Friday, 25 May 2018


Daniel touched the glowing orb, feeling the resonance flow through his fingertips, up his arm, spreading to his entire body. He knew that he wasn't supposed to be in this part of the building, let alone this room, which would inflict severe consequences if he were to be found. If he were being honest, even as a child, this area was the brightest beacon to his moth like tendencies. A rule breaker, a truth speaker, the jewel in his Mother’s eye and ever so cheeky. This, however, was far beyond where his adventures had previously led him.

Feeling brave, as his five fingers wrapped around the orb, he lifted the item and felt an even greater surge of power. He’d called it power but, as information about this thing was hardly easy to find, he truly did not know what it was doing to him. Bringing it closer, to inspect the fine detail, his eyes focused on the lines, be they inscriptions of some sort, a map, or something that he’d never seen before. The technology of his world, this world, was shrouded in secrecy and although they did use such things to make life easier, they all led that peaceable life. He’d use another word, along the lines of boring, but that wouldn't be spoken out loud as he appreciated the serene complexity of things.

As he brought the orb closer, smiling as the blue aura flowed around his hand, from the object, he felt it move. Increasing his grip, attempting to move it away from him, it suddenly moved towards his chest and, with a thump, struck dead centre and started to press against his sternum. At first he could feel the pressure, then the pain started to increase. If he’d not started to panic he might have noticed that the orb’s energy had changed to red. Hardly important to him, right at this moment, as he’d never felt pain like this as the orb kept on pressing. He heard a crack, the world began to spin, then his view turned dark as he fell backwards, passing out.

His eyes started to open, slowly, his mind trying to grasp what had just happened. Placing a hand to his chest, feeling, he felt nothing, no pain at all. He looked up, around the room, with silence greeting him and, as he stood, he steadied himself against the pedestal that the orb rested upon. His balance was off, slightly, probably from knocking the back of his head when he fell. Dusting off his clothes, wondering what on earth just happened, he turned and walked out of the room. Reaching the corner of the hallway, he looked left and right, reaching into his pocket to find his home-made security hack device. With the click of a button, double checking the status, he confirmed that he could run across. The area was sparse, due to the nature of what it held inside, whatever it was, with white walls and nothing in between. Reaching the other side, clicking the device again, the security measures reset and he calmly walked out of the complex.

Feeling confident, while walking through the crowds of people musing their intended purchases, he felt the market’s energy. There was always a healthy hustle and bustle in this area of the city, which he loved, especially when he’d been extra damn mischievous. He’d gotten away with a lot in his life, even at his young age of 19, with a few moments of being scolded. This, however, was one of his more risqué moments. With a nod, to his Friend Simon, who had been waiting for him, they both continued through the market as Simon asked him questions, “Did you get it?” asked Simon.
“Yeah,” replied Daniel, “but I lost it!”
“How did you do that?”
“You know me, a mystery!”

Daniel had been friends with Simon since coming into this world and, although Simon was smaller he was built for pure speed. He’d never seen someone move as quickly as Simon. He was nearly as quick as a Bullchap runner and that was saying something.

Simon dropped the stone, that he’d been messing with while waiting for Daniel, to his side. He’d wanted to see, or know, what was in the building for the longest time. Such a large space, with so many methods to keep people out, yet Daniel had, as usual, solved the mystery,
“What was it like?” asked Simon.
“The only thing in there was an Orb that glowed. I picked it up and I must have fallen backwards as it hit me in the chest and I passed out?”
Simon, not one to ask many questions, nodded. He also knew Daniel. He knew when he wasn't telling the entire story but, respectfully, he knew not to continue digging as he wasn't going to get anything else from him. For now. Eventually, as time moved, he knew that Simon would fill in the blanks as he simply couldn't help himself.  Daniel didn't like lying, but in this case he wasn't lying as, instead, he was leaving bits out as to not worry Simon. He’d tell him, eventually, just not now. Reaching the market’s junction point, he nodded to Simon and they split. It was late, time to go home.

The first thing he had to do, tomorrow morning, was break into the lab where they held the secret scanning machine as he, after all that had taken place, needed to know what happened and he had a sneaking suspicion he’d find answers there. He wasn't scared, not one bit, as life was for adventure and if this led to adventure, then he was all for that.


This would be TV pilot with the ending being on Earth. After he manages to scan himself he finds the orb wrapped around his heart which does something to his blood stream. When the planet is attacked, due to his messing with the orb, he hits his chest and is teleported to Earth. His Mother arrives, after awhile, telling him that his world has been basically destroyed. Heavy stuff. We then move forward with him finding out the special abilities as the enemy eventually arrives, after scouting the planet. etc. Usual Sci-Fi stuff.

Thursday, 24 May 2018


Standing outside of the main room, waiting, trying to feel relaxed, she simply felt the nerves eating at her sanity. She’d not had an actual invite but, at the very last moment, a person came through for her and here she was. Waiting. She’d selected the most appropriate dress, for the evening, long, backless, with that tempting hint of cleavage ready to impress. Matching shoes, the complimentary small purse and bag concoction that was seemingly in that week, as well as the suitable hair combination of curls and glamour.

Deep down, from all of the years and past events, she knew that she was a good looking woman, modesty being removed from the equation, but that still didn't stop her from the worry, slight anxiety, as well as the constant nagging itch that something wasn't right. She’d often wonder why she couldn't just go with it, be how she was, but after years of side comments from previous partners it just couldn't be that way.

The doors opened. Light throwing itself into her eyes, as they quickly acclimatised, she stood still until the others pushed through the double doors. Last, as usual, into the event. A sudden rise of panic hit her mind but she inhaled, then exhaled quickly, as she ignored all of that and placed one foot in front of the other. This was it, hardly the most exciting thing in the world, but a room full of people did often agitate her into a wild bundle of panic.

Walking into the room she glanced across, taking in the surroundings. Fancy chandeliers, wooden floor, around 30 tables, plenty of people chatting and coughing, with a distant piano playing beautiful music. Table 27, apparently, was her table. She could feel the eyes looking at her. She was a woman, after all, so men looking at her just seemed to be ignored as you get used to such things, but in this instance she knew that women were also looking. Judging, not accepting her choice of dress, accompanying hand bag, or even her style of hair. She really didn't play that game. Women should support each other, not tear each other into strips of a catalogue defining how, where and when they should look or be. But, as she knew, she simply ignored all of that and kept her head held high despite the inner struggle and thoughts.

Her roller-coaster mind kept on going, thinking, demanding attention, while her outgoing person simply smiled and said hello to each person that caught her gaze. So far, so good. She hadn't fallen over, walked into anything, snapped a heel or kicked anyone’s bag. Turning her thoughts around she started thinking positive thoughts. She was here, in the room, glowing, happy, smiling, looking damn good, despite feeling a small bit of guilt for thinking that way, but the truth was just that.

Reaching her table, feeling like a marathon had just been undertaken, she knew where she was sitting as there was only one chair left. As the people at the table looked in her direction a gentleman, who would be sitting to her left, jumped up and pulled out the chair. She’d thought that those days were long gone, the gentleman, the guy that knew the importance of a woman, given way to the politically correct madness. That was nice. Appreciated. She nodded and said ‘thank you’ as he moved the chair slightly forward as she sat.  ‘Let the grilling begin’, she said to herself and no-one else in particular. From her right side a waiter appeared with a wine bottle and that, especially that, would be appreciated right about now. It was bad enough attending such an event on her own, but with no wine? Madness. Utter madness.

