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SugarMama's (sugarmama34 on UKA) UKArchive
63 Archived submissions found.
Title
Bitter-Sweet (posted on: 23-05-14)
it will never end...

Every year this date comes around, filled with bitter sweet memories, and the true sense of how cruel life is. Every year on this day tears spill and my heart twists more, breaks and splinters. Every year the pain is so much unbearable than the year before and every day of every year for the last sixteen years I'm reminded how tragically you were taken away.... and every day of every year I miss you, Ben.
Archived comments for Bitter-Sweet
Andrea on 23-05-2014
Bitter-Sweet
Lovely to see you Sugar - how is your enormous brood and dogs?

Such a sad, painful poem...

Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 23-05-2014
Bitter-Sweet
WoW! The pain and love just spill across the screen. There's nothing else to say.
Mike

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 23-05-2014
Bitter-Sweet
Hi Lis,
Another two years under your belt of this incredible loss. A mother's love will never fade, not in a hundred.
I am sure he is always with you.
Alison xxx

ps Have you missed out a word here?
Every year the pain is so much (more) unbearable

Author's Reply:

e-griff on 24-05-2014
Bitter-Sweet
I remember.

Good to see you here again.

Author's Reply:

Elfstone on 24-05-2014
Bitter-Sweet
Clearly a cry from the heart, but from the purely poetic point of view, I think it would benefit from a little alteration. May I suggest that you put this phrase "filled with bitter sweet memories," on a separate line? Alison has already pointed out the missing word; personally I would have "Every year the pain is more unbearable ", but of course it is very much your choice. Regards, Elfstone.

Author's Reply:


Immersed Masquarade (posted on: 20-05-13)
15 years! It never leaves.

From the outside I look the same, Rimmel, high cheekbones, Peachy, Max factor lips, a friendly smile And liquid, Gothic eyes, which hide a fatality Of silent screams And relentless tears. My masquerade. But I'm no longer me On the inside. An empty space Cannibalised by grief It deepens every day Despair delivers Me to the dark side To prolong my agony Test my strength And take the piss out of my suffering. The past slithers Three steps behind, Never far away To reveal its distorted Smoky images and Twisted flames of rage That for the last fifteen years Have left me with a slab of black marble with an oval photo of still immortality and an immersable fear of the chiselled mould you created. Terror installed, in a graphic nightmare. You never leave.
Archived comments for Immersed Masquarade
Shywolf on 21-05-2013
Immersed Masquarade
I find a 'quickie' with a stranger helps whenever I get to feeling that way. That and Glenfiddich. Sometimes both. Would you like to try it out this Saturday?

Shywolf x

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 21-05-2013
Immersed Masquarade
Hi Lis.
Great to read you again! I almost missed you...that's what happens when you get posted so far down and there are lots of other posts I should know, I thought I was stuck...anyway, I digress ๐Ÿ˜‰
the first stanza speaks of a certain time I can relate to with the references to Max factor and Rimmel...oh those days!...
then it switches to what lurks beneath in the middle bit...hard, cruel and painful...

The last incredible stanza gets off to a agonizing start..
The past slithers
Three steps behind,

the words 'slithers' is so terribly perfect for a dark curse that seems to follow one about...
because I have read your previous works like 'Siren child' which affects me to this day, I am aware what you are writing about and the wording is just so terribly painful to read.
Another very moving poem from you that leaves me lost for words.

Alison xx

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 23-05-2013
Immersed Masquarade
Very sad stuff, Lis. Lovely to see you back and posting again, though. I've missed you ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:

anth2014ed on 04-09-2013
Immersed Masquarade
sorry this is not a comment, but could you provide permission for work to go in the Anth (see forums and FP)

Author's Reply:


Wimberry Mountain (posted on: 27-08-12)
just a small slice of my life. Would like critique please. Apologies for not returning any replies to comments made on my last submission and for not commenting on others work this weekend, but have been busy and it's taken me until now (4.45am) to finish this. I will, however, be playing catch up

I stared at the eyes that were staring back at me through the small pane of glass. Only that and a few others pieces and a door separated us. ''Mam, what's that?'' I asked, pointing to the corner of the makeshift kitchen. ''Oh my god! It's rat.'' ''It looks as big as a cat,'' I said, continuing to stare. ''Yes, it's a mountain rat. Don't look, shut your eyes,'' said mam. I nodded, but stood transfixed to the rats gaze. ''Dad...can you come here, please?'' Mam shouted to Gramps. My grandfather came in from the next room and the sound of the television drifted in through the open door. ''What's the matter?'' He asked. Mam pointed at the window. ''Ahh, that's a big one,'' he said, grabbing a sweeping brush. He pushed it by the pane of glass, but the rat didn't move, then he unlocked the door and walked up the concrete steps. While we watched from inside the kitchen, the rat shifted slightly and turned to look at what the noise was. Gramps had got to the top of the steps, his voice penetrating through the glass, but I couldn't understand what he said. The rat froze for a few seconds before scurrying into next doors back garden. ''That bugger won't be back for a while, and I'll make sure we don't have any more unexpected visitors.'' ''What will you do?'' I asked. He tapped the side of his nose twice. ''You'll have to wait and see,'' he said with a smile. I smiled back showing off my small, white milk teeth and wondered what he meant. Mam looked to where the rat had been and shivered. ''I will never get used to those things, they go right through me. Did you see the length of his tail?'' ''Yes.'' Nan replied. They're horrible, dirty creatures.'' ''Tell you what, why don't you take Lisa out and I will get the rat problem sorted by the time you get back.'' Nan looked at mam, who nodded. ''Okay, we'll do that,'' Nan replied. An hour later mam gingerly walked up the concrete steps. She looked over to the corner of the greenhouse, but there was nothing there. ''Dad scared it away girl, stop fretting.'' Nan said and shook her head. We walked single file up the narrow concrete path that lay between the greenhouse and the runner beans. I could smell the earthiness of the leaves and the soil, mixed with the week old aroma of cow dung. I had found most of it and pointed it out for gramps, who then put it in a bucket and carried it home. Nan opened the green wooded gate and I climbed three more steep concrete steps and stepped straight onto the mountain. The fresh air smelt sweet from the surrounding buttercups and daisies. The crickets clicked between the blades of grass. ''Mam, how do they make that noise?'' ''They rub their legs together to talk to each other because they can't speak like we can.'' ''Oh, that's clever,'' ''Yes, try and see if you can see one and watch how it makes the noise,'' Mam replied. I crouched and listened to the cricket sound. When I thought I knew where it was coming from I parted the grass and looked carefully along the stem. There it was, rubbing its legs together, making a strange clicking sound. I watched it for a few seconds before it jumped and disappeared. Mam and nan had walked on slowly and I caught them up. The grass came up to the top of my white socks, just below my knees and the velvet blades tickled my skin. We walked along the dry, muddy path and I kicked a few stray stones and watched them bounce and ricochet in different directions. ''Can we go to the park, please?'' I asked, pointing to the swings and see-saw that were visible just above us. ''Maybe later, if it's not too late, but we have to get things for our tea first,'' Nan said with a smile. ''Okay,'' I replied and skipped off in front of them, hearing their soft chatter behind me. The wind cooled us down from the June sunshine and I watched the purple heather sway back and fore. It looked like they were dancing. I looked behind me, but I could no longer see the dark green gate or the triangle top of the greenhouse. ''Let's have a rest at the white rock,'' said Mam. ''Yes, I could do with sitting down for ten minutes,'' replied Nan, slightly out of breath. ''Not much further. We're nearly there,'' said Mam, pointing at a large silhouette ahead. The huge rock looked white from a distance, but up close it was a light grey. Its surface soft to touch with what looked like pin holes in places. It stood almost as tall as mam and nan. They sat down on the grass and took the sandwiches and bottle of squash out of a bag. I leant against the rock; I loved the smoothness of it against my skin and as I ate the small triangle sandwich I felt the warmth of the stone from the sun seep through my t-shirt. After the short snack I sat in the middle of them and looked across into the small Welsh mining town below. The people looked like ants and the cars looked like my Tonka toys. ''We better get a move on or we won't be having any tea tonight,'' said nan. ''Yes, and I have to work tonight,'' mum replied. We walked a little further on the dusty path, all holding hands and I was in the middle. I stared at the old wooden building, its red paint faded. ''What's in there?'' I asked. ''Oh, I don't know if I can tell you. Can you keep a secret?'' Nan replied. ''Yes, I promise I won't tell, cross my heart.'' I said, making a cross sign on my chest. ''Well in there is a huge hen, but you mustn't say a word to anyone.'' ''I won't. What's the hen's name?'' I asked. ''Her name is Henrietta.'' ''Oh that's lovely. Have you ever seen her?'' ''Yes.'' Nan replied. ''What does she look like? '' ''She has big brown feathers and big brown eyes.'' ''Can we go and see her, please?'' ''No, we're not allowed,'' replied nan. ''Oh, couldn't we take a little peek?'' ''No because the farmer will be cross with me because I've told you. It has to be our secret.'' ''Okay nan, I won't tell.'' ''Good girl,'' said nan smiling at me, her glasses resting on her nose. We followed the narrow paths up the mountain in single file. Amongst the ferns and heather that were dotted around were smaller bushes that had tiny purple berries on them. They looked so yummy. ''There you go love, pick only the best ones and see how many you can get in this,'' Nan said, handing me a plastic container. ''Thank you,'' I replied and ran to the nearest bush. I inspected the fruits before I picked them, as long as they had no marks on them or any holes they were fine to pick. Before long the bottom of the container couldn't be seen and purple juices had splattered the sides making pretty patterns. I went over to the third bush. ''Stay close to us, don't go too far away,'' Mam called. ''I won't.'' I smiled to myself this was the best bush yet, there were loads of berries on it and they were all big and juicy. The branches were bending from the weight. I started from the top and worked my way down. My container was already half full and my fingers had purple stains on them. By the time I reached the bottom of the bush there was hardly any room left for any more berries. I skipped over to mam and nan. ''Are these enough,'' I asked. ''Wow, look how many you've got,'' mam said smiling. Nan looked at my container. ''We should have enough to make two pies.'' I grinned, that meant more baking tonight. Mam glanced at her watch. ''We better start getting back. I only have three hours before I start work.'' We walked back down the mountain in single file and past the white rock. I kicked the stones that were scattered across the dusty path as I skipped ahead and towards the old wooden shed. I stopped suddenly and listened and turned to mam and nan. ''What's that sound?'' They listened for a few seconds. ''Oh that,'' said nan ''That's Henrietta squawking, she's probably letting the farmer know that it's time for her tea.'' ''Can we give her some berries?'' I asked. ''No, hens don't eat berries, they eat corn. If Henrietta ate berries she'd be ill,'' replied Mam. ''Oh,'' I said, feeling disappointed that I wouldn't be able to see the huge hen. I stared at the red barn house. ''Bye Henrietta. I hope you enjoy your corn.'' Mam and nan shared a smile. I picked daisies along the way and tried to make daisy chains with what I had. The necklace I had imagined became a bracelet, but I didn't mind. It still looked nice. The green gate and the top of the greenhouse became a small spec in the distance, as did the park. I held my container full of berries tight to my chest. If I spilled any Nan wouldn't have a lot to put in the pie for tea. ''Mam, can I go on the swings, please?'' ''Not today. I have to get to work soon. We'll go tomorrow. If we don't get home soon we're not going to have Wimberry pie.'' ''Okay,'' I replied, walking a little faster. I could smell the cow dung as we reached the gate. None of us liked it, except for gramps runner-beans, they seemed to have grown in the last week. I carefully climbed down the steps and hurried past the coal shed that gramps had built. I felt glad the door was shut, it was dark inside and sometimes a little droplet of light would highlight the spiders that lived in there. I didn't like them, but I loved the greenhouse attached to it. I glanced through the glass as I walked past. The cucumbers were bigger and the tomatoes were changing from green to red; they must like the same food as the runner-beans. ''I hope you got enough fruit for tea,'' said Gramps with a smile. ''All this hard work has made me hungry.'' ''What have you been doing?'' I asked. ''I've made sure that we don't have any more rat visitors.'' ''How?'' I replied. ''I'll show you later,'' he said. Mam and nan had a cup of tea, and mam smoked a cigarette with hers. ''Do you want a bath before you go to work? I can light the fire and fill the tin bath up if you do,'' asked my nan. ''No thanks, its okay. I'll take the jug and bowl upstairs. You start making tea.'' Nan got the ingredients ready and put them in a bowl. ''You mix it altogether and I'll wash the wimberries,'' she said. I did as I was told and waited at the table. Then she mixed it a little more, scattered some flour onto the wooden rolling pin, and a little on the table and rolled the ball shape dough flat. She picked it up and put it in a white enamel dish and cut the excess dough off with a knife. ''Scoop the berries on top of the pastry for me, while I make the top for the pie.'' I nodded eagerly and filled the pie half way, then nan put the pastry on top of the pie and sliced it twice with small cuts. We repeated the same thing one more time, then nan went out into the kitchen and put the pies in the oven. ''So what work did you do while we were gone,'' asked nan. ''Come with me and I'll show you,'' Gramps replied. We followed him up the steep steps that lead us to the side of the greenhouse. ''Take look,'' he said. Nan walked across the concrete and looked. ''Oh that should stop the little beggers.'' ''Yes, I've done the same in the outside toilet. I'm sure one was trying to get in after you left.'' Gramps showed me the inside the toilet and by the large pipe on the bottom there had been a slight gap, but now it had been filled with something, but I couldn't make out what it was as the light was poor in the evenings. ''I've put some concrete there and put in broken glass too, so that should stop them.'' ''Why will it stop them?'' I asked. ''They won't walk over broken glass because they'll cut themselves.'' ''I wouldn't walk over it either,'' I replied. ''Neither would I,'' said Gramps smiling. ''Now let's wash our hands ready for tea.''
Archived comments for Wimberry Mountain
Texasgreg on 27-08-2012
Wimberry Mountain
Really nice slice of life! Had to look up wimberries and found that they're kinda like but not really like blueberries. Still trying to make sense of it. Here's a link fer other yankees who may wanna look it up.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bilberry

Second sentence was a bit confusing to me but I suffer from insomnia and have been up since very early this morning...is now, well, the next day and must stay up to get to work. Arg!

Yes, I liked it much Lis...
Photobucket.
Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 27-08-2012
Wimberry Mountain
When I was a kid I used to go and stay with my auntie in Worcestershire, and pick bilberries and blackberries in the Lickey Hills. Then she'd make pies or a blackberry fool, Happy days!

Lovely slice of life, Sugar.

Author's Reply:

niece on 27-08-2012
Wimberry Mountain
There's no doubt you've put both your heart and soul into this piece of writing, Lisa...was lovely to imagine all the beautiful scenes. Enjoyed reading every bit of this...

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:

amman on 29-08-2012
Wimberry Mountain
Hi Lis. Nicely written and interesting memoir from your childhood. I like the authentic way you have largely used the child's voice in the telling. So appropriate that wise old Gramps sorted out the rodent dilemma. We used to pick hazel nuts and blueberries on the lower slopes of the black mountains in S. Wales.
Regards.

Author's Reply:

CVaughan on 29-08-2012
Wimberry Mountain
Good work. The title sounds like a great title for a Disney film potentially, maybe that's just me. Rats, yuck can imagine the impression made, don't have to imagine your telling is redolent with that genuine quality of bio' experience so well told.

Author's Reply:


Two's Company (posted on: 24-08-12)
Another Erotica piece, it's the first story I ever wrote in this genre a few years ago, long before the hype of 50 Shades of Grey came out. I've added a little more detail to this and it's a little more explicit than it was before. Please don't read if easily offended or you do not like the genre.

My heartbeat soared and felt it beating so hard I thought it was trying to escape from my body, as I slid the black and white, silk chemise over my bare skin. The smooth, softness caressed the contours of my body. I glanced in the mirror and ironed out the ripples of material with my hands, before observing the fine lines underneath my eyes. I swallowed hard as I applied a thin layer of foundation upon pale, ivory skin, and then gave my eyes a splash of bronze-coloured eye shadow. I continued with what is usually my morning ritual by artificial light in the bathroom as the late evening approached. The large glass of vodka and orange beckoned my lips toward it and I took a generous swig. I studied my hands; they were as still as a corpse, but inside my body trembled with invisible vibrations. Why the hell am I doing this? I asked myself repeatedly. The answers came swiftly, but it felt too late to back out now. I twisted a thick strand of my long, auburn hair around my index finger. I should never have agreed. Fear flickered in the mirror image of my green eyes; I blinked quickly and looked away. After one last, large mouthful of alcohol, which warmed the back of my throat and gave me a small spurt of courage, I gingerly went downstairs. It was now or never, I kept telling myself with false uncertainty. I stood by the lounge door, my hand almost touching the brass handle, I hesitated, listening to the voices that floated around inside the room, then turned on my heels; my bare feet sinking softly into the thickness of the carpet and walked briskly to the kitchen. I took a tall, tumbler glass from the cupboard and poured a large measure of vodka with a hint of orange. I drank half of it in one go and my thoughts ricochet in my head. Should I go ahead with things or face the consequences? Neither appealed to me nor did my husband's continual 'I told you so' jibes. The last couple of months I had become suspicious he may be seeing someone. Our sex life had gone completely downhill and he never wanted to touch me, he turned over at every time I got into bed. Now out of the blue he wanted me, but of course there was a catch. What the hell had possessed me to say yes? To try and win his affections, show him how much I love him? No, possibly a rare night fuelled with passion and too many Jack Daniels. He reminded me of my actions gloatingly the day after and I squirmed and blushed with embarrassment. I drank the vodka like milk to give me the courage I needed to go through with it, but also hoping I would pass out and have a good excuse the next day. I let fate make up its mind and poured another generous amount of vodka and coloured it with a small quantity of orange juice. I knocked it back in one go this time as fantasy images took over. An eerie shiver crept down my spine and I shuddered, I couldn't go through with it – no way. I struggled to put things into perspective. My eyes showed me there were two glasses but inwardly I knew there was only one present and grabbed for the nearest stem. The thoughts hammered away as I poured my fourth glass and took another swig. A hand slipped around my waist and my head swirled in slow motion, tingles prickled my skin all over as it continued to slide over my satin chemise in slow, seductive waves. Soft lips caressed my shoulders sending a sea of goose bumps across my neck. The straps were slid gently of my shoulders and felt my chemise fall to my feet. Fingers stroked my bare flesh, exploring every inch of my body. My nipples became erect, as a hand glided gently over my breast. I arched my back in pure pleasure and groaned as the other hand slid over my stomach toward my inner thighs. Curious fingers probed my inner parts eagerly, making me moist and my breath spouted in raspy gasps. I threw my head back and let the pleasure take over. What ever had got into my husband, it had been worth the wait, but then somehow it felt different – more relaxed, even sensuous. I groaned loudly as fingers probed deeper inside me. The hands turned my body round and I felt a warm breath on my skin as the tongue slid over my groin and teased my vulva with slow strokes. ''Started without me huh! I wondered where you'd got to, come and join us,'' said a male of voice. I turned my head quickly, only to see my husband standing grotesquely naked in the doorway, his stomach protruding like a blown up beach ball and a can of lager in his hand. I glanced down and seen a woman, with electric blue eyes and long raven hair, smiling at me, her expression as dazed as mine. ''You think I came here for you?'' she laughed. ''You can watch, but you can't touch.'' ''Fuck you.'' ''No, thanks. I'm fucking your wife. Go and shag your own bitch.'' He snorted in disgust and slammed the door. Her fingers pushed deeper inside memaking me wetter and I moaned in pleasure. She brushed her body against mine, our breasts touching and she kissed me; her lips moist against mine. Something told me to stop it, to push her away, but I couldn't and we moaned simultaneously. Steve left the day after, suitcases in hand with many swear words following him down the path and obscenities spat at me with enough venom to kill next doors cat. I smiled and watched him as he swaggered through the wooden gate, still muttering under his breath. He kicked a can and it clattered off down the road in front of him. Six months later I saw him amongst the Christmas crowd. I found my suspicions had been right, he'd been seeing someone while we were married. No wonder our sex life had been non-existent, he'd been shagging someone else instead of me. ''Alright'' he said solemnly with a slight nod. ''I'm great, thanks. ''Good,'' he said, looking around to see if I was with anyone. I could read him like a newspaper. ''Is anything wrong?'' ''Nah, all fine,'' he said with a lopsided grin. ''So are you still with Adam?'' I asked. His smile disintegrated instantly. ''No, we finished when our divorce papers came through.'' ''Oh, right.'' ''Hey beautiful, I got us these tonight, what d'you think?'' I felt my bum cheek squeezed and smiled. ''Yeah, they're great,'' I said looking at the champagne bottles. I glanced back at Steve; his face looked as if it had been slapped hard with a wet tea-towel. ''I'm getting engaged.'' I flashed my topaz ring at him. ''Congrats,'' he said sickly. ''Thank you.'' ''Hey Steve, thanks for introducing us,'' interrupted Rosanna. ''If you hadn't had the idea for the foursome and been shagging Adam, we'd never have met.'' She smiled sarcastically. ''What goes around, comes around, doesn't it?'' she smirked. ''Come on, babe,'' she said holding my hand and we made our way through the crowds.
Archived comments for Two's Company
Corin on 24-08-2012
Twos Company
A good twist in the story, though I did find the dialogue a bit confusing at times and had to reread a couple of times to be sure who was talking to who. In the end I was wondering what it was that Steve had that made her love him and marry him in the first place? Also I wonder whether you should reveal Steve's possible infidelity so early in the story. If she put the blame for the deteriorating sex life upon herself it would add add to the twist I think when she finds out he is having a relationship with Adam. I presume the whole thing is a set up by Adam and Steve not realising that Roseanne knows about them.

The line:-

โ€œNo, thanks. Iโ€™m fucking your wife. Go and shag your own bitch.โ€

Was confusing to me. Is Roseanne referring to Adam or another woman in the menage?

If Adam then:-

โ€œNo, thanks. Iโ€™m fucking your wife. Go and shag your own stud.โ€ might be better?

A technical point:-

I glanced down and seen a woman.

Should be:-

I glanced down and saw a woman.

A good job there is lots of cold water in our shower:-)

David






Author's Reply:

niece on 25-08-2012
Twos Company
You're on a roll, Lis...:) Good one with the perfect twist in the tail ๐Ÿ™‚

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 25-08-2012
Twos Company
Great twist, Sugar, didn't see that one coming!

Author's Reply:

Texasgreg on 25-08-2012
Twos Company
Hehe...she said "twist in the tail". What do you expect when ya set me up to read this stuff all by my lonesome, lol.
Yer putting out, (pun not intended, but noticed), some steamy stuff, Lis.
Photobucket

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:

Hekkus on 29-03-2013
Twos Company
A well written story about shifting orientation. And I thought the description of the husband "grotesquely naked in the doorway, his stomach protruding like a blown up beach ball and a can of lager in his hand" made a refreshing change from the usual erotica story guys who are always flawless demigods! This was REAL.

Author's Reply:


Sweet Delight (posted on: 20-08-12)
As the caption suggests...Erotica, and not for the faint hearted or the easily offended. This is an old piece of mine that I wrote a few years ago...long before 50 Shades of Grey came along! Would like critique on this please...if you can handle it after reading lol. I'm thinking of dabbling on something along these lines in the near future.

