Why I Write

For as long as I can remember, I have written tales from my imagination onto paper, dating back to a time when I still believed in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. Like many children, I had a wild imagination that could take me to places I’d never been. Whether these places contained beauty or horror were entirely under my control, and the best part about it was I could never tell where these stories would take me.

Like any writer, I love to write, and continue to write because I have stories inside me that I am burning to tell. A book you really want to read must first be written, and what better way to satisfy that tale than by telling it yourself. Writing is a strength in which we can absorb; we can relinquish our anger and fear, or expand on our happiness and excitement. I allow myself to divulge in words, lose myself within them, and so without some sort of writing outlet, I would be completely lost inside my own asylum.

I was once asked what the word ‘journey’ meant for me, and after considerable thought, I came up with this:

The journey of my interpretation is that which can be written with ink, illustrated with imagination and read by others.

From start to finish, writing is a journey of discovery that is entirely our own. How could you not take up that opportunity? And if one were to question why I write, this would be my response.

[253 words]

Wall Cries

[Temporarily removed]

[178 words]

Soundless Sleep

He felt the chain ripped from his neck as he fought to stay concious. His body ached so much. There was no point trying anymore. What was left? It was all over. Why should he fight against sleep? Nothing could please him better right now. He closed his eyes, calm and collected, as he stopped thrashing and and sank into the depths of his empty mind. He had to have been nearly asleep, or maybe he was asleep already, he wasn't sure, but he could feel his arm being pulled right off. His whole body was about to break into two, he could feel it. And then the wind hit his face like a hurricane, but he kept his eyes tight closed and tried not to squint. Sleep, he reminded himself, sleep is good. It came to him that he couldn't hear anything. There was nothing to hear except silence. He didn't complain. Silence was also good. He felt the invisible pulls at his chin and he opened his mouth willingly, letting the liquid drain out of his mouth as he really did fall unconcious. The darkness swept over him like an angry cloud and all he knew was that he shouldn't fight. Not anymore. There was no reason to.

[210 words]

Dream On

She sat contemplating the idea of sleep. Sleep was a beautiful thing really. A little impatient at times, but often well rested and calm. There were the dreamless sleeps - of blackness, darkness, of absolute nothingness. Peace and quiet, solitude. And there were those ones with dreams - sometimes bizarre, often confusing. These dreams could leave you lying awake in almost any kind of emotional state - happy, sad, scared, angry, fearful, excited, embarrased. Dreams are fascinating. The way in which your unconsciousness tries to convey messages to your consciousness, is simlpy mind blowing. All the little details it can pikc up and transfer into something you normally wouldn't think twice about. Dreams can be pleasant, or terrifying, all of them trying to send some sort of message to us, whether or not they're being clear about it. The unclear ones are usually the most interesting, and certainly the most remembered.

[151 words]

Heartless

Terrier sat in the corner, contemplating the letter in his hands. He'd read it at least a dozen times, and still he couldn't take it in. He would not be able to handle it. He couldn't. He couldn't pull off something like that. But he thought of the threat. The threat that he could not ignore. He knew they'd carry out the action, because that was how heartless they were. But to prevent them doing that, did he have to be so heartless himself? Sometimes he wasn't sure if he even had a heart anymore. He would convince himself that his love for Chloe came from his soul, because his heart had been torn out months ago. He could still hear it beating, but it was just a time bomb waiting to explode. He sighed, reading the letter over again. He knew he didn't have a choice, but he didn't want to have to admit that. He reached into his pocket, reassuring himself the seashell was still there. He pulled it out quickly, before closing his palm tightly around it, and repocketing it. He would be okay. Someone had to be.

[191 words]

Lonely

The girl kicked a stone on the footpath, sending it flying a few feet ahead as she dragged her feet forward. She was tired, and feeling lonely, as she supposed half the world felt right now. There were too many lonely people in this world. She thought of him, and how he'd loved her. How she had soaked up every inch of it. How she had helped him, and how he had helped her. She was sure they were closer in their relationship then other blood related siblings were. And now he'd finally left her alone. It had had to happen one day, right? She pulled her jumper closer, and kicked the stone again. She missed him. She'd give anything to see him again. But she knew she was waiting on a far away miracle. Still, as she looked up into the blue skies, it wasn't impossible; and that's what kept her going.