As she glanced around the table, knowing that virtually every single male had, in the first ten seconds, noticed her cleavage, then her face, she gulped down the wine as she was sure no-one had noticed. They were chatting, amongst each other, laughing, bonding, as she quickly listened to each conversation. Who was kind, who was showing off, which of them were like her and more. From across the table, the loudest male, with probably the largest ego and smallest ‘package’, piped up, “Now that we all know each other, how about the new lady at the table?” She could feel herself turn a slight shade of red but, before she let that control her, she quickly replied,
“Me? I’m here for more of this!” to which she leaned forward, grasped the wine bottle and filled her glass. The table laughed,
“Cheers to that,” he replied.

She knew, now that all of that was over with, that the night would be an absolute blast.

Wednesday, 16 May 2018


Opening the bottle, sombre, reflecting while simply being tired, she poured the wine into the crystal clear glass. It had been a very, very long week and, above all, she was glad that it had reached the end. The same, as she closed her eyes, could be said about something else.

It had lasted two years, with the first 4 months being glorious, a blast, something that she’d always miss. But, as can be the case, that blast eventually descended to a place that she’d seen before. The arguments, the drama, the he said and she said maze that seemed to send her mind into such confusion. It wasn't worth it, it never was, but that’s where she was. Until yesterday. The roller-coaster had ended.

The day started, the same day as the day before, with kisses exchanged, him tapping her bum as she flew in, then out, of the shower. He was playful, she’d give him that, had the gift of words and the smile to melt butter, but no matter how his eyes often looked at her it simply wasn't enough. The kisses didn't hide the words, those small words, that often made her feel inadequate. The words that didn't afford her the smiles that she used to hide her feelings.

She knew that she wasn't different, not assured special treatment, as her friends often told her stories that would make any hair curl no matter which GHD she used. But she often asked herself if it really was supposed to be the way it was. Deep down, it wasn't, she knew this. Felt it. Realised it on the occasions that she noticed how some men treated their ladies. It wasn't difficult, it wasn't impossible, but that depended on whom she selected.

They’d met, those years previous, through mutual friends and he seemed to head straight for her despite the various other people. His smile, that smile, assured her of his confidence but maybe, just maybe, that bravado hid the person that he actually was. She also pushed her best face forward but, when relaxed, she wasn't an ogre or maniacal demon. She was herself, the woman that her Mother and Father had brought up, with respect and manners.

Either way it had ended. Simple things, small words, singular moments, all collecting into a near meltdown in public. No doubt it would all be her fault, with him using the moment to proclaim his innocence, but that wasn't the case. She wasn't perfect, she never would be despite trying for him, with her hindsight being crystal clear. Her opinion, at times, being completely ignored, was also one of the bigger failings. She was clever, some would even state that she was street smart, with that term being straight from the eighties. But that didn't matter, didn't figure in the great scheme of things.

She’d had enough, ended it right on the spot, taking back her self confidence and some pride. Obviously, as she gulped down the remaining wine in the glass before a re-fill, she’d have to deal with those mentioned emotional bruises. Heaven knows how she’d been affected by the way she allowed him to make her feel. She’d lost far too much weight, gained weight, yo-yoed a few more times, before finally finding a place that didn’t care how many times his side remarks would appear before a night out.

Cruelty came in many forms, many ways, the smallest of glances, the longest of words, the lack of kisses or, even, the silence of a phone never ringing. That, thankfully, wasn’t today, it wouldn’t be tomorrow, or the next day or month after that.

That was, today, yesterday.

Monday, 14 May 2018


I can feel the ashes, falling, breaking into smaller parts of the person that I once was. The heat, still looming throughout everything in front of me, starts to fade as I rise. I know that I shouldn't be able to stand, that I should stay where I've fallen, but that’s not the emotion that I'm supposed to be, the person that was created from the many years of life. All it takes is one step, just one, which I make as soon as my body allows the instruction to reach my muscles.

Another step, the heat starting to fade, allowing a further movement away from the destruction of my own making. I'm aware, I've always been aware, of what’s going on within my surroundings but sometimes, those moments, I let the world take control and run away with itself. Silly me, oh silly me, why on earth do any of us let the world take control of our destiny?

It burnt to the ground, this life of mine. Maybe you've been here too. That moment when the cup falls from your hand, smashing to the ground, sending pieces across the floor. It wasn't the drop, it’s not the crash that damages you, it’s the thoughts after when you have to clean up the mess. That’s the damage, that’s where the fire consumes you. Destroys you. Burns everything to the ground.

You question, you question again, trying to rectify, find that resolution to combat all, but that seldom works. You have to burn. You have to cry and scream. You have to experience the break, the down, before applying that band aid.

It’s difficult, beyond imagination, that our lives are held together by strands of time. We've pieced together a life of moments. We share with someone, possibly anyone, while protecting ourselves as much as we can. None of that matters, when we really think about it, as we’re trapped within our very own lives by the realistic fear of doing something else. Being someone else. Heaven forbid that we actually wish for change. I fought with depression, the dirty word that most of us have experienced, yet seldom have the strength to speak of, without realising that the people that sit beside us have been through something similar.

But that’s then, this is now, my footsteps becoming more of a walk. I stumble, the heat and destruction nearly a memory in the distant past, as I attempt to run. That’s it, one foot in front of the other, widening the gap between each step. I'm running, tears streaming from my eyes, never actually realising that I could escape to a new place, a better place. The freedom hits my face, the touch as soft as the purest feather, reminding me that there is such a thing as sunshine from the utter darkness that we create within our own souls.

Settling into a jog, heart nearly bursting after being silent for so long, the adrenaline pushing me again and again. I'm free, finally, the smile across my face feeling exhilarating and pushing me further. This is a new life, a new me, a place that I can build with simplicity. No need for clutter, no need for anything other that my own peace. As simple as I can make it. I'm not leaving this world with all of my possessions so I can forsake many of the things that I think that I want, instead, working with what I need.

My heart is alive, I'm going to tell the world, from the highest mountain. Even if no-one can hear me, even if no-one replies, I'm still expressing my feelings and throwing positive energy into the void. If only we could all rise from our ashes, the broken places that hold the failed promises. I know that we can all do this. I know that we can all be… more. I'm free, my hands are open, embrace me, hold my hand, so together we can fight the words that none of us hear.

Monday, 7 May 2018


There’s moments when I cannot control how I feel, the rare time that my defences are down, down all the way to the very floor that I'm standing upon right now. I'm fully open, scared, vulnerable, wanting to feel and nothing else. My mind is all over the place, the very emotions I control finally grasping control of the foundations of my life. It’s wondrous, it’s making me feel alive but, at the same time, it’s not a place I often visit.

My female heart is beating, that little bit faster, the circumstances of the moment dictating my resolve and the seconds are like the beating of my said heart. I know that it’s probably not the time to say this, when I'm filled with grief, of loss, but I just want to throw myself at you, to be around you, in any single simple way that I can.