We spoke for a couple of hours last night. Whispers and dirty talk down our mobile's, that's when he had the idea. I wasn't sure about it if I'm completely honest, but he said it would be fun – he'd make it a night to remember. I felt guilty for lying to my family. I rarely ever left them unless it was absolutely necessary – usually career and money orientated. Part of me wanted to go, the other half didn't. What if I was seen? What excuses could I make? I was scared of being found out, but was it worth the risk. It took me all of a few seconds to make up my mind. I stood outside the plush hotel, this was the one. The one he'd given me directions to by txt that very morning, after I dropped the kids off at school and told my husband I loved him, only twenty minutes before. It said 'see you there, sexy'. xx My hand shook as I took one last drag of my cigarette before I opened the glass doors and walked in. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I had never done this before, ever, but I was excited to meet him nonetheless. I checked in, picked up the keys for the 'peacock suite' and made my way to the bar. There were only a few people, mainly couples or so they seemed, scattered around the nearby tables. After ordering a drink I sat down, took my jacket off and made myself comfortable at a table on the far side. The neat Southern Comfort slid warmly down the back of my throat. After being there for only ten minutes a large hand brushed across the back of my neck then slipped to my shoulders. Goose bumps covered my arms. I turned to face him. ''Would you like another?'' He asked, smiling. ''I'd love one, thank you,'' I replied, looking into his light blue 'fuck me' eyes. On his return we made small talk, but not much. We both knew what the other wanted. No time like the present. He put his hand underneath the table and his fingers gently slid over my black stockings. I sensed his arousal as he eagerly felt the softness coating my slender legs. He skimmed over their lace tops and my bare skin until he reached my inner thighs. I parted my legs slowly. The edges of my crotchless knickers were already damp as he rubbed my clit. My pussy tingled and pulsed and I tried not to squirm too much on the seat as not to bring attention to ourselves. I wondered if anyone did see us, would they say anything or be too embarrassed. Part of me didn't care. Once the pleasure took over, nothing else mattered. One finger…two fingers thrust inside me; deeper and deeper until my juices flowed, I groaned quietly. My hand slid across his trousers, until it reached his crotch; his bulge throbbed with excitement. Within seconds it grew to almost bursting point. ''I want to fuck you now,'' he whispered in my ear. ''Let's go,'' I gasped, giving his cock one last squeeze. We hurried out of the bar and had to stop ourselves from sprinting to the lift, which was empty. Once inside he pushed me against the wall. Adrenaline and lust pumped through my body. At that moment I wanted him to fuck me, right there and then. He kissed me and our tongues entwined, licking at each other frantically. Our breathing deepened as our bodies pressed tightly together and I felt his cock grow harder beneath his trousers as he rubbed it against my covered crotch. His hands swept over my back and down towards my arse, which he gripped for several seconds before releasing. He inched my dress up and stopped when my crotchless knickers were revealed. I slid my leg up and down the side of his a couple of times, then let it rest on his hips. I wanted him to take me now! I couldn't stand a second rush of frustration. I needed…wanted to feel his cock inside me. It had been a while since I'd felt this horny. My sex life was practically non-existent and I missed the intimacy and fulfillment that I'd once had with my husband. The birth of our children had put paid to that a long time ago. I wanted to feel loved again, sexy and once more in control as a woman should, whether in lust or love. His soft lips kissed my neck then my shoulder blades as he moved his hand to my now very moist pussy. 'TING' the bell rang. The lift came to a standstill and the doors began to open, much to my dismay and annoyance. My lover left my dress fall back into place as I slid my leg back down his. An elderly couple got in and the look of disgust on the woman's face was apparent. The four of us stood in awkward silence for the next couple of minutes. ''Third Floor'' said the recorded voice. We held each others hand and walked briskly out. ''Youngsters these days don't know how to behave in public, they're a disgrace. What is this world coming to?'' muttered the old woman. We had barely got into the room before we started to strip each others clothes off. A trail of discarded garments adorned the plush cream carpet. We fell onto the bed kissing each other passionately. Our fingertips hungrily ran over the contours of each others skin. My lover slid himself on top of me, cupping my breasts in each hand as he did so. His tongue flicked over my pink nipples in turn, making them as large and as hard as toothpaste tube tops. I writhed and arched my back, pushing my breast further into his mouth. He sucked it more and squeezed my other breast firmly. I let out a groan of pure pleasure. The more he continued with his seduction, the more I wanted him, in fact I couldn't get enough and it wasn't coming as quick as I needed it to. I wanted everything he would do to me all at once and I mean all of it. Stuff the waiting; just give it to me now! The very thought of what he would do to me made me hornier than ever. He moved off my breasts and his lips and tongue teased my skin, past my navel until it got to the inside of my thighs. I waited only a second before he licked my clitoris, hungrily tasting the juices that he'd beckoned only moments earlier. My breathing went from slightly heavy to short pants and I could contain myself no longer. ''Finger me,'' I gasped. ''For fucks sake, finger me.'' My wish was his command and he did exactly as he was told. Slowly at first his two fingers probed inside me and his pace quickened. I felt the wetness within me leave and cover his fingers as he entered me again and again, harder - faster. I cry out as I orgasm and sigh with, relief, but it leaves me wanting more. I have to have more, just give me all you got. In the lamplight I can see his cock, hard and erect. I hold it and move my hand up and down in a slow rhythm. He moans as each one pushes his foreskin over the tip of his cock. ''Suck me, suck me now,'' he said, holding a handful of my long black hair and pulling me closer him. I oblige and taste his wet excitement. He moves my head up and down and my tongue slips and slides over his shaft, and I caress his balls; shifting my hand from one to the other. He pushes my head further down onto his cock and its tip nears the back of my throat. The more I take it, the harder his cock gets and I sense his need to cum. He withdraws from my mouth. ''I don't want to cum yet. I have more planned for you later,'' he said, running his fingers through my hair. ''But first I have a surprise for you.'' ''A surprise, what surprise?'' I asked. ''Close your eyes, you'll find out soon.'' My eyes are shut. The bed springs twang with release as he gets up. I'm curious now about the surprise he has for me. What can it be I wonder? Maybe it's something to wear. Is he going to tie me up? Handcuff me to the bed? What is it? A zip opens and closes in the background and I can only think it's his overnight bag that my surprise has been kept secretly hidden away from me in. ''No peaking,'' he said. ''I won't,'' I replied, wondering what the hell he's up too. ''Well, just to make sure you can put this on,'' he said grinning. I open my eyes and draped over his hands is a blindfold. I stare at him for a minute, stuck for words. ''Are you serious?'' is all I can muster. He nods. ''Yes, you want your surprise don't you?'' ''Well, yeah, but…'' ''Then put it on.'' His eyes reassure me and I give in. He wraps the blindfold around my head and cover my eyes. Even if I wanted a sneak preview of what was going to happen next, I couldn't. The silk material was too thick to shed any light on the situation. I couldn't see a thing through it. Once the blindfold had been tied, he laid me gently back on the bed and I waited… Something cold and sticky lands on my stomach and I flinch. It's running down my sides when I feel his hot breath on my skin. His tongue laps at the sticky substance that he's poured towards my groin. I love the way he touches me. It's sensual and god damn sexy. He makes me feel special, just like a woman should when she's being pampered. Sod having my nails or hair done every week. This is my idea of being pampered and spoilt and it feels good. He pulls my legs gently apart and pours more of whatever it is over my wet pussy. He's going down on me again. My clitoris is tingling with excitement and it's throbbing. I squirm, gasping at each lick and suck he makes. He reaches for my hand and rubs my fingers in the substance spreading it over my body like butter on toast. Then he pushes my fingers inside me and I feel the wetness coat my fingertips, he withdraws them after a couple of minutes. ''Lick your fingers for me, one at a time,'' he whispered. I did as he asked and could taste the sweetness of chocolate sauce mixed with my own juices. It only turns me on more than I already am. Another noise gets my attention, but I recognize what it is – squirty cream out of a can. He covers my breasts in it twice and licks it all off - teasing me, making my back arch and my body spasm in sweet delight. I grip the sheets as he sucks my pink bud; the tingle is like an electrical vault surging through me. How much more can I take before I loose control? Every suck intensifies and each one makes me wetter than before. I try to push him away - he's driving me nuts and I find I don't know how to deal with it, but he holds my hands and I can't move. My breath is short and sharp – panting as if I'm going to give birth at any moment. I gasp and a few more sighs follow and juices run out of me that he can't swallow. He sucks long and hard one more time and I shudder. He takes the blindfold off and I look at him through dazed eyes. My legs are shaking, but I don't care. I get up onto my knees, put my hand around the nape of his neck and pull him too me. Skin to skin we kiss, our tongues licking at each others furiously, my nails running up and down his back. I grab his cock and slowly caress his body with my lips and make my way down to his groin. I tease the top of his cock with my tongue making circles on it then going anti – clockwise. I lick the full length of his shaft until I get to his shaven balls and I suck them gently, my tongue randomly running over his flesh. He moans and grabs my hair and I make my way back to his erection and his juices that have spilled over. I take his cock in my mouth and take in his length, over and over again, harder – faster. My hand guides it as I suck. ''Oh yeah, oh yeah,'' he moans, pushing my head further onto his cock. It slides over my tongue and touches the back of my throat. I pull back, lick its tip and let it back in. I place my hands on either side of his legs and suck the top of his cock, taking only an inch of him in. ''I want to fuck you,'' he says breathlessly. I turn and go on all fours. I want him to fuck me for as long as possible. How could my life have turned out this way, not having this type of intimacy with my husband? How have we survived this long? I really don't know, but this, this is what I've longed for, hoped for and now I've got it. I don't feel an ounce of guilt, not one bit of lying to my family, at least not yet. I shiver with excitement as he enters me from behind – his cock delving into my wet pussy. I gasp at the tight feeling I get and the way he thrusts it inside me, pulling it half way out and then pushing it back inside me, harder with each thrust. My juices flow and I groan at each one. His hands move over my breasts, squeezing them and tweaking my nipples. My gasps become higher pitched and I clutch the ivory pillowcases. ''I want you to suck your juices off my cock,'' he whispered. I turn to face him and delve straight in, running my tongue down his shaft. I can taste my wetness and I like it. This feels so good. I can't remember the last time I got this dirty, this horny with anyone, but this guy makes me feel like a woman again – alive. This is fantastic, probably the best sex I've ever had…well apart from when my husband and I first met, now that was steamy! It's strange how things change. My lover makes more soft groaning noises and he pushes his cock further into my mouth, he's getting harder. I sense his needs as he strokes my hair. I feel his body stiffen, legs shake and his pleasure is released in my mouth. I swallow twice and lick my lips. He takes me in his arms and kisses me. My body tingles and I feel the rush of longing in my groin – I want him again, to feel him inside me. I wake up the next morning, my hair as disheveled as the bedding, but he's no-where in sight – his clothes and his bag gone, just like him. I'm disappointed that he didn't stay, but foolishly I thought he'd be different. Men they're all the same, well at least the ones I pick – they have what they want then fuck you, in both senses of the word. I take a shower, tidy myself up and look as presentable as I walked in last night. It's time to go back home and face reality, back to my drab life. I guess last night was as good as it will get, but I enjoyed it more than he will ever know. The reception is dotted with people arriving, some are chatting at tables etc and I wonder if any of them have been in the same situation as me and done what I have. Would they have the balls to go through with it? Who knows! I never thought I would, but I did and thinking back on last nights adventure I'm glad I did and I'd do it again. My mobile rings – it's him. ''Thanks for last night. Want to meet up another time?'' ''Yeah, sure, let me know.'' ''Oh, I will sweetheart. See you soon.'' We say our goodbyes and I check out and smile at the memories. Well it was fun while it lasted. I walk over to the car park and get in my silver Audi. ''You took your time didn't you, he said grinning. ''I've been for breakfast while I was waiting.'' ''Sorry I was tired, it was a long night,'' I replied taking off my black wig. ''Yes, guess it was. Let's get home and see the kids,'' my husband said with a smile.
Archived comments for Sweet Delight
franciman on 20-08-2012
Sweet Delight
Hi there,

It's certainly erotic. The language is frank and believable, as is the premise and the twist in the tale. 1was left with the feeling that the first part was written in haste to reach the erotica. This then didn't heighten my perceptions in the way it should have. As with all our writing, it could be leaner, less wordy? The pace was electrifying throughout, with the urgent voice convincing the reader of the building sexual excitement. The piece certainly demonstrates your ability to write in this genre. Now you need a very original vehicle on which to weave your craft. For my part the genre has a narrow range which means that it's all been said before; so you need a new way of saying it and making it meaningful.

Good luck with it - it is a great start.
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Hi Jim,

Thank you very much for your comments and for reading this piece. It's not everyone's cup of tea. It was something I decided to dabble in, after reading a friends work on here and we made a deal we would write erotica and put it on, on the same submission day to see how we both got on, and that's how this story can to be, but it's an old piece of work. I will put my editing hat on and see if I can weed some of the words out and maybe make the beginning a little longer, as I understand what you mean about rushing to get tho the erotica too quickly. Yes, so much has been done already and it is a difficult genre to write in, as you mentioned, I need a new twist and new angle to go from, which I have been trying to think of, and have been for the last few weeks now, but nothing has come to mind as yet.
Thanks you again for your greatly appreciated comments, means more to me than you know...cheers for your encouragement on this too ๐Ÿ™‚

Lis. xx

Corin on 20-08-2012
Sweet Delight
Very exciting! Cold shower time now:-) Great twist in the tail.

David

Author's Reply:
Hello David,

Thank you, glad you enjoyed it and thanks very much for reading and leaving a comment for me. Hope the cold shower worked!! ๐Ÿ˜‰

Lis. xx

Texasgreg on 21-08-2012
Sweet Delight
OMG Lis! I had already been fighting hot flashes after reading Fureya's...
Already handed one of these out, but this deserves a double whammy!
Photobucket
You made the old man blush...
Photobucket

Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Lmao Greg...you never fail to make me smile. What a sweetie you are. I've never had a double whammy, but I will enjoy this one ๐Ÿ™‚ Thanks so much for your comments. I guess it hit the spot! Sorry about the hot flushes, hope you've cooled down now. I dread to think what poor Sunky will be like if he reads it lol.

Lis. xx

Ionicus on 21-08-2012
Sweet Delight
I read this before Lis but it didn't lose its freshness; I enjoyed the repeat performance.

Luigi xx

Author's Reply:
Thank you Luigi, so glad you enjoyed the repeat performance ๐Ÿ™‚

Lis xx

Andrea on 21-08-2012
Sweet Delight
Crikey! Fetches the smelling salts!

Author's Reply:
Lol, hope the smelling salts worked! Thanks for reading and your comments ๐Ÿ™‚

Lis xx

amman on 22-08-2012
Sweet Delight
Hi Lis. I missed this the first time around. Very hot and steamy. I have to agree with Franciman; possibly better to pare it down a tad. Having said that, you write well in the genre which is all the rage at the moment. The dialogue is believable and the ending pleasantly surprising. Excuse me; got to go and lie down now!!

Author's Reply:
Hi amman.

Thank you very much for reading. I will take another look at it over the weekend and see if I can cut out some of the wordiness and maybe make the beginning a bit stronger and not so rushed, as franciman suggested. If both of you agree then there has to be something in it. Thanks, I wrote this a few years ago, before 50 Shades of Grey was even thought of! Hope the lie down did you good ๐Ÿ˜‰

Lis xx

niece on 22-08-2012
Sweet Delight
Bold and sensual, Lisa...all the best for similar writes in the future...

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Thank you niece,

so pleased that you found it bold and sensual. Thanks for reading and commenting on this piece, very much appreciated ๐Ÿ™‚

Lis xx

Weefatfella on 23-08-2012
Sweet Delight
Very honest and enjoyable. If only we had the freedom from judgement but then would that diminish the secret guilt. Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:
Thank you, pleased you liked this. Yeah, that is very true. Cheers for reading my story, very much appreciated.

Lis xx


When Worlds Collide (posted on: 17-08-12)
Too much to handle!! I would really like 'Critique' on this please ๐Ÿ™‚

The last of the Christmas decorations were packed away in the box. I stood on the step ladder and passed it to my husband Carl, who was crouched in the attic, his arms outstretched. ''Are there any more, sexy?'' He asked. ''No. That's the last one, love.'' ''Good. That's it for that for another year,'' he said and placed the box on top of several others. I stood on the landing and looked up at him. ''Yeah, let's hope 2008 will be better for us.'' He climbed down the ladder and smiled. ''Of course it will. What else can go wrong?'' I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest. ''Don't jinx us love, it's only the middle of January." ''Don't be bloody daft, will you,'' He replied, grinning down at me. ''You know how shitty our luck is, and after last year I can't cope with more bad news.'' He hugged me tight and kissed me on the top of my head. ''We'll be fine, I promise, sexy.'' His hands slipped down to my arse and he squeezed playfully. I grinned at him and hoped he was right. The holidays had gone quick. I gave Carl a long lingering kiss and he hugged me tight. ''See you later, sexy. I love you,'' he said. ''Here goes another crap day in a crap place.'' He gave me a weak smile before he walked away. He looked so sad. ''I love you too babe, see you later, take care, you'll be fine.'' I waved and watched him drive out of our street. Only another eight hours and he would be home. I looked into the eyes of our three month old daughter; she reminded me of mum. Tears welled in my eyes and I couldn't stop them from flowing. The health visitor came in and sat down on the sofa. ''It's the three month depression assessment, after a baby has been born. You probably know this form off by heart after five kids, but we have to do it,'' she said, as she passed me a form with a knowing smile. I laughed ''Yeah, but it's got to be done, hasn't it.'' She nodded. I read the questionnaire and ticked the appropriate boxes, then passed the form back to her. She read my answers and totalled up them up. ''You have more than the baby blues, but after what you have been through, it doesn't surprise me.'' ''Yeah, it's been a tough year, first the miscarriage, then mum dying three months before Stacey was born, and it's all got too much.'' The tears ran down my cheeks. ''I know and I will call every week to see you, and get you back on the right path again.'' ''Okay, thank you. I could really do with someone to talk to and get some things off my chest.'' We drank coffee and chatted for half an hour before she left. The key turned in the lock. My heart fluttered. I put the kettle on and got Carl's mug ready to make his coffee. I ran to him as he opened the door and flung my arms around his waist. He kissed me on the head. ''Hey sexy! How's your day been?'' He asked. ''You know, same old shit, just a different day. How's yours been? Any better?'' ''Still hate the place and want out. It's been okay. I've missed you.'' Later that night the house fell silent, all five children were asleep. Carl held my hand and led me to the bedroom and kissed me passionately on the lips. His hands wandered over my curves and he unbuttoned my blouse, and then pushed it over my shoulders until it slid off my arms. He unzipped my jeans, put his hand inside the back of them and pulled them down. He kissed me again and we fell onto the bed. I slipped his T-shirt over his head and he removed his trousers quicker than I could. We groaned as our bodies writhed and entwined on the sheets; his fingers exploring every part of my skin. After twelve years together he still evoked the excitement in me as much, if not more than when we had first met. My groans became gasps and my body arched at each touch and thrust, until we both moaned simultaneously. We held each other tight; our sweat sticking our skin together. I stroked his face. ''I love you so much.'' He kissed my nose and smiled. ''I love you too.'' I walked up the hill and through the large open iron gates and followed the long winding path that took me to the large Oak tree and the bench. I washed the black marble, freeing it of its autumn debris to reveal the smiling face and beautiful twinkling eyes underneath. The discoloured flowers crunched in my hands as I discarded from the pot and laid them on the grass beside me and replaced them with fresh orange flowers, her favourite colour. ''Oh mum, I miss you so much. I can't believe it has been seven months already. Where's the time gone?'' I stayed for a while, sitting on the damp grass beside her grave, but the bitterness of the March wind made it impossible to stay too long. The heat inside the house greeted me when I walked in as did the silence for a few seconds. ''Oh...umm, yeah that's fine. See you later. Bye.'' I heard Carl say. ''Hi,'' I said popping my head around the door. ''All right?'' Carl replied, slipping his mobile inside his jeans pocket. ''Yeah, went to the cemetery to see mum.'' ''Oh. Did it go okay?'' ''As well as it can, you know,'' I replied. ''Hmm...I've got to go out for a bit. I won't be long.'' ''Okay love, where are you going?'' ''To see if I can get a part for the car, it seems to be rattling a bit.'' Before I had chance to take my coat off he kissed me on the cheek and the door shut behind him. Puzzled I stared after him for a few seconds, then one of the children called me and I went straight into 'mum' mode. ''Bye, see you later,'' Carl said with a smile. ''Okay love. I'll ring you later. You seem happier going to work lately.'' ''Yeah, not so stressed with things, things are looking up.'' He kissed me on the cheek and gave me brief hug then left. As he opened the car door his mobile rang. I waved and tried to figure out who he was talking to, but the sound of the car engine starting up drowned out the conversation. I watched him turn the car around and I blew him a kiss as drove out of the street. He was still talking on the phone and didn't notice me on the doorstep. Three hours later the smell of his deodorant still lingered from the bathroom upstairs. I continued with the housework for a couple more hours, then fed and changed our daughter. I looked at the clock; Carl should be on break now, ideal time to ring him. I dialed his number, but his had the engaged tone. I did a few more jobs around the house and rang him again; still engaged. A few more hours he'd be home, I'd talk to him then. ''Hi.'' He said wearily and walked into the lounge. ''Hey babe.'' My smile fades as he walks away. Where's my kiss? I made us coffee. I hear him greet the children, making small talk with them. I took his mug into the room and he's half asleep with our son snuggled up on his lap. I didn't say a word. His phone played a tune and he woke up as if he'd never been asleep. He read the message, sent a message back and fell into oblivion. The children were in bed and two hours later Carl was almost in back in our world. ''You okay love?'' I asked. ''Yeah, just tired, it's been a long day. His phone rang again; he looked at it, ignored it and fell asleep. Three hours later it played a tune to let him know that he had a txt message. He pressed the buttons a few times and then put it in his pocket. ''I'm off to bed.'' ''Okay love, I won't be long,'' I replied. Half an hour later I joined him in bed and put my arm around him, but he turned over and shrugged me off. The letterbox clanged, three envelopes addressed to me Mrs Joanna Smitherson. I opened them. On each one they read the same, just with a different cover, Happy 30th Birthday. Two are off family members, the other off a friend. Carl has already gone to work. There's a note on the mantelpiece for me. I'll be home a little later tonight...overtime in work. I'll ring you. See you later. X I waited for the phone to ring, but the three calls weren't from my husband. I watched the clock on and off all day. The clock chimed at 6 O'clock and he still hadn't come home. An hour later he walked through the door with a bunch of flowers in his hands. He flashed a quick smile, kissed me on the cheek and gave me the flowers. ''Happy Birthday.'' ''Thank you,'' I said, smelling the flowers. I smelt their sweet scent and glanced up; Carl had walked into the lounge and greeted the children. Half an hour later his snores drifted out of the room. I drank a glass of wine on my own as I cooked. What a great birthday. Carl woke up when the signature tune to Top Gear began. Throughout the programme his mobile rang several times. ''Someone is popular again tonight, ''I said, having a large wig of wine. Carl laughed ''Yeah, just the boys from work sending jokes.'' ''How's work?'' ''Okay, you know usual crap.'' ''Oh okay...want to talk about it?'' ''Not really.'' The atmosphere felt as cold as a winter night, not like the warm July day it had been today. ''Want a glass of wine, celebrate my birthday?'' ''I'm going to bed in a min.'' ''I'll come with you.'' I wrapped my arms around him; he shrugged me off and rolled onto his side. I felt hurt and I rolled on my side. Have I done something? Has the last fifteen months of marriage and another baby taken its toll? Stupid cow, depressed and paranoid again. He's tired. Take a chill pill. Silly bitch. My mobile rang as I washed the dishes. I wiped my hands and answered. Carl's name showed up on the screen. ''Hi love, what a lovely surprise, everything okay?'' I said cheerfully. ''Umm...well, it's hard to explain, listen I'm finishing work earlier today. Something's happened. I'll tell you when I get home. I won't be long. See you in fifteen minutes.'' ''Oh okay. You're not hurt are you? You haven't had an accident in work again?'' ''No, nothing like that I'll explain everything when I get in. I'll see you soon. ''Okay love, Bye.'' ''Bye.'' Carl walked in pale and straight faced. I hugged him. ''What's wrong?'' ''There's no easy way of saying this, but I've been accused of having an affair in work.'' I'm stunned and I repeat his words in my head. ''Have you been seeing someone else?'' ''No, someone has got their wires crossed.'' ''So who are you supposed to have been having an affair with?'' ''Sasha.'' ''You mean the one who we sat by at Rose's leaving party? Stuart's wife?'' ''Yes.'' I interrogated him all day and night until my brain couldn't hold any more information. He held me tight. ''I love you. I would never hurt you,'' he said and kissed my head. I repeated all the answers he'd give me to my questions. He wouldn't lie to me, would he? It all had to be a misunderstanding, didn't it? I wanted to believe him, but the nagging doubt in my head wouldn't go away. It couldn't be true, could it? Carl took the children to school. I sat down and drank my coffee that he'd made me five minutes ago. Someone knocked on the door. I opened it. My heart sunk and fear washed over me. ''Sorry, but I need to speak to you. Your husband and my wife have been having an affair.'' ''Come in Stuart.'' ''I have the proof. This is her mobile and these are the messages.'' I looked through them. 'Hey sex on legs. I can't wait to see you. Love you baby. Carl. Xxxxx Another said Where shall we meet? you sexy bitch. xxxx Tears blurred my eyes and I could no longer read the other messages. Tears dripped down my face as I stood in the hallway. ''How long has it been going on for?'' I asked. ''Four months, I think,'' Stuart replied. The key turned in the lock and Carl stood in the doorway. He looked silently at us. I took my wedding ring off, ran at him and slammed it into his chest.
Archived comments for When Worlds Collide
sunken on 18-08-2012
When Worlds Collide
Hello Ms. Sugar. Ya know, in the back of my mind, as I read this, I kept saying to myself, 'please have a happy ending'. Some blokes don't deserve relationships with loving women. Two ickul typos, step ladder is all one word. I know this only because I looked it up. And this line 'The children were in bed and two hours later Carl was almost (in) back in our world.' Well written and thought out though, Sugary one. Keep up the damn fine work.

s
u
n
k
e
n

shoulders, toes and knees, I'm 36 degrees

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk ๐Ÿ™‚ Thank you once again for commenting on my work and for picking up on what I missed after editing this quite a few times...bloody typos. I will edit those tomorrow. Sorry for late reply, was a little hungover after the reunion Saturday lol. Thanks so much Sunky, I'll try ๐Ÿ™‚

S
u
g
a
r

back is aching after too much 'party rocking'

Texasgreg on 18-08-2012
When Worlds Collide
Aye! Got hot in here and had to go get a tall cold glass of iced tea. If I'd have waited 'till the end, wouldn't have needed it...
Such a sad ending and truly realistic, which is what I look for.
Photobucket.
Greg ๐Ÿ™‚


Author's Reply:
Hey Greg...well if this got you hot (well a certain part of it) gawd help my next submission...if you read it, I would get the cold shower running ready lol. You'll know what I mean when you see the latest submission lol.
Yes, it is sad. Thank you I'm glad that it came through as realistic, wasn't sure if it would or not to be honest, so thanks so much for your much appreciated comments and thoughts.

Lis xx

niece on 23-08-2012
When Worlds Collide
I loved the way you set the background...a grieving new mom...an otherwise happy family...the change in the husband's attitude...they merge perfectly making a great read...if it was too much to handle, then you've handled it extremely well ๐Ÿ™‚

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Hello neice,

thank you very much for your comments, I'm really pleased that you liked the plot and how things changed with the husband's attitude towards his wife. Thanks so much for reading. Glad it worked for you ๐Ÿ™‚

Lis xx


The Shadow Man (posted on: 13-08-12)
was it real or just her imagination?

I have a gift that I can't exchange or refund. I didn't want it, nor did I need it, but how could I give it away when it had not been wrapped up and I had not been given it personally by anyone. I didn't know I had it until one winter's night in 1987. I counted in a whisper and placed my hand on the light switch...''Ten'' I switched it off, ran for the safety of my bed and slid under the blankets, my heart pounded. Fifteen years old and still scared of the dark. An hour and a half later I heard a stray dog barking outside and the sound of the kettle whistling on the cooker. Every night was the same, wide awake for two to three hours before sleep hit me. I turned away from the dull orange glow that came through the curtains from the lamp outside and peeked around the room. Only the shadows of the furniture resided in the corners. I took one last look, just to be sure. Yeah, they were all still where they should be and nothing was where it shouldn't be. I pulled the blankets up to my neck, but a strong feeling told me that I wasn't alone. I looked gingerly to the left of me and told myself over and over again that there would be nothing there. My whole body froze. By the edge of my bed stood a man, his trilby hat cocked to the side and a large coat shaped his shoulders. He didn't speak, only stared at me, but his face had no features. I threw the blankets over my head and stayed there for a couple of minutes. My heart felt like it would break through my rib cage. Fear had me trapped, there was no escape. I peeked back out, expecting the apparition to have gone, but he stood there in the same pose. I hid again, but for a longer period of time, scared to call out, scared to breathe too loud. The perspiration ran down my face and the blankets on top of me felt heavy and suffocating. I quickly pulled them off my face...he'd gone. That night it took me longer than any other night to go to sleep, too frightened to close my eyes, but it came and so did the Shadow man, a few years later.
Archived comments for The Shadow Man
niece on 13-08-2012
The Shadow Man
Is there more coming, Lisa? A very intriguing write...sometimes it is difficult to figure out what is real, what is imagined and what is between these two...

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Hi Niece, I'm not sure if I will write any more of this, I suppose I could, but I don't know if I will yet. Yes, very true, although he pops back now and again, but sometimes it's a warning of things to come. I just never know what! Thanks for your comments as always and for taking the time to read my work, much appreciated as always.

