amwriitng, dreams, fiction, nosferatu, short story, supense

The Dream

The feeling that something inside wanted you out.

The feeling that something inside wanted you out.

I force myself to open my eyes – to be relieved of this nightmare. The moon has cast shadows into this old room and I manage to cast my bloodshot pupils around and make out the dresser, the wardrobe and curtain drapes. An oak chair is lit up with the ghostly glare of the moonlight. I see the door, it is half ajar. If I move quickly, I can make it to the door; find the exit, run, escape.

And as I think, this thing of feet stops, as if reading my mind. My breathing is hard, heavy, my heart beat is deafening and beats in my chest; it might explode and leave that place. I start to shift from the bed, and then those wretched feet start up again; hitting me on my back, my thighs and my shoulders with such venom and hatred. I begin to sob, violent sobs that reach my core. In that moment, I decide that it has won; my removal. I must go, now! On one final large kick I am on the floor. I gather myself, stumble, and fall, and gather myself once more. I am a lumbering colossus. I make for the door, I do not look back, and I do not turn. I flee down the dim long corridor and as I run – I hear it. Footsteps, following. Dear God! They are in pursuit; they are light footsteps, strong and quick. How can I outrun these? They wanted me not just out of that bed, but out of what? The house? My life…My heart is still beating hard and fast. I must control it – need to breathe – need to run.

As I make for the heavy oak staircase, I slip on the second step and I fall badly. I twist my back sideways and my leg gives way; I tumble down like an old rag doll discarded by a belligerent child. Falling down and down, and as I do, I hear the familiar slap of my assailants’ feet on bare wood as I tumble. I land in a clumsy pile at the bottom, pain sears through my arm – it is at a perverted angle. The sound of feet stops, abruptly. It is time to look up and meet my nemesis. I am quivering, my breathing is betraying me and I open my shut eyes and prepare myself for horror.
There is nothing. There is no-one. There is nothing.

Standard
Love, Nature, Poetry, Seduction, Writing

Spellbound – Emily Bronte

The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

I hope you all enjoy this Emily Bronte poem as much as me. I came across it by chance and it is as contemporary now as it was then but I have a feeling that it was a bit ahead of it’s time!

IMG_0675.JPG

Standard
Cancer, Grief, LIFE LESSONS, Love, Uncategorized

Anthem for the never forgotten

So, sometimes you find yourself, as the years tick by – attending another funeral. By using the word ‘another’ I don’t want to belittle it but draw attention to it. Another person has passed on; unnecessarily. Too young and it’s cancer that is the culprit. For the last five years my life has been interlocked with this thing; Mum, Sister, Dad who did not survive and three of my best friends parents with only two surviving.

What are the odds? spin the wheel, I mutter to myself. Any many many more as readers you can testify. The cancerous journey is torture, your insides freeze as you are given the diagnosis concerning a loved one. How must it be for them? you are not sure what is the right thing to do. Do you discuss it, do you skirt round the hem and sort of discuss it? there is no rule book to chuck on the fire. All you can do is be there for them and talk about mundane things as I have tried to talk about in my poem ‘stay with me’.

Standard
Nature, Photography, Poetry, Story idea, Water, Writing

Exmoor Scramble

IMG_0658.JPG

Nothing has changed for a thousand years here as you cannot hear a tree fall taken by the life that lives on and used again and again. Fungi sprout on flakey timber, lichen never found anywhere else on earth celebrate their status and sprout unusual orange tufts on crimped green leaves.

A stream runs the length of the ancient cut. Small deep glass pools form and bubbles converge as the falling water joins it’s sister below.

Above the cold a buzzard sits on an oak, wise as a General, hawk-eyed, hungry. Seams here in the rock run red with iron, concrete earth with plant and grow through each other sustaining,
while we fade away.

Standard
Love, Photography, Poetry, Sea, Seduction, Water

The Clearness

The Clearness

Standing in amongst the still clear water
Darting fish weave in awe, around, glowing white flesh beneath a fierce sun.
Caressing skin like lovers,
Freed silky mossy green algae float like ghosts, slide off my legs and back on again, teasing, provoking.
There is no sound of waves or birds.
This must be what heaven feels like
The stillness, the silence
and the solitude. Shush shush shush.

I can hear my breathing
The hot sun does not waiver, beats down on stung shoulders, hits the unmoving body of,
Deep turquoise aquamarine blue topaz, water, and bounces back again, in a shock of brightness that can hurt, so,
I close my eyes
I feel cocooned, enveloped in smooth coolness, and. I go further in.
It is home and I go slow.
I go further in and sink, below, another world.
I open my eyes and shut things out, the quietness of it surrounds my bare skin, there is nothing else.
Merged union sea and me, never sure of a start or a finish. I am hypnotised by his touch.
I go further in.

Standard