If there were ever a time that a woman makes love, it would be now. Right now. There’s no point in delaying the outcome as time is valuable. The time, as mentioned above, won’t last forever. Grasp me, hold me, let me hold all of you. I’m going to drown myself within your life, that body, kissing all of your lips as I just want to feel. I’m sick of staying within this mind of mine and just want to feel.

Emotions be damned, emotions be withheld, I’m in that mood and it doesn’t happen often. Love, make, love, do, love me as I’m sure to love you. I’m lost, help me find the way, I’m open, keep the door that way, invite yourself in as I’ll be around all of you. I’m so scared right now, unbelievably scrambling for something, someone, to hold. Embrace me, race me, never reaching the finish line.

I know that I'm hurting, I know that I'm in pain and the thought of using another is not what I want but, it doesn't matter. I need something. I need more. I need to feel before I close myself again. Please, help. Me.

I just cannot find the words for something that’s deep inside of me. I cannot control this part of me, I cannot hide the feelings I have, despite doing a very good job of doing so. I know that you’re not a detective but some things, at some times, I have to spell out to you.  No-one has any idea of how I feel, they couldn't, as every single desire and wish is there for the taking. I need to wrap myself around you.

But this is not the case, I sit here alone, screaming silently. I’ll close the doors, soon, in a few hours time, maybe tomorrow, but they will close. No-one gets to see my heart often, although it’s there and it’s a kind heart, but I’m not talking about that side of me. I’m talking about a woman, bonding, holding, feeling, giving my energy to another in a way that cannot be faulted.

I’ll not tell you this, of course, as I dare not. I’ll write it, I’ll think about it, while holding my grief and unstable state together the best I can. After all, when all is said and written, I dare not open myself to anyone least of all the world. That's what it means, to be vulnerable.

Wednesday, 2 May 2018


All my friends told me so, the words of wisdom being pushed aside like the rain on a car screen. Wiping them all away, simply not listening, destined to head straight towards that brick wall of fate. I told myself, even witnessed the words resounding into my own ears, that I wouldn't
fall, but seldom do the wishes of others come true.

I know that I'm down, heart waiting to fail, scampering around like a lost child, but that still won’t stop me in this endeavour of mind. Just a few simple words, the never-ending gaze of yours, meant that I was hooked quicker than a fish within this very sea of life.

You walked in, on that day, with that fancy walk of yours. The confidence simply embraced every single man within that room and place. Normally, I’d ignore such things, being the person that I am. Calm, a relaxed view of the world, letting most moments deflect themselves from my view but this was different. Your eyes, the way you handled yourself, knowing, the attitude that spoke of a world where you sat on top, riding the way that you liked, owning all that you could see. The world was yours and it would never, ever, beg to be let go.

I tried to be passive, nonchalant to your advances, but there’s only so much resolve a man can work with before breaking. I’d said no, a hundred times, a thousand times, within my own mind yet, when it came down to actually saying the word in real life… I failed.  I gave in. I embraced everything you had to offer. I dived in, drenched myself in your very core, wrapped you around me until I could take no more.

That’s where the trouble starts, where the story becomes a dramatic slice of mystery. How much is enough? There’s such a thing, in life, called a roller coaster. The ideal situation would be the highs, with no lows, but that’s not life, especially with you. It’s more like a roller coaster in the bedroom, with the up and down threatening to spiral out of control into the real world. You see, it’s madness to assume that a man has no limits, but when faced with such a woman that knows none, it can leave a person broken.

The emotional turmoil, the deafening silence, then the moment where you’re demanding. More is never enough, more is what you always want, but how much more can a single person ever provide. You want me to flow like a river, never ending, twisting my fingertips across your skin, never finding that your thirst is ever satisfied. It’s endless, boundless, faultless and more.

You’re temptation to a level I’ve never seen, hardly felt, but never prepared for. One-minute cold and then, the next, scolding temperatures threatening to burn the very senses from my skin. I would run from you, if I could command my body to move even one inch away from yours. I’m trapped, the web being your lips, the spider being those darn hips, with your smile making me your easy prey.

All my friends told me so, the words of wisdom being washed away as your lips pressed against mine. Wiping away all of their words, destined to head straight towards you, knowing my ever-present fate. I told myself, even witnessed the words resounding into my own ears, that I wouldn't fall, but seldom do the wishes of others come true.

Monday, 30 April 2018


She sat, in near silence, apart from the normal ambience that she’d become accustomed to. That didn't matter, it didn't even feature, in this place. A loud cough, from somewhere behind her, broke that small bit of concentration that she was holding on to. She knew what she wanted to do, could possibly do, but that was before her nerves started to play on her thoughts.

The smoke, being an outside garden next to the Hacienda's Taberna, also didn't really bother her. This was a private area, for Especial guests, to which she was thankful that she’d received an invite those months previous. She’d heard about the music here, the special melody, played by the mysterious man that they’d mentioned over and over again. He was silent, held himself in such a way that demanded attention, from any woman nearby.

Sure, of course, she didn’t believe in such things. There were handsome men, confident men, but hardly anything to bring home or to indulge with for more than a night’s circumstance. She’d seen it all. Heard it all. Played the games, enjoyed the tricks, desired the cravings and sent them all back.

The crowd, all sitting, relaxing, confident in their conversations with each other, began to calm with a few stragglers still at the bar. She heard the laughter, from jokes probably spoken in mild jest, but she wasn't here for any of that. She was here to hear the music and delight in the night’s offerings.

She looked down, checking her toenails, ensuring that the colour still remained. The little things, she knew, meant a lot. Confidence flowed from all corners of her world but, being prepared for as many situations as she could, ensured that extra slice of stability. Judging by the red dress that she wore, tonight, her thoughts were intending to control the eyes of every man in this place. If you had it, share it. She knew that there was nothing wrong with being a woman, beautiful, powerful, instantly demanding the time from her intended interest.

The bell rang, from behind the bar, a door opened and tonight’s entertainment arrived. Apparently, according to her colleagues, the friends in her life, this wasn't entertainment. It was an experience. Something to be remembered, even desired, not forgotten quickly and worthy of a repeat performance. This was why she was here, to enjoy the wine, to feel the music, to have her mind and body played like his glorious guitar. That, according to the whispers, was what she was going to get.

As he approached, walking slowly, the obvious confidence showing through the way he held himself, his eyes looking down. Apparently he, when ready, looked through the crowd and once he found inspiration, started to play. It was a forgone conclusion that he’d pick her tonight. She’d made sure of that. He sat, back sitting straight, on the edge of the chair. His left foot resting on a foot stool, guitar facing 45 degrees into the air. She watched as he shrugged his shoulders  for a short moment, his neck moving from left to right, with his shoulders eventually relaxing.

He looked up, through the crowd, taking in all of the faces in front of him. His eyes seemed so alive, intense, almost piercing through the people as he viewed them. Eventually, as expected, his eyes rested in her exact direction. She could feel her neck start to tingle, the effect of someone looking at her in the way he just did. A very small smile appeared, that you could almost miss, as he looked down at his guitar and started to play.

As the first note played she felt a warmth move over her. Maybe she was accustomed to music that wasn't live, maybe it was the two glasses of wine, or maybe it was the way his hands moved across the guitar. His fingertips moved so fast, effortlessly gliding to where they needed to be, as the Hermosa music played. It was mere seconds, hardly even a minute, when she realised that her friends were right about this man. The music. She’d never experienced this setting before.

