10 most popular pieces of writing from the lifetime of my blog
(in order of popularity)
In the mad rush to bear arms and stand firm, young Michael had found himself pushed to the front of the army, he would be one of the first to battle.
He glanced behind to see if he could find a way to move further back, but the one thousand men and boys were staying close together, as they anticipated the Commanders signal.
It was not his first battle, he had been trained to fight for twelve of his sixteen years, but there would be no tomorrow if they were to lose today.
He couldn't let his fear defeat him, he was here to defend the lives of those he loved and he was prepared to do so to the death.
As the Commander gave the battle cry Michael and the others returned it in unison and moving as one they ran forward, weapons cocked, eyes wide, blood searing through their veins, the enemy in sight.
An empty room can be so full your body is crushed into a ball.
A dark room can be so bright it burns your eyes.
A whisper can pass through you pulling at your senses; inhaling a hollow aroma, tasting the bitterness of nothing, seeing shadows swirl around, listening for an echo that won't come.
A cold room can make you sweat as if sat next to a furnace.
A silent room holds secrets that it never tells.
The sweat dripped off of her forehead, onto her lap, her panting began to slow and the shaking had eased, her legs were throbbing still and who knew how they would feel in the morning.
She caught her breath, and started to remove her cardigan, she was hot and she couldn’t remember the last time that she had walked at such a pace, she had been practically running, her arms swinging, feet pounding the footpath and all in time to the thoughts racing through her mind.
When she had left her house, she was angry, upset, frustrated, disappointed and repentant, now after 45 minutes of walking like her life depended on it, her thoughts had slowed, she was less angry, more disappointed, reflective and had a brighter outlook.
But it was still there, all that pain, confusion, hurt, it was still there, just pushed to the back, right at the back to join all those other times.
The only evidence left was another brick in the wall that she was slowly building, the wall that kept her safe from all this pain, the wall she could hide behind, the wall she put up for all to see, a wall that was strong, solid and unrelenting, a wall that could withstand any weather.
Hap was feeling tense as he clenched his jaw, held his breath and ever so slowly reached an arm out from his hiding place under the desk and fumbled around for the envelope he knew to be there.
It was the final piece in the puzzle, he knew the photograph inside would lead him to the birthday suit murderer who had been terrorising the town of Texarkana.
The corner of the envelope tickled his fingertips and he needed a little more reach, biting on his lip as he stretched further, he finally had a hold, clinging tightly he grabbed it to him and tore it open.
Hap was determined to catch the killer and as he opened the envelope he didn’t hear the office door, his full attention focussed on its contents or lack thereof as he was surprised to find the envelope was empty.
‘Looking for something?’ a voice said from above him, Hap looked up and was greeted with the barrel of the gun, it was the killer on the other end who flung back his head in a cackle of venom fuelled laughter, at which point Hap saw his moment to save the town and pulled out the revolver he kept in his sock and shot him dead.
Sleeping, silent, a gentle purr,
Curled up, so small, a ball of Fur.
Listening, alert, a familiar sound,
Footsteps, padding along the ground.
Paused, still, not even a flicker,
Eyes dart, mind whirrs, which way is quicker.
Glaring, a look, the window is shut,
How to escape that dastardly mutt.
Jumping, up high, to the top of the fridge,
A shelf, on the wall, that serves as a bridge.
She stood there looking at him, part shock and part embarrassment, she knew that he was waiting for her to say something but standing there open-mouthed, head lolling and eyes unblinking, all she could muster was 'ugh, gur, erm, ig, agh...'
Come on she told herself, you can do this, just say something, anything, standing here acting like an extra from The Walking Dead is really not improving this date.
She was surprised he hadn't just turned around and walked out already. She needed to refocus on something other than his stare that was very intent on giving her eyeballs a good pummeling.
She tilted her head down and looked at his chest, and there emblazoned across it was 'Night of the Living Dead'...she just might be able to salvage this date yet!
The leaves rustled as the wind gently swished past them, causing Melody’s dress to flutter and threaten to expose her underwear, she quickened her pace and with one hand she held onto the side of her dress; pulling the fabric tight to one side so it bunched in her hand and the dress clung to her thighs.
Although she could hear the cars that passed on the road nearby, the air itself seemed weighed down with an echoing silence, and she loosened the fabric slightly so she could move faster.
She always stayed close to the road, to people and to noise as like many she was scared of the dark; she did not fear the dark itself but what could be hidden out of sight, what could cause those shadows that she often saw or imagined, what could be waiting there for her.
She reached her destination, slightly out of breath, but with plenty of time and she released her skirt so she could move freely.
She opened her bag and pulled out her keys and threw them onto the middle of the pathway, Melody shuffled back into the shadows, and with one hand on her gun she waited, unseen, for him to come.
She was sick to death of people taking it upon themselves to point out that she came across as a very cold stand-offish person (how bloody dare they!), and hadn't she been through enough to warrant her behavior, didn't they reailse that she was fighting every day to maintain some semblance of stability and they could get lost if they thought that would change just because they suggested it.
She sat there in the cafe with her hands wrapped around the empty mug, clinging to the warmth as it slowly faded, the warmth that she no longer had in her life, and as she looked out the window at the passers by she gave a sigh of relief that she had survived another day.
Then, with no warning she felt her body begin to shake, her face was warm and her eyes stung and she reached up to find that tears were pouring down her face, tears that she had been fighting for what seemed like forever, tears that wouldn't come when she wanted them to but wouldn't stop now, tears that only showed her weakness and belied her strength.
The sobs followed, big gulping sobs, heart wrenching sobs full of abandonment and loneliness, sobs that too could not be held back, sobs that made the people in the cafe stare at her and start to leave, sobs that reminded her of a seals bark and made her wish that she could escape and swim away.
It seemed like forever had passed, but it couldn't have been more than a minute or so, when she finally managed to screech "TURN THAT DAMN MUSIC OFF!" and very quietly under her breath "its breaking my heart..."
Please don't leave me
I have to
You don't have to...please...
I have to
Please don't leave me
‘Sorry about that, I had something caught in my throat, ahem, wow, that’s better’ she said as she smiled up at him somewhat innocently.
‘So…you say you’re the artist? Where did you get your inspiration for this..erm..piece?’ she said as she waved her hand nonchalantly at the painting.
He snarled at her, he actually snarled at her, his lip curled up in one corner and he had a look of disdain plastered an inch thick all over his face, she knew he thought very little of her already but she was determined to salvage something of the evening and she was devoted to at least seeing it through to the bitter end.
‘the women in my life inspire me, and the everyday situations that we find ourselves in’ he practically spat at her.
‘I’m surprised you had enough for the one painting!’ she sneered back.