Overtired Writer

She folded her arms across the desk and lay her head on top of them, closing her eyes for rest as she let out another stifling yawn. The writer was overtired, again, but she couldn't go to sleep. She had to write. But to just rest her eyes for a few moments, that was all. She thought of the story she started exactly two years ago. She thought of it's sequel, what she was hard at work on now. She thought of the amazing climax she would write, and suddenly jerked herself upwards as a less than nice image popped into her head, of how her characters would suceed, or suffer, in that climax. The images were forever playing in her head like a movie, and she knew what her characters meant when they supposedly could not get rid of their horrifying flashbacks. She created them, of course she'd have them too.

She'd been listening to her first lecture today on creative non-fiction, and a non-fiction book had been published on the story of two men sitting on death row. It had killed the person as an author because to finish their book, they needed the execution to take place - to two of these characters... except that these characters were actually real. She'd hate that. At least her's was all make believe. She could convince herself no one was so harsh. But she knew there were those that were.

[240 words]

Stress: Then and Now

Do you remember the time when Where's Wally was as stressful as life got? So do I. It was bliss. The hardest thing you had to handle was litter duty and the fact that your friend who wasn't really your friend anyway went and dobbed on you for something you supposedly did or didn't do. So young, immature and innocent! You didn't know the definition of 'bad'. You thought having a bad day was having a fight with your brother over the TV, or getting an answer wrong when you put your hand up confidently in class. You didn't have to worry about financial burdens or anything other than what you were going to pack for your friend's house on the weekend. Fire alarms meant the end of the world... for your toys. And you wanted to pack them all into one big box and race them out with you. Strangers were strangers and you didn't have to talk to them if you didn't want to.

But now, a stranger is someone who expects you to say hello back and a little about yourself and what you are doing with your life. Fire alarms mean drop everything, and walk out in an orderly fashion. Or in the case of a real fire, grab the family and pets and run. Finance problems are everywhere and every cent is worth saving. A bad day is missing a few buses, arriving late, having no one to talk to and finding out you've got a whole year ahead of you. You know the meaning of 'bad' too well. You have had to grow up, mature, and take life into your own hands. The hardest thing you have to do is struggle to work out a relationship with family, partners, school or work. It's draining and stressful. And all you want to do is find the time to sit back, relax and find a good Where's Wally book that hasn't been scribbled in.

[328 words]

The Lonely Road

20 February 2010

He drove along the empty roads. Dark and silent, only helped along by the silence in the car. Everyone was thinking the same thing - not again. He switched on the full beam, headlights stretching out in front of them, but all was quiet along the roads. Not another person or car was in sight. This scared him. It would be the perfect place to stay hidden. There had to be acres out here. And they had not one clue. He stopped the car. Someone asked why. "We need the dogs," he sighed. It would be hopeless without them.

[99 words]

No Sick Leave

He bent over double in pain. It hurt. Man it hurt. His stomach that is. Whatever he had eaten was not doing him any good. He crumbled to the ground, flexing his fingers in and out to try and distract him from that pain. It wasn't working. He moaned, crawling over to the bathtub. If he could just have some panadol, or nerofen, or asprin, or any kind of drug really... but he knew that wouldn't happen.

He struggled to turn the taps on. They were stiff and unused, but he needed that bath. Anything to numb the pain even in the slighest. And not just the stomach pains. The painful memories over the last few weeks. He needed a way of relaxing. The taps sprang on, dumping out the litres of hot water. Before he could even turn the taps off, his head was underwater. He panicked for breath, having not heard or noticed the man creep up behind him and force him forwards to the water. He tried to scream, but all that came out were bubbles. The water filled his mouth before he was thrown backwards onto the cement. He coughed up the water, his lungs now hurting as well as his stomach. He blinked the water out of his eyes as he tried to focus on the person standing above him.

"If you fail, you know what to expect," they growled, before bending down and pulling the plug, "You've got work to do. So do it."