Lis. xx

amman on 14-08-2012
The Shadow Man
You have created a scary atmosphere; really draws the reader in. We all had our bogymen when we were kids and they felt so real. Good stuff.

Regards.

Author's Reply:
Thank you amman, glad you liked it...sometimes the boogiemen follow some into adulthood too!
Apologies for late reply, just catching up on comments that have been left, so busy here with the brood etc.

Lis. xx

Texasgreg on 15-08-2012
The Shadow Man
Cool! Aye, very good descriptions from the mind of a child. Me...I've always been in the dark, lol.

Good job,Lis!
Photobucket.
Greg ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Thanks Greg, some thing will always remain vivid as if it were only yesterday! I'm still in the dark too...where's that light switch? lol.

Again, apologies for late reply, as my profile says, I'm a very busy Welsh woman!!

Lis xx

newauthor on 15-08-2012
The Shadow Man
Seems to me the 'gift' you are talking about is one of the forms of Clairvoyance. I know that lots of people are very sceptical about the idea and I understand you may be reluctant to continue the story (through a lack of understanding).

Remember there was a time of fervent belief the world was flat and the sun revolved around our planet. Now the scientists tell us that in order for the universe to exist at all there has to be at least 11 dimensions - some of which have to be less than 1mm away from us.

It might sound outrageous but no one has yet been able to disprove the award winning physicist Alain Aspect's work which seems to indicate that everything we know and see is a hologram, or the neurophysicists who believe the only way the brain can store the mass of information in our brains is if it is a hologram.

Whatever the truth, and I'm open to being shown, its a damn good story and deserves to be finished!



Author's Reply:
Hello newauthor,
you hit the nail right on the head, it is about Clairevoyance. Yes, they are and I'm not sure if I will continue the story, it's quite long lol. There is more to it than the 'Shadow Man' and more than just sight, after all it's a sixth sense. Thanks for your comments, which I found really interesting to read.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting. I really do appreciate it very much.

Lis xx

Andrea on 15-08-2012
The Shadow Man
Intriguing piece, Sugar, I'd like to read more!

One small niggle (sorry) ... slid under the blankets, my heart pounded. I think it should either be '...blankets. My Heart pounded...' or 'blankets, my heart pounding...'

Author's Reply:
Thank you Andrea, I'm glad that you have enjoyed it so much that you would be interested in reading more. I will have to think about it as like I said to newauthor, it's a very long story lol.

Thank you for your suggestion, which I will take on board and read the piece over again when it's not so new in my head.

Lis xx


The Small Percentage (posted on: 13-08-12)
A sad fact of life! Would like critique please, if possible.

Fifty yards away the raucous noise emanated from behind the trees. A mish-mash of words was unidentifiable, but the voice without a doubt was unmistakable. The twenty-something woman came round the corner taking a swig out of a can of lager. Her bleached blonde hair; a mix of natural and fake hung over her shoulders like dead ferrets. She staggered on the pavement along with her old-enough-to-be-your-dad, boyfriend, who clutched her waist as tightly as a corset. Now a replica of her deceased mother, but without the crutches and not so many habit induced wrinkles. Her eyes were as dead as the corpse she'd buried only months before. The guy whispered in her ear and she laughed coarse and hard at their private joke, her face flushed red. ''All right love,'' she slurred. ''Hi,'' I replied and smiled. They walked past. Her nine year old son dragged his feet behind them. He wore false eyelashes and pink lip gloss. ''I'm going into care tomorrow,'' He said with a grin and punched the air.
Archived comments for The Small Percentage
Texasgreg on 13-08-2012
The Small Percentage
Aye! Hope that 'un was meant to piss ya off, cause I've a soft spot fer little ones. It's best that she knew her limitations as a mother, though. I am happy that the little boy went into "care", but saddened at the same time. I've seen firsthand what it consists of. There are success stories though that give me but a slice of hope. The eyelashes and lipstick are sooo sad to imagine. I can see him in his mother's room as she's explaining it to him and preparing for her night of dulled senses...knowing that he would never again see her, he begins to put on her effects. Yes, you've done well, IMO.
Photobucket
Greg

Author's Reply:
It's quite sad, especially when I have seen the mum, grow from a little girl into the woman she is now, but also know how sad her background is too, she's not had an easy life, but neither now have her children...history repeats itself. The boy was one of three children of hers and all went into care, she didn't know her limitations, they were taken off her because she fell back into the bottle as hard as she had before.
The kids father who had custody of them ended up in prison, which is why she had them back! It's a very sad, but a true story. Thank you Greg for your comments and reading this piece, much appreciated.

Lis xx

Corin on 13-08-2012
The Small Percentage
First Sugar, a couple of technical points:-

"Fifty yards away the raucous noise emanated from behind the trees"

Here I think the subject should come frst in the sentence and the adverbial phrase should come after the verb, so;
:-

"The raucous noise emanated fifty yards away from behind the trees"


And here:-

"but the voice without a doubt was unmistakable."

You have a redundancy, as 'without a doubt' and 'unmistakable' both mean the same so:


"but the voice was unmistakable."

or

"but the voice without a doubt was hers."


You paint the picture very clearly in very few words and the ending has the required shock value but I am not sure that it really rings true. I wondered if perhaps you should put the words about going into care in the mouth of the mother and then write the relief of the boy in some way.

When I was a little boy my mum used to say as we walked past Dr Barnodo's Home in East London, "If you are naughty that is where I am going to take you!" Of course I was terrified, but the boy in the story would be relieved.

David



Author's Reply:
Hello David,
thank you very much for your 'critique' on this piece, which is what I had hoped for and it has helped me ๐Ÿ™‚
I think what you have said does sound better, apart from changing the ending. I will keep that as it is as this is based on a true story and it more or less happened this way, I've just put two different days and observations into one and the her son did tell me he was going into care and looked pleased and excited...makes you think when a child is that happy to get away from his mum, it's also very sad, but knowing the background, it's not surprising and all three kids will hopefully be better of and get the care and attention they need.

My mum alsway told me she'd put me into care too if I didn't behave...it worked for a while ๐Ÿ™‚

Thanks very much once again for your valued opinion.

Lis. xx

niece on 13-08-2012
The Small Percentage
Lisa, short but hard-hitting...you've said so much in such a few words...revealed three characters and could have as well told us their whole story...fab...

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Thanks very much Niece, so pleased that you have liked this and it comes across as hard-hitting. This is sadly based on a true story, well two stories that I have made into a short piece. All three children are now in care and hopefully they will become responsible adults with the love and guidance they need from a different family.

Lis xx

cooky on 13-08-2012
The Small Percentage
Hard hitting writing Excellent descriptions. I like this a lot

Author's Reply:
Thank you so very much cooky, so glad that you liked this short piece. I really appreciate your comments and your time to read. I will be returning the comments later on everyone elses work. Kids to look after, housework and another piece of writing to do at the moment. Gotta do it while I'm on a roll lol.

Lis xx

Weefatfella on 13-08-2012
The Small Percentage
As a taxi driver for forty years this hit home to me. I see it every day. So sad. The dirty rich and predatory old man is never very far away. It's everyone else who suffers. I feel it for the wee boy but also for the Mother she is just as much a victim. So much told in such a short piece.

I liked it and enjoyed reading it Thank You.

Author's Reply:
Yeah, it is a very sad situation. The woman is a victim...I just wish this had been fictional.

Thank you for reading and commenting, very much appreciated ๐Ÿ™‚

Lis. xx

Andrea on 14-08-2012
The Small Percentage
Good stuff, Sugar. I agree with Corin's observations and also spotted a few punctuation errors, or at least things that imo could be improved.

Her bleached blonde hair; a mix of natural and fake hung over her shoulders like dead ferrets - Here I'd substitute the semi-colon for a comma, for example, and put another one after 'fake'.



Perhaps 'A mish-mash' would be better as 'The mish-mash'?



This comes across as a little clumsy She staggered on the pavement along with her old-enough-to-be-your-dad, boyfriend, - not sure what to suggest, but perhaps something like 'She staggered along the pavement with her toyboy boyfriend...'



Just suggestions of course, and a very sad, succinct tale ๐Ÿ™‚













Author's Reply:
Thank you Andrea, glad you liked this. I will go over this again when it's not so 'fresh' and will take your comments on board and see what I can do and how it sounds. I value your imput. The toyboy doesn't sound right though and the guy is over twenty years older than her, but thank you for your suggestions. Sorry for the late reply, been busy here with housework, kids and organising a school reunion on which is on Saturday, plus just finished another piece of writing ready to submit tomorrow.

Lis. xx

sunken on 15-08-2012
The Small Percentage
Asking moi to do a crit is like asking George Michael not to promote his new single at an Olympic closing ceremony. In other words, Ms. Sugary, it ain't gonna happen. All I can do is offer my congrats on an another tip top piece. It put me in mind of Jaffa Cakes. I love cakes of Jaffa, so this can only be a good thang. Well done on the nib and nom. Commiserations on the Bernard.

s
u
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k
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Author's Reply:
Lol...I love Jaffa cakes too, as do my little sugar lumps ๐Ÿ™‚ The dogs would too, but they are not allowed. Thank you Sunky Le Munk, pleased you liked this piece. Sorry for late reply, been busy here, more than normal with a school reunion that I'm organising, which is on Saturday, plus writing and kids and housework.

Sugar. xx

franciman on 15-08-2012
The Small Percentage
The moral is in the tale. The tragedy is in its telling. Evocative. descriptive and visceral as all three characters stepped straight off the page. A riveting read. Should it be old-Enough-to-be-her-father?
cheers,
Jim

Author's Reply:
Thank you very much Jim, really please that you liked this so much and cheers for the suggestion. I will alter what I have as that is what I wanted to come across, but it came out a bit wonky!! lol.

Lis xx

Texasgreg on 15-08-2012
The Small Percentage
Aye! Since everyone else is making a suggestion, here's mine:She staggered on the pavement along with her forty-something boyfriend, who clutched her waist as tightly as a corset.


Photobucket


Greg ๐Ÿ˜‰

Or...As she staggered along on the pavement, a companion more worthy of dating a woman her mother's age clutched her waist as tightly as a corset.



Author's Reply:
Hey Greg, thank you for reading and commenting and for the suggestions you made. I prefer the first one, I think, as it sounds more to what I had in mind. I appreciate your thoughts very much.
Sorry for late reply, been so busy here with my brood, housework, organising my school reunion, which is this Saturday and have just finished writing another piece of writing ready to submit for tomorrow. Once I have replied and thank everyone who has commented on my work I will be reading and commenting again.

Lis. xx

Andrea on 16-08-2012
The Small Percentage
Sorry Sugar, my mistake, didn't mean 'toyboy' ๐Ÿ™‚ Meant 'sugar daddy' although that doesn't sound right either, but you know what I mean ๐Ÿ™‚ Actually, Greg's suggestion is pretty good...

Author's Reply:
No worries Andrea, no 'sugar dady' doesn't sound right either. I might go with old-enough-to-be-her-father, as it's what I wanted to say, it just came out wonky lol. xx

Ani on 19-08-2012
The Small Percentage
Very strong little piece. little boy `going in care` is the killer. As a support worker myself, I know this does not bring any happy ending most of the time. As you said this pattern repeats itself generation after generation.
Fureya

Author's Reply:
Hello Ani. Thank you. I'm so glad that you liked this and thought that it was a strong piece. Maybe not for some children that going into care doesn't, but I think that the 3 children involved may benefit a little from it, but then who knows what damage their lives have endured and if they can get through it. It's very sad. Yes, it does, I have seen it with a couple of girls that live on the estate and the boys too, not nice, but you see them deteriorate in front of your eyes, but you can't say anything because they never listen, and they don't want help, unless they don't have enough money for the next bottle! Very sad, but very true.
Thank you once again.

Lis xx


Tears in Hell (posted on: 06-08-12)
Happy 16th Birthday!

I wonder how I have coped without you. Fourteen years of pain, That has mercilessly Chipped away at my heart Ravaging my insides Until I can't breathe. My brain eaten away By fear That took me over The edge and into a pit Of desperation And despair On more occasions Than I care to acknowledge I go back And relive the past Over and over And over again, It never lets me leave Or forget The darkness cast over us On that fateful night. All the 'what if's' Cannot bring you back to me In my arms where you belong where I crave you to be, where I need you to be where you want to be All I have now Are tears in hell And my only Comfort Is to know That one day I will be with you Once more.
Archived comments for Tears in Hell
Andrea on 06-08-2012
Tears in Hell
Lovely to see you back, Sugar, hope you're all well.

This is so sad and expressive. Every parent's worst nightmare. I can't imagine anything worse...


Author's Reply:
Hello Andrea, lovely to be back, been a while huh! Yes, all fine here thank you. Hope you are well too ๐Ÿ™‚

Thanks you for your comment, it just poured out of me on Saturday, tough day. xxx

niece on 06-08-2012
Tears in Hell
I know I've said this once, Lisa...but will say it again a million times over...this is so beautifully touching that it leaves me with a big lump in my throat...Great to see you back on UKA...

*Hugs*
Mini

Author's Reply:
Thanks so much Mini, once again for your lovely comments on this poem and for the welcome back on UKA.

So sorry for the late reply to you and the others that have commented, but I forgot to log out!! DOh.

hugs back,

Lis. xxx

Weefatfella on 06-08-2012
Tears in Hell
A prayer, well written.
I've had a heart attack which removed a protective layer from me, my emotions are right at the edge, always.

Even without that I believe this piece would have had me in tears
Thank you. Looking forward to more.

Author's Reply:
Thank you very much for your lovely words ๐Ÿ™‚
So sorry to hear about your heart attack. Hope you are in better health now.

I haven't been able to write a lot for over a year now, too much going on in my life, but hoping I can begin again now. So pleased you enjoyed this piece, even though it is sad. x

royrodel on 07-08-2012
Tears in Hell


Author's Reply:
Thanks very much for the rating, Roy. x

Texasgreg on 08-08-2012
Tears in Hell
Have been wondering whether or not to send this to my mother. I lost my older brother when he was sixteen, (murdered), and she's never been the same since. People who didn't know her before would never be able to tell as all appears normal, but a part of her is indeed missing now. Your poem sounds the way she seems to me and it's been forty years...

Greg


Author's Reply:
Hi Greg,

I had quite a shock (if shock is the right word to use) when I read your comment. I'm so, very, very sorry to hear of the loss of your brother and I hope that this didn't bring back bad memories for you.
I know what you mean, people don't realise sometimes how deep grief can be, and sometimes it can go far, far deeper than anyone can ever imagine. As my poem reads, my son has been gone fourteen years, but my grief is still very raw, and if I'm honest, it never gets any easy, in fact the more the years go by, the deeper and more painful it seems to get. Not too sure what to say about whether you should send this to your mum or not, that is entirely up to you...if you do I hope it helps her and please tell her it's from one grieving mum to another. Again, I really am so very sorry for your loss, it's not easy for the siblings either, as I know from experience myself.

Big hugs

Lis xxx

jay12 on 08-08-2012
Tears in Hell
Glad to see you're back posting.

Jay.

Author's Reply:
Thank you Jay...it's been a long time. My muse keeps going on holiday. This is the first thing I have written in a very long time. Thanks for commenting and for your much appreciated rating too.

Lis. x

sunken on 08-08-2012
Tears in Hell
I echo Jay. Good to see you subbing again sugary one. Achingly sad but beautifully penned. Well done on the nib and nom. I can't apologise enough for the Bernard. I've been trying to house train him. It's proving impossible to get him to sit on the toilet though. Ahem. Good to see you back.

s
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k
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Author's Reply:
Thanks Sunken, good to be back, but as always I'm not sure for how long as life seems to get in the way a lot, especially with our youngest boy Jake and I'm even more busy now than I was before! There just isn't enough time for everything and my writing has had to go on the back burner for a long time. Glad you liked the poem though, even though it is quite sad. Good to see you and Bernard again...I will house train him if you can get to stop chasing his tail and biting it...another trip to the vets today!!

S
u
g
a
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xx

Ionicus on 08-08-2012
Tears in Hell
Welcome back, Sugar, super mama. Hope that now everything is well.

Luigi x

Author's Reply:
Thank you Luigi...Hmm, well that remains to be seen, but you know how things go in my life!!

Lis. xx

stormwolf on 10-08-2012
Tears in Hell
Hi Lis

Great to see you back. I never forgot the first poem I read of yours addressing this terrible trgedy and to see it's now 16 years...well, as a mother I am sure the pain never really leaves. You write with raw expression and such honesty.
You sure are s super mama and super poet to boot ๐Ÿ˜‰
Alison x


Author's Reply:
Hi Alison. Thank you, it's good to be back, although not sure how long for! It's been 14 years since we lost him...a long time, but the pain never leaves. Thanks Alison, I just write how I feel. Cheers for reading my poem and leaving such a lovely comment.

Lis xxx

amman on 11-08-2012
Tears in Hell
Hello SugarMama34.
This is so touching, sad and beautifully written. A wonderful tribute.
Regards.

Author's Reply:
Hello amman,
thank you so much for your lovely comment and for taking the time to read my poem.
Lis. x

barenib on 16-08-2012
Tears in Hell
Hello from me too - I'm just catching up with posts and am also very glad to see you back. John x

Author's Reply:
Hello John ๐Ÿ™‚

Thank you very much, it's lovely to be back and to see you too.

Lis xx


No Return (posted on: 25-04-11)
Just me...think and take of it what you will. This is the article that I have had published in Ghost Voices Magazine and is on sale now in W.H. Smith until May 2011. It is one that I am very proud of for my own unique reason. I don't mind any feedback at all, negative and positive are both more than welcome.

The gift I had been given I didn't want. It wasn't your typical present wrapped with a bow. I didn't tell anyone for fear of not being believed. Now and again I would smell a faint aroma of fresh flowers when there were none around. At first I ignored it and then thought it was a coincidence, but I began to notice a pattern – death, mainly a funeral procession of people I had no link with. The thought of it petrified me and I kept quiet for a long time until I confided in two close friends and my mum who I knew I could trust.      Mum told me that she had the same 'gift' and explained she'd had it for years and hated the burden as I did, but found she had no control and neither did I. There was no choice, but to put up with it, even though it freaked me out.      As I grew older, the 'curse' as I sometimes called it, grew with me. I realised that the stronger the scent of flowers the closer the person to me would be who passed over. My intuition also became more apparent. It seemed to try and prepare me for tough times ahead, those of which I could not see or know who it would be or when, until the time came. It happened when my auntie passed over and then a few years later my nan. So I learnt to trust it and had not been wrong in the ten years that I'd had it, although I had wanted to be on many occasions.      At twenty-four I had a family of my own and lived with my fianc้ and our three small children; two girls and a boy. We had recently swapped with a woman from a two bedroom house to another to live nearer our families. The move wasn't a straight forward one and everything that could go wrong did. No sooner as I stepped in the hallway I had a bad feeling. My intuition told me something wasn't right with the house and the feeling became stronger as I stood there. I knew better from past experiences not to ignore it because when it overwhelmed me like it did then I was rarely wrong. This time it frightened me and I had the urge to get out of the house and never go back. I told my fianc้ I didn't want to live there and wanted to swap the keys back, but we couldn't because the contracts had already been signed. We had to stay no matter what.      We had been in the house for two years and the foreboding feeling had stayed with me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake it off. I hated living there and wished we had never exchanged. I even tried to get another swap and went on the council list for a three bedroom house, but nothing became available. We had bad luck from the time we set foot in the house and were plagued by misfortune from minor things to more serious.      One afternoon, several months into 1998, I stood cooking in the kitchen when something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I looked across to the stairs and jumped – someone stood watching me. The shadowy figure wore a trilby hat cocked slightly to the left and wore a large coat. He didn't move, only stared. My heart pounded in my chest and my whole body shook. I took a deep breath and began to relax. It hadn't been the first time I'd seen the shadow, over the years he'd visited me several times. I had been fifteen when he first appeared. He stood over my bed watching me without any movement in the early hours of the morning – I was terrified. After talking to mum about it she told me it was my late grandfather. I became immune to his visitations and no longer felt threatened by his presence, although I used to jump when he appeared and caught me off guard. This continued for months and he always appeared on the stairs in the same place each time. I thought it strange, but didn't take much notice then my suspicious nature got the better of me and even though I felt embarrassed I asked him out loud ''Are you trying to tell me something?'' I hoped that I would get a sign of some sort, but there was nothing. Then in early May 1998 a picture that my late Nan had owned fell off the wall for no apparent reason; the nail in the wall was solid and the string at the back of the frame still intact. I couldn't understand why or how it landed on my hallway carpet. In a conversation with my mum later that day I mentioned what had happened. She looked surprised and then said cautiously ''It usually means a death.'' It was a superstitious old wives tale, but mum believed in certain things. The meaning spooked me a little and part of me wished I hadn't said anything. My intuition told me that there might be some truth in the saying. Then something kept telling me it was nonsense. I wanted to believe the latter more because it was easier than facing up to something that scared the hell out of me.      A few days later a strong aroma of fresh flowers were unmistakeable, again there were none around. They were sickly sweet and made me feel nauseous. I cringed inside at the thought. I couldn't go through more grief, couldn't someone somewhere give me a break from anymore pain. Why me? I asked, but never got any answers.      Late May 1998 and we were having a heat wave, typical now I was four months pregnant, but I didn't really mind. I'd miscarried in the December and five months on I still grieved for the little one we lost, even though I had only been six weeks pregnant.      While our two girls aged five and three were in school I took our twenty-one month old son out on errands before the school run. Ben and I had a close bond and I loved spending time with him. My fianc้ and I had longed for a little boy and finally we got our wish. We hoped that the baby I carried would be a brother for him and his sister's.      At last after two years of hell living in the house with nothing but misfortune finally our lives seemed to be on track and getting back to normality. The relief melted away and for once I felt good after a long time fighting depression.      That night my fianc้ and I sat downstairs while the three children slept in bed; the two girls in their own room and our son in ours. We had no idea that our lives were already altering in a way that we could ever imagine possible. Silently a fire raged upstairs mercilessly taking what lay in its path. Everything we owned was destroyed; our home, our belongings, the whole lot gone within minutes. All we possessed were the clothes we stood in and the shoes on our feet, but they could be replaced over time – a child couldn't. Our baby boy Ben died in the blaze. All our attempts to save him failed. We were distraught and inconsolable. Sleep only came in brief spurts before I would wake up screaming with tears running down my cheeks. My fianc้ would hold me tight in his arms and calm me down. The next day I was exhausted and being four months pregnant also took its toll. The phone didn't stop ringing and people knocked to give their condolences asking if they could do anything for us. As grateful as I was for their support I wanted to hide and be left alone. I needed to rest, to try and get my head around things. Eventually I curled up on the chair. I could still hear voices in the background although I wasn't paying much attention to what they were saying. My eyes were closed, but as much as I tried I couldn't sleep. I stayed there none-the-less to have time to myself. As my mind drifted to another place I felt a hand on my arm – icy to the touch. Jolted back to reality I gasped and held my breath for several seconds. The hand was small – a child's. It stayed on me for several minutes and I pinched myself hard. I wasn't dreaming. Tears flowed down my cheeks. I had never felt anything like it before. Could it have been Ben came back to reassure me he was okay and to say goodbye? I'd like to think so.
Archived comments for No Return
anth2011ed on 30-04-2011
No Return
SugarMama, can you send your permission and bio for the 2011/2012 Anth pse?

- Details Here

Author's Reply:
Sorry, just seen this. No offence, but I think I will pass on the anthology. xxxx


Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 9 - Questions (posted on: 10-01-11)
Laura finds that there are too many questions without enough answers. Will she ever find out? this is part of Chapter 9 ... there will be more of this chapter to follow.

The first week of the holidays had gone quick, although they hadn't seemed to at the time. Laura thought back to the strange things that had happened. She began to wonder if it had all been her imagination. At times it felt like it might have been. Things like this don't happen in real life, but her gut instinct told her different. Why the hell would her imagination conjure up a hideous face in the bathroom or even a dead girl? It sounded bizarre; it was bizarre, but true! She had no reason to make anything up, there was no need to. So why the hell had she seen these weird images? Were they ghosts? And if they were, why did they think she was so damn special? Part of her didn't want to know. What she did know was that they were known to appear for a specific reason. That's what it had said in a book she'd read a while ago. She could ask as many questions as she wanted to, but she knew she wouldn't get the answers. The curious side of her did want to know. Who were they? Was there a connection between them? If there was, what the hell was it? The dead girl played on her mind. The news had showed her picture, which had been taken the day she had died. Lucy had been a pretty girl; pale complexion, rosy cheeks and few freckles across her nose, and a huge smile. Her hair trailed down passed her shoulders and rested almost by her elbows. The Lucy she had seen looked nothing like the pretty girl in the photograph. Although you could see it had been the same child, but now she looked ghastly white with faded freckles, her smile nonexistent and her hair wet and uncombed. Lucy's eyes had evoked a deep fear inside her; she couldn't breathe, her heart raced and beat so hard she thought it echoed through the house. Lucy stared up at her, she had bags under her eyes like a fifty year old woman would have; they were reddish black, but the fear that hid behind them was something else. That had been the reason she ran, and didn't stop; the hidden message behind the young girl's eyes; part fear, part warning. It almost felt like Lucy wanted her to help her in some way. How can you help a ghost? God, it sounded so ridiculous. If she asked anyone that question she'd probably be carted off to the same place that Freddy Thomas had been all those years ago; to a nuthouse. However much she thought and different ideas tumbled around her head, she couldn't make sense of any of it. How could she? It's not exactly the 'norm' thing to think about. Laura thought back to her dad's reaction. There had been an eerie silence for a few seconds after she'd said ''Oh my god.'' ''Do you expect me to believe you?'' He shouted. ''You're going too far now. This has to stop. Quit the attention seeking, Laura. The water on the floor was a selfish and childish act to get back at me a Siobhan. This is what we get for having you here. You're nothing but a spoilt brat. You should never have come...'' Laura felt the tears well up in her eyes. How dare he speak to her like that? She choked back the tears. ''Do you honestly think I wanted to be here with you lot? No, I didn't'' she screamed. ''I'd rather die than stay here. I hate you, your wife and her kids. This is the worst holiday of my life.'' She sobbed as the last word fell from her lips; running passed her dad and Sam and fled to the sanctuary of her bedroom. She threw herself on her bed and cried; the tears drenching her face. Her heart ached. He never wanted her; he made it clear that his new family were all that mattered to him now. She had become the past, his past, something that he didn't want anything to do with. What had she done that had been so wrong? Why didn't he want her anymore? Why didn't he love her like he loved the brats? She had always been a daddy's girl then one day he left and never came back. There were no phone calls, no txts, no emails...nothing. Why? Her mum refused to give her any real answers. Why wouldn't anyone tell her? She had the right to know. He couldn't just get away with fucking up her life. What gave him the right to think that she didn't need him? What gave him the right to leave her like he did? ''Why? Why? Why daddy? Why did you leave me? Why did you go away? Why don't you love me anymore? I love you.'' She cried into her pillow, until she felt exhausted. Her eyes could not stay open any longer, she felt herself going to that place everyone goes to before they fall asleep; semi-conscious and semi-awake. She heard the door creak open and footsteps across the wooden floor. A hand pressed on her shoulder. ''Laura, Laura, wake up I need to speak to you. It's important.'' The voice said. ''We must talk about this, before anymore heartache is caused. I'm so sorry you have had to go through this it's not your fault. Laura, please wake up.'' The hand pressed on her shoulder once more and shook her. She couldn't be bothered to wake up. Her dad would just have to wait until the morning. Right now she didn't want to speak to him; she would make him suffer, just like he had her. A taste of his own medicine would do him good. Then he would get a feel for how she had felt without him in her life, without his love, without his hugs when she felt down. A tear rolled down her cheek. Goodnight dad, she thought. Her eyes felt heavy and everything went black.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 9 - Questions
Bikerman on 11-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 9 - Questions
When I commented before, saying you should slow down, I didn't mean in the 'getting it down' - I meant in the posting, to give yourself more time for editing. There's a nice story coming through, but there's so much dead wood that needs cutting out. For instance, you've got: 'Lucy's eyes had evoked a deep fear inside her; she couldn't breathe, her heart raced and beat so hard she thought it echoed through the house. Lucy stared up at her, she had bags under her eyes like a fifty year old woman would have; they were reddish-black, but the fear that hid behind them was something else.'
Apart from this being confusing (for many reasons: the tense is wrong, then one minute you're talking about Lucy's fear, then the girl's - and finally it sounds as though the girl's fear is behind the bags), most of it is unnecessary. Why not something like: 'But it was her eyes that were truly terrifying; there was such fear in them.' Also, 'to a nuthouse' is unnecessary - it's obvious. And maybe 'a state of semi-consciousness' would be better than semi-conscious and semi-awake'. There are other things, but I'm sure you can find them yourself - just take your time! It's a nice story.