As the Musica played, she ignored the smoke, she ignored the people speaking behind her, as her attention was firmly held in front. From nowhere she simply wanted him to look at her again, just as he’d done a few moment earlier, but there was nothing she could do to gather his attention. His eyes were closed, head moving with the music, but that still didn't stop her from wanting more. She recalled her friends, in another conversation, wishing that they were the guitar. Those hands gently, firmly, whatever the moment asked for, playing her Cuerpo with ease. A woman could imagine, a woman could desire, especially in a setting such as this.

She reminded herself to stay calm, to relax, as it was only music. It ‘was’ only music until, right then as she tried to distract herself, he looked over again. This time she met his gaze and held it there, for a few seconds, before his eyes started to take in her entire view. Sure, of course, her dress did display more leg than necessary, but this was the place for such decadence. She wanted to be noticed. It worked. No shame there despite his eyes literally tearing away everything she had on. Or, at least, that’s what his eyes were telling her.

As the music continued, rising in intensity, falling into her mind’s abyss, he finished the few songs and placed the guitar to the side, carefully, ensuring the stand held it in place. She wanted him to talk to her, to look at her that way again but, instead, he returned to where he had arrived from. For a second, she felt sadness envelop her thoughts but, as she was accustomed, she quickly moved those thoughts aside and reminded herself that this man, this guitar player, had basically desired her. Tonight was about her. Tonight she was the guitar, the beautifully orchestrated masterpiece of feeling and desire.

Maybe it really was the wine. Maybe it really was the music. But maybe, just maybe, she’d return here in one week and listen to that Spanish guitar again.

Monday, 23 April 2018


Holding her head, with her hands, she looked at the floor as the tear fell. Time slowed to an indescribable pace, as it fell, with another following quickly after. It hurt. It had always hurt. But, as she knew, now was not the time for such tears and sorrow. “Just for a few seconds,” she whispered to no-one in particular, allowing herself the solitary solace of letting it all go.

She’d lived a lifetime, possibly two if she believed her regression therapist, of loneliness and couldn't, even wouldn't, believe that it could happen over and over again. It wasn't due to being this, or that, as apparently, she had the looks, the stuff that the boys wanted, so why on earth did she often end up here, alone, crying in a corner, barely able to speak or contemplate the same situation. Repeat, repeat, the re-occurring circular drama and strife.

Her hands dropped away and she leaned back against the cold wall, looking at the ceiling, then out of the small window to her side. Being honest with herself, truly honest, she’d played it safe this time and yet it still didn't work. He wasn't exciting, he wasn't a dish of delight or even made her laugh. Options seemed thin, possibly due to her lifestyle and circumstance, so she’d decided to try safe, for awhile, normal, boring, yet even that failed.

She could feel her eyes, puffy, make-up probably running down her face, despite buying the expensive stuff that could withstand such things, but just like some men, the description often lies. Thinking of the past, the passed moments of her life, she’d reached a place where it was now or never, that ticking clock, that everyone often reminded her of, those nagging conformists that never, ever, stopped nagging. She wouldn't listen anyway, no matter how many times she was supposed to do this, or that, with him or her.

Her lip curled, just a little, reminding herself of what she’d given to her ‘ex’, the man that, twenty minutes previous, had declared his never-ending devotion and love. Life changed so fast, she knew this, with one second stretching to minutes, while years sometimes ending within that very same second. It had happened to her numerous times, to her friends, to her Brothers, to her very own parents. She knew that she was living in a time of serene ignorance. The throw away society to which, of course, she wanted no part of. She didn't ask for a warranty with her man, as all she wanted was for him to work with her, until the day they both broke and left this world.

Rubbing her eyes, removing the tears from the bottom of her face, she started to resolve the conflict inside of herself. This is what she did, often. It didn't matter, it wouldn't matter, as she knew that they were both healthy. He would now evaporate from her life, she would move on, start again, but maybe it was time for a new adventure. She closed her eyes, listening, slowing her breathing, to catch the sound of her own heart beating. It always reminded her of what she had, what she was given to enter this world. Her heart beating warmed her, embraced her, kept her warm when all others remained cold.

A smile appeared across her lips. It was that time, again, to rely on her own imagination. Every negative, sorrow filled moment, could be rationalised. Within reason. She’d cried, she’d let some of it go, with the remaining tears kept to remind her that she was worth so much more. She wasn't going to wallow in the never-ending solitude as, instead, she’d embrace this chance to realise that she was the only person that she needed for company.

She’d walked into a room filled with people, in the past, feeling so very lonely. She’d escaped from the few dates that quickly descended into a horrendous soul crushing escapade. She’d survived crying late into the night and now, today, she’d rise from this moment as well. Nothing, no-one, would ever, never ever, make her feel alone. That was an impossibility as she had her own heart, she had her own company, her own imagination and, above all, she had a beautiful soul.

Overall, no matter how many tears fell to the floor, no matter how she felt about herself, she would never, ever, truly, be alone.


There were times when I simply didn't know what to do, which way to turn, but, as always, there was a safe recourse. A rescue. A place and a face that I knew that I could call home, a haven of safety, a person that always had the right answer. For that, I thank you.

There were moments where I’d managed to stumble into another mess, a place of destruction, with tears amongst the fears springing forward into everything that I am. I knew that I had to rescue myself but, as above, I realised that I always had you to lean upon. For that, I thank you.

There were seconds when I could hardly stand, where the tears begged to be let loose but I forbid those seconds. I had to be strong, just as you’d been, had been, through my life. You made me understand that I could be a rock, within this world, moving for no force or reason. For that, I thank you.

There were months where I went without saying hello, the months that I now regret but I won’t worry, as you were still there when I did appear, or call, as that’s the kind of person you were. That ever forgiving vessel of love and warmth. For that, I thank you.

There were years that seemed to vanish at the speed of light, with your smile still managing to appear, through any of your own hidden tears, never wishing to bring harm or worry to my own life. Through a brick wall, or even one word, you always knew when something was wrong. No matter how hard I tried, you, always, knew. For that, I thank you.

For every little thing, for all of the mighty moments, you brought life into the world and here I still am. For the times, the moments, the many seconds and the small months, there won’t be a year that I won’t, ever, Thank You.

Thank you, Mum.

Tuesday, 3 April 2018


There was a time, a long moment ago, when we spoke such words that even the oceans trembled at the mere thought of how we felt. Short, long, misconstructed or just blurted with free abundance, we just spoke until the day turned to night.

We shared, we gave everything away, with free ease, the stories melding one into another. If we closed our eyes we could live each other’s lives.  I could feel your footsteps, hear that heart of yours, taste the fear within the wishes that you’d always hoped would come true.

We wrote letters to each other, despite being able to see each other on any particular day. We just wanted to communicate, to share, to get each other. Each new word forming a cascading avalanche of expression. You opened my eyes and I, with you, opened all of the doors closed between us. We, you, with I, knew where we were going.

Then, on that one night, you told me your deepest, darkest, forbidden secrets and I, unlike others, didn't push you away or create a small wall destined to grow into something horrendous. I held you closer, I helped make us feel safer in this dark world of our own making. For the smallest second, the brief minute or two, we actually stopped talking and just… listened to the silence.