He stared, stunned. He wasn't even sure who was who anymore. He coughed a few more times, unmoving. The water. That nice warm water. He just needed to bathe for half hour. Just to temporarily rid the pains in his stomach. Ten minutes. That was all he was asking for... but he was forced to his feet and shoved forwards.

"NOW!"

[311 words]

One Package

Terrier rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had been awake over twenty-four hours. He was so tired, but he couldn't sleep. He had work to do. And if he was caught slopping off, he'd quickly find himself awake anyway. He turned to the bathroom sink, and splashed water onto his face before heading out. He almost tripped over the package that had been left at the door. He stared at it warily, wondering whether he really wanted to know what was inside. After a moment, he decided he did. He picked it up. Despite the size of the box, it was as light as a feather. He frowned, before wedging the tag open and peering inside. It contained just one photograph. A photograph which made him drop the box instantly and fall to the ground in shock. Shock, terror and anger. But most importantly worry. And it was all his fault.

[153 words]

Butterfly Woes

She jiggled her leg up and down, the butterflies flying madly around her stomach and she thought of the upcoming prospect the following day. She twisted her hands nervously, and began jittering her other leg up and down. She had a pretty good feeling of how to get there, but the thought still freaked her out. It would be an early start, a late end, with many chances of getting lost and making a complete fool of herself. She had to go to sleep, now, even though she knew it would take her forever to fall unconcious. She was too nervous, too hyped. Her mind would never free it's thoughts. She would wake up tired, and be yawning the whole day. But there was still home to look forward to.

[130 words]

Toughen Up

16 February 2010

They shoved him forwards further towards the center of the room and their hostage tied to the chair. Terrier squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to look anywhere but at the man they held hostage, even if that meant staring back at his own captors. Scott and the unknown. Gabriel was older than he, and stronger. And yet there he was, tied back and weakened, staring unfocused towards them, with no clue as to why he was there. Terrier knew the feeling only too well. He didn’t know why he was here either.

“Terrier!” Scott barked from behind him. Barked? He really was turning into a dog. He winced as he felt Scott’s rough hand on his shoulder, as he pointed blatantly towards Gabriel, “You need to toughen up. And he is going to show you how.”

“He has a name,” he whispered, “Use it.”

“Use it?” he winced as Scott shoved him forwards again, nearer towards Gabriel, “You do not call your hostages by their names! You want them to lose their identity, not keep it, you dog!”

“Shut up!” Terrier growled, “Shut up!”

He slammed his eyes shut as he was forced forwards until he was face to face with their hostage. At least, if Gabriel was standing they’d be face to face. Instead, he was face to the wall above his head. And he didn’t want to look down into his frightened, confused eyes.

“It’s not fair,” he burst out quickly in one final attempt to escape his situation, “It’s not a fair fight!”

Scott almost laughed, “A fair fight? You’re telling me you want me to untie him so he’s got a chance of hurting you more than you need to be? Or is it because you want him to have the chance to escape? Because you can’t?”

Terrier took a step back, scared of how much someone could guess away at his exact feelings. The unknown man was standing guard by the door, so it’s not like he’d be able to escape anyway, even if he did have the strength.

“You hear that?” Scott called loudly to their hostage, even though he was standing right above him, “Terrier here wants to play it fair.”

He noticed Gabriel squeeze his own eyes shut at Scott’s echoing voice. I’m sorry, Terrier thought pleadingly. He jumped as Scott pulled out a knife, and again when he cut swiftly through the ropes in one slash. If he had been anymore reckless, it would’ve – Terrier jumped again as the knife in Scott’s hand moved towards the middle of Gabriel’s back. Without thinking, he shoved his hand forwards and knocked the blade to the stone floor.

“Very good, Terrier,” Scott acknowledged, “You’re getting angry.”

The tears were streaming down his cheeks hard now as Scott shoved the chair forwards and Gabriel fell, still half entangled in his binds, to the cement. He moaned in pain, rolling over onto his back.

“Now let’s see what else you can do,” Scott growled, grabbing tight to his body and gripping his hand around Terrier’s wrist. It was useless to fight against his grip. Useless. And so he winced as Scott used him to aim a punch at Gabriel’s gut. He sprang back into Scott’s body as Gabriel moaned in pain. He was being made to fight against his own will.