Author's Reply:
Hi Bikerman. If I'm honest, I don't always see the mistakes I make. You have picked up on quite a few things that I wouldn't have, because to me it sounds okay. I will take another look at what you have mentioned and see if I can make things clearer and sort out the part of Laura/Lucy's fear. Some things I pick up on and other hings that I probably should pick up on I don't. Not sure if it's because I just can't see the wood for the trees or if it's because my head is full of too many other things or I'm just crap. Thanks again for much for being so patient, and for taking the time to read and comment on my work. I really do appreciate it, honestly. I will try and slow down a bit, if I can and try and edit a bit more. I've just been trying to get down my thoughts and ideas as much as I possibly can before my mind goes blank again. I'm glad that you like the story, even though it does need quite a bit of work doing to it. Thanks again Bikerman. :0)

niece on 11-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 9 - Questions
I get the feeling that Laura's dad knows something...shall have to wait to read more to know that tho', right? An interesting read, Lisa...

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Mmm, maybe. You will ave to wait and see. Thank you Niece, I'm glad that you found this interesting, although it does need a good edit and things altered, which Bikerman has kindly pointed out. Thanks for reading and commenting agai on this story. I might be away soon as my laptop is playing up quite a lot and keeps switching itself off.

Lis :0) x

bluepootle on 11-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 9 - Questions
I think there are things that need fixing, but maybe you won't see them until you have finished the first draft and then can let it 'rest' for a couple of weeks. Coming back to it fresh can help. I don't tend to see my mistakes until I'm done with the first writing phase. Just another way of approaching it.

I still like the way the story is going.

Author's Reply:
Yeah, to be honest I didn't see them until Bikerman pointed them out, and I'm glad he did or I'd still be thinking my work was okay! I normally write the story down and just let things 'flow' on the paper, while my imagination is on a high and while my muse is present. Can I ask some advice, please? Would I be better in writing all the chapters down, getting my main ideas on paper and just 'go with it' and edit when the whole lot is finished? or write a chapter and edit it within a few days and do it that way? Even after editing, sometimes I still don't see mistakes, and stupid ones at that! It can get frustrating that others have to pull me up on mistakes that I genuinely keep missing.

Thanks very much. I'm glad that you lke where the story is going. Cheers for taking the time to read and comment again on my work.

bluepootle on 11-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 9 - Questions
Re how to edit - I think you learn what works best for you. If you need to go with the flow, then write the whole thing and leave it for a few weeks once you've finished the first draft before looking at it fresh. Or get someone else to read it through for you at that point as a whole book, and they'll prob have some ideas re how it could be improved.

E-Griff mentioned on a thread somewhere recently that as you keep writing you start to see more things as you're writing, and naturally tend to avoid those probs. I think that's true. It's just practice. But even so, everything needs a good edit at the end. How you choose to tackle it depends on how you find the writnig process, I think. I hope that helps.

Author's Reply:
I think I might be best just going with the flow, than editing at the moment, and just using the time that I can snatch in between kids and housework, to write as much as possible. I would like to get this book written by at least April, if I possibly can. I don't really have anyone to look over this story, so would have to pay for a proofreader (The one that I have been recommended and is reputable will cost around ยฃ300! But then it's by a professional and hey give feedback and tips on how to improve etc.

Yeah, I think I had been getting better at editing, but since Joel was born just over 7 months ago, I have not been able to write as much as I would have like to. I hink I've onl written about three pieces of work, and that was for something entirely different!

Yeah, it does help! Thank you very much Aliya.

Lis. xx

bluepootle on 11-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 9 - Questions
I know that - writing about the baby! Argh. Hang on in there.

Author's Reply:
Lol, yeah kids are very demanding, and I have 7 of them! So it can be tough going, to say the least!
I'm hanging on as much as I can :0)

Thank you for your replies and advice.

Lis. x


Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children...Continued (posted on: 07-01-11)
Laura gets more than she bargains for when she goes back home, but will anyone believe her? continued from the part that has been posted today.

Silence greeted her in the hall, and she went straight to her room. She took off her trainers, then hung the picture on the wall, and stood back to admire it. The fountain really stood out in this sketch, her favourite of them all. The colours were subtle and its pastel shades gave it a softer glow. It seemed to stand out more than the rest. Happy with it, she went over to the window to compare it to the one in the garden. A cold wet substance covered the bottom of her feet. Her first thoughts were of the brats and the prank they had played, putting porridge in her slippers. This, however, had nothing to do with them. She was standing in a puddle of water. She thought back to last night's storm. The window must be leaking; she would tell dad when he came home. She cleaned it up and went downstairs. The power had come back on; she sat down on the sofa, picked up the remote, and flicked through the channels. She caught the newsreaders summary of 'missing girl' and turned the volume up. There were other news reports on first, and after ten minutes the news report came on. ''A search began at 7, O clock yesterday evening, in the small village of Eastham, for a missing twelve year old girl, Lucy Saunders. She was last seen at 6, O clock leaving for a sleepover. When she had not arrived after an hour, her friend made several calls to her mobile, but there was no reply. The alarm was raised when Lucy's friend rang her house to ask if she had left. There are concerns about her welfare and whereabouts because of last night's severe storm. If anyone has any information, please contact Eastham police station,'' said the reporter. Laura switched the T.V off and darted back upstairs. She opened up her laptop and typed in History of Eastham; a small list of subjects came up. Remains of missing boy found. Several bones found at the lake, two weeks ago, have been identified as those of missing boy, Charlie Williams. The police believe that the evidence points to foul play, and have now charged his friend, Freddy Thomas with his murder. He is due in court on July 5th to be sentenced. The report was dated; July 1941. Laura quickly scoured through a couple of other reports, but they more or less said the same as the one she'd read until she came across another heading. Killer of Lake victim Institutionalised. Freddy Thomas, who murdered his friend, Charlie Williams, while fishing at Eastham Lake, has today been sentenced. The judge sentenced him to life in Lothgate Mental Institution. Dr Harold Passington, an experienced doctor for 30 years, confirmed that Freddy was mentally unstable and a danger to the public and should be admitted indefinitely. When taking the witness stand he said ''We have done numerous observation tests on Freddy, but they have all come back conclusive. There is no doubt in my mind that he murdered Charlie Williams.'' Freddy has always maintained his innocence, but his story of a 'monster' in the lake killed his best friend, has shown his true mental state. He was lead away screaming, still protesting his innocence. Freddy's only living relative, Irene Thomas, – his maternal grandmother, wept uncontrollably in the gallery as he was taken away. The report was dated; July 1941. Laura spent the next few hours drawing, and listening to music, until she became thirsty. She slipped her trainers back on and went downstairs. It felt chilly, but she shrugged it off and made a cup of tea to warm her up. Another hour and the others would be back home. ''Laura. Laura.'' Someone whispered near her ear. She spun round in her seat, but there was no one there. Maybe the brats had come back early and she hadn't heard them come in. If they were playing another one of their dumb tricks; they were going to be sorry. Then the voice came again. ''Laura. Laura.'' She looked all round the room, but it was empty. Then she saw a trail of water that led from the back door, and followed it through to the kitchen and back into the hall by the front door. What the hell was going on? ''L-a-u-r-a,'' said the voice again. She looked up and screamed. A young girl with long black hair, stood there, soaking wet, bare foot, wearing a yellow dress that clung to her small body. Laura yanked the front door open and ran. The Picture Box shop's light were still on, but the door was locked. Laura banged on the glass with her fist, her breathing fast and shallow. ''Hang on will you,'' Sam shouted. He looked surprised to see Laura through the glass door. ''What's wrong? You look terrible!'' Laura pushed past him. She didn't mean to be rude, but she didn't want be on her own a moment longer. He sat her down and held her hand; she was shaking from head to foot. When she got her breath back, she told him about the water soaked girl in the hall, and some of the strange events that had happened over the last few days. He sat and listened. ''I'm sorry to have nearly bashed down the door, but I didn't know where else to go.'' ''No problem. Stay here with me until your dad gets back and I'll take you home, okay?'' She nodded. ''Thank you.'' They talked for the next hour about everything and anything. She liked Sam he seemed to accept her, even if her own family didn't, and she comfortable around him. ''I best get you home. Your dad should be back by now.'' Laura nodded. When they reached the house the downstairs lights were on. Sam knocked on the door. Her father answered. He looked angry. ''Where the hell have you been? Did you make all this mess?'' ''What me...'' her voice trailed off as she looked at the water. ''Look at it,'' he shouted, leading her by her arm into the kitchen. Sam followed gingerly behind. ''Dad, I can explain. There's something weird going on here.'' ''Is this going to be another one of your stories? Like the face in the bathroom!'' ''Dad, I didn't make it up.'' ''Of course you didn't,'' he said sarcastically. ''There was this young girl with black hair, in a yellow dress with no shoes on. She kept saying my name and she was soaking wet. Please, you have to believe me.'' ''I'm sorry, but how can I? You're nothing but an attention seeker, but this is not the way to go about it or act in my house.'' ''I didn't do it. I promise.'' ''I've had enough. You can help me clean this up before Siobhan gets home.'' He turned to Sam. ''I'm sorry you had to hear that, but it needed to be said.'' Sam looked at him, not knowing what to say or do. He focused on the voice coming from the portable T.V. ''Thank you for fetching my daughter home safely.'' ''That's okay. Bye.'' ''Bye Sam,'' she said tearfully, cleaning the floor on her hands and knees. As he turned to leave the news came on. ''News just in. Lucy Saunders, the young girl who disappeared last night, has been found dead near the Lake. A post mortem will be done tomorrow morning,'' said the reporter, pausing for a second before he continued. "This is the last picture taken of Lucy on the day she disappeared." Sam, Laura and her dad, turned to watch it. A picture of Lucy flashed up on the screen; she had long black hair and wore a yellow dress. ''Oh my god,'' Laura gasped, and the room fell silent.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children...Continued
bluepootle on 08-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children...Continued
Ooh, spooky! Good stuff. Good pace, again.

I thought the dialogue didn't quite ring true towards the end. Her Dad sounded a bit too rational to be angry. But I loved the descriptions leading up to the appearance of the girl, and the voice calling her name.

Again, maybe being more exact about the websites would help that feel a bit more real.

Author's Reply:
Hi again,
glad you liked the spookiness of it and the pace is still good.

Okay, will take another look at the dad's dialogue. Maybe I can make him sound more angry. I'm pleased that the descriptions leading up to the appearance of the girl, and the voice calling her name worked for you.

I will have a good think about the websites and see what I can do. I have a couple of ideas, but don't want to overdo it.

Thanks again for your thoughts and opinions on this. It's very much appreciated.

Lis. x

Bikerman on 09-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children...Continued
Forgot to mention in the earlier comment that one minute she was selecting 'a drawing', then she was walking out with 'the painting' under her arm - which is it? And now you make it sound as though there's 'a sketch' in the garden. I know you don't mean that, but that's what it sounds like. You need to make it clear. Also, maybe it should be something like 'she realised the soles of her feet were wet' rather than 'a cold wet substance covered the bottom of her feet'. There are a few other minor things (it should be 'detained' indefinitely, not admitted; and 'led' away, but mainly I think the problem is that you're going too fast. Slow down - it doesn't matter if you don't post the next chapter for another week or so (the world will wait). It's a nice scary story and it's moving along really well, but it needs careful rereading and editing.

Author's Reply:
Hi Bikerman,
Thanks again for stopping by to read and comment on my work. It's very much appreciated. I can see your point on the 'selecting a drawing' and then 'walking out with it under her arm.' The reason why I did it was because I thought it would be better not to put too much in of her walking down the stairs...blah, blah and hen leaving the house. I will take another look at it though later and see if I can combine it without boring the reader too much. I'll also look at the 'sketch' part you mentioned and the fountain and see if I can make it clearer. Will check over the others things you mentioned too. Maybe I am going too fast, but I'm trying to write this while my muse is still around. It comes and goes when it so feels like. Since the birth of my son over seven months ago, I haven't been able to write anything at all to do with this story as I've had a block. I guess I'm trying to make up for lost time and trying to do as much as I can before I get writers block again. The story has been in my head for three years and I want to get it down on paper now.
Thanks again for your thoughts.

Lis. x

niece on 10-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children...Continued
Hi Lisa,

Read both parts of this chapter ... has me hooked ... I've not read the previous ones tho'..

Regds,
niece

Author's Reply:
Hello Neice,
long time no see! How are you? I hope that you are well.
Thank you very much. It's great to hear that you are hooked even though you have not read the other chapters of this. At least I'm getting the hook right, even if I'm screwing up on other things.
I have just submitted Chapter 9, well at least part of it, to be submitted on the site tomorrow.
Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I really do appreciate it.
Take care.
Love Lis. xx

niece on 10-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children...Continued
Yes, been off UKAuthors for a long time...blame FB for that...trying to make UKAuthors a habit once again...

Lisa, you should just let your thoughts flow...paying too much attention to details will hamper that...maybe you can take print outs( I find editing easier that way) and correct grammar, et al simultaneously...just read some amazing articles on editing, I'd printed it out a few years ago...let me see if I can find them online for you and shall PM them...never knew there were so many dos and don'ts...

Btw, I'll be going back to read the previous chapters...I have a little problem with ghost stories...never read them when I'm alone at home ๐Ÿ˜€ ...

Regds,
niece



Author's Reply:
Yes, I have too due to the birth of my son, Joel (baby number 7!) he's 7 months old now, but not had chance to write anything until before he was born on this story. We have also had some personal probs in the meantime too, which has added to things here and made my life more complicated and more chaotic than normal! It's just been impossible to write very much, only the odd thing here and there with a 500 and so word count.

I'm also on FB too, I find it a good distraction at times, when my brain cannot get to grips with writing. It gives me a place for my brain to have fun on those silly games they have.

I have been letting my thoughts flow with my writing, because I know if I stop and edit or go over my work too much I/my brain wil come to a standstill, so at the moment I'm just letting my imagination go...

Sometimes Neice, I have to be honest, but I don't see mistakes I make that others do, until they point them out! A little embarrassing at times, but I can't always help it. I'm not lazy as some probably think on here: I just don't see certain things.

That would be great if you can find the print out. Thank you. It would help a lot, hopefully. I've never been fab at grammar, commas etc, but I am trying. Oh there are too many do's and don't's, it can get quite confusing. At least for me it does, lol.

No problem at all, Neice. If you want to read them it's fine, but if not, please don't think you have too. You reading the two chapters you have and letting me know that you were hooked that far through is enough for me, honestly! That's a great compliment in itself. Thank you.

It's good to see you again. take care.
Love Lis. xx


Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children (posted on: 07-01-11)
A child is missing after the freak storm and Laura slowly begins to reveal the truth 1940's Eastham. What happened after Charlie's death? The second part has been uploaded for this on a separate page due to the word count.

The last thing Laura needed right now, was to be alone. The incident in the bathroom had really freaked her out. One thing she knew for certain, she had seen something. Her dad didn't believe her, and that hurt. He probably thought of her as a drama queen – a child longing for his attention. That part rang true; she did want his attention, but not that way. How immature did he think she was? She was fourteen, fifteen in three months, not some stroppy four year old. Outside the storm continued; rain lashed at the windows and the wind howled in severe outbursts. To occupy her mind from the earlier incident, she went on her laptop and Googled Eastham. There were pages and pages about the place, most of it to attract tourists. The usual kind of thing saying how beautiful and tranquil it was to get away to. Yeah it was that alright, because there were hardly any kids around to break the silence. After over thirty pages of the same thing, she began thinking that she would never find anything else other than tourist information. Then she typed History of Eastham in the search engine. One article heading caught her attention. Lake Mystery – One Boy Missing. Another Traumatised. A fun day of fishing turns into a tragedy on the lake for two teenage boys, Charlie Williams and Freddy Thomas, when they are caught in a freak storm. Divers have been requested to search for Charlie who is still missing. No body has been recovered yet, but several bones thought to be human remains, have been discovered. The events leading up to the mysterious disappearance are still sketchy. Freddy was found wandering in a state of shock, at Lakes Drift by local pit worker Jack Davies. When asked about the lads reaction he said ''The boy looked ghastly white and wobbly on his feet. He could barley talk at first, but managed to say 'Help me'. Then he kept repeating 'Charlie, Charlie,' and pointing at the lake. I asked him to show me, but he became hysterical, and would not go any further.'' Freddy is being looked after by his grandmother. He has been sedated due to his traumatic experience. Police are still waiting to interview him and are appealing for any witness to come forward. June 1941 ''Wow, that's freaky. I wonder if there's anything else about it on here,'' she said out loud. She carried on looking and got interested in another heading, when a huge clap of thunder roared leaving her in darkness. She sat there for a few seconds, until her eyes adjusted to the dark. The rain lashed down; it sounded like children's fingers tapping on the glass. Another rumble of thunder and lightning lit up her room for a split second. For a moment she thought she seen the hideous face again, but when the lightning lit up her room, nothing was there. ''Stupid cow,'' she said to herself and took a deep breath. ''It's your imagination.'' The door to the attic room creaked and slowly opened. Laura glanced at the door, and stood rooted to the spot; while she reasoned with herself it's all in her mind. ''Are you okay in there? Thought you might need a light. All the power is out,'' said her dad's voice. Her body relaxed and she let out a long breath. ''Yeah, I'm fine.'' Her dad walked in and handed her a couple of camping lights. ''Here you go. These should help.'' ''Thanks,'' she said giving a weak smile. The atmosphere felt tense and awkward. She really didn't want to speak to him. ''About earlier, I...'' ''Don't worry. It's okay. I understand. Must have been me...mixture of light and shadows.'' ''''Probably, but... Oh nevermind.'' ''Okay. I'll say goodnight then. Thanks for the lamps,'' she said, turning one on. ''Goodnight.'' She didn't look at him. He closed the door and left. She listened to his footsteps until they faded away and then got into bed. Tomorrow, when the power came back on, she would look up more news on Charlie and Freddy, and find what had become of them. Laura had been up for three hours, and the power still wasn't on. It interrupted the normal daily routine like you wouldn't believe. The brats were getting under everyone's feet because their morning intake of T.V. had been deprived by the power of Mother Nature. Dad had a meeting and had cut himself several times shaving with a normal razor, instead of the electric one he normally used. Siobhan couldn't straighten her hair and it wouldn't go the way she wanted it too. She wasn't happy. It made Laura feel privileged to have a mass of curls. The morning mayhem sent her back upstairs to her room. There would be no point staying in today – nothing worked. She walked over to her array of drawings and chose one. Today she would go back to the Picture Box. She could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak – see Sam, and try and find out off his nan what else that had happened around there. ''I've got my key. I'm going out for a while. Bye.'' She didn't bother waiting for a reply and slammed the door. With her painting tucked under her arm, she set off for the village. She would call in the chippy on the way there. Dad and Siobhan wouldn't be back until mid evening, and she'd be starving by then. The storm seemed to have cleared the air; it wasn't quite as humid and sticky as it had been a couple of days ago. A good thing, she'd have melted and been a bucket of sweat by the time she got there. She looked at her watch and picked up pace, the chippy closed at 2, O' clock and it was 1.50pm already. As she got nearer there seemed to be some activity going on further ahead, but she was too far away to see. It probably had something to do with the storm. Maybe they were trying to fix some cables, or there might have been an accident – loose tiles or something. Four more minutes and the chip shop would be closing; she just made it by the skin of her teeth and slipped in through the door. ''...another one. Just like that. Gone!'' ''Hang on a minute Jul.'' The owner interrupted. ''Hello lovely. What can I get you today?'' The customer turned and nodded at Laura, who smiled back in return. ''Pie, chips and gravy, please.'' ''Coming right up.'' ''Well it doesn't make sense, does it?'' the customer said, resuming the conversation. ''It's frightening.'' ''There you go my lovely,'' said the owner, giving Laura her tray. ''Five years ago, before that,'' continued the woman. Laura paid and left. The small gathering of people she had seen earlier were still there, and so were a couple of police cars. She watched for a few seconds. The police were talking to them all one by one. After she'd finished her meal, she strolled over to the Picture Box. The door creaked and the small bell above rang. ''I'll be with you in a minute,'' said Sam's voice from the back. ''Okay,'' Laura replied, while she clutched her painting in her arms, and looked around the shop. ''Oh, it's you! Hello again,'' he said, smiling. ''Can I help you?'' ''Hi. Yeah. I'm looking for a nice frame for this,'' she said, holding up the picture. ''Wow, that's really nice,'' he said studying it. ''Did you draw it?'' ''Thank you. Yeah, I did. It's for my art exam.'' ''Nice. What type of frame would you like?'' ''Silver, please.'' Sam showed her a variety of silver frames, and she picked the one she wanted. He put the picture in it, and she paid. ''Where's your nan today?'' ''She's not very well.'' ''Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she gets better soon.'' ''Thanks.'' ''Do you know what's going on in the village?'' ''Umm...some kid is missing. She went over to a friend's house last night, just before the storm hit.'' ''Oh no! I hope they find her soon.'' Sam nodded. ''From what I've read, children have gone missing from this area before.'' He smiled. ''Don't believe all you read,'' he said, concentrating on a frame he was making up. ''So it's not true then?'' ''I'd say more exaggerated. The press always add a little more drama, that's how they sell papers.'' ''Hmm. Maybe.'' They said their goodbyes and Laura made her way back home. This is continued and uploaded on a separate page because of the word count.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children
bluepootle on 08-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children
Hi hon, I like the pace of this. I'll admit I've not rest the previous chapters. I think you're motoring along nicely though, looking at this bit.

I think sometimes you overexplain, and it takes some of the interest away from the reader, like - "To occupy her mind from the earlier incident, she went on her laptop and Googled Eastham. " I don't think you need to state it's to occupy her mind. It's just slowing it down.

Maybe the website could feel a bit more real too? Giving a few more details of what kind of website it is could help to bring that bit to life a little more.

Hope that helps.

Author's Reply:
Hi Aliya,
thanks very much for stopping by to read and comment on this. It's much appreciated. Thanks okay, this has been an on going story, with lots of breaks in between. Okay will edit the 'Occupy her mind' bit out. Thanks also for mentioning the website. I will have a good think about that and see what I can add to it in brief to try and make it more real, possibly give it a name and say who the reporter is?
Yes, it does help, a lot! Thanks again very much for your thoughts on this.

Lis. x

Bikerman on 09-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children
The rain 'sounded like children's fingers tapping on the glass' - I liked that. But I agree with bluepootle, it would benefit from being pared down. (Typo: '..he could 'barely' talk..'

Author's Reply:
Hello Bikerman,
Thanks too for taking the time to read and comment on this, it's very much appreciated. I'm glad that you liked the line 'sounded like children's fingers tapping on the glass.' I will take a look for the typo you mentioned. Cheers for pointing that out. I have to admit, I don't always see things that others do, so when people mention things it's a blessing because what I think is okay in the story, others with 'fresh eyes' and having a different perspective see that it's not, which really helps me a lot. Thanks again for reading and commenting on my work.

Lis. x

pdemitchell on 09-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 8 - Storm Children
Hi Sugar Mama - you have to watch out for poor grammar (howling in outbursts? To occupy her mind from the earlier incident? Etc) and repetition (cut out the boring tourist guide stuff for example and check for overuse of single words like freak): so a quick edit would be:

Laura did not want to be on her own after the incident in the bathroom. One thing she knew for certain: she had seen something โ€“ and it was freaking her out. Her own father had refused to believe her, and that had hurt. Heโ€™d called her a drama queen and accused her of being an attention-seeking child! Well, that part rang true; she did want his attention, but not that way. How immature did he think she was? She was fourteen, fifteen in three months - not some stroppy four-year-old!
Outside the storm raged; heavy rain lashed at the windows and the wind howled about the eaves. Bored and in search of distraction, she set up her laptop and Googled Eastham. There were pages and pages of rubbish for tourists: beautiful this and tranquil blah but an entry about the history of Eastham suddenly caught her attention: (put the article in italics)

Hope this helpsโ€ฆ. Get editing! Mitch


Author's Reply:
Hey Mitch!
When I write I don't always see things that are wrong with my work ie; grammar, commas and sometimes over writing, etc. Even if I leave it a while I don't always see the mistakes with a 'fresh eye'. I'm not exactly great with things like that, so things I think are okay and I've done well with, others will pick up on, until they do I honestly think I've done well with what I've written.

Thanks very much for giving me the example too, it's much appreciated and I will keep it in mind when I go over the chapter again. Yes, it helps, it helps me a lot. Thank you again.