It was glorious, a stupor of indescribable splendour beyond all belief and our time. From whence it came we did not know and probably didn't care. We blessed each other, we cast aside our former sins and created new ones.

We watched as the world changed, becoming something different, fleeting connections becoming the norm, the standard, the level to which we must all attain and conform. We knew everything about each other, with moments of wonder still revealing themselves at random moments. The laughter, that laughter, was contagious.

As that world changed, we stayed the same, static and strong, a formidable team accomplishing deeds far outside the standard. We simply were. We didn't hold our heads high as we preferred to keep them level, stable, never believing that we were ever destined to somehow be any better than anyone else. Realistic, pragmatic, the rational two among the many.

The days moved forward, into the marriage of life, the connection of two with seldom a crossed word. Respect, after all, was the defining statement from the start and we understood. We knew this. After we left the building, the church on the day, you told me your dreams had arrived, the same said dreams from your youth, the dreams filled with a white dress and kisses.

This was what I needed, this was what we all wanted, the stability from within. If it not be found with another then we find it within ourselves but, when you've decided to spend years finding that stability, we both knew that a holding hand could be found from another.

We held hands, we held on with might, all the strength in the world never able to cut the bond we forged from within a thousand words, a hundred wishes and a billion kisses. It was, as said, glorious. All because we spoke to each other, defined ourselves with honesty and dignity, before jumping into the mess called life. All we had to do was talk to each other. All we had to do was be honest. We both knew that being honest could solve everything and anything.

All we had to do… was talk.


The photo, above, was kindly sent across by Rachel who owns her own Photography company. We're talking photos that make you smile!  Have a look if you have a moment and I'm sure to include a few more over the coming months.

Monday, 26 March 2018


“You see,” said Yuri, while pointing to a cabinet over to the side of the warm room, “there is a price to pay here in Mother Russia for doing what you have done.” As the words stopped, the hate and sneering face literally inches away from Samuel, Yuri returned to the chair that was placed directly in front of Samuel.

Face to face, the room deathly quiet, Samuel could see that his time might just be limited to the next few seconds. To his side a man, dressed in a smart suit, returned with a small biscuit tin. In total he’d noticed six other people in the room so, no matter what happened, he wasn’t just walking out of here without permission from Yuri.

Samuel reminded himself of the man that he was dealing with, a ruthless, sadistic, nasty Russian that did not take kindly to anyone crossing him. He’d actually say something, if he could, but instead he just sat there with shaking hands. Yuri placed the small tin onto his lap, opening the lid with care, “This, Samuel, has been in my family for generations. It is priceless and this… ,” continued Yuri as he reached inside the tin to lift the gun, “…is a Nagant M1895 revolver. Seven glorious rounds!” Samuel’s eyes must have opened that bit wider but he didn’t notice as all he could hear was the thick Russian accent and his own heart beating against his chest.

“They were made in Belgium, until Russia bought in 1898.” Samuel watched as Yuri lifted a small lever, next to the gun barrel, to which he then lifted one single bullet, placing it into a chamber. “Would you like to play a game, Samuel?” Asked Yuri. Samuel said nothing, resisting the urge to finally say what he’d wanted to say for the longest time. While smiling, Yuri placed his hand onto the barrel, turned the gun slightly upside down, to the left, spinning the chamber with a quick flick of his fingers. He then returned the lever to its original place, handing the tin to the man still standing beside him. “We will play game, you and I, until we know where we are Samuel,” exclaimed Yuri with a finality that Samuel had not heard before.

Samuel’s mind started to gather control, accepting the situation, thinking of ways to escape. He knew what Yuri was capable of, which led to his disbelief of still being alive. Nothing he could say, as far as he could see, would change the circumstances he now found himself. Nothing. ‘The truth  then,’ thought Samuel, as that would probably be the best way forward.

“Tell me why I should let you walk out of here?” asked Yuri, with a calm and collective ease that didn’t betray any thoughts at all. As he watched the barrel move he blurted out his answer,
“You should let me walk out of here because I can give her a better life, a good life, away from all this!” 


As the room filled with silence Yuri calmed himself from literally rising a few millimetres from the chair. He was still here, no holes, no blood, but wanting to leave the room. “A good answer,” said Yuri, “but what is to say that you can leave the Bratva? I have given you food, shelter, warmth and this is how you repay me?”
“I meant no disrespect Brother Yuri, I could not help my heart do the things that they have done!”
Yuri, still contemplating his next decision, moved quickly forward from his chair, placing the gun’s barrel against Samuel’s head, as he gently squeezed the trigger, “Promise me something young Yuri, promise me and you can leave…” asked Yuri as he watched Samuel close his eyes, “Promise me that you will look after my Daughter, keep her safe and warm as I have done for you!”


Yuri, sitting back onto his chair, listened to the reply, “I promise, as a Bratva general, that I will honour my duties as I would to you!”

Yuri, finally convinced of Samuel’s resolve, ushered to one of the guards to open the door as another handed him a suitcase. As the casino noise echoed into the room, Yuri motioned to Samuel, “Take this, take all of this, it is the money you have earned over the years.”  Samuel, not expecting such a generous gift, stood from his chair, taking the case and walked towards the door. Before leaving he stopped, turning his head towards Yuri to say one last thing, “Thank you Yuri. Thank you!” Yuri, wondering if this was the right decision, pointed the gun in the air, pulling the trigger, sending a bullet into the ceiling. With the loud bang sending Samuel quickly out of the room.

Yuri, walking over to the various decanters, selected his favourite drink and poured a small amount into a glass while murmuring words, “You give them so much, they take even more, then one of them runs away with your daughter. Is a funny world. In Soviet Russia roulette spins you!” Taking a sip, feeling the warmth, Yuri finally smiled and nodded knowing that, for once, he had done a good thing.

Monday, 19 March 2018


Deaglan, still playing with his hands, nervous energy evident in all of his actions, waited for the quick nod. It had been, probably, over 4 years since his last confession. Since that time he’d experienced a lot, changed job a few times, met a lot of new people, seen small parts of the world but still yearned for his Irish roots. Settling back into his home life he’d managed to establish something worth living for but, no matter what he’d seen, done, or planned to do, he still knew that there were important things to in life.

He heard the knock and opened the confessional booth door. The cold dark wood, probably older than him, creaked ever so slightly as the small room welcomed him. Sitting on his hands, still nervous, he said the words that he hadn't heard for the longest time, while making the sign of the cross, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four years since my last confession!”  Deaglan felt the shame but, with the way of things, that shame wasn't as strong as it used to be. He knew that times had changed, but no matter what, he believed and that was all that counted. He heard Father Patrick clear his throat before speaking, “Tell me Son, tell me your thoughts!”

Deaglan, not one to gossip, or to follow the general thinking of today, decided to be honest despite his thoughts torturing him. If he’d told friends, or colleagues, he knew that he would be laughed at so now was the time, the place, to be brave and honest. “Father,” he paused, selecting his words carefully, “There is a woman that I like.”  He could see Father Patrick move ever so slightly, which didn't calm his nerves.

“Tell me Son,” Father Patrick asked, “what is troubling you? It is perfectly fine for such things.”
Deaglan looked down, taking in the view of the carpet, quickly snapping back to his thoughts, 
“It’s just that she’s been chasing me Father. My thoughts are not as pure as they should be.”  As the words moved from his lips, with each second, a small weight lifted from his mind. He didn't follow the normal convention of things, trying to stay as pure a possible which, in today’s age, seemed to be getting harder and harder.