[555 words]

Laid Down To Rest

Ryan drew a shaky breath as they all took a handle and hoisted the coffin into the air. In front of him was Graham, and behind him was Troy. On their right were Brendon’s father and two brothers. He had been the middle son. They began to walk solemnly along the gravel path as they headed towards the graveyard. There had to be one hundred people, maybe more, awaiting the service; and he was fighting off the tears with every step. The oak coffin was heavy, seemingly weighing down his heart even more. It dug into his shoulder as he marched behind Graham, but it was something you could hardly call pain. He ignored it as he focused on staying focused. He could not let his crumbling heart fail him now.

There was a sad tune playing in the background. He couldn’t tell what it was, because he didn’t want to lose himself to tears so early in the service. His eyes stung but he remained focused on the back of Graham’s head. He would not cry. Not now. He saw a flashback in his mind again of the explosion, but held himself steady as they reached the grave. Carefully, they placed down the coffin and stepped away. The tears in Ryan’s eyes immediately began to fall as he took a good look at the coffin for the first time. Draped across the top was an Australian flag, with a wreath of white flowers. Flowers laid down for him - Brendon.

[250 words]

How You Remind Me

"Uncle T? Please wake up. I need you. You gave me that necklace of the tooth because you thought it had protection, didn't you? But it's yours. I can give it back if you want. Just come back. Please? It's really important that you do..."

There was silence as he heard a far off weeping. Don't cry, he thought. Never cry.

"I know you can open your eyes," the voice continued, "I know you can. You'd do anything for me. Wouldn't you? Uncle T?"

Yes, yes he would do anything for her. If only he could.

"Uncle T! I miss you. Please. I have so much to tell you."

I'm listening, he wanted to tell her. He would always listen. There was a humming noise in his ear as her voice began to fade further and further away, as the humming got louder.

"I know you can get through this. I know you can. Don't give up now. You've hurt yourself before, this is nothing. Come back. Soon. Okay?"

And with that, the voice became silent, as did all the noise around him. She reminded him so much of something. But he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

[200 words]

Without A Valentine

He sat upon his bed, smiling absently at the photo he held in his hands. Boy, she looked beautiful. And that smile of hers - he could never get sick of that smile. He loved her. It was a love he couldn't explain. He loved everything about her. Every conversation they'd had together, he remembered. And yet he still couldn't express those feelings. Not to anyone. It was hard enough accepting them himself. Who knew where she was now. Asleep, maybe. Dreaming. Happy. Happy enough without him in her life.

He sighed, staring transfixed into her open eyes. His heart melted. Those were the eyes he wanted to see every morning. But it would never happen. His smile faded as he put the photo down and looked distractedly around his room. He could have everything he wanted, but it would be nothing without someone to love. He looked back down at the bed, away from the photograph, to find himself staring at a scrunched up piece of paper. He unraveled it, and began to read the letter he'd written. It was good, he had to admit that. But not good enough. He wasn't sure if it would ever be good enough.

He scrunched it into a ball again, aiming it across the room and scoring it into the bin. He then took the photo in his hands, and hid it inside the back cover of the book he was reading. He then got to his feet, and slouched down into the chair in front of the computer. She was online, as usual. He sighed, knowing that for another year, they'd both be without valentines. But that was okay with him. He'd never known it any other way. And as much as he might've liked to ask that one question, it would not be coming from him. If she really wanted it that way, she would ask. He smiled at her MSN name. Just the name was enough to make him smile. And he signed out. It killed to go without conversation, but there had to be some boundaries. Afterall, he couldn't talk to her every day... as much as he would like to.

[363 words]

Gavin's Arrival

He leaned up against the wire fencing, staring out onto the yard. There were inmates sitting at the benches, by the weight pile, and standing around, some strolling the perimeter. He'd spend many a day studying them. He'd been in there two years already, and learnt so much just by looking at a person. A few would glare menacingly around at him, because he'd broken up fights they'd been prepared to enter. It wasn't his fault they'd allowed him to do so. Was it because he was young? They were cutting him some slack? Or did they really think he had some power about him?

"Nick!"

He turned at the sound of his name to see another inmate approach. Mike, as they'd called him.

