Monthly Archives: March 2013

Big orange ball

What is that big orangey ball in the sky?
I sort of remember, but I can’t think why.
It’s making me squint and reach for my shades
to block out the glare of those eye-blinding rays.

Where’s it been hiding? Did it just not care?
That the greyness of winter was having more than it’s share.
And making us all wish for beaches and sand
with waves licking toes and ice creams in hand.

But wait, what is this? One cloud then another
just as I dared to begin dreaming of summer.
Tiny white flakes, and bitter winds blow
and hopes of no coats are buried in snow.



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The living room

One more from the memory class at college. The topic – First Room.


The living room was my play room.

The living room was the dining room,

the back room and the front room.

The living room was every room.


The living room had a hi-fi.

The hi-fi had sharp corners.

I had a superman doll,

And a head as soft as butter.


Around and around I span,

Round and around we flew.

Flying and spinning.

Crying and bleeding.


The living room had carpets.

The carpets hit my head.

The living room had carpets

That now had turned bright red.

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Back to college this week and with it a few more exercises.
This week we discussed memory and that frankly, it’s probably a big lying bastard and shouldn’t be trusted. Or rather… it should, it’s probably made things more interesting than they were originally.

Mixing fact with fiction is definitely a great way to move a story on, or even kick things off. Even the mundane experiences are unique to an individual and therefor new and interesting to someone else.

We were asked to use our memory. Think back and use our senses to describe a scene.

These are 5 minute pieces, unedited from class. 

First day at school

It was September. The great British summer was in full force and so there I stood, shivering and soaked to the bone in front of the school gates. The building in front of me was huge with so many entrances that without even opening a text book I was already feeling confused. Without wanting to stretch my brain too far at 8.30 I did what so many others seemed to be doing and followed the person in front of me into the sprawling maze of secondary school.


First journey

The coach had filled up pretty quickly, the noise of seat-finders escalating as bums hit faces and bags swished round in the cramped galley thumping into the early arrival’s shoulders.

I sat staring out of the window, my nose just touching the cold pane as my mum stood on the pavement frantically waving. I could see wiping her eyes on dads hanky and as I did so my throat tightened and I felt the familiar feeling of warm tears trickling down my face.

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Seagulls know. They are the keepers of our secrets



Barry tried again, “Ppsstt!”


“It’s the seagulls” Barry said, pointing an outstretched claw towards the dunes.
“What about them?” Replied Colin, raising his shell slightly to gain a better look.
“It’s the seagulls,” he repeated. “They know.”
Colin scuttled up close to Barry and stared straight into his eyes. “What do they know?” he whispered.

“Seagulls know.” His eyes widened, “They are the keepers of our secrets.”
Colin was nodding, but at what, he didn’t really know. As he tried to decipher the strange ramblings of his closest friend, Barry scrambled across the pebble beach towards the ocean, his voice echoing back, “keepers of our secretssssss” he cried.

Colin squinted as Barry plopped into the salty water then turned back to face the dunes. He scratched the top of his shell with a big claw and made his way over to a rather splendid rock formation. Colin needed time to think.

The grey rocks jutted out of the beach with dramatic effect, with just enough of an incline for him to climb atop. These were the finest rocks in the South East and Colin came here often, he did some of his best thinking on these rocks.

With the sound of the ocean crashing onto the beach, Colin let his mind float away to ponder the strange words now rattling inside his crusty casing. What secrets was he talking about? He didn’t have any that sprang to mind, certainly none that he had shared with a seagull. Everyone knew seagulls weren’t to be trusted, continusly on the move and squawking at inanimate objects and others whether they wanted to listen or not. No, Colin reflected, he had nothing to hide.
So as the sun began to set he climbed down from his rock and set off back home.

As he slid from the final rock, he heard a familiar squawk. A squawk he hadn’t heard since…
Colin froze. If he’d have had a spine, shivers would have shot up and down it like an electric eel on a pogo stick.

A shadow fell over Colin as the gigantic wingspan of the seagull blocked the setting sun from view. The webbed feet of the creature sinking slightly into the soft sand, and the smell of rotting fish emanated from its beak as he opened it to say,

“‘ello Colin.”

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The cars silently made their way around the black maze of the city as she looked down through a ceiling of flickering streetlights far below the hotel window. As she removed her hand from the pocket of her open gown she fingered the skin on her ring finger with her thumb. A sigh, halfway between contentment and concern escaped her, as the figure in the bed behind her stirred.

Ignoring the movements beneath the crumpled sheets she continued to stare out of the window, the gown now hanging completely free, her naked body on show to anyone able to look up 32 floors. As she watched the world creep by she caught sight of her reflection in the window, her eyes examined herself as if for the very first time. Her brown eyes looked back, judging. Skin, pale in the moonlight confidently hugging the curves of her body that she once hid from view. Her dark hair ruffled, showing all the hallmarks of laying and not sleeping.

Her chest rose as she took a deep breath of the musky air. The window needed washing and so did she.

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