A few seconds arrived and left as Father Patrick mused the situation. Eventually, slowly, he moved closer to ensure that Deaglan heard his words, “Son… Do you think that Adam, as well as Eve, committed a sin by being with each other?  It is okay for a woman to chase a man, as much as it is acceptable for a man to court a woman. There is no venial or mortal sin, even when we are in our natural naked state.  It is normal. It is natural.”  Deaglan, floored by the answer, could barely find any words to reply but, due to his silence, Father Patrick continued, “Eve did not tempt Adam with her body, not once, as we desire, as beings of love and passion, it was by an outside snake that she unwittingly eat the forbidden fruit and, in doing so, offered the sin to Adam.”

As Deaglan relaxed that little bit more he asked the serious question that had been playing on his mind, “Should I ask her out for a meal Father?”
“Of course you should Son, as soon as possible. I gather that your intentions are just?”
“They are Father, they are, despite her words being on the rude side!”  
Father Patrick laughed, “Son, words are words. Intentions lead to actions and if you become man and wife, the words will all be worthwhile. Embrace the chance you have. Now, do you have anything else you would like to say?” Deaglan shook his head before confirming that he didn’t.
“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good,” said Father Patrick to which Deaglan replied,
“For His mercy endures forever!”

Deaglan stood and exited the booth, knowing that he’d say penance as soon as he could. He couldn't believe the reply, wondering what he would now do. Walking from the Church, onto the path outside, he looked at his phone, opening the chat application, to which he started writing a text that made his intentions clear. He had a pure heart, a good heart, a heart that always made his Mother proud and he intended to keep it.

As the message flew into the world of electronic communication, he smiled, finally knowing that his growing feelings weren’t something to be ashamed of. Sometimes, at least on this very day, confessing his supposed sin cleared the way to a new world. Looking back, towards the church, a bigger smile appeared across his lips and he knew that today, his confessional day, was truly a day of days.

Saturday, 17 March 2018


Exhaling hard, lungs on fire, she stopped and closed her eyes. Trying to regulate the breathing mess that she’d managed to get herself into, listening to her heart, beating, battering against her chest and thoughts. She knew that it wasn't going to be easy but, many things worth doing, never were.

Opening her eyes, looking upwards, she embraced the view in front of her. The mountain, that mountain, that she’d wanted to climb for the longest time had finally knocked on her door and invited her to roam. She’d accepted the challenge, risen from her daily mundane life and taken that day off. For once, just this once, she’d decided to fall away from the routine of things.

With each step her body asked her to turn, to slowly descend back to the bottom, but that wasn't going to happen. Other than her body feeling agitated, she wasn't in any danger, so she scorned her mind and told herself to shut up. It was, after all, only a mountain and the path were laid out directly in front of her. Sure, the twists and turns were there, with many plainly in view, but it wasn't anything that difficult.

Images roamed into her thoughts as she advanced, of her state of mind, her current situation, as well as a few distant choice moments that she’d wished not to be reminded of. But this was her mind, her life, hardly a mess, but a jumble of ideals, thoughts and inner fights. She knew that she had confidence issues, those nagging doubts that seemingly pushed at her heart strings. She was an expert at self defeat, but not all the time, just in the occasional circumstances that mattered.

Her earlier life seemed to be full of moments, those moments, where you just wanted to run away and hide. Sure, of course, she smiled a little as she remembered that she’d actually achieved far more than she’d failed at, yet her mind did seek any opportunity to interject choice words of negative fate. She could do this, yet because of that, she didn't place that foot forward. Shame, a tragic affair, but the same for many, many people and moments.

Nearing the top, or at least the top that she could see, she’d managed to get her breathing under control, that second breath of energy. Sometimes, she reminded herself, stopping didn't mean failing. It simply meant that she was stopping to catch a breath, to strategise, or to simply scream into the face that looked at her in the mirror. This was life, this was her life, so she, above all, controlled every single little aspect.

She knew that she’d been facing a small inner crisis, for the shortest time, or was it the longest time? She didn't know, probably didn't care at this point, due to the new climbing boots biting into her ankles. The pain, sure to follow, wouldn't matter as she was a woman and women knew pain all too well. Mental, physical, with her soul sometimes cracking in the process.

She took one mighty step forward and reached the top of the mountain, looking into the valley ahead of her, smiling as she sat down on the cold concrete bench. Hardly a challenge to be proud of, as she’d been here a few times before, but this visit being for something different. Brushing her hair aside, bundling it into a hair clip, she embraced the situation and stood. Proud, full of energy, wishing for someone, somewhere to hear her and, most of all, to hear herself. She clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her voice. Every single bit of energy, she had left, she let loose as she fell to her knees. Her adrenaline spiked, her face started to turn red, as she continued to scream.

A tear appeared, followed by a few more, as she stopped screaming. The echo. She heard her own scream, a few times, until it vanished. Although she felt a bit embarrassed, with just the thought of saying such things, she shouted out the words that appeared in her mind, “I believe in you,” pausing to hear her own voice echoing, smiling as she heard her own voice tell her what she needed to hear, “I believe that you’re worthwhile. I'm here for you!”

Many words, many echoes, were spoken. Returning to the seat she felt a small weight lift from her mind. So many people, so many times, everyone told her, informed her, that she was worthwhile, that she could accomplish anything she set her mind and heart to. It didn't matter. The damage, the years of damage, had been done. So many words of negativity, so many moments that made her heart crack into small pieces where, finally, she had to hear her say the very words that she wanted to believe. Within her, her mind, but most of all her heart, hearing herself finally admit that she could lift her tired arms, that she could truly put her heart into any adventure, made that small bit of difference to her.

For far too long she’d heard the echoes of past lovers, past failures, past demons, that hearing the echo of positivity was something that she had to do for herself. Standing once again, drying her eyes, she nodded at the valley, expressing thanks, then turned to walk back down the mountain.

Saturday, 10 March 2018


At the start, we know, we knew, that we had a chance to make things work. The adventure of a lifetime, filled with kisses, affection and more. A lasting roller-coaster of emotion that could see us into the later years. I knew, we know, that we had to hold what we had with careful hands, like a new born, but instead we lambasted everything into oblivion.

It’s a shame, it’s a sacrifice, it’s sacrilege to reminisce all the things that we said and didn't do. If I cast my net back to the past I can also see that some of the things that we did do, were just plainly unjustified and possibly cruel. A heart can be loved but, in the same breath, it can be crushed alive and kicked to the side quicker than the words, “I love you,” stop echoing from the halls of romance.

Previously I mentioned a roller-coaster, the ups and downs, not just in the bedroom where we should all experience the making of love, but in the negative sense. We feed, we throw around words designing to manipulate, to sever, to inflict pain, that are so seamless from normal life that it becomes the norm. When did it become practical to hold the hand of your loved one while, in the very next breath, state such negative threatening behaviour that you can see the heart struggle. It’s crippling, its depth knows all of the anger in the world, today, tomorrow and the next day.

It’s done, it’s gone, it has left our world, ready to be replaced with a kinder view, a hand that holds instead of brandishing words ready to scold.