"I just wanted to say thanks. For the other day?"

"Don't mention it," Nick replied, shaking him off. He'd just spotted the new fishes in the pond entering the yard, and one was already looking to stir up trouble. He left Mike speechless, and began striding around the long way towards them, to get a better view on what was happening and hopefully hear what was being said. He was in luck. The guy looked in his late twenties, and was unquestionably mad. He was yelling and swearing at the nearest prisoners within reach, and that didn't look good for another newbie a few metres away.

"What are you staring at?" he yelled, striding forwards to the new guy much like himself, "You been staring at me since we got here! Go home kiddo!"

"Hey!" Nick interrupted, walking up to him. The guy turned, giving the other a chance to slide back into the crowd.

"I'm the boss now, so you'd do good to get lost if you want to live."

Nick remained unphased, and folded his arms across his chest, "Actually that would be anything less than a lie. You're under watch by guards twenty-four seven."

He shoved Nick backwards, but he stood his ground. "I see you messing with inmates again, you'll be dealing with me."

[342 words]

Fear For His Life

The boy stirred slightly, and people began pointing excitedly. He shifted slightly, curling up in a corner as he tried to keep his eyes shut. Why he was lying on a cold floor and not in his nice, warm bed, he had no idea. He heard what he thought was snickering coming from nearby, and regretfully he opened one groggy eye. He was staring at some sort of cage. He slowly blinked a few times, staying completely still. Yes, cage was the right word. Except he was inside it. He froze, as he tried to remember what had happened. He had been at Jesse's party, that was all. Might've had a drink...

He sat bolt upright, hitting his head on the roof of the crate. No. He hadn't finished his drink. He'd left it in a trash can at the train station when that weird guy had approached him. He'd call triple zero, he could remember that much. But everything from there was a blur. He was thrown into a car and ... he couldn't remember what had happened after that.

He let a breath escape his mouth as he realised he was cold, shivering. Looking down, he realised his shirt was ripped and had a small amount of blood on it. His eyes adjusted as he began to wonder exactly where he was. He crawled forwards, almost putting his hand in a bowl of water he hadn't noticed before.

"The dog's awake!" he heard someone yell, causing him to crawl back to his corner in fright. A dog crate, that's what this was. He tried to control his quickened breathing, as he peered out of the peep holes. He could see the legs of many men standing around, and almost screamed when someone crouched down to peer back at him. He shook with absolute terror.

"Terrier," his head spun to another voice. Someone was peering at him through the caged door, "You must be thirsty. Drink up."

The teenager stayed huddled in his corner. He was thirsty, but he was not a dog. He sat quietly shivering inside the crate, much happier to only be seeing the majority of people's shoes, and not their faces. Who were they and what they wanted with him, he didn't want to find out. This just had to be some bizarre dream, and he wanted out. He tried blinking himself awake, but the more he tried, the more he realised with horror that this was real. Heck, he should've stayed at that party.

"Doggie, doggie, doggie..."

He squeezed his eyes shut and crumbled into a ball of complete fear.

[436 words]

Nothing Left

Sorry about the abrupt, maybe confusing ending guys =P I ran out of time, and a daily story is a daily story =P I had to stop with about literally two seconds spare.

[Temporarily removed]

[438 words]

One Day

She sat frustrated at the computer, eyes tired and blinking. It would be an early day tomorrow, and a bad one, as far as she could tell. She just wanted to get it over and done with, because she was highly beginning to regret it. She thought of all the people that were feeling the pressure these days. The sadness, the disappointment, the uncertainty. Life truly was hard sometimes. The friends you go through, the new ones you make. The schools you progress to. The skills you inherit. The feeling of success as well as failure. Jobs, education and relationships all mixed into a great big pile in one, throwing your emotions in every possible direction. The wishes of money, love and friendship, learning and living were always competing with each other. It wasn't easy, moving into a whole new world. But it was something we all had to face one day. One day...

[154 words]

Referee's Reassurance

Kathryn listened to the sound of the phone ringing in her ear, until eventually someone on the other end of the line picked up.

"Hello? Clive speaking."

