever forget anything about Victoria then that’s when I’ll really start to worry, but with writing I find that it’s all in the details. So often when reading sequels, or watching movies or TV series, I’ll notice a character say or do something totally out of character because of something they said in the previous novel, movie, or TV show – all that needed to happen was one simple re-read of scripts and my headache could have been avoided. (Oh Big Bang Theory…)

Sat here with my notebook writing down dates, names, little facts, the lot, I can see why I had so much fun writing it in the first place, and I cannot wait until I can really get started on bringing the sequel alive.

So, make sure that you don’t make my mistake, because it is very annoying – unless you have a super duper memory, then you probably won’t have this problem!

Keep reading, & writing!