At the start there’s smiles, there’s tenderness, as we listen to the stories of old. Some filled with laughter, some spoken of sadness, but mainly that chance to form something new. Personally, when I'm here thinking of such things, I’d rather keep the past where it’s passed from view. It’s done, gone, over, left behind and no longer of use. I’d rather not speak of such things, the loves of old, instead moving with a view of creating a new set of memories with someone new. Why embrace the failed nature of things? We've lived there, been there, survived and moved forward. Do we need to embrace a new heart with stories of something broken?

Of course we do. It’s nature, it’s how things have been defined. Create a connection via shared failings, broken hearts, wishing and escalating the very chance to find something that’ll fix us, define us, move us forward. Two hearts can beat as one yet, as we've found, one heart need not stifle the other. It happens, it’s happening now, a person’s opinion being silenced in the vain effort to always be correct. No-one, never, should ever, dismiss someone’s thoughts when they don’t correlate to theirs. That isn't love, this isn't the way of understanding, as it’s cruel and demanding. Childish even.

Let love speak, let it breath, let it escape into the hearts of every single person we meet on a daily basis. Heck, we can manage to be ever so pleasant to strangers yet vile and disgusting to the ones that hold our very hand. Where can this possibly come from? Where does it hide?

At the start, we realise, we experience, the very chance to make something magical. It’s an adventure waiting to happen, filled with wide open eyes and kissing lips. A lasting rise of emotion that should see us into our later years. I realise, we experience, holding a new hand, with wishes of something amazing but, instead, we sometimes destroy the very thing that we really, really need.


Written last month but not finished until today.

Monday, 5 March 2018


There will always been very difficult moments in our lives, more than might be necessary, but we have little choice or say for those matters. There will be the few seconds where you just want to be somewhere else, to be someone else, or to simply stop existing as you cover your ears and close your eyes.

I considered myself lucky, so far in this life, as I’d only had to deal with the odd heartbreak which, looking back, was actually nothing at all. As long as our previous partners are alive, doing okay, still smiling, then we have nothing to really cry or be upset about. Love isn't supposed to be selfish, love shouldn't hold another back and love, above all, is what we really should want for whomever we do or do not know.  That’s life, the way of things, but still easier to write than actually do.

A few years ago, within one of those moments, I held my mother’s hand as she felt her heart break into small pieces. She’d just lost her Mother, my Grandmother, to life and circumstance. She looked into my eyes and asked me, “How am I supposed to carry on?” to which I replied with any number of words that simply wouldn't ease her mind, soul or heart. Truly, honestly, there’s nothing that can be said at those moments. Me, being me, carried on being positive as that’s what I do. I smile, I don’t break, I keep on going as that’s what people need in this world. There has to be strong people and I believe that we can all be strong.

In that moment I witnessed my Mother reaching a place that I’d never seen her reach before. She cried, she broke, but only for a few moments. Mothers aren't supposed to show weakness to their children, is what I believe to be her thinking, which is beautiful and truly brave. I know that, when alone, my mother probably cried so much, again and again, but she kept on going as that’s what we do. We carry on.

I can, hand on heart, honestly state that I didn't really appreciate how my mother felt, on that day. We don’t. We can try to place ourselves into another’s shoes but it’s still not the same. There’s a lifetime of events within a soul. There’s love, anger, pain, loss, sorrow, happiness, laughter and much, much more. I’m not sure that anyone can ever truly appreciate that kind of bond when it’s taken from a person.

Then, on this day one year ago, my own Mother left this existence.  I type with clarity yet, at this moment, I can barely see the keys as all I can see is tears. I knew that the anniversary was coming, with a reminder this morning from an Instagram post, but it still didn't prepare me. Nothing can. Nothing will.

You see, to most people, they see me as the happy one, the funny one, the person that’s always optimistic, always jumping around and doing silly things. That’s who I am, of course, but there will always be the deeper person within. You see this from what and how I write. There’s an old soul within my body, I don’t know how or why, or even if I believe in such things, but it’s there. But old soul or not, I know that something happened last year, which I denied for a while, but I eventually noticed that I'm broken. I know that I am. I accept that I am. Something changed just as it changed within my Mother.

Like my Mother I also have a lifetime of events within my heart, the thousands of times my Mother held my hand while walking to school. The hundreds of times she brushed away the scratched knee, the cuts and scratches, the time that she pressed her hand against the life support machine praying that I’d live and more. Mother is always there. Mothers always care. I know that it’s not the same for everyone but I'm the luckiest Boy in the world to have had a mother like mine.

I find that, when falling asleep at night, I will recall so many things and I’ll allow myself to cry. When driving I can reach a place that makes me literally scream at the world. Tears and more tears. I will never, ever, be the same again. Life will never be the same again. But that, of course, is the desperate mind at work that simply wishes for things to return to the way they were. I could say that I've accepted the circumstances of life, but that would be a lie and, honestly, I really do not like lies. I could wish to give away my remaining years, in a vain selfish effort to see her again, but that would mean throwing away the gift that my Mother gave me… life. I’ll heal, as much as a person can, as that’s what Mother would have wanted.

Our worlds are built upon glass houses and the strange thing is that the house didn't break, but the foundation, the foundation that’s always been there, is no longer. If a freight train hit head on, breaking every single bone in my body, I’d somehow find the strength to heal and carry on. That would be a mission, something to work towards, but this just made so many people feel helpless. There’s no solution, there’s no recovery, only loss.

Whenever I do cry, allowing myself those brief moments, I can feel the cracks within myself, the straining of my heart, keeping my mind together but it is difficult. I knew, from an early age, that the day would come but, as I've stated, nothing prepares you for the day, that day.  One year, to this day, the person that gave me my blood, my soul, my very heart, left all of us. My Step Father, my Sister, my entire family near and far, will never forget as my Irish Mother was beautiful in every single little way.

I love you Mum. Always.

Friday, 2 March 2018


I'm barely breathing, only just existing, knowing that I'm so close to you. I know that touching skin, with the smoothest of fingertips, the most tender touch, can be invigorating, but feeling your body pressed against mine is making my entire person fall into some type of abyss.  I know the word abyss sounds daunting, even ominous, but it’s the kind of abyss that you’d never, ever, want to escape from.

I met you, only the other month, while out walking. It was raining, on that day of days, when you appeared from the other direction, crying. Normally I’d just carry on walking, wondering why you looked so forlorn, but I couldn't do that on this occasion and I still don’t know why. I didn't see your actual tears, because of the rain, until you stopped but I could see the pain etched across your face.

I asked if you were okay, with the kind intent in my voice, my persona exemplifying the care that I was feeling, to which you replied. You stated that you were, fine, perfectly okay, while crying that little bit more as the emotion escaped into the world. The rain didn't make it any better, with the chill drilling into your shoulders, so I did something else that I’d not normally do and that’s how we ended up in the coffee shop.

That coffee shop. We had some fancy coffee concoction and I'm not even sure if it contained any coffee. Whipped cream, chocolate, a truthful conversation, smiles, laughs, levels reached and boundaries be damned. You proclaimed that you’d been more honest with me, in those hours, than you’d been with any lover, Brother, Sister or Mother, in your life. Each word a connection, a moment, a place that exists in both our minds that made us smile. You admitted everything, your fears as a woman in this world, what lovers had failed to provide, what you didn't mind and, of course, what you most desired in this existence. You wanted love, to make love, the house, the family and, above all, to make those babies that were promised to you over and over again.