Lis. x


Grimeon's Pass - Framed - Chapter 7 (posted on: 03-01-11)
Sorry I've not been around in a while, due to the birth of my son Joel over 7 months ago. This is the first time I have been able to write anything to do with Grimeon's Pass since just before his birth. I've added a little bit more to this since I posted and have tweaked the parts that I thought jarred and didn't come across too well. My reason is because I need to try and reach my target of 50k - 80k for a Y.A novel. Laura heads off into Eastham to get away from the brats singing and piano lessons. A quirky shop with an eccentric old lady throws her curiosity into turmoil and conjours up more questions that need answers.

The last three days had been awesome, not a brat in sight. Since the apology Laura hadn't seen them. They had squirmed in their shoes, almost choking on the word 'sorry.' She had enjoyed every moment and they knew it, she grinned at the thought as she walked down the oak stairs. Laura looked out the window and felt her heart plummet to her stomach; grey clouds hovered across the sky. Not the perfect day to do sketching. ''Good Morning. What do you have planned today?'' asked Siobhan, looking at Laura's empty arms that normally clutched her sketchbook. ''I thought I'd do some reading in the library.'' ''Oh, I'm afraid the girls are having piano and singing lessons for the best part of the day.'' ''Great! I guess I'll have to find something else to do then.'' ''I suppose you will. Why don't you take a look around Eastham? Maybe explore a bit. You may find something else that you can sketch.'' ''Doesn't look as if I have much choice, does it.'' Siobhan ignored the remark.''There's a quaint little shop that sells frames and other things, Picture Box, I think it's called.'' She paused briefly. ''I've also heard that the lake is beautiful this time of year.'' Laura didn't like her tone so made no attempt to reply. She smiled weakly before walking away, she'd rather have screamed in her face, but she kept a grip. What was up with that woman? She really knew how to crawl under her skin. She was sure that Siobhan did it on purpose. Bitch. The door slammed purposely as Laura pulled it hard behind her. She heard the sound echo behind her inside the house and she grinned. It drowned out the tuneless piano playing that had already started. God, the brats thought they were so damn good. She could play 'Chopsticks' better with her eyes shut. It would be so cool to get out of the house. The thought of listening to them killing any tune would drive her nuts. The make shift, dirt path was narrow along the side of the road; she looked over her shoulder for oncoming cars and stepped up her pace. After ten minutes she reached a pavement, she could already see an outline of a few shops. The name Picture Box had a good ring to it, maybe they would have different types of water features she could copy and draw, like waterfalls or streams. The lake sounded inviting to, maybe she could draw it! Eastham looked like something out of a gardener's paradise. Flowers trailed from hanging baskets on every lamppost. More of them adorned the roundabout, surrounding the huge willow tree in the middle. There were flowers everywhere. Imagine coming here for a holiday and suffering with hay fever, if you didn't take all the lotions and potions you had to you'd be screwed!! Not that Eastham would be holiday material, from what she had seen on the drive through it didn't really offer a lot. Pensioners would like it though for its tranquillity and for its picturesque views. Laura called into the first shop she came to, Fisherman's Delight, the local chip shop. The smell of freshly cooked chips beckoned her. She'd slept through breakfast that morning and her stomach grumbled loudly. She ordered pie, chips and gravy and the wall outside gave her a place to sit and eat her dinner. The food was lush, much different from Siobhan's cooking, although it was good you couldn't beat the chippie. As she ate the last few mouthfuls of her meal, she had the strange feeling that she was being watched. Laura looked one way then the other, but no one was in sight. She threw the last few chips and it's tray into the bin and walked several yards to a quaint shop with flaking orange paint on old wooden frames. Its large windows crammed with framed pictures and trinket boxes, and other paraphernalia dotted in between. A bell sounded as she pushed open the door, which squeaked like something out of a horror movie. It smelt old and musty. ''Oh hello sweetie, come in, come in,'' a white haired lady called out. Laura smiled at the chained specs that sat on the end of her nose. She looked like a librarian – maybe she had been at one time. ''Hi.'' ''Can I help you at all? Is there anything in particular you're looking for, young lady?'' ''Umm...yes. Have you got any pictures to do with water? I'm looking for things to draw for an art exam.'' The old woman put her hand to her mouth and thought for several seconds. ''I might have one or two things sweetie, let me go and have a look in the back a minute. Go sit down and help yourself to one of those,'' she replied pointing to a large jar of lollies on the counter. ''I'll be back in two shakes.'' ''Thank you. I hope it's no trouble.'' ''No, not at all, sweetie. I'll get some pictures to show you in a jiffy.'' Within a few minutes the old lady came back, several prints in her hand. ''I knew I had some somewhere,'' she said passing them to Laura. ''Thanks.'' ''Are they the sort of things you were looking for, sweetie?'' she asked peering over dark blue spectacles. ''Yes, they are. Thank you. I particularly like this one,'' she said pointing at the largest print of all. ''Oh, yes that's the lake ... beautiful isn't it?'' ''It's lush. It's still here though isn't it? ''Yes, sweetie, but it's not safe to go exploring.'' ''Why?'' ''Well because, sweetie...'' The bell rang. ''Hey Nan! You okay there,'' said a boys voice. ''I'm fine. I have a customer.'' ''Sorry,'' he replied, walking round the corner almost bumping into his Nan. Laura looked up and smiled. The boy looked at least 6ft tall, he towered above them both. He stared at her, but did not smile back. His black fringe almost hid his eyes and Laura couldn't make out his expression. ''Sorry what were you saying about the lake?'' ''Oh yes, it's not safe, sweetie.'' ''Why not?'' Laura glanced over at the Grandson, who rolled his eyes. ''People have died, sweetie – children have perished there...'' ''Nan, You shouldn't do this. It's not right.'' ''She has a right to know if she's here.'' ''Know what?'' Laura asked, her curiosity almost bursting. ''It's nothing, honest. She has a thing to do with the lake, it goes way back.'' ''It doesn't Sam, what about the other children?'' ''Nan, please not now. You'll scare whatever customers you have left away. Come on time for your insulin shots.'' The Grandmother threw a look of disgust at Sam.'' ''Would you like the picture?'' ''Yes please.'' ''Great that's ฃ3 then please.'' Laura rummaged in her pocket and took out the exact amount. ''Thanks,'' he replied and prompted his Nan towards the counter. ''Is it true, about the children?'' ''It's only old wives tales.'' He smiled and ushered Laura out, before locking the door and changing the 'open' sign to 'closed'. She stood watching through the glass door as Sam walked away, and disappeared into the back of the shop. The conversation played over in her head. Surely kids couldn't just disappear could they? People were bound to put two and two together. Now she came to think of it she hadn't seen that many children around or heard them, except for the brats. That's if you could call them children. She thought the words devils spawn more appropriate. She turned away from the shop window and glanced around. There were still a few more shops dotted around the village that she could take a look at. Maybe she could find out a little bit more about the missing children. An old red brick building dominated the other side of the road. A large clock face stared down from just underneath the guttering. It had seen better days; black arms rusty and redundant. She crossed over and read a piece of paper stuck on the inside of a small window. It had the opening and closing times for the library printed on it. This would be a great place to start and get information, and maybe some clues of what Eastham might be hiding. She pulled open the heavy door and walked in. The librarian looked up and the keys on the computer stopped clicking. ''I'm sorry, but I'm about to close. Is there anything in particular you're looking for?'' ''Yeah, I'm looking for any history about Eastham.'' ''Oh, I see...umm we do have some, but I think they're out.'' She paused and looked down. The keys clicked furiously for a few seconds. ''Yes, I'm afraid all the books we have on Eastham's history are out at the moment. Sorry.'' ''That's okay. Thanks.'' Damn, just her luck she'd have to have a look on the internet later and see what the search engines would come up with. One way or another she would find out what happened to the children of Eastham. Laura had been in the library for only two minutes. Back outside the cold air stung her bare arms and she shivered. She decided that now would be the time to go back. With any luck the brats had finished wailing and pressing the wrong keys on the piano. As she hurried past the Picture Box shop she noticed Sam – the owner's grandson locking the door. He glanced up, his face expressionless. ''Better hurry. There's another storm brewing,'' he called, and then rattled the door to make sure it was locked. ''Do you live far from here?'' ''No, about ten minutes away.'' ''Okay, come on I'll walk you home. It's not safe to be on your own in a storm.'' ''I'll be fine. I'm a big girl.'' She could have sworn he gave a slight smile. In the shop she couldn't see him properly, but now she could. He combed his fingers through his long, black fringe, moving it slightly to the left. Laura stared for a few seconds struck dumb by his bright blue eyes. ''Yeah sure! Put this on until I get you home,'' he said taking his black jacket off and putting it on her shoulders. ''Thanks,'' she replied, gratefully putting her arms in the much-to-long sleeves. ''What's your name and where's home?'' ''Laura and I'm staying at the old Victorian house in the narrow lane.'' ''The fountain house. That's what everyone knows it as round here. Cool place.'' ''Yeah, I guess.'' ''Who you staying with?'' ''My dad, his wife and her two brats.'' ''Not so cool then huh!'' ''No. I hate it.'' Laura expected another question from him, but instead there followed a few minutes silence. She could feel the cold penetrating through the jacket and their pace quickened. She opened her mouth to ask about the strange goings on of the small village, when he stopped. ''There you go. Home safe and sound,'' he said. Laura looked up and could see the lights on in the huge house through the branches. She paused by the gate. ''Thanks for lending me your jacket and walking me home.'' ''No problem.'' Droplets of rain splattered on her bare arms and she brushed them into her skin. Sam slipped his arms inside his jacket sleeves and pulled the collar up. ''Go on, get inside before the storm hits. Catch you soon.'' ''Okay,'' she said watching him run back where they had come from. Within seconds he'd gone. The rain began to get heavier and she went from jogging to a full sprint until she reached the door. Her wet T-shirt clung to her small frame and her พ length jeans were already soaked through on the tops of her legs. Laura ran a shower, stripped off her wet clothes and pulled the shower panel into place. She was glad to feel the warm spray of water against her skin. The night had turned so cold and dark quickly. I almost felt like winter again. Sometimes she wished she could live abroad, like one of the many countries that her mum had visited over the years as an air stewardess. No more cold, wet British weather, only warm sun. She shut her eyes and thought of hot days lying on the beach as she shampooed her strawberry blonde curls. A loud clash of thunder made her jump and open her eyes – she screamed. A face peered at her from behind the frosted glass. The steam obscured the features, but she could make out long white hair. It put its hands on the glass and she stepped further back in the shower and cried. Her back tightly up against the wet tiles. Evil laughter filled the bathroom until more thunder drowned it out. Soapy water stung her eyes and she hurriedly wiped it away – The face had gone. She stood trembling for a few seconds then grabbed her towel, wrapped it around her and fled the room. Siobhan, dad and the two brats were sat in the kitchen when she burst into the room. They all looked surprised. ''I guess you think it's funny do you? Scaring me like that with a stupid mask on,'' she seethed looking directly at the brats. ''What are you talking about, Laura?'' asked her dad. ''Just now, seconds ago in the bathroom one of those put a mask on and pressed their face up against the shower screen,'' she said pointing at the two girls, while holding her towel up with the other. ''Now hang on a minute. They couldn't have because they have been sat here for the last hour with us,'' replied Siobhan, standing up. Laura glanced over at her dad, wanting him to stick up for her and not her step mum. ''She's right, they haven't left the room for at least an hour,'' he said. At that moment she felt her anger slip into confusion and embarrassment. ''It must have been! Who else could it be? I didn't imagine it,'' she yelled. The brats had that smug look she loathed over their faces. ''Calm down. Maybe you thought you seen something. It could have been an image caused by the light, steam or even a shadow!'' ''Dad, something was there. I mean it.'' ''This is an old house, and the light can play tricks with your eyes,'' he replied. ''I know what I seen and it wasn't a trick of the light!'' Their faces said it all. They didn't believe her. ''Maybe you seen a ghost,'' chorused the brats as she walked towards the door. Laura glanced back at them and glared. They grinned as they stared back at her, their black eyes gleaming.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Framed - Chapter 7
e-griff on 03-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Framed - Chapter 7
back again, Mama? Good. I shall red this later .... Happy New!

Author's Reply:
Yeah, back again Griff!! I've written a few things, but not much over the last few months due to Joel being born and being really busy here. I've also had a block for some time to do with this story too, hopefully it will stay away for a while now so I can write a few more chapters at least!! Happpy New Year to you too!
Hope if you get round to reading it today, you'll like it and not find too many if any mistakes :0) xx

e-griff on 03-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Framed - Chapter 7
hey Mama. doin' good. The only thing I'd say is watch out for places where you've put a comma which should be a full stop. Not a big issue ... but I want you to be 'perfick'

Author's Reply:
Thanks Griff. Okay will take another look later. Have to go for a few hours to sort the kids out. I was just about to go when I had an email come through. Thanks again for taking a look and commenting. It's very much appreciated. I finished this at 6am, but deleted what I had previously wrote and started all over again.

Since you commented I've added a bit extra to this chapter because I need the word count for each chapter to be at least 2,500 long to try and reach my target of 50k -80k for a Y.A Novel. I've read it over, found some mistakes and parts where it jarred, so have corrected them. If you have time and you don't mind, could you take a look at the new part I've added please and let me know what you think.





Sugar. x

Bikerman on 05-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Framed - Chapter 7
Hmm, I'm afraid I'm not as charitable as e-griff, so maybe I should apologize in advance. The first thing that struck me was that the protagonist (especially in the first part) comes across as an extremely unpleasant, querulous character, and I wasn't sure if this was intentional. (If it is intentional, fine; if it's not, she needs to be made nicer.) Secondly, a minor point, but - it's more the LACK of commas that bothered me: (it should be '..looking for (comma) young lady..' '..not at all (comma) sweetie' etc). You do occasionally put them in, but mostly you don't. But the main problem is seen in the paragraph beginning ' Laura called into the first shop..' Apart from the strange sentence 'The food was lush..' (which I couldn't fathom), one of the following sentences is hopelessly confused: '..but no one was in sight, at least not that she could see' (well, she wouldn't, would she, if they weren't in sight) 'unless they were hiding' (what?). There are one or two other things that need attention, but I don't want to get too pernickety. Basically, it just needs a thorough rereading, during which I'm sure you'll be able to correct the problems. Good luck.

Author's Reply:
Hello Bikerman.
No apology needed. I'd rather you tell it how it is. Yes, Laura's character is meant to come across that way in certain parts. In brief she is a teenager - hormones and all that. Her father hasn't bothered with her for two years and he has not explained why. Plus she has had to stay with him, his wife and her two girls who she hates and they hate her. There are a couple of other things too, but won't go into them.
Thanks for picking up on my lack of commas. I'm not great on that front, but I try. I will have a look later on and see if I can correct some of the missing ones. The word lush is a Welsh term, it means nice. Oops, forgot to take that part out about the no one in sight. That's what I get for staying up til 6am to write. This is a first draft. I have gone over it a couple of times, and will carry on going over it due course. Thanks for your input and good luck, much appreciated. :0)

Lis. xx

e-griff on 05-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Framed - Chapter 7
he-he, Bikerman - don't you watch Gavin and Stacey ('Lush') Mama comes from not far away from Barry (but quite different of course).

will have a good look later today at the last part, Mama.

ps - Bikerman - me, 'charitable'? God, what a damning comment ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Hello Griff,
it doesn't look like he does watch Gavin and Stacey, but there again, neither do I. Oh the shame of it ;0)

Thanks Griff. the last part that I wrote I stayed up until around 6am to do. It's the only time I get any peace! Maybe I should stop staying up so late to write!

Bikerman on 05-01-2011
Grimeons Pass - Framed - Chapter 7
Slight misunderstanding: I didn't mean that I didn't understand the word lush, I meant the actual sentence didn't make sense to me. I tried to rewrite it, but I couldn't get it right either. Whatever else, for writing until 6am, you deserve full marks for dedication.

Author's Reply:
I'm a bit miffed at how the sentence didn't make sense to you, but will have another look at it when I'm more awake and when I have peace. I'll also wait and see if anyone else picks up on it. Oh well, at least I'll get marks for dedication, if nothing else :0)


Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 6 Continued (posted on: 19-04-10)
Laura's few hours in the garden are a little strange. Continuation of chapter 6 that I didn't quite get to finish fully last week. I've now edited a chunk of this out and added a different ending to what I had originally submitted on Monday.

The warm grass tickled Laura's legs, but she didn't mind. This would be the perfect spot to draw. The lighting was just right and the sun's glare didn't spoil the view of the fountain. After this morning's performance she needed to be alone and have some peace. She laid out her pencils, oil pastels and paper on top of a beach towel, got comfortable and began to draw. Every few seconds she would look up at the fountain, memorise it in her head and then sketch what she had seen. She compared the drawing to the fountain making sure she had got it right. She smiled and continued with light strokes of the pencil until she had finished, then studied it at arm's length. Satisfied she deepened pencil's outline. The whir of a neighbour's lawnmower faded away and the birds fell silent. A cool breeze picked up, Laura rubbed her bare arms and shivered. She still had more to do on her sketch and hoped the afternoon warmth would come back. The cries of a child invaded her silence. They were the same she'd heard while in the garden with her dad. She remembered his words 'It must have been a cat. There are quite a few around here. They can sound like a cat crying too.' She asked the same question in her head as she had then, Could they, really? Part of her wanted to believe him, he was intelligent, but doubt made her curious. Adults get things wrong too, don't they? How could a cat's meow sound like child crying? The sound was faint, but near. She got up and went to look over by the lavender bushes. ''Here, puss, puss. Come to Laura,'' she called. ''I won't hurt you.'' She lifted the plant's leafs and searched surrounding areas, but didn't find anything. Maybe she had scared the cat off, if there had been one. She stood and listened; only the birds chirped now and a dog barked in the background, maybe the dog scared it away. The sun's glare warmed her and she sat down and applied shade to her drawing. Laura glanced at the fountain. The mother's lips seemed to curve into a smile at her daughter. If she didn't know better she would have sworn it had been real. It was ridiculous and she dismissed the thought, but it made her feel warm inside. The statue glistened in the sunlight and Laura's eyes closed slowly from the glare of the sun. She would just lie there and relax, get a slight tan on her flour white legs. At least that's what she hoped. The sun always went around her. Her thoughts became dreams, unpleasant ones. There were children's cries all around her in underground caves. Their young faces in mid scream carved into stone; each one more disturbing than the last. She kept close to the walls amongst the shadows, scared and out of breath. Her heart thudded loudly; she had to hide before it found her. As her hands touched the carvings she could feel the children's pain and distress. They were petrified. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She could smell its foul breath, it wasn't far behind her. She had to get out. ''Run Laura, run,'' the carvings whispered. ''You must escape to set us free.'' ''I'll come back, I promise,'' she said, running off into the darkness. Droplets of water dripped onto Laura's cheeks. She welcomed the interruption of the strange and chilling dream, but if those brats had a watering can above her there would be war. ''Wake up, you must wake up,'' a voice whispered. Unsure who it could be she opened her eyes and sat up slowly. There was no one there. She looked up at the statue and tilted her head to one side. Both statues seemed to be smiling more than they had before, but that would be impossible, right? She shook her head and the childish thought away. Water flowed from the hands of mother and daughter and into the base below. Laura picked up her artwork and hugged it to her chest. Her dad walked across the garden towards her, carrying something in his hand. ''Hi. I'm sorry about this morning. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that sweetheart.'' ''No, you shouldn't have.'' ''I had some bad news this morning and I took it out on you. It was wrong of me.'' ''Why, what's up?'' ''Oh nothing for you to worry over, umm, just something I have to sort out...business stuff.'' ''Oh right.'' ''I've bought you slippers,'' he said, holding his hands out. ''I hope they are the right size. I've had words with the girls and they will be apologising to you later.'' ''Thanks.'' Laura smiled briefly and accepted the fluffy pink slippers. The brats apologise to her. Now that should be good. She couldn't wait to see them squirm. They would hate it, but she would enjoy every moment. ''Oh, how did you get the fountain to work? We've been trying since we moved in, but had no luck.'' ''I didn't. I fell asleep and when I woke up it was on.'' ''Oh that's peculiar. At least it works now,'' he said with a smile. Laura didn't know what to say, so she smiled back and left it at that. She couldn't work him out, one minute he seemed to hate her guts and the next he would be back to his old self. What was going on? The more she thought about it the more confused she got. They walked past the rose beds back to the house, but instead of the fragrant smell that normally wafted to her nostrils, a distinct rancid smell made her nose wrinkle. She covered her mouth with her hand as bile rose in her throat. What the hell could it be? It smelt like something had died. The smell seemed familiar, but from where? She had never come across a dead animal in her life. What other explanation could there be? She stopped, frozen to the spot, breathless...she knew. It came from the caves. The smell of its vile breath as it stalked her through the darkness in her dream.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 6 Continued
pdemitchell on 19-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 6 Continued
Hi Lis - I liked the fountain sequence and the general run of the chapter but the section beginning the weather was lush and the alex part didn't seem to fit or it was a bit too long. And the father's comments about the fountain suddenly working at the end seemed a bit of an anti-climax - it needs something a bit more of a cliff-hanger to close the chapter. It's cracking along otherwise! Cheers. Mitch!

Author's Reply:
Hi Mitch,

Thanks for stopping by to read this. It's very much appreciated. Yeah, I see what you mean about the weather was lush part and the part about Alex. Infact you have echoed my thoughts on three parts of the story that I had my doubts on, but as I finished this at 3.30am I couldn't think straight of what else to put. I'm glad that you picked up on it though.The Alex part was probably a bit too long and I shouldn't have started a sentence with the weather, one of the writing rules I've broken in this! Ooh I've just had an idea about the end that will maybe give it more of an edge. I think I might put it in now before I forget. I will have a look at this later and see how I can change it or maybe even cut those parts out altogether.
Cheers for your much appreciated and welcomed comments.
Please forgive my lateness in reviews, I'm struggling a bit to find enough hours in the day to do all household chores, write and review. I will get to yours though, I promise.

Ls. xx

sunken on 21-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 6 Continued
Hello Ms. Sugar. It's me, sunks. Sorry I've not been commenting much of late. I've been busy exfoliating turnips in Norwich. Someone's got to do it and it may as well be a sunk. I'll be frank, it's not how envisaged spending my summer. Ahem. Hello? This story of yours is tip top. I've read every chapter and was very chuffed to see that you've been nibbed for many of them. Rightly so. Please allow me to slap a Bernard on this one for you. I'm sorry, but someone's gotta bring ya back down to earth (-; Well done, Sugar.

s
u
n
k
e
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Author's Reply:
Well hello there Mr Sunks. I wondered why I hadn't seen you around on here of late. I hope you managed to exfoliate all those turnips in Norwich! Only a Sunk can do something like that so well. Its not just a job for anyone, yuh know. Thank you very much. I'm really pleased that you like my on going story of this. It is an honour to hear such words. Oh goody, I got Bernard again. Thank you, we've missed him. Shadow, Mystique and Ash will be so pleased to chase him around the garden again.

Sugar Lumpkin and the lump. xx

Gee on 27-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 6 Continued
"She would just lie there and relax, get a slight tan on her flour white legs. At least thatโ€™s what she hoped. The sun always went around her. "
As a fellow redhead, I know exactly how Laura feels and you captured it perfectly, Lis.
I think the description of the dream works perfectly and I love that her first thought on waking is that the two brats have poured water on her. It's a lovely little touch of everyday against the drama of the dream that makes the whole thing more believable.
Your descriptions are wonderful, as always, and I could feel Laura's confusion with her father.
While I liked the part about the fountain working, I feel the part about the smell is a nice strong ending.
I hope you're okay, Lis. Not long now before Lump makes an appearance, I know.


Author's Reply:


Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 6 - Porridge Wars (posted on: 16-04-10)
Laura's confrontation. There will be a continuation of this chapter. Not had time to finish it all yet, but will submit the rest of this on Monday.