"Oh hi, Clive, it's Kathryn. I used to work with you in -"

"Councelling, yeah I remember. How have you been, Katie?"

"Yeah good. How's prison treating you?"

"You know, it's been really good. It's different, I must say. It's hard to get through to prisoners, but not impossible."

"Can't imagine what it would be like."

"You don't want to. How can I help you?"

"Um, we got a resume come in today. They put you as a referee?"

"Let me guess," Clive pondered a minute, "Nick Briggs."

"Er, yeah. How'd you know?"

"I thought he might be popping in there soon. You having doubts about his abilities?"

"Well, he was an inmate, you can't deny that."

"No, I can't. But I tell you the first time we met, he was straight out honest with me. Said he wasn't supposed to be there, said he didn't want to be there, said he was going to stay there, said he was going to bear the burden."

"He must've had so much in his past though, I can't see him coping in such a job. Honestly, can you?"

"Yeah," Clive disagreed, "I can. Otherwise I wouldn't have given him my referral."

"What makes a man like you so sure?"

"Because after a long few years, I got him to open up. He began to trust me and he would tell me things he never told anyone else. The way he handled such pain, such sorrow, such secrets! I was suprised he hadn't commited suicide, he would've had plenty of chances to do so. But he held every last piece together, and he never let it get in his way of hope. Of trying to help others."

"Helping others?"

"He'd help out youngin's in the prison, try and set them on the right track. He would talk to anyone who asked him to. He would break up fights that began with anyone in the prison, even if it meant risking his own safety."

"But councelling is a tough job, Clive."

"I know. Which made me wonder how he could be teaching so much even to me. At times I had to wonder who was the one being councelled. He would give his own occasional talks to others, he really gave something in here."

"Is he worth hiring?"

"You'd be stupid not to."

"He's been in pirson for sixteen years. Not many people are going to want to see to him as their councellor."

"You might be suprised," Clive commented, "I was."

He heard her sigh on the other end of the line, before he continued, "Just give the man a chance. He's had a rouogh life, and he's experienced it all. You might find him a big help to the team. Weren't you the one that told me not to judge a book by its cover?"

"Yes, but-"

"You won't be disappointed."

[506 words]

Rescuer's Rescued

In memory of Black Saturday and the damage it caused. This is based off an article I read a while back, and what I remember of it ( see blog: http://69.4.229.229/~spirlei0/leishman/blogb//?p=423 ) One fire crew being rescued by another...

The truck had come to a complete stop. He revved the engine a few times, but it wouldn't move. It was completely stuck. He glanced nervously at the two men beside him, he were staring just as nervously back, as they turned to look out their windscreen. The smoke was heading up the hill, towards them. He sighed, knowing they had no choice. He made the may day call. On the way to their job at yet another fire - just one of many over the past few days - and now they were the ones in need of rescue. The truck was heating up and they had nowhere to go. They began to pull out the blankets and hide under their cover as the flames engulfed the trees on the dirt track. They were going to die. They were just going to be more victims to this mass destruction. But someone was looking out for them that day, when the second fire engine's sirens were heard. Just like they had looked out for the others. Moving on from job to job. They were some of the lucky ones. Many still remained missing, trapped, lost forever. They just didn't know how much of a toll it would have when it all began.

[212 words]

What's Inside

She sat staring absently at the wall in front of her - images, words and memories running through her mind. She shook her head to try and clear her thoughts, but they wouldn't go away. She fiddled with the string around her neck. She was a little bored, but she knew now was not a time to share this. There were more important matters pressing, like what she had just witnessed. She wasn't stupid, she knew what it meant.

She leaned back, taking a strand of hair in her hands and wrapped it gently around her fingers. She wondered vaguely where her good friend was, wondered what he was getting up to now. She though about what he'd said, and wondered how he knew. Again, she tried to free her mind of the images there, but was unsuccessful at doing so. Until she heard a distraction, at least. She tip toed towards the door, and tried to listen to the raised voices she heard. It took a moment to focus her hearing, to try and catch on to the commotion.

It was no use. The words were muffled and she couldn't make them out. She retreated further back into the room, waiting for a time she wasn't sure would come. It was then she first noticed the bulk in her jeans pocket. She quickly checked for what was inside, and pulled out a pen. She sat down quietly, staring at it. She knew someone had placed it there, but who? She began to twirl it in her fingers, more for something to do than anything else. And continued to wait.