Then, from nowhere, you returned to that very place. We mentally explored the things said to each other, recalled each other over the following days, until one of us was brave enough to send that bubble of text. Reaching out, reaching forward, extending the chance to create another selection of moments. I enjoyed the honesty, I endeared your smile into my soul. Silly, stupidity at the highest point, but we both had dreams, had those hopes that something… existed. It’s a horrible thing, it’s a turn of fate, when the years vanish before us and we’re left with limited choices and chances. Fate, on the other hand, does work in mysterious ways and never, ever, plays by the rules you want.

We met, again, then again, exclaiming the values, the wants, the desires, that we’d wished that we’d have been brave enough to mention in past lives. We looked at each other in the way that the lovers were meant to view. Passion, desire, that wanton feeling, the bodies getting closer and closer as the minds connect. There was also some soul involved but there would be time for that at a later date. Right then, in those precious seconds of frail bonding, we had our hearts, minds and bodies to think about. Soul mates be damned as brain and bed mates had to make an appearance first.

Then, like that magic created each day within this very world, with the same said rain pounding down onto the roof of a small little room, we did what came natural. No music, all sounds banned, just emotion. Every single little motion that had been burning within, hidden away for year upon year, exploded over the both of us as we finally let go. Free, no bounds, yet, holding us back. We simply couldn't understand why we’d never held another in the fashion that we did on that night, over the days, the months, the years and seconds.

The natural order evolved into our lives. We held hands, we often escaped to new places, exploring, still realising that we had a lifetime of memories to exchange, to explore and enjoy. We created a life, the two of us. Then another. The two became four. The years flew away with ease, the many laughs sometimes arriving to tears, but that was life. We stayed strong as we’d bonded strong and, above all things no matter the storm or danger, we carried on holding hands. I never raised a hand to you, you never raised your voice to mine, which kept that respect forever.

I'm here now, beside you, nearing the end, the journey of our lives and loves. You were, you are, will always be, the love of my entire life. I never wanted to escape you. We never left each other alone. Now, as I've said, we've reached the later years of life. I love and adore you. I need and miss you often. I cannot let go, will never let go.

Thank you, from the bottom of my very heart, for being you. For being there, on that day, when the rain fell into our lives and our hearts fell into each other. You are and will always be, my everything.

Monday, 19 February 2018


The door slammed, the sound sending her two centimetres into the air with the fright. She had no idea what she was doing, why she was really here, but this was something that she had to do. She’d selected the appropriate outfit, dressed all in black, while not avoiding her favourite shoes, which thankfully matched. This was something that she’d not actually dreamed that she’d ever entertain, but with her thoughts constantly pushing her to take action, this was exactly what she intended to do.

For far too long she’d stayed in the background, with events unfolding around her, timid, while tense, wondering if she’d ever put that first foot forward. No, of course not, that wasn’t her personality at all. A wall flower, a hesitant follower of all things, all the while wishing to be something more. Her destiny, above all, was within her grasp and that was why she was here, right now, doing all of this.
It must have taken two weeks of constant mental juggling, the ever fighting thoughts threatening to spiral out of control, but no more. She was taking control, moving forward, even if it meant breaking into someone’s house. It wasn't difficult, with the person in question hardly taking security seriously, so this should be easy.

Approaching the inner door, after somehow slamming the entrance, she turned the handle as slowly as she could and, as the inches crept into view, she noticed the Rhodesian Ridge-back turn its head. Towards her. With a bark, quicker than she could actually act, the dog bounded from the floor towards the door with a growl. She quickly closed the door, her mind ablaze with running, escaping, but she’d not come this far to give up so easily.

Opening her black handbag, strewn across her shoulder, she flicked various items around before finding what she needed. Holding the lip gloss in her left hand she unscrewed with the right. It cost a mild fortune but would hopefully be worth it. Behind the door she could hear the dog barking, the growling menace with raised hair. With a gentle hand she opened the door, ever so slowly, holding the gloss, open, tempting the dog to take a lick of the unknowing treat. A sigh of relief escaped as the bait was taken and the door opened that little bit further. 

Stroking gently, a new found friend, she stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Across from her she found a chew toy, throwing it into the nearest room, with one more obstacle taken care of. To her left she glanced into a large front room, surrounded by windows and possibly the largest sofa she’d seen. To her right, another large room, with another sofa, nearly an echo of the other room albeit with a dog throwing around a toy. In front, of course, sat the main hallway and staircase. Putting the gloss away, into her bag, she made a mental note to throw it away at a later date as she advanced.

With each step carefully placed she moved up the stairs, just in case the slamming door, or barking dog, didn't wake anyone. She was, after all, wearing a scarf around most of her face but she still wanted advance warning if she had to run. Heart beating, adrenaline running, she was pretty confident that no-one was home. Just yet. Reaching the top she surmised that the main bedroom would be to the rear and so ignored the room to the left and carried on forward. 

If she had time, if this were a different location or situation, she might even take time to take in the lush paintings. Whomever had designed this house had taken their time but, when all was said and done, she wasn't here for that sort of thing. This was serious. This was happening right now.

Reaching the end of the upstairs hallway she pushed the ajar door, moving it forward with a fingertip. This was it, where she’d find what she’d been looking for. Answers, to many questions, resolutions, to the over thinking mind. As she took one step into the dark room, moving from the ambient light behind her, she heard the dog, which she’d left playing downstairs, bark and then she heard what she’d hoped that she wouldn't. Or, at least, this soon. The door, downstairs, opened and then closed. The echo hit her ears and the panic started. She wasn't prepared, not even close to being ready, but this moment would have to do. “Now or never,” she whispered to herself and her inner demons. Removing the scarf, throwing it into the void in front of her, she stepped behind the door into the dark that calmly welcomed her.

Footsteps, moving closer, increased her heartbeat. It seemed that her own heart threatened to send her spiralling but she calmed herself, took stock of the situation, knowing that the consequences needed to be damned. Her choice, her actions and her resolution. A few seconds moved forward and, as she froze, for the briefest moment, a figure appeared to her side with their back facing her. The figure, standing still, stood there probably wondering why the front gate was slightly open. Her mind shouted at her to move and, with a brave fleeting moment, she forced her limitations aside and embraced the demon sitting on her shoulder. 

Pushing the door as hard as she could, with the room descending to darkness as it closed, she stepped forward and, as he turned, she spoke, “It’s me,” she said, softly, hoping that he’d quickly come to terms with someone suddenly being in his house. A second quickly vanished as she felt his arms wrap themselves around her, the warm kiss appearing against her lips from the darkness. Lifting her she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting his warmth embrace her, as the kisses became deeper, tasting her, ensuring that any doubt moved from her thoughts. 

The last lingering murmurs fell from her mind, the previous messages he’d sent fading into the past. The long nights alone, those days glancing across the room, wondering what he’d be like, how he’d feel, were about to end. Finally. She’d been brave, she’d been bold, she’d finally become the woman that took a chance. She’d smile, if he’d give her lips a chance to do something other than kiss, but the smiling could come later. Right now, it was time to feel free. It was time to commit the crime of letting go.