A cool breeze upon Laura's face woke her up. She looked at her alarm clock; 10.30am. For a moment she didn't recognise the room. Then realised she was in the witches' house. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Her eyes felt swollen and puffy as if she'd fought with Joe Calzaghe and the back of her head ached. The conversation that she had overheard last night repeated in her mind. Siobhan's words especially 'Neither of us wanted her here. She should never have come to stay.' The fact that her dad had agreed with her made her feel worthless and unloved. He didn't want her there. If he felt so strongly about it then why have her there for three weeks? It didn't make sense, unless mum made him feel guilty? There were too many questions and not enough answers, but she would find out before she left. The idea of going back to sleep felt more inviting than ever, but she wrestled with her thoughts knowing she would have to get up and face them all sometime. Fifteen minutes later she swung her legs out of bed, sat upright, slipped her feet into her slippers and screamed. A thick, cold substance oozed in between her toes and squeezed through the gaps. It ran over her feet like an avalanche down a mountain. She kicked her slippers off one by one and then looked inside them. ''Porridge! I'm going to kill those brats,'' she said through gritted teeth. She flung the door open, letting its handle slam into the wall and stomped across the wooden floor, leaving porridge footsteps behind her. If they wanted war, they were going to get it. Two days of being in the house and she wanted to string them up by their toes and hang them upside down from a tree, the further away the better. She held the slippers between her index finger and thumb. Each time she looked at them she could imagine the terrible twosome giggling at what they had done. Those smiles wouldn't stay on their faces for long when she caught hold of them. She reached the top of the stairs and held the banister on the way down. Her dad stood at the bottom by the door reading that morning's mail. He didn't even seem to know she was there. ''Dad, look what they've done to my slippers. They've wrecked them.'' she said holding them up in front of him. He backed away slightly. ''Do you have to shove them in my face like that? I can see them perfectly well.'' ''Well, what are you going to do about it?'' She let her arm drop to her side. He glared at her and slipped a letter into his pocket. ''Now is not the time, Laura. I have an important phone call to make.'' ''Well when is the right time?'' ''I'll deal with it later. I have more important things to attend to.'' Laura shook her head. ''At least I know where your priorities lie,'' she said trying to hold back the tears. ''For God's sake, it's only a pair of bloody slippers. I'll buy you a new pair. Stop being such a drama queen.'' Her mouth dropped open. Maybe there were just a pair of slippers, but they were hers and they were ruined. How would he feel putting his feet into cold, lumpy porridge first thing in the morning? She doubted he would be amused either. ''Stuff your slippers. I'd rather go without any.'' He turned his back to her and walked away, waving his hand. ''I can't deal with this now, Laura.'' A tear ran down her cheek and she roughly wiped it away with the back of her hand. He didn't care, not one bit. What the hell had she done for him to treat her like this? Since he had been with Siobhan and the brats he had changed. He wasn't the man he used to be, full of fun and love, like he had been with her and mum. Now he seemed full of anger and resentment. If she had pulled this prank on the brats it probably would have been totally different. She'd have been roasted on the spot, but oh no, not the special little sprogs, not them. In the distance she heard a door slam. It made her jump and brought her back to reality. Time for breakfast. The silence in the kitchen drew her inside. She put her foot on the pedal of the bin and dropped her slippers inside and made tea and toast. Through the window the sun shone on the garden, bringing it to life and birds chirped to each other between the branches. The house felt different to her when she sat alone with her thoughts – alive and welcoming. When the others were there it seemed more nervous, like a frightened child, as if it were hiding something. She had had that feeling last night while crouching on the stairs, although it was more likely to be her inner emotions of how she felt rather than the house. She felt more at ease alone there. After eating her last piece of toast, followed by a mouthful of tea, she put the dishes in the sink. Giggles in the hallway and the door shutting made her freeze in the kitchen. The brats were back. As the laughter quietened the tip-tap of heels went in a different direction. Laura looked around and ran over to the end cupboard; it was tall and would hide her perfectly. Her heart thudded inside her chest. She hoped they wouldn't hear it. ''Has mum gone?'' asked Harmony. ''Yes, she went to take her shoes off.'' ''I wonder if Laura found the present we left her?'' Giggles echoed around the kitchen. Laura clenched her fists. She could feel her nails digging into the palms of her hands. ''Well it's quiet. Maybe she isn't up yet,'' said Melissa. ''We'll hear her scream when she finds them. It's going to be so funny.'' ''Yeah, but we better hide when she does,'' said Harmony. Laura jumped out from the side of the cupboard. ''You better start running now if you know what's good for you.'' Melissa and Harmony spun round and yelled. Laura grinned at the surprise on their faces. ''You found your special breakfast then?'' Harmony smirked. ''What do you think, you little Brat?'' Laura seethed. ''When I catch you I'm going to wipe that stupid smile off your face.'' Harmony laughed. ''Yeah? You got to catch me first, Ginger nut.'' The brats ran round the table and Laura ran after them. The girls pulled chairs out in front of her, scraping the wooden legs across the tile floor. Laura shoved them back underneath the table with force. ''I'm going to get you if it's the last thing I do.'' ''Come on then, try it,'' shouted Melissa. Laura lunged at Harmony and knocked her to the ground. She grabbed a handful of her pale blue sweater by the neck and dragged her up on her feet. ''Not so clever now, are you?'' ''Let Mony go. Let her go.'' Melissa tugged on her arm Laura's grip tightened and she shoved Harmony against the cupboard door. ''Don't keep messing with me because you're going to be sorry.'' ''No, you're the one that's going to be sorry,'' Harmony said. ''We didn't want you here. Go back home where you belong.'' ''Do you think I wanted to stay here with you and your mother?'' ''You've spoiled everything now.'' ''I've spoiled everything! I don't think so you little brat.'' Melissa kicked Laura hard in the shin and her grip loosened on Harmony. She shoved Laura by her shoulders and sent her stumbling backwards into the kitchen table. ''Run Mel, run,'' she shouted to her sister. Melissa ran after her and glanced back at Laura, whose ginger hair looked like a mass of fire. A few more steps and she'd have the youngest one. Melissa smiled and pulled a chair out in front of her. Laura's foot caught on the leg and she fell onto her stomach, hitting her head on the corner of the cupboard. She groaned. Laughter erupted and the girls watched her rubbing the top of her scalp. Harmony took a few steps closer, but not too close. ''He's more our dad than yours now.'' A sly smile appeared on her face. Laura looked up. ''It's not my problem you haven't got a dad.'' Harmony grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked it as hard as she could. ''Bitch,'' she seethed and ran out of the room with her sister.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 6 - Porridge Wars
e-griff on 16-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 6 - Porridge Wars
How well I remember this, going over and over it ๐Ÿ™‚ It's in good shape now, though - a few typos to clear up, and odd comma to add (... she said, xxxx xxx xxxx )

The only remark I'd make is you should be careful about using current references, or too specific references (Joe Calzaghe). It took me a while to get that (as I don't live in the valleys) and maybe a lot of folks won't either. It also tends to date a piece - so in twenty years time when this is on booksheves across the land, people will be saying 'who the hell's Joe Calzaghe?' No offences to the man - this is a general point to consider for any references you include.

very best, 'Mama. G

Author's Reply:
Lol, yes. It did go through a number of edits didn't it! I've actually rewritten this from scratch and from memory as I can't find my original copy of it. I'm quite pleased really because my memory is so crap normally.
Thanks for pulling me up on some typos, I'll scour this later on and have a look for them. I finished this at 4am and crawled into bed not long after.

Hmm. Your comment on Joe Calzaghe has made me put my thinking cap on this morning. I can see your point about references and how it would date a piece. I picked Joe, partly because he's Welsh and this story does have a slight Welsh theme running through it and other than the author being Welsh (chapters 3 & 4). I thought it may be better than just saying 'felt as if she's done ten rounds in a boxing ring', as it may sound too cliche. I will have to have a serious mull over this and maybe see what other comments I get too.

Thanks for your thoughts and comments on this, John. It's very much appreciated and welcomed.

Lis. xx

e-griff on 16-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 6 - Porridge Wars
Who could forget the porridge in the slippers and the two kids? - very 'sticky' memorables ๐Ÿ™‚

Joe C -- I think it would be fair enough if you introduced him somehow (not in this story, but just as a general point) .. something like: 'There was great excitement in the town, Joe Calzaghe, the young boxer who had just won the .... was coming to open the ...' - but that of course, would still date it (and it needs to have some importance to the story to be worth doing). Usually better to make them fictional if it's fictional.

You could always say ' felt like she'd done ten rounds with the heavyweight champion' or somesuch ...

I took a quick peek at your prologue and decided I'd have to read it more carefully. Without being too harsh, it doesn't seem to have the same polish as these chapters do - any reason? G

Author's Reply:
Lol, yeah I suppose so. No, I don't think that Joe C would come into the story at all, he has no significance in it really. So maybe he should be cut out altogether. Will have a think over that today.
Heavy weight champion...hmm, sounds better. Will mull it over. Thanks :0)

The prologue is basically the original, just had quite a lot cut out of it and edited, so maybe I should rewrite it like I have the others to give it that same sort of edge. I think I'll wait and see what comments I get later nad compare and have a good think over of what to do.

Thanks for your opinions and comment.

Lis. xx

Gee on 27-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 6 - Porridge Wars
I have to say that I loved the porridge in the slippers bit. Disgusting thought but very funny and the kind of thing kids would do.
The interaction between Laura and the two girls is very well done too and I like the part with her father. I think it shows the distance between them and how he's so caught up in something else that he fails to see how difficult things are for Laura, who you're making out to be an interesting character, one who will immediately get the sympathy of your reader.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Gee. I have to admit I enjoyed writing that part too, its so disgusting, lol. Yeah, it is something that kids would do out of spite. I'm pleased that the arguments with the brats and Laura came across as realistic. It sort of reminds me when my girls start on each other. Kids can be cruel and rip each other apart with words, including my lot with each other. Thanks love for stopping by to read and comment on my work. I really do appreciate it very much and pleased your enjoyin the story so far :0)

Lis. xx


Grimeon's Pass - The Prologue - The Lake (posted on: 16-04-10)
The begining of my novel. I know I'm arse backwards putting this on now, but hoping for some critique as It has been edited a lot since I put it on the last time and wonder if it works better now or needs that extra 'something'. All comments, advanced or not, are greatly appreciated and very welcomed.

July 1941 The oak stood on top of the hill, its branches twisted like old arthritic fingers; its bark a deeper shade than any Freddy had seen before. It stood alone basking under the sun's afternoon glare. He watched Charlie staring at its shape and height. Every time they came to the lake his friend couldn't take his eyes off that tree. It was like he was hypnotised by it or something. He didn't see the fascination with it himself. It was just an odd looking tree. Large Willows were dotted around the outskirts of the embankment. Their thick branches adorned with light green leaves; cascading like a waterfall, the tips almost tickling the grass. Freddy picked the head off a nearby daisy and twisted the stem around his finger. ''Well, are we going to fish or what?'' ''Yeah,'' Charlie replied in a dazed tone. After almost an hour their lines dangled in the water as still as statues. ''This is useless,'' said Freddy. Before Charlie could answer he felt a gentle tug on the rod's line. As he peeked over the side of the boat, the movement became sharper. It tugged hard and the water rippled, spreading large circles across the surface. ''Freddy. I got one, I got one.'' ''About time too. Quick, reel it in.'' ''I am. It's a wild one, this,'' he said, standing up. The rod bent as he wound the line in. With one last pull the fish emerged from the water. It squirmed and dangled in mid air on the fishing line. ''Gee, look at the size on this trout.'' Freddy's jaw dropped as he watched the trout's large body wriggle feverishly. Its mouth opened and closed, gasping for air. Charlie laughed at his friend's expression. ''How come you always get the whoppers and I get the tiddlers? ''Because I'm good at fishing and you're useless,'' said Charlie. ''No I'm not.'' Freddy rocked the boat playfully as Charlie unhooked the fish. ''Hey, I'll drop it in a minute, quit it will you.'' The trout squirmed in his hands as he tried to keep his balance. Freddy chuckled and rocked the boat a little more. It slipped out of Charlie's hands, but he caught it, only for it to slide out of his grasp again. He tried to hold on but it sailed through the air like a paper aeroplane and landed with a loud splash, back into the lake. Freddy stood up and looked into the water. He could just make out the fish swimming away. Charlie prodded him hard in his chest with his index finger. ''Look what you made me do. ''Just because you're no good at fishing.'' Freddy pushed his shoulder with the palm of his hand. ''Well as you're so good, you can catch another one.'' Charlie stumbled backwards: his heels rubbed on the side of the dinghy. Instinctively he flung his arms out for balance, but he couldn't stop himself and plunged into the water like a torpedo from a submarine. Freddy laughed and waited for Charlie to appear. Almost a minute later he emerged from the water. Freddy grinned at the sight of Charlie's short, dark blonde hair stuck to his head like seaweed. ''Been looking for that fish?'' He held his hand out to Charlie. ''No! But I did see something - it shone like a diamond,'' he said, gripping tightly to Freddy's arm. ''What was it?'' he asked, pulling him out of the water. Charlie sat down, combed his hair back with his fingers and sucked in the humid air. ''I'm not sure, I couldn't see it properly. ''Want to take a look?'' ''Yeah, sure.'' They looked at each other and jumped, sending ripples across the water. Charlie swam ahead and looked back at Freddy. He pointed downward and Freddy nodded and followed. Charlie swam in the direction he had seen the shimmer of light. He pointed repeatedly at a swaying green plant: a rusty bike by the side of it. The frame bent and twisted and the front wheel buckled. Amongst the fragments of dirt shone something as bright as a new shilling, part of it still wedged underneath the back wheel. They both went closer to get a better look. The object looked like a key; the top part of it engraved like a skull, its eyes as red as hot coals. Freddy stared at it for several seconds. What could it be for? If the rubies were real, it could be worth a fortune. Maybe there was a treasure chest somewhere, with riches they could only dream of. Charlie reached out to grab the key and remove the mud that clung to part of the metal. Before he had chance, a child's thin skeleton hand lunged out. Its bony fingers curled tightly around the key stem, snatching it from sight. Charlie's eyes widened. He glanced at his friend, whose colour had turned a septic yellow. A deep fear flashed in his eyes. Freddy wondered if what he had seen was a figment of his imagination. Charlie beckoned him with his hand to take another look. Freddy shook his head and pointed frantically to the boat. He didn't like it. Whatever it had been, he wanted no part of it. Were there really such things as ghosts? He'd heard stories off his Grandfather over the years, but thought it was just his way of scaring him. He was surprised when Charlie stubbornly shook his head and swam to where the skeleton key had been. Freddy didn't want to stay a moment longer; this was more frightening than any stories he'd been told. Freddy tried to reason with his mind. There were no such things as ghosts that he was sure of. So what had he just witnessed? Where had the hand come from and who did it belong too? Large rocks sat where the hand had appeared from. Charlie couldn't see any opening as such. He fumbled around on the rock's surface trying to find a secret lever, but found nothing. Freddy gestured impatiently with his hand, urging him to swim back to the boat. He wanted to get out of the water as quick as he could. They only had a minute underwater before they began to have breathing difficulties. He didn't know what was down there and being a coward he didn't want to find out. Charlie shook his head. Freddy knew his friend had a curious streak and wanted to find out what they had seen, but he didn't want to go back into the water once he'd got out. He looked behind him and saw Charlie still searching for clues, muddying the water as he brushed the dirt away. He waited for Charlie for a few seconds, saw him swimming behind him and swam towards the surface. Freddy sucked in mouthfuls of warm air as he broke through the water's skin. His heart thudded so hard he thought it would break through his flesh. His whole body trembled, as he looked for Charlie. There was no sign of him. He swam towards the boat and hauled himself up. He waited a little longer. The water was still and calm. Where could Charlie be? He should have been up by now. Hesitant, he cursed under his breath and jumped back in. A sickly taste rose in his throat and he gulped, pushing it back down. There in front of him was Charlie; in the dead man's float position. His eyes stared into nothingness and the sponge cake tan started to fade to a deathly white. There was a slight movement in his chest. A bubble escaped from his gaping mouth. Freddy had a quick pang of relief, but knew there wasn't much time. He held him around his waist and pulled him towards the surface, but his body jolted back. Freddy looked puzzled then noticed the chain wrapped around his ankle. He wrestled with it for a few seconds before managing to free him from its grasp, then gripping on to Charlie's body he pulled him with all his strength. He winced and covered his eyes with the back of his hand as a bright white light blinded him. When he thought it was safe he looked again. He could see a second vision of Charlie, two feet in front of him, looking a little transparent. The bright light glowed and outlined his whole body. He looked radiant, the way he had always known him. What was going on? The day was really strange; like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. He wished that his sister, Daisy would wake him up with her constant chatter. He glanced briefly at Charlie still tucked beneath his arm. He was as limp as a dishcloth, his chest became still and no bubbles drifted from his mouth. The pigment of his skin looked chalky white and his lips were blue. This wasn't a nightmare... Freddy felt his own heart become heavy. They had been best friends since they were four years old. This couldn't be happening. He held Charlie and swam back towards the dinghy. He had to get him back to dry land and resuscitate him. Freddy told himself that he would be all right then. The apparition of Charlie smiled at him and waved, still glowing, bathed in the white light. Freddy's mind raced. This couldn't be happening. Ghosts weren't real were they? And if they were did they look like this? The more he thought about it the more it frightened him and he wanted to get out of the water as quick as he could. Vibrations in the water sent an icy chill all over Freddy's body. They became stronger as an eerie shadow floated towards him. A dark liquid spiralled around Charlie's spirit; who tried to scream, but he made no sound. Within seconds it engulfed him. Its ink like shape altered in appearance into that of human form; a man wearing a gothic type coat that reached his ankles. Knee length boots, with silver skulls attached to the buckles. His long black hair squirmed in the water like eels and his pillar-box red eyes burned with hatred. He leered at Freddy revealing uneven, yellow teeth. The ink-like creature held out his arm; his skin as pale as sugar. A flash of green lightning escaped from his palm and the liquid ink melted away to reveal Charlie. The magic attacked his soul as green fluid crept through his veins. He screamed under the water, jerking violently for a few seconds. His appearance began to fade. He looked weak and frightened as his soul glided unwillingly towards the ink creature. The dark apparition opened his mouth wide to reveal a long, black tongue. It twisted around Charlie's transparent body like a conga eel, pulling him into its mouth. Freddy stared in horror. He couldn't believe his own eyes. There's no way this could be real, surely? He glanced down at Charlie's body in his arms. Strips of flesh tore away; melting in the water like it was acid, leaving only the skeleton intact. If this was a nightmare it was the scariest one he'd ever had. It beat his Grandfather's stories hands down. Freddy dropped the remains and stared petrified as the bones drifted to the bottom of the lake. He kicked his legs frantically and in blind panic swam for his life. Once inside the boat he huddled in the foetal position against the rubber of the dinghy. He shivered and his teeth chattered. Numb and confused he struggled to come to terms with what he'd seen. Had he really witnessed Charlie's death? Things like this didn't happen in real life, at least not to boys like them. The images of Charlie's flesh being stripped away from his body repeated in his mind. He shut his eyes tight, but it wouldn't go away. He screamed hysterically and his voice echoed around the Willows. He got up slowly onto his knees; his legs too weak to stand. The old gnarled oak caught his attention. It stood prominently in his view, beckoning him. Startled by the sound of gushing water, he broke his stare. The water loomed upwards and morphed into human form. The dinghy rocked upon the lake like it was caught up in a storm and he clung to the sides. Darkness smothered the lake. Black clouds rolled in, blotting the burnt orange sky. The liquid image snaked towards him. It stood as high as a 30ft wave. A face appeared before him; its eyes red as fresh blood. A sly smile crept across his face. ''You have been spared, this time. But I will wait for your soul before it gets to Heaven's gates.'' Freddy couldn't move. He stared terrified into his eyes and shuddered. A flicker of evil raged inside them. "W-what are you? Who are you?" "Questions, questions dear boy! I am your worst nightmare. You will find out in good time." "W- w-what do you want?'' "Silence," he yelled. "When it's your turn you will know, and your turn will come child, mark my words.'' A strong wind blew, whipping the willows to writhe and dance. Violent flashes of lightning lit up the lake, highlighting Freddy's fear drenched face. The creature laughed as he raised his arms towards the sky. Surges of electrical light crackled and emanated from his finger tips. He twisted and spun out of control. The black ink merged together into a funnel; spinning recklessly like a tornado. Its spray saturated Freddy as it submerged back into the water. Daylight returned as he clung to the dinghy and calmness once more embraced the lake.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - The Prologue - The Lake
e-griff on 16-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - The Prologue - The Lake
we discussed this on your chap 6 submission ..

I don't think it's worth me commenting on this if you haven't revised it. Punctuation, speech attribution, overwordiness, passive voice, unclarity ... these are all things your new skills will fix (as seen in your other chapters) - so if I were you (for the best possible reasons) I think, I would take it off and rewirite it as you have the rest ... I'd then expect it to emerge very much improved in due course ๐Ÿ™‚

I think it's great you've worked so hard on your writing. Sometimes I wonder why I bother droning on to improvers, but those who suck comments up (no, not just from me, from some very experienced writers on this site) really warm my heart, I promise. ๐Ÿ™‚ Good on yer, kid! JohnG

Author's Reply:
Yeah, I remember Griff.

I had another look at this this morning and went over it again and could see more mistakes and some words that could have been cut out that wouldn't have been missed. I don't think that me editing an old peice is working is it? I need to use, as you said my new skills, that have surprisingly stuck in my sub conscious without me even realising it. I didn't think it was possible for me to learn like this as I found things so hard to sink in and get the knack of stuff. I may try and rewrite it over the weekend, but keep the first passage about the tree, just to start me off.

I have worked hard on it for a very long time, but got so frustrated as you know when things weren't sinking in and I was still messing up on stupid things. Its been tough going and I think that the long breaks away from writing have helped too, plus reading. Thank you very much for all your help in the past and I can't forget Rupe, Jo, Jolene, Ginger to name but a few and of course Sunky for all his encouragement on all my work past and present. Without you lot I may not still be here now and still as determined to write as ever. Probably even more so now.

Cheers John :0)

Lis. xx

stormwolf on 18-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - The Prologue - The Lake
Hi Lis, As you know I am not a usefull critic of this sort of work I leave that to E Griff and co who know their onions ๐Ÿ˜‰
I was enthralled by the story but got a bit lost when everything started to happen finding it difficult to see who was where so to speak but it was happening so fast and I am needing my bed so the fault is propbably with me.
The large trout you said it sailed through the air like a paper aeroplane did not seem fitting The trout would be heavy and wet and a paper aeroplane is so flimsy ..tiny thing
You catch the characters really well and believable. They speak and act as kids would and the convesation is funny and so as it is.
I would have liked to have known how old they were too but it was hair raising stuff, just the kind of stories I love. Lots of excitement and tension in it..The panic to try to save his friend really got to me. It is a situation where every second counts.
It does leave you wanting to read what happens next so very well done as always Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison,

Thanks love for stopping by to read and comment on this, as always your opinion is very much appreciated.
I don't think it's you love that got a bit lost when things started to happen. A few others have mentioned the same thing too, so there might be something in it. I might have to revise it again.
Hmm, will have to think over the trout/aeroplane line too. I was thinking of it as the trout went through the air, which reminded me of a plane and as it's the 1940's a 'paper' plane was more appropriate to the era.
I'm glad that the kids came across as believeable. I always used to have problems with my characters in the past. I'm pleased the 'hook' worked too and has the reader wanting to read on more. I just hope I can keep this story going for another 20 chapters with the same excitement and read on factor as it has now.
I think I might try and rewrite the prologue again from scratch when I get the time as the start of a story it is the most important part.
Thanks hun for your most welcomed opinions and comments. I'm very grateful.

Lis. xx


Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 5 - Worded Weapons (posted on: 12-04-10)
Laura's first day is not what she expects...

The house didn't seem to end; the rooms kept appearing, one after the other. I wish it were ours, Laura thought; mine and my parents; not theirs; the Witches of Eastham. The more the thought germinated in her head the more she loathed them. She blinked the tears away and a sigh escaped from her mouth. Her hand rested on the brass door knob and turned it – locked. She tried again, but it wouldn't budge. That's odd, she thought, it's the only one that's locked in the house. The last door stood facing her at the bottom of the hallway. Her shoes tapped on the park ray flooring as she walked towards it. Her hand squeezed the handle and turned – it opened. Laura stood and stared for what seemed like several minutes. A stale smell of warm air greeted her and she walked in. Every wall, except one where the large sash window stood, had a large bookcase against it, crammed tight with various books. She couldn't make out the writing on the worn, brown spines on the top shelves. They looked as if they hadn't been disturbed for years. There were books on architecture on most of the shelves, a few war novels and sport personalities – her dads. The rest were Disney books, Bratzs etc that littered the shelves in an untidy manner. Opposite were cookery books, needlecraft and autobiographies of Posh and Becks, Paris Hilton etc. It didn't need a genius to work out who they belonged to. Didn't that woman have any taste at all? Laura wondered, obviously not. She ran her fingers over the books spines. There had to be something worth reading here somewhere. Not one of them had any taste. As she searched, a dull thud behind her made her turn; several books were scattered on the floor. That was weird. She stared for a few moments before kneeling down, and then squinted at the back. One in particular caught her attention, Ghost Stories From Beyond the Grave. She smiled, flicking through the pages, reading random paragraphs. ''Now that's more like it. I could do with a bit of excitement,'' Laura said out loud. A smile formed on her lips. The black leather sofa looked inviting under the sash window. A small table stood near it, she hadn't taken much notice of it earlier. A rag doll lay across the top of it, next to a pool of water, but there was no cup in sight. It must be one of the brat's dolls. She shook her head; they were even too lazy to wipe up the mess. If this was their regular haunting place she would banish herself to her bedroom. There would be no way she'd be playing happy families. Harmony and Melissa made it clear from their fiery glares, they wouldn't either. They all had one thing in common – they hated each other. Enthralled by its contents, she found herself immersed in the second chapter before realising the natural light behind her was fading. She knelt on the sofa and looked through the small panes of the sash window. The fountain stood bathed in the glow of the evening sun. Hues of honey-coloured light made it look like a golden trophy. It shone like a beacon while the rest of the garden slept underneath a transparent shadow. The willows at the bottom of the garden swayed in the gentle breeze as if mesmerised by nature's tune. She would love to paint it now, but she didn't have chance. The magic and serenity would be gone by the time she got her easel and set it up with her other art accessories. Never mind there were plenty of other days, starting with tomorrow. Laura smiled, took one last glimpse of the garden before she left, feeling relaxed, with the book tucked under her arm. Footsteps echoed towards her. Oh, great! Here come the brats, she thought. A cold rush of air swept over her. She felt sure someone had nudged her arm going past and looked instantly - no one there. A shiver ran up her spine. Maybe the two ghost stories she'd read were playing tricks with her sub conscious. She couldn't make up her mind if she believed in ghosts or not. Part of her wanted to because the subject fascinated her. The other part didn't because she really wouldn't want to come face to face with one. That would really freak her out. Screams jolted her thoughts back to reality and the twins came charging round the corner like two Tasmanian devils. Laura braced herself. There would be no way they'd be able to stop in time. It was like watching a game of bowling; except she was the skittle and they were a huge ball. Harmony crashed into her first. Laura's arms flung out with the impact and the book crashed to the floor. Melissa followed shortly after, slamming into her sister's back. Laura groaned as her head struck the floor. Stunned for a few seconds she lay there, and then felt relief as some pressure shifted. Melissa got up first, and then Harmony moved. They stood staring at her with those creepy black eyes, one pair was enough, but two... ''Why didn't you get out of our way?'' Harmony asked. ''What? I didn't have time to move?'' ''Yes, you did,'' piped up Melissa, ''You saw us coming.'' ''You came at me too fast.'' ''No, we didn't, you're lying,'' Harmony butted in. Laura got up, rubbing the back of her scalp and looked at her hand, checking for blood. There was none there. ''Liar, Liar, your knickers are on fire.'' Melissa chanted. ''Shut up you numpty.'' Laura clenched her fists. One day that kid would get a slap she wouldn't forget. ''Make me,'' said Melissa. Laura walked towards her. Harmony stood in front of her sister, her arms folded. Without a thought Laura grabbed Harmony by her scruff. If they thought they were going to get the better of her then they had another thing coming. ''Let her go, let her go,'' Melissa squealed. ''Darlings, what is all the noise about?'' Siobhan's voice rose above theirs. ''Mummy, she pushed us over and now she won't say sorry,'' said Harmony. ''Yes, I hurt my elbow too,'' Melissa said with a sniff. ''Huh! I don't think so. It was more like the other way round.'' Laura glared at them. How could they stand there and say that? The little... ''Did you Laura?'' ''No, I didn't. They ran round the corner and knocked me over.'' ''She's lying Mummy. She was going to hit us.'' Melissa poked her tongue out as soon as her mum's back was turned. ''Well you did have Harmony by her collar.'' ''Yes, because of them I hit my head, it's hurting. They didn't even say sorry. Feel there I've got a lump.'' Siobhan felt the back of Laura's head, well there does seem to be something there. Her eyes darted back to the girls, who looked angelic, then looked at Laura, rage bubbling under her freckled face. ''Why were you going to hit them?'' ''Because they blamed me for it all and were being annoying.'' ''...and that gives you the right to hit children younger than you?'' she glared. ''You need a better excuse than that darling. I hope you're not going to cause trouble while you're here.'' ''Me, cause trouble?'' Laura shook her head. ''I'm not the one causing trouble, it's them.'' ''Please don't speak to me like that, I will not tolerate it.'' She pushed past her step-mum and the girls and walked off, picking her book up on the way. ''Did you leave your manners at home?'' Laura ignored the question. ''I will be having a word with your father about this.'' ''Do what you want. Tell him about your little darlings too.'' Laura disappeared around the corner, stomped up the stairs and silently raged until she got to her room. Those spoilt little bitches were getting get what was coming to them soon. Why couldn't they have apologised and not made such a big fuss? There would be no way she'd put up with their stupid behaviour. The first day there and she already wanted hit them into next week. This wasn't going to be a pleasant stay, unless she could keep out of their way, but somehow she didn't think they would make that possible. Who the hell did Siobhan think she was too, telling her not to cause trouble? She wasn't her mum and wouldn't take orders from her. Laura dragged her suitcases onto her bed. They didn't seem that heavy this morning when she carried them, but then she only took them from the front door to the car, four steps away. It seemed like she had packed for six months not three weeks. She pulled the clothes out and arranged them on hangers, putting them in the wardrobe. The rest she neatly arranged in a chest of draws. She sat on the bed, making it bounce beneath her and kicked her shoes off. The wine-coloured voiles against the window rippled like ribbons around a Maypole. She watched for several seconds. It reminded her of happy times when they were a family. Through the open car window, music filtered in from various stalls hidden behind the trees. Dad parked the car and she jumped out. The grass tickled her toes through her Barbie sandals and she giggled. She held her parents hands, skipping across the field to the beat of the songs. Crowds of people were gathered around several stalls, but she couldn't see what they were selling. The savoury smell of hotdogs and burgers hung in the air, mixed with the sweet smell of candy floss. ''Want to have a go, mate? Win a lovely teddy for your wife or daughter?'' ''No, thank you. Maybe later,'' Dad said. Laura looked up at him with pleading eyes, but he didn't notice. The guy did and winked at her. She smiled as her parents led her away. ''Hook a duck and win a prize. Everyone's a winner.'' ''Dad, can we have a go, please?'' Her eyes securely fixed on a brown dog with floppy ears. ''You said I could have a puppy one day.'' ''Yes, I did, didn't I,'' he said with a chuckle. ''So if you have this dog, you won't want a real one?'' ''Yes. I want this one to keep the other one company.'' Dad glanced at mum and she laughed. He shook his head and put his hand in his pocket. ''Cheers, that's ฃ1.50 for three goes.'' ''Go on, get that puppy, Laura,'' Dad said handing her a long stick with a hook on the end. Three ducks were lined up in a row on the shelf of the wooden stall. The man looked on the base of each one. ''There you go love; you can have any one of these. You choose.'' As they walked away Laura looked at her prize. ''Daddy, do you think the puppy will like elephants?'' ''Yes, sweetheart. I'm sure he will.'' Laura's thoughts were interrupted by Siobhan's voice shouting up the stairs. ''Supper is ready.'' That woman has perfect timing, she always has to spoil things, she thought. There were only three of them sat at the table, her dad at the top, Siobhan to the left of him and she chose the seat but one down from her dad on the opposite side of her step-mother. Harmony and Melissa had gone to bed an hour earlier. The silence that filled the room felt awkward. Siobhan didn't look at her once, not that she cared. If only she wouldn't talk to her for the rest of her stay it would be a bonus. ''Laura, I think we need to have a little chat after supper. There are some things that we need to sort out.'' ''Yeah, there are. I have a few questions I would like to ask you too.'' Laura said her face expressionless. She wanted to shout at him and let all the hurt and anger out, but she bit her lip. If she started she may not stop. Her dad nodded and shuffled on his chair. ''All in good time, now eat your supper before it gets cold.'' . Ten minutes later Siobhan cleared the plates away and went into the kitchen. Laura's dad rubbed his brow, and then his eyes. He looked tired and much older than he used to. His black hair had streaks of silver in it now, some patches larger than others. His face didn't have the roundness to it either, he looked gaunter and his cheekbones were more prominent than she remembered. ''Are we going to have that chat now, Dad? ''It's late, we'll talk about it tomorrow,'' He said looking over his glasses at her. ''It's been a long day; you need to get some sleep.'' Laura nodded. She felt tired and looked forward to falling into bed. Her questions could wait another day; after all she had waited over three years to ask them. The portraits that hung on the wall going up the stairs looked eerie in the dark. She felt several pairs of eyes following her. They were as dark and haunting as the brats. Raised voices made her look round and she crouched on the second step amongst the shadows. ''Well did you speak to her, David?'' ''No, I didn't.'' ''Why ever not?'' ''Because I'm tired.'' ''Neither of us wanted her here. She should never have come to stay...'' ''Enough. I'm not discussing this now.'' ''Well it's the truth...'' The voices continued with their argument, but she didn't hear the rest. Tears spilled down Laura's cheeks. Those words would stick in her head like a fly in a spider's web. They only confirmed what she had suspected – they didn't want her. Her dad didn't love her. Maybe it had been her fault that he went away. It must have been! She ran up the stairs, her hand over her mouth stifling her sobs, almost choking, until she reached her room. She shut the door quietly behind her, threw herself on the bed and unleashed three years of pain. Her cries became muffled in her pillow until she fell asleep.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Chapter 5 - Worded Weapons
stormwolf on 15-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 5 - Worded Weapons
Hi Lis ๐Ÿ˜‰
I very seldom read fiction as I feel I have nothing much to say in the realms of critique for to me it is a very different thing from my usual medium, poetry. However, bearing in mind how much I loved your poetry I thought it was time to read you too.
I found it well written and both intriguing and engaging. That to me is very important for I get bored I will not read on.