[270 words]

Bad Reflection

Terrier stared at himself in cracked mirror. He studied his messy, overgrown brown hair, and the brown eyes that hid beneath. He noticed the dark circles under those lonely eyes, and how shallow his cheeks looked. His lips were scarred from scratching at them so much. And the chain that he wore around his neck was not the shark's tooth his grandfather had given him which he'd worn constantly. It was the dog collar. He didn't know how long he stared at that reflection, tears welling in his eyes that wouldn't fall. Did he really look that different? He thought back to that afternoon, when he'd bee wandering the streets alone on an errand. He'd accidentally run into someone, admittedly not looking exactly where he was going.

The girl was only his age, a pretty blonde. He was sure he'd recognised her from somewhere. School, maybe. School seemed like such a long time ago now. He was so sure he knew her if not from there, but somewhere. He couldn't put the finger on the name, but he knew he'd seen her around. And yet, she hadn't recognised him...

"Oh, sorry," he had muttered, looking up to see eye to eye with the girl he had run into. She had given him a disgusted look before turning back around.

"Hey!" he threw in after her. Regretfully she looked back.

"What?"

"Do I know you?" he had asked.

"Sorry kid, you must be mistaking me from someone else. I don't hang out with thugs like you."

A thug. She had called him a thug, and all he'd done was apologised. He refocused on the reflecton he saw in the mirror, of an ugly teenage boy. Someone who was dirty and cruel, cold and depressed. Suicidal. Unable to break free of such thoughts. Unable to stop doing the wrong deeds of others. When would it end? He leaned over the basin, tears finally begining to fall. That was the other thing. He was so damn weak. He threw off his t-shirt and got in the shower, before turning on the hot tap full blast. He refused to let out the scream that was stuck in his throat as the hot water stung his thin layer of skin.

[375 words]

Hold Your Breath

Distractions are great aren't they? I mean look at me, attempting a story in ten minutes. You can't even call these things stories. They're just blogs. But oh well. So aren't distractions great? Music, drawing, reading, writing. They're all usually distractions from something else. Or distractions within distractions if you know what I mean.

Okay, scrap all of that. I can wrte a story in 4 mins. I'll prove it to you...

There was a loud ringing in his ears. He was holding his breath. He was going under and there was no one there to save him. His eyes began to close. He tried to keep them open. He knew if he closed them, he would never wake. He kicked out with his good leg, trying to reach the surface, but it was no use. He couldn't hold his breath any longer. He opened his mouth to scream, but no one would hear him. The water began to fill his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He was going to die. There was no question about it. The darkness of the water scared him. Was this the last thing he would see? No... he shut his eyes, trying to calm himself as body began to ache horribly. His leg, and now his stomach. All he could taste was the salt water in his mouth. But he had the pleasant picture of the little girl in his head now. Nothing could take that beautiful image away... even when he was slipping through the cracks...

[180 words]

Blinded

"You know I won't know where I'm going anyway."

The man slapped him across his back, causing their hostage to jump. He siezed the opportunity to blindfold him, purposefully tying the knot hard. Their view would be obsecured nicely. The hostage said nothing. He was used to it. His captor grabbed his arm tightly and led him forwards out the door and through the grass. He heard a van's door open and he was half thrown inside, half expected to leap up the step himself. The door was slammed shut after him. He shook nervously, making to pull the blindfold off from over his eyes. The van was windowless, it wasn't like he'd be able to see where he was going. But someone else's hand stopped him. He should only be too used to it.

"There there," came the person's voice, "It's a short trip."

He felt the man ruffle his hair, and he tried to slide away to the other side of vehicle. An arm grabbed him around the chest and he sat, frozen and blindfolded, as the van began to move.

"Where are we going?" he managed to breathe.

"You'll find out."

Following these words, he felt the sharp pinch of something being drawn into the skin on his upper left arm. As he began to feel groggy, he knew what it was. The man ejected the needle as his hostage felll unconcious to the floor of the van. Then he took hold of the knife beside him, and cut through the young man's left wrist.