The characters were very believable and you can tell you know children inside out! ๐Ÿ˜‰ The descriptions were just right in my eyes for you never laboured the point or overdid anything.
Some minor things

Opposite were cookery books, needlecraft and autobiographies of Posh and Becks, Paris Hilton etc. It didnโ€™t need a genius to work out who they belonged to. Didnโ€™t that woman have any taste at all? Laura wondered, obviously not.
I would have put the question mark after wondered but not sure if I am correct lol such a tiny thing.

You can obviously turn your hand to writing in different genres and that's just great. Congrats on the nib too of course.
Alison x


Author's Reply:
Hey Alison!,

How are you, love? Thanks so much for stopping by to read and comment on this. I really do appreciate it very much. especially as you don't read a lot of fiction. Lol, well I'm glad that te characters were believable for you. I've had problems in the past where I've struggled to make them individual, so for me this is a bonus and a great compliment. At least I know I'm doing something right.
I'm not sure about the question mark thing either, I thought it was in the right place, but I will enquire about it, just in case I'm wrong. Thanks for pulling me up on it. Its always god to have a fresh pair of eyes on something. My main interest of genres are for children's fiction, which this is aimed for and adult horror. I'm still tryin to work o a story that I started for adults 3 years ago. I think I will have a go at that once this story is out of my head and on paper. There may even be a sequel to both of them.

Lol, its funny you should say I know children inside out because I'm expecting another little one in 5 weeks time! Glutton for punishment me, ha ha. can you send me your email addy hun coz I don't think I had it the last time!

Thanks again Alison for your lovely review and comments on this. Hopefully if I can finish chapter 6 tonight I will put it on UKA tomorrow. I may even go arse backwards and put the prologiue on as I really need to sort that one out and its pickling my head, lol.

Lovely to hear from you again. I'm reviewing later as I have some stuff to do this afternoon, so will pop bac and have a look at your work. I meant to yesterday but got caught up! Take care hun.

Lis. xx

pdemitchell on 15-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 5 - Worded Weapons
A great rhythm and balance - not too much descriptive yet you get right into the kids' thoughts in a believeable way (how do you find the time to write - when I was a single dad of two, I never had a spare second!) The only minor quibble would be to strengthen the lead-in line: "It reminded her of happy times when they were a family." somehow. Excellent stuff. Mitch



Author's Reply:
Hey Mitch,

Thanks for stopping by to rview and comment on this. It's very much appreciated. I'm glad that the Rhythem and balance have worked for you and the descriptiveness of the piece is not over done.

I usually stay up, Mitch, until the very early hours of the morning to write because as a mum of 6 kids, and the 7th on his way in 5 weeks time, it's the only chance of peace and concentration time I get to have. It's hard going, but my writing sort of keeps me sane and it's something I enjoy very much doing. It's 'Me' time, I guess. Like so many that write I would love to become a children's author. I doubt very much I will, but its good to dream.

Thanks for bringing that line up. I was a bit unsure of that too. I think I will have to sort it out so that its stronger and reads better. Thanks again for commenting and reading. I'm very grateful. I will be around later to review. Sometimes I get busy here and leave my laptop on and forget to log out, like I did earlier. I've been cleaning so didn't see your comment til I'd stopped.

Lis. xx

PS: I see you're a fellow Welshie too on the site!

stormwolf on 15-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 5 - Worded Weapons
Hi Again Lis,
ANOTHER one? wow you should be called supermama.!!!
You sure are a natural writer and I am sure you will be successful. You sure have drive as well. My email is alison@soul-awakening.com Love to hear from you any time. Take care, 7 sounds a very lucky number (mystical too ๐Ÿ˜‰ )

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Hey Alison, love.

Yeah, another one for me sins. I must have bloody loads lol. Actually I always says its because the repeats are so crap!! My excuse and I'm sticking to it lol.
Its taken me years to get to where I am now with many tears and huge breaks here and there, and I guess a lot of determination and late nights/early mornings.
Thanks or your email sweetheart. I will send you an email tonight. Well I hope number 7 is lucky for us!!
Take care and I'll be in touch soon.

Lis. xx

sunken on 21-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 5 - Worded Weapons
Hello again Sugar of Mama. This is one of many chapters of yours that I've read recently. Muchly enjoyed. Well done on the nib. Had I not been discovering Devon I would have commented earlier. I've wasted weeks, Ms. Sugar. No one bothered to tell me that Devon had already been discovered! I feel so stoopid. Still, there's always my next expedition to look forward to. That's right, I'm going in search of Essex. If I discover said city my name may go down in history. That's not confirmed tho. My mate Wayne discovered Stoke in 1993. It didn't make him famous. I suspect people would rather it have remained undiscovered. I blame third world outsourcing and fake Pot Noodles. I trust this has helped? Ahem. I'll leave you with an interesting fact: Racoons eat everything except tomatoes. Thank you.

s
u
n
k
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n



Author's Reply:

Gee on 27-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter 5 - Worded Weapons
I agree with Alison that you write children very well. You have a gift for description too. The way you describe the garden seen from the library is quite poetic. I also loved the contrast between the serenity of that moment and the arrival of the two girls.
The scene where Laura thinks about the past contrasts so well with the supper scene too and I love the ending.
I'm looking forward to reading the next part, which I see has already been posted.

Author's Reply:
Hi Gee.
How are you, love? Hope you're okay? Thanks for stopping by to read this and comment. I really appreciate it. I'm really glad that you are enjoying the story so far. I'm still working on Chapter 7, which I hope to have written by Friday, if I have time. Yeah chapter 6 has been posted and there will be lots more to come hopefully.
Just trying to fit everything in at the moment. There is so much to do here before the little one is due. I'm having my lounge done tomorrow, new flooring etc, so as you can imagine its gonna be more hectic than normal!
Thanks again Gee. I really appreciate your support and comments on this.
Lis. xx


Grimeon's Pass - Chapter Four - The Deal (posted on: 05-04-10)
Will Arnold and Molly survive the storm? This is a new chapter that I have written over the last two days.

Arnold knew inwardly he shouldn't have come this way. Both parents had warned him and Molly to stay away from the lake, especially after the strange disappearance of Charlie. All the kids had been told to stay from there, it wasn't safe and the stories that had been told by the villagers were each as unpleasant as the last. ''Arnie, I'm frightened,'' said Molly gripping his hand tighter. ''It's okay. We'll be home before you know it.'' He squeezed her hand and smiled. He felt the same way too and regretted his actions for disobeying his parents. When they found out he would surely have a couple of lashings of his father's belt for being so irresponsible. After all they had put their trust in him to take Molly. If anything happened to her they would never forgive him, and he would never forgive himself. An orange tint mixed with the sky's grey. Arnold had never seen anything like it before. Maybe it was a sign that the storm was getting worse. The longer they hung around the more chance they stood of being in the middle of it. ''Come on, not much further.'' ''I wish we were home, Arnie. I don't like it here.'' ''Just fifteen minutes more and we'll be back by the coal fire.'' He would be glad to sit in a hot tin bath and feel the warmth from the flames. He liked to watch them dance between the red hot coals, changing their colours like a gobstopper. Then when he had dried and dressed his mum would give him steaming lamb stew, chunky bread and a hot mug of Ovaltine before he went to bed. How he longed to be there. He could almost taste the stew on the tip of his tongue. A loud roar travelled above the clouds. Molly jumped and lost her balance. She screamed as her boots slipped underneath her and she landed on her knees. The snow underneath her body slid making her straighten out until she was nearly lying on her stomach like a snake. She held on to her brother and struggled to get back up on her feet. The more she pushed her feet into the snow the more she slid. Arnold gripped her hand tighter. ''Hang on tight Molly. Don't you let go. You hear me?'' ''Hurry, please. I'm falling.'' ''I won't let you fall. I promise, just hold on.'' ''I can't hold on much longer. Please hurry Arnie.'' He pulled her with all the strength he had left in him. Molly's grip was getting slacker and he could feel his gloved hand slipping in hers. His feet dug into the snow as he pushed himself backwards and he fell back with a thud. A deep groan emerged from his throat and a rush of air gushed from his mouth as something heavy landed on his chest. ''I've got you Molly. I've got you,'' he said, holding her tight. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He wanted to do both at the same time. Molly clung to him. ''I want to go home, Arnie. I want to go home.'' He could feel her shaking and sat her up. Tears streamed down her face and her blue eyes pleaded with him. At that moment he felt so guilty. Had he left his common sense at Mrs Hettle's? He could have kicked himself for putting both of them in danger. ''I do too Molly, and we will. I promise.'' He hugged her for a few seconds. ''You okay now? He released his grip a little and she nodded. They got up slowly and Molly clung to Arnold's waist and he held her hand tighter than before, keeping her closer to him. Daylight became duller and shadows began to appear. Ivor took large strides through the snow, which deepened since he had left Mrs Hettle's. He hated this place it gave him the willies. Ever since they moved from Wales, in the hope they could make a better life for themselves, he'd never really liked it, the area, not the people. His gut feeling told him that they didn't belong there. The money from what he earned as a hired farmer's hand got them by and it wasn't as dangerous as working down the pit. The coal mine took the life of his brother at the age of eleven and being the youngest boy his mother would not allow him to follow. Although his father disagreed and there were many an argument in the Evan's household. Being so young he was glad not to have gone to work down the coal mines, like most lads his age. Instead he ran errands and did odd jobs for a few shillings. It wasn't much, but it helped put some food on the table. The winds breath penetrated through his several layers of clothing. He rubbed his arms to fight off the numbing feeling that started to set in. Where in God's name where those kids? They couldn't have got too far; he had only missed them by twenty minutes. Their legs were shorter than his so wouldn't be able to travel the short distance as quick as he would. If he didn't find them soon they would all be found frozen to death. He squinted into the distance, everything looked the same, but there on the right of him stood the old oak, like a clawed hand pushing up triumphantly through the snow. He stopped for a moment, confused his mind was playing games with him. He focused again and was positive now there were two figures moving towards the tree. At last his prayers had been answered, he had found them. It had to be the children, it couldn't be a coincidence. Who else would be in this part of town in the middle of a storm? He called their names and waved his arms, but there was no response. He took giant strides through the icy snow, pushing himself to go on, even though he could hardly feel his feet. He had to get their attention, the sooner the better for all their sakes. The journey seemed never ending and his frustration and energy were both low in fatigue. Somehow he had to muster up all the strength he could to reach the children. His mind wondered back home, to Iris, who was no doubt wearing down their poor excuse of a carpet and worrying herself into an early grave about them all. He couldn't go home without them. Iris had been through enough losing two babies, he couldn't comprehend losing another two. It had almost destroyed him and Iris had never been quite the same herself. She had the same personality, same smile, same ways, but that extra something that hide behind her eyes had gone. It was like the embers of the fire burning out. Several more strides and he stopped again. The figures moved slower now, they must be getting tired. He cupped his hands on either side of his mouth and took a deep breath. ''Arnold. Molly. Stay where you are.'' He stood waving his arms in the air and waited a few seconds. ''Dad?'' Arnold, shouted and waved back. ''Stay there lad, I'm coming to get you.'' ''Okay.'' Ivor had no idea where he found the strength in his body, but soon he was only a couple of feet away from the children. ''Daddy, daddy,'' shouted Molly, flinging her arms around his neck as he bent down to greet her. ''Are you kids okay?'' ''Yes, cold, but fine dad.'' ''What the devil did you think you were doing coming this way to go home?'' He looked straight at Arnold, his brow creased and face almost as scary as the storm itself. ''I-I-I thought it would have been quicker to get home, and safer.'' ''I'm disappointed in you Arnold. You should have known better not to come this way. I'll deal with you when we get back.'' Arnold nodded and bent his head. His father was right; he should have listened to him. Maybe if they had taken the route home the same way they came they could have been sitting in front of the coal fire by now. It was too late to turn back. They should just make it before dark. ''Get on my back Molly and I'll carry you so far. You're poor mother will be worried sick.'' Even though they didn't have far to go, Ivor didn't relish the walk back home. He was getting too old for this at forty-seven. In his younger days he could have don't this without so many aches and pains, but now it would take him a week to recover and his joints to feel normal again. Molly only weighed five stone, but to his back it was more like carrying a ton weight. Arnold wrapped his scarf around his mouth a nose a little tighter and dug his hands further into his pocket. His eyes stung with the winds bitterness, even with his head bent it still felt like pins sticking in his eyeballs. Part of him wasn't looking forward to getting home because he knew he would get a few lashings off his dad from the way he'd looked at him. He would just have to grit his teeth and bare it like a man and focus on his mum's lamb stew to take his mind off the pain. It would be easier said than done, but a good enough consolation prize. A rumble spread above the clouds, echoing its authority. Each of them in turn looked up. The sky's burnt orange colour began to disappear under black clouds, which crept effortlessly, covering them like paint. Another roar emerged, louder than the first and lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the lake and its surroundings. ''What in God's name is going on?'' Ivor gasped. ''You don't get thunder and lightning without rain!'' ''Daddy, I'm scared.'' Molly's grip tightened around her father's neck. ''There's nothing to be scared of, love. It's Mother Nature being grumpy, she'll calm down.'' He patted Molly's hand and lifted her up more on his back with a sharp jolt. Ivor took another giant stride and felt the snow underneath his feet slide. ''Molly, get off quickly girl.'' ''Pardon, Daddy?'' ''Dad!'' Arnold shouted, seeing his father lose his balance, then fall. He ran after them, throwing himself on the ground and reached out instinctively to grab either one of them, but they slid on their backs down the mountain towards the lake. Their screams and shouts seemed to bounce off the willow trees that writhed like Medusa's hair. Arnold followed, swept away by loose snow, soon his shouts mixed with theirs. Thunder cracked like a Ring Master's whip and something beneath the lake stirred. The ice split, its sound like splintered wood, spreading across the icy surface. Seconds later the bodies of Ivor and Arnold were strewn several feet away from each other, near the water's edge. They lay there dazed and shocked with aching limbs and their breath knocked out of them. Ivor groaned and sat up slowly, he could hear Molly sobbing and looked around for her; she lay sprawled across the icy lake on her stomach. ''Molly, are you okay?'' She gave a slight whimper and moved a little. ''Stay still girl, don't try and move until I get to you.'' ''Yes.'' Her reply was just above a whisper. ''Arnold! What about you? Are you all right?'' ''I'm fine, but aching.'' ''We need to get your sister off the ice.'' ''Okay,'' he said and eased himself up to a sitting position. They crawled on their hands and knees towards the icy edge. A bolt of lightning lit up the lake. Ivor flashed a look of concern at Arnold, looked back at the lake, then back at him. Arnold stared in horror at the large cracks that were appearing, one beneath the middle of where his sister lay. ''I'll go Dad, I'm lighter than you.'' Ivor nodded, he knew it was the right thing to do, if he tried the ice would break in half and Molly would be swallowed by the frozen water. He didn't like it, not one bit, not both his children on the ice, but what else was there to do. ''Give me your hand, Molly,'' Arnold said reaching his arm out to her. He crawled across the snow on his stomach and slowly eased himself upon the lakes iced crust. ''What's that in the water below?'' asked Molly. ''Something is moving below us, Arnie.'' ''I don't know, probably a trick of the light.'' The dark shadow moved closer and he didn't like it one bit, something didn't feel right. ''Grab my hand now, Molly!'' She reached out, her finger-tips touching his. He inched closer to grip her hand, half on the lake, half off. The ice split and cracked and the shadow beneath the water loomed up, sending Molly several feet into the air. Ivor and Arnold screamed. A pair of red eyes burned against the black sky and a deep laugh drowned out their voices. In the distance there was a loud splash and short gasps. The ink-like creature morphed into part human form. ''What in God's name are you?'' Ivor gasped, watching his hair squirm like snakes. Without warning his fish like body churned up the lake and with a flick of his tale sent Arnold crashing into the water. Ivor rushed forward to try and save him, but the creature bent down and blocked his path. ''If you want to see your children alive, you have to do something for me!'' ''I'll do anything! Please, let my children live.'' His laughter filled the air. ''Anything! Are you sure? You may change your mind when you hear what I have to say.'' ''Never! Tell me what you want.'' The creature bent down and whispered in Ivor's ear. The colour drained from his face and his mouth dropped open. ''So what's your answer? Hurry, there's not much time left for your precious children,'' he said, giving a lopsided smile. Ivor took a deep breath. ''Yes, I'll do it.'' A thunderous roar emerged as the creature lifted his hands toward the sky, green electric charges crackled and danced from his fingertips. Ivor fell to his knees and buried his head in his hands before his sobs became agonising screams.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Chapter Four - The Deal
Gee on 05-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter Four - The Deal
Again, nicely done. I'm really enjoying your novel and looking forward to the next part.
Your descriptions are very well done. You paint a picture without an excessive amount of detail, just enough that your reader can clearly see what's going on but without weighing the story done.
One thing I thought I would point out. Your first chapter tells the story of Charlie and is dated June 1946. This chapter refers to that story but is dated (in the third chapter) as February 1943.

Author's Reply:
Hi Gee!

Thanks so much for returning to my story to read and comment. I'm so glad that you have enjoyed the continuation of the storm and that the descriptions are not to much for the reader. Your comments are very much appreciated. Thanks for pointing out about the dates too. I think I know what I have done there and will change it later. Freddy and Charlie are the first to come into contact with the ink-creature, which is in June 1941 (I've put 6 in instead) and then continues with Molly and Arnold two years later in Feb 1943. Cheers for bringing it up. I will be reviewing later tonight when my kids are in bed and I can concentrate on what I'm reading. I haven't forgotten you.

Lisa. xx


Grimeon's Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm (posted on: 02-04-10)
This has been put on before, but its gone through an edit and have altered and added to it. I hope it sounds and reads better than it did in the past.