[258 words]

Shaking Impulse

Terrier sat at his desk, fumbling with the black marker in his hand. Every few seconds his eyes would jump to the door handle. He knew it could open at any second. He ran his fingers through his untidy hair, grabbed the glass of water on the desk and took a few mouthfuls, before replacing it in the same spot. He repeated this several times until there was nothing left in the glass. He popped the lid of the pen on and off a few times, his legs shaking up and down. He bit off a few nails and stared at the blank piece of paper in front of him. His head was screaming at him not to touch it. He pounded the palm of his hand across his forehead a few times, trying to make the voices stop. But they remained.

Don't do anything stupid. Terrier shifted the chair back further away from the desk. You know I'd love a reason to put a bullet through your head. Terrier shaked his head vigourously, trying to rid the noise inside. I wouldn't get too close to her. You never know what might happen. The boy jumped out of his seat, knocking it to the ground in his process. He stood in the room, shaking, pen still clasped in his hand. He couldn't write it. He shouldn't. The consequences if they found out...

He threw his hands to the desk and leaned over it, trying to steady himself and catch his frantic breathing. It was torture. He couldn't take it. Heck, he was giving himself a false hope by writing these messages. But it was a crazy impulse. Something was driving him to write them. He couldn't stop now he'd started. Surely someone could piece them together. Anyone.

He uncapped the lid of the pen again, before fighting the urge to put it to paper. He hadn't meant the dot of black ink to appear there, but now his hand was frozen on the marker, which was drawn to the paper, he had to write out the rest. He wrote just three letters. SOS. He hastily dropped the pen. He heard the footsteps. He scrunched up the paper and threw it in the bin. He had to stop trying to convey messages to the outside world. He'd pay for it.

The door swung open and his nightmares returned. He tried to pull himself together as he was led from the room. He took one last glance at the bin beneath the desk. He would retrieve that paper... at the next chance he got. If he was going to die, he was going to die trying.

[444 words]

Surprise

To Teagan... whose hopes will rise... when they shouldn't =P

Don't you love surprises? In particular, the ones you give someone else? They're so exciting! It's like "OMG I'VE GOT A SURPRISE FOR YOU!" and they'll never stop wondering what it is... until you surprise them. This poor person has got a five and a half month wait. I do hope for her sake she forgets about it. Then maybe it'll be an even bigger surprise when the time is right, don't you think? =) The problem is I've promised her a surprise of her life - that might not come. The day could come and there'd just be nothing...

How depressing... for them. It's not really, not for you. Because you know what the surprise was. They don't. But that's only if it doesn't work out. I'm sure it will. =) And I'll become her bestest friend in the whole wide world! The words said so. Although there is one dilemma. I could be waiting a long time to discover whether this surprise will work. I mean sure, I began it alright, but maybe I should just go ahead with it, if you know what I mean *wink wink nudge nudge*

So to those who know what I'm talking about - she's gonna love it aye? She'll sleep with it every night! Ha, and it'll all be because of me. I bet she's dying of curiosity right now. Everyone should reply saying that they know what it is - even if they don't - just to annoy her more because then, she won't have any idea who does or doesn't know. I will. I'm the surprise-giver. =)

SSSSSSSSSSURRRRRRRRRRPIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

That's right, I'm giving you a pet snake for your birthday =) I just thought I'd prewarn you incase you had any ideas of buying pet mice.

Mice give great surprises. I've been surprised with a little gray mouse on my chair, in the middle of the TV guide, even behind the toliet door. Did I mention it was a Christmas present for the cats in their Christmas stocking made of material? I wouldn't call it the best surprise. Yes, I jumped a mile everytime.

Although I can't say it was as bad as the surprise my sister-in-law found at the zoo once. She almost had a heart attack when she found a snake on the loose. It was curled up in a pile of leaves. She consequently ran to inform a zoo keeper. It was a statue =) It was caught on video tape.

I'm sure I've worried my friend off by now =) Maybe I shouldn't have. She'll never thank me. But that's okay. I'll never forgive her for the scar she gave. She knows the one. I'll always remember her for that day... =) Well, have fun surprising =)

[461 words]