February 1943 Iris stared through the middle pane of the sash window. Her hand covered her mouth in disbelief. Outside a flurry of snowflakes tumbled down. In the field opposite, the oak's branches cradled the snow like a baby. It had been icy cold all day, but no-one expected this, not now. A hand as big as a shovel pressed down on her shoulder. "They'll be fine." Iris gave a deep sigh. "I should never have let them go, Ivor." She reached up and held his hand in hers. "The storm is two days early. It's not your fault, Iris. It wasn't snowing when they left." She turned to face him. "I pray to God to keep them safe," she said, wringing her hands tightly. "He will. They'll be back soon." He slid his arms around his wife's petite waist, and stooped, kissing her on her cheek. "I hope so." Her hands slipped to the comfort of his arms and he gave her a squeeze of reassurance. They stood together for a few minutes gazing at the snow that now clung to everything in its path. "I'll put more wood on the fire to warm the room up for when they get back," she said. "Okay, love." He nodded, but didn't look at her. Ivor stood staring out of the window. Inwardly he hoped that the snow would not get any worse. He knew how treacherous the paths could be in the cruellest of winters. If he told Iris how he really felt, she would worry herself to death. No need to panic her. She was already on edge. For twenty minutes the flakes eased, then began to pick up pace, becoming heavier than before. The wind swirled the snow like sand in a desert storm. Ivor tapped his fingers upon the wooden window ledge. Iris had not taken her eyes off the weather herself. She watched from the corner of her eye as she added more carrots to the lamb stew. They should be at Mrs Hettle's now, maybe even making their way home, she thought. At least that was what she hoped. She prayed silently to God to keep her children safe from harm. When the weather had turned so harshly a few years ago, their other daughters; Rose age two, and Lily age four, got sick and later died of pneumonia. Their deaths were just a year apart from each other. The family had been beside themselves with grief. When Molly had been born seven years ago, it felt like they were given a third chance in life. Ivor had called her their miracle baby. He doted on her as much as he did their son. They felt blessed to have their two remaining children. She hoped God would hear and listen to her prayers. "Iris, I'm going to meet them, before the weather gets any worse." The tone of his voice was firmer now. "Okay, but be careful." "Stop fretting woman. I'll be fine. Put three hot bowls of soup ready for us," he said, giving a wink as he put his boots on. ''We'll be back soon.'' Iris smiled and watched him as he slipped on his coat and woollen hat. The hinges on the door creaked as it opened and a gust of icy air burst into the room. Seconds later the door banged shut and he'd gone. Arnold put his arm around Molly's shoulder and pulled her closer to him. They bent their heads, trying to shield their faces from the icy wind that whistled past them. Molly pulled her collar tighter around her neck. It had been bitterly cold when they left the house, but it seemed much colder now. They had only been gone forty minutes, but felt like they'd been walking for two hours. Her feet ached and her face stung with the biting wind. The sky looked as white as paper and she could hardly see the scenery any more. "I'm tired." "I know me too. We have to get back before the weather gets worse. It will be dark soon." "How much further?" "Not too far, Molly. We're nearly there. It's around this bend." "Good." "We'll give Mrs Hettle her sewing, collect mam's money, then go straight home. Okay?" ''Okay, Arnold," she said shivering. He hugged her closer to him and he could feel her body shaking. She should never have come. He would have been quicker on his own, but his sister could be persuasive, with her sea blue eyes and innocent smile. He always gave in to her in the end, but he enjoyed her company, even though she was four years younger than him. They trudged on until they reached Mrs Hettle's house. Arnold knocked on the door hard. He hoped the old dear had her hearing aid in. They stood for a few moments and waited before he rapped harder on the door again. His knuckles felt numb. "I hope she's in," he said. Molly shrugged. From inside the house they heard the faint sound of feet shuffling. Molly cupped her hands together and blew inside them. "Wait a minute," came a scratchy voice from the other side of the door. "Okay. It's Arnold and Molly, Mrs Hettle." "All right, me dears." They heard the key slip into the door. It clicked as it turned. The door opened slowly to reveal an old woman, stooped with grey wavy hair. She looked at them and smiled. Her small brown eyes widened at their apple red cheeks and cherry pink noses. "Come in, come in." She gestured with her hand. "Thank you," said Arnold, stamping his feet outside before he walked into the house. Molly did the same and followed. A blast of warm air greeted them as they entered. They shuddered as it swarmed around them, like bees to a hive. "What brings you here?" "We brought your sewing from mam." "It could have waited, dear. You shouldn't have come out in this weather." "It wasn't snowing when we left." "Sit by the fire and I'll get you some soup." "Thank you, but we better get back home." She looked out the window and understood the young boys concern. "Well at least come in and have a warm. I'll make you some hot, sweet tea for your journey back.'' "Thank you kindly Mrs Hettle.'' "You're welcome, dear boy. Why don't you both stay with me until things settle?" she said, gazing out of the window at the large flakes of snow. "Our parents will be worried. We have to get back before dark," replied Arnold. Arnold stared outside. The snow pelted down. It reminded him of a pillow fight that he and Molly had one night. There were feathers everywhere. The bedroom had been as white as outside. Mam had given them a row for making such a mess and made them tidy up. It seemed to take forever, probably because they kept throwing the feathers over each other instead of cleaning up, but it had been fun. He smiled to himself, but it didn't last long. He could hardly make out the usual scenery outside the window that he'd seen time and time before, on previous visits. It made him nervous. Mrs Hettle shuffled off into the kitchen. "Can't we stay here?" "No, Molly. We have to go home," he said pacing the floor and looking through the window once more. "Dad could come get us." "If the storm gets worse tonight, he won't be able to get here," he replied abruptly, turning on his heel to face her. "Aww," she said pouting. "It's cold. I don't want to go back out." "I don't either, but we have no choice. I told you to stay home." From the kitchen they heard the whistle of the kettle. A few minutes later Mrs Hettle appeared in the doorway carrying a dark blue flask. "Here you are, me dears." She handed the flask to Arnold. "Now take care, you hear. I wish you would stay.'' "Thanks Mrs Hettle, but mum will be worried." "All right. Wrap up warm now and go straight home." "We will, promise," said Molly buttoning up her coat, then sliding her hat over her ears. "Here are a few shillings for your mam and one each for you," she said pushing the money into Arnold's gloved hand. He smiled gratefully and opened his mouth to say something, but before he had a chance Mrs Hettle ushered them gently towards the door. "Take care now. Hurry home, children. Hurry home." "We will," they shouted and waved. The snow lay thick on the ground as they trudged home. Every now and again Molly could feel droplets of ice slipping into her boots and melting underneath her woollen tights. Her toes were getting colder. Now and again she would get pins and needles in her feet. "Molly, try and keep up, it will be dark soon," he said, holding out his arm towards her. She clasped his hand tightly. "I'm trying, but my feet are going numb." "All the more reason for us to get home quicker, then." He pulled her along behind him and looked up at the sky. It had turned cement grey. There wasn't a cloud in sight. It didn't look good. The storm would get worse over night. They had to get home. "Want a piggy-back?" "Yes, please." Arnold bent down for his sister to get on his back. She clutched on to his shoulders and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. He lifted her up a little bit more, so that she rested comfortably on him and they set off once again. Molly tightened her grip around Arnold's neck, more for warmth than stability. "Hey, you'll strangle me in a minute." "Sorry, Arnie." He carried her for the best part of ten minutes, but could feel his legs becoming heavier as the snow lay thicker on the ground. His knees began to buckle and his breathing became heavier. "Molly, you'll have to get down. Let's rest a minute and have some hot tea." ''Aww, okay,'' she said jumping down. "Where are we? We didn't come this way." "I know, it's a short cut home. You'll never make it otherwise." "Will so," she said defiantly. Her forehead creased as she frowned at him. "If the wind changes you'll stay like that," he laughed. "Will not." "Will too." Molly poked her tongue out at him. He grinned and did the same back. They rested against one of the oaks. Their gloved hands held the dark blue cup in turn, feeling the warmth seep through the wool on to their flesh beneath. Arnold kept a close eye on the weather. The sky had turned a shade of gravestone grey in the five minutes that they had been there. Molly wasn't shivering as much. Arnold put the flask safely back in his pocket and sucked in the cold air. He breathed out deeply and a small cloud of misty air appeared in front of him. "You look like a dragon," Molly laughed. "Mum will look worse, if we don't get home," he said, his face serious. They still had a twenty minutes walk in front of them, but it would probably take thirty with Molly with him. At least this way they would be home a little quicker. "Watch your step from here, okay? Hold my hand." Molly reached out gingerly. A flicker of fear glazed her eyes. "Oh. Maybe we should have gone the other way." "We wouldn't get back before dark, Molly. We'd get lost." "But I thought you knew your way?" "I do, but not when it's pitch black. It's hard judge at night. Don't worry, we'll be fine." "Promise?" "Yeah, promise. Don't let go of my hand, you hear?" "I won't." Her grip tightened. Ivor plunged his hands deeper into his pocket until he could feel the coarse stitching scratch upon his gloves. From the distance he could see the warm yellow glow of light inside Mrs Hettle's front window. He breathed deeply. This winter she had not gone to her sister's in the town below. She probably didn't have time. The storm had struck quickly. The snow had crawled almost up to his knees. The further up the mountain, the worse it got. Hopefully the kids would still be there with Mrs Hettle. He knocked loudly on the door, waiting a couple of minutes before trying again. "Who is it?" "It's Ivor." "Ivor!" The lock clicked and the door creaked open. "What brings you here, dear?" "Arnold and Molly. Are they here?" "No, they left over twenty minutes ago." "Damn." He bent his head and rubbed his face with both hands. "I asked them to stay with me, but Arnold insisted they get home before dark." He nodded sullenly. "Thank you, Mrs Hettle. Well I've not passed them on the way." "You haven't?" Mrs Hettle interrupted, looking startled. ''There's only one another way to get back!'' ''Yes," he said, nodding his head. "I'll try and catch them up," he said, his tone laced with panic. They couldn't be too far away. Could they? He had to get to them and quick. He pushed himself onwards, struggling through the thickness of soft flakes that had matted together. His legs were heavy the cold penetrated through the soles of his boots. He panted and white clouds of air escaped from his mouth and drifted upwards. He stopped to get his breath back and held his side. It had been years since he'd had a stitch this bad, but he had to push on. A fog had drifted down and he squinted, trying to make out the shapes in the distance. There didn't seem to be any movement, but he couldn't be certain. "Arnold. Molly," he shouted then waited for a reply. There came no answer. He called again, louder this time, but still no reply. He continued his search, calling their names every few steps, sinking deeper into the crisp snow. "Arnold, are we nearly home?" "Almost. Fifteen minutes and we'll be there." "I thought you said this way is quicker?" "It is, Molly." ''It's taking forever." The climb was exhausting. Arnold wished Molly had stayed at home with their mam. He would have been quicker on his own. Through the flurry of snowflakes he could just make out the scenery. The oak stood like a dark silhouette on top of the mountain. Its branches looked like witches fingers - crooked and claw-like, below it lay the lake, as silent as death itself, frozen from the relentless cold. They weren't allowed here because of what had happened.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm
sunken on 03-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm
Hello Ms. Sugar. Hope you are well. It's good to see you around again. I remember this chapter. Given the state of my memory that's no mean feat. I don't know much about prose, but I enjoyed this. It reads effortlessly. I even found myself giving a toss as to what happens to the characters. Can we expect Chapter four any time soon? I for one am hooked. You deserve a nib for this in my sunky opinion. A gem of a sub if ever I read one.
Nice one Lisa. Well done.

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Author's Reply:
Hello there Mr Sunks,

Long time no speak! Yeah, I'm fine thanks. have had quite a long time off from writing, not been well and just had no inspiration, so knocked it on the head for a while apart from the odd bit now and again. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment un on this. I'm afraid I didn't get notification to let me know. I'm so glad that you liked this as I've edited, taken away and added etc and tried to make it a bit better ie; pace, characters etc. Yes, chapter 4 has been submitted for Monday...the storm continues. I'm hoping to start on Chapter 5 tonight, if I can. I have been staying up til the early hours to write the chapters as now the kids are off school I don't get peace in the day. I want to write a fair bit of this book over the next seven weeks, because I won't be able to do much after the 21st May ;0).
Thanks again for following this story, it means a lot to me, more than you know.
Take care sweetheart.

Sugar Lumpkin. xx

sunken on 04-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm
21st May? Why, what happens then? Oh, you mean the general election? I forgot you were standing. I believe you're in Labour? (-; Hello?

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if it isn't broke take the back off and have a fiddle

Author's Reply:
Yes, it will be labour, very soon, not sure about the standing part though lol ;0)

Sugar Lumpkin. xx

Gee on 05-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm
I felt that you set the scene very well in this. I loved the details about the children lost, making these two very precious to their parents. I liked your descriptions too. It made me feel cold just to read it.
The way you ended this made me want to read more so I'm going to search through for the other chapters and then come back to the most recent one.
Very nicely done indeed.

Author's Reply:
Hello Gee,

Thank you so much for stopping by to read and commen on my work. I really am very grateful to you. I'm so sorry for the late reply, but I'm not having notifications to let me know that someone has left a comment. Please excuse me if I'm late in my replies to you. I'm so glad that you have liked this so much. It has been three years in my head and tryin to get it right!! I think I'm getting there now. The fourth Chapter and continuation to the storm has been submitted and is on here today. If you get time I hope you will like it as much as Chapter 3. Thanks again Gee, so very much. I will be reviewing work later on here.
Its lovely to meet you too.

Lis. xx

e-griff on 05-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm
Three years? Blimey - I'm an old hand. Definitely significantly better, I'd say. Well done, Mama ... ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Hi e-griff,

Yeah, it's been on going in my head now for three years!! Long time huh!! I'm hoping I'll get it finished this year, if I work my socks off again. Thank you for your comments. It's great to hear that is much better than the last time I posted it. I have redone all the chapters, but haven't put the first two on as I thought people would get fed up of reading the same ones, even though they have been edited. Chapter 4 is a continuation of this one and reveals more, but it's a fresh write and not been put on UKA before as it was only written from scratch a few days ago. Thanks again for your comment, much appreciated. Sorry if this reply is late, but I am not getting notifications through to my email.

SugarMama and the lump :0) xx

e-griff on 05-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm
bloody hell, Mama! another one?

have you tried saying 'no'? (only joking, luv).

Sincere congrats! 'Mama' or what????

best, best, JohnG

Author's Reply:
Lol, Yes, another one! I'm due in just under 7 weeks, which is partly why I haven't been around for so long. Not been too good on this sugar lump for quite a few months, plus I've hardly written anythin until now.
I did try saying now, but the repeats on the TV got a bit too much ;0)

Thanks for the congrats, Griff.

Lisa. xx

Andrea on 08-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm
Congrats on the new, imminent lump, Sugar! You say you aren't getting notifications - is your email addy up-to-date?

Lovely to see you back!
x


Author's Reply:
Hello Andrea,

Thank you very much. The 'lump' is the reason why I haven't been here for so long, as I've been quite rough on this baby and only last couple of months felt a bit better. Nope, still not getting notifications. I think my email is up to date, yes. It's lovely to be back, but unfortunately I won't have internet from next Tuesday, so I'm not sure when I will be back online. I'm hoping before baby is due in 6 weeks!

Lis. xx

Andrea on 08-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Chapter Three - The Storm
Strange...checked your account and it looks fine. Did you check your personal info? Email is still Tiger Stripes one?

Er..how many lumps (and dogs) is it you have now??

Author's Reply:
Oh, I don't get it either! Yeah, email is still the same as you have got.

Lol, I have 6 children and number 7 id due on the 21st may (6 weeks from tomorrow) and 3 Staffs, lol.


Eyes Open, Eyes Shut (posted on: 19-10-09)
One of the poems that I read out at the 2009 John Tripp Spoken Poetry Awards on the 8th October. This is something that still haunts me to this day, and I guess always will. The words that are capitals are meant to be said a litle louder than the rest. I may try and audio this shortly.

I don't want to be here. I can't carry the imagery, the pain it unleashes. Don't take me back. Don't make me go there Please, not again. Not again!! I can't cope. CAN'T YOU HEAR ME? I don't want to be here. Ignored. Eyes open Eyes shut. I'm there In a splintered second Back in the house I held you in, one day old in a powder blue shawl. In the house On your first birthday With cone party hats And laughter. But it's not what I see, Not now. Your screams make alarm bells screech around my head. As I run through the hall of mirrored memories. My legs tremble With each step I take on the stairs That you once crawled up. How many times can I say I'm sorry? So, so, so sorry. How many more tears to drown in tear myself down in? How many more times can my heart twist itself out? How many more chunks of arthritic guilt? How many times will I come back To the smoke filled house And see the flames I couldn't save you from? HOW MANY TIMES? Inwardly I know... ... until my last breath.
Archived comments for Eyes Open, Eyes Shut
stormwolf on 19-10-2009
Eyes Open, Eyes Shut
OMG!!!
Loved it. Just power-filled writing.
Alison

Author's Reply:
Hi Alison,

Thanks very much. I'm really glad that you liked it so much. Cheers for reading and stoping by.
I've just downloaded the Audio converter, so If I get some peace later
I will try and record it. I just hope people will be able to understand my Welsh accent lol.

Lis'. xx

stormwolf on 19-10-2009
Eyes Open, Eyes Shut
Having read the into again..I hope its not fact..but if it is...I am most dreadfully sorry.
I am most deeply affected by it.

Author's Reply:
Alison, yes, it is fact, but please don't apologise.
It has taken me a hell of a long time to get some of this
out of my system, so to me it is a relief and if I can help
anyone else who has gone through similar, then all the better.
Please, please don't feel bad about your comments because to me
they mean more than you know :0)

Big hugs.

Lis'. xxxx

sunken on 20-10-2009
Eyes Open, Eyes Shut
Hello again, Ms. Sugar. The final line in this is so strong. It kinda floors ya. I wish I could say something more profound, I'd just end up in a muddle tho, so I won't. I think ya know how strongly I rate this and your other sub this week. Well done, Sugary one.

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunks, I'm sorry for the late reply. I've been busy here with kids, dogs, housework and writing! Never enough hours for me. You don't need to say anything more profound, what you have already written is enough for me. Yes, I know Sunks. Thank you.

Sugar. xxx

Romany on 28-10-2009
Eyes Open, Eyes Shut
I think I've said before that I can't even begin to imagine what you have been through and are still going through, and I pray to God that I'll never know, but I feel for you and I am glad that writing is helping in some way, however small.

Romany.

Author's Reply:


Siren Child (posted on: 19-10-09)
The second poem I read out at the 2009 John Tripp Spoken Poetry Awards

Our hands clasped Tight as a clam. We walk through the bustle of moon pale corridors and bleach odour floors. New parents - Meaningless faces With banana smiles Carry their Newborns In gracious steps. Invisible peacock feathers fan out from their bodies. When I look At their scarecrow Baby in it's Tiny Tears sized car seat I don't really see Its features It's a mere glimpse. What I see is a Siren child Mine. The one we had to leave behind. You're Smaller than A doll 18 cms to be exact! You lie Motionless in A white wicker Carry cot. There is no warmth As I touch Your arm Only coldness lingers on my fingertips. .I'm too scared To hold your fragile body. Skin as pink as a rose petal Your eyes fused together. Asleep for eternity. Imperfections concealed. Organs not developed. But To me You're perfect. Serenity called you And you listened. Half child, Half mermaid, But you're mine! Sweet and Beautiful. I say goodbye One last time. The door shuts. You're gone! You're gone! Carried out By a stranger. A landslide Of tears Roll Down a freckled face. Peacock parents Everywhere. How fortunate, So damn fortunate you are. Relief in your banana smiles.
Archived comments for Siren Child
Bradene on 19-10-2009
Siren Child
A very sad poem, one which I can totally identify with. Tenderly written. Val x

Author's Reply:
Hi Val, thank you very much for reading and commenting on this piece, as always so very much appreciated. Sorry you understood my words as much as you have.

Lis'. xx

chrissy on 19-10-2009
Siren Child
I found this a well written and deeply moving poem.
My sympathy for your loss.
chrissy

Author's Reply:
HI Chrissy,

Long time no see! Thank you for reading and for your lovely comments too.
This happened just over two years ago now, but it stil hurts. Sometimes
I just need to get things off my chest. I wrote this for a competition just
over a week ago and sailed close to getting through to the final, but just
missed the cut!

Lis'. xx

stormwolf on 19-10-2009
Siren Child
Your poetry moves me beyond words....so I have none
Alison rated 10

Author's Reply:
Alison,

Thank you for your beautiful words. I'm gobsmacked, so I'll join you in saying 'I have none either'

Lis'. xx

sunken on 20-10-2009
Siren Child
Hello Ms. Sugar. I have a habit of putting my foot in it of late, so I thought I'd keep this brief. I can only echo what has already been said. I know that sounds like a cop out, but I'm a bloke - My emotions are kept under lock and key at all times... Except for maybe when Leona Lewis does that Snowpatrol song - Oh I cry buckets then. Ahem. See what I mean? Sugar, really, I shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a commenting box. I blame Andrea for not banning me (-: A seriously well written piece that truly deserves the nib. I hope Bernard doesn't taint things for ya. Well done and no mistake.

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunks. Thank you for your words, I appreciate them very much. Don't think I've heard Leona sing that Snowpatrol song, although on saying hat I probably have, just can't rememeber it!
Cheers for letting me have Bernard again, it's a pleasure to have him. Not sure how he's gonna cope with 3 dogs here hough, poor thing will be knackered by the time you have him back.
I'm quite chuffed that this has been nommed and nibbed and the other has been nommed too.
Thanks again hun for your support on my work.

Sugar. xxx

royrodel on 21-10-2009
Siren Child
this is
a place where I've been but never wanted to be there.
yeah God bless all the wee dudes.

RODEL

Author's Reply:
Sorry you had to go to the same place Roy.
Lets hope the little ones are having fun! Bless them.

Sugar. xxx

Corin on 21-10-2009
Siren Child
An emotionally overw helming piece, Lis. Too sad to comment on.

David

Author's Reply:
Yeah, I guess it is. Just needed to let it out. It's taken a long time.
Thanks very much for reading, Corin.

Sugar. xxx

Bevvy on 26-10-2009
Siren Child
What a poignant, painful, beautiful poem.
No wonder you couldn't bear those peacock parents with their banana smiles.

I'm so sad for your loss.

With love,
Beverley.

Author's Reply:

Romany on 28-10-2009
Siren Child
Beautifully written. I love the invisible peacock feathers and the peacock parents. How we take things for granted, us lucky ones.

Love Romany. xx

Author's Reply:

siskin on 28-10-2009
Siren Child
Achingly beautiful and amazing imagery.So sorry for your grief
Rose

Author's Reply:

sybarite on 06-01-2011
Siren Child
Heartbreaking, haunting, and beautiful writing. How very sorry I am for your loss. The peacock imagery is perfect.

Author's Reply:
Hello Sybarite (love the name by the way).

Thank you very much for your welcome comments. I really appreciate you stopping by to read this. it me a little while to write, but when I got started I couldn't stop! I read it out two years ago at the John Tripp awards. I think I just missed out on being called for the final. The judge came over, shook my hand and said "It was a very close call. Well done." I'm pleased just for that. Thank you again so very much.

Sugar. xx

sullivan on 12-10-2012
Siren Child
It is for such moments; such misery; such utter hopelessness that poetry exists... That it may rise, phoenix like, from the ashes of despair... You gave it wing - Bravo!

Author's Reply:


Spheres Of Light (posted on: 17-07-09)
Another short one...I'll let the reader decide!

Eleven years ago, tragedy struck our family; our 21 month old son died in house fire. We were absolutely devastated and beside ourselves with grief, and guilt that we couldn't save him. It was horrendous. I can't begin to describe the pain and suffering we went through, and still do. Two months later with only three months left in my pregnancy, we moved away from the area with our two daughters, started a new life, in a new house. This one, unlike the last had a good feeling about it. I knew as soon as I walked in. I gave birth in October 1998 to our fourth child, our second son. I found it difficult to sleep at night because of what had happened. Most nights I would just lie awake in bed until my eyes got so heavy I could no longer fight going to sleep. The one night was much the same as any other. My husband slept and I spent it wide awake looking through the window at the orange glow from the street light outside. I glanced around the room. In the corner of the room was our TV, which was switched off, but surrounding it were several balls of light, in different sizes. They were flashing on and off like disco lights when they flash to the music's beat. I was fascinated and mesmerised by them. I didn't know what they were or what they could possibly be. I wasn't scared, just calm and relaxed. It lasted for five minutes before they went one by one. I wanted to tell my husband the next day of what I had seen, but thought better of it in case he thought I'd gone round the twist! The following night it happened again, in the same place. I felt so at ease. They were so beautiful. I didn't want them to leave. I wanted to watch them all night, but after five minutes they went. They left me with an inner peace I couldn't explain. On the third consecutive night it happened again. This time my husband was awake! I watched, but didn't say a word to him. When it was over, he said to me ''Did you see that?'' I wasn't sure if he'd seen the same as me so I said ''Did I see what?'' ''The lights by the TV,'' he replied. ''You seen it too?'' I said surprised. He nodded and smiled. I was thrilled because I thought maybe I had been seeing things. It was the last time we seen them in that house. We moved again several months later to the house that we occupy to this day. Two months after we moved in I saw them for the last time, on my landing. I wondered if it was our son, who had passed over; coming to let us know that he was all right. His own way of trying to ease our grief - and for those few minutes he did.
Archived comments for Spheres Of Light
sunken on 17-07-2009
Spheres Of Light
Hello Ms. Sugar of Lumpkin. It's always hard to comment on something so personal (at least it is for a sunk). You deserve a well done for simply getting this down. With that in mind - Well done!

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk of Sunken fame. Thanks very much for commenting on this and stopping by. As always it's very much appreciated. This was actually quite easy to get down on paper, it is something that as strange as it sounds, brings back nice memories for me in a way! If you know what I mean.
I hope that because it's personal, it won't scare people off...I think sometimes my experiences in my writing does that to people though sadly. Maybe I'll just put everything as 'Fiction' from now on.
Thanks again Sunky.

Sugar. xx

sunken on 17-07-2009
Spheres Of Light
I know what you mean, Ms. Sugar. I just find it hard to say I enjoyed something when it's about such a tragic event. That said, the comfort that you got from the spheres did shine through. Did ya see what I did there? Ahem. I'll shut up ๐Ÿ™‚ xx

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tammy flu 3 - lemsip 2

Author's Reply:
Yeah I know what you mean Sunky. I suppose it's hard to say something like that about something like this, but I would have understood what you meant. Lol, yeah I seen what you did there, you clever sunk you.

Thanks Sunks, you always make me smile.

Sugar. xxx

Ionicus on 17-07-2009
Spheres Of Light
From what I have read here and in one of your previous pieces, it looks has if you may have psychic powers.
You could have put this under 'Autobiography', people would have understood. It sounded a very interesting experience.

Luigi xxx

Author's Reply:
Hi Luigi,

Thanks for reading, commenting and stooping by. It's very much appreciated. Well I don't know what it is, but I seem to have something and the older I get the more advanced it's becoming! I've had so many different experiences with different things it can be a little overwhelming sometimes and hard to understand 'Why me?' I'm still trying to figure it out 22 years later! Maybe I never will, but I have quite a few stories of similar nature. I may just post them on here.
Perhaps I should put it under 'Autobiography,' actually I think I will do that now. Glad you found this interesting. I hope others will too. Thanks again Luigi.

Lis'. xx

macaby on 18-07-2009
Spheres Of Light
An interesting experience, I thought. Who knows maybe you are right in your presumptions, stranger things have happened were there isn't always a plausible answer.
Enjoyed reading.
mac

Author's Reply:
Thanks macaby. Who knows, even i'm not sure if i'm right, wrong or way off course! Yes, stranger things have happened and there is sometimes never an explanation for it. I'm really pleased that you enjoyed the read. Cheers for stopping by to read and comment on my work, much appreciated, as always mac.

Lis'. xx

Romany on 19-07-2009
Spheres Of Light
I can't think of anything to say about your tragedy that wouldn't sound trite, which would be shameful, so I'll simply say I'm sorry for your pain.

As to the lights, well who knows? And as long as it helped both you and your husband and gone some way to easing your grief, then it can only be a good thing, what or whoever it was.

Romany x

Author's Reply:
Hi Romany,

Thanks for stopping by to read and comment. No problem I know what you mean, but I have learned to cope with it much better now as the years have rolled on. Obviously I get some crap days, but then I always will, it's not something that ever goes away when you loose a child. Thanks for your lovely words though.

Yeah, the lights were strange things that I had never seen before until then and to this day I have never seen them since either. It was lovely to see them and it did help us briefly for those few minutes that they were there with the grief, so like you said it was a good thing :0)
Thanks again Romany.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 19-07-2009
Spheres Of Light
My Darling Lis',

you sure are psychic and cool and fab. Mamma mia!!! The highly subjective matter of your work should not, and I'm sure does not, put people off of commenting. If there's a super fine piece of literature to be read, people will read it.

My love, there are four or five grammar mistakes and a couple of lines that could be edited. I tell you this as a fellow writer, and admirer of such strength, spirit and talent.

Love to you as always
Jack

Author's Reply:
Hey Jackie,

Aww, thank you for your lovely words. Not sure if I am psychic, but there is definatley something. I've had too many different things happen in my life to dismiss it as just coincidence. I think though some of my work, if it is too close to the bone, does tend to put some people off reading it, or at least leaving a comment.

Thank you for picking up on the mistakes. I will take another look at this later when I've finished my chores and sorting the kids out etc. Thanka again sweetie for stopping by to read and comment on my stuff. It's very much appreciated.

Thanks for the forum comment too. I left a reply on there for you and have sent you an email. Talk soon.

Love Lis'. xxx

wfgray on 17-10-2009
Spheres Of Light
Hi Sugar. Grief my wife and I know what you mean. Many years ago visited a children's home in my compacity as a police officer. Whilst I was there I noticed a young boy who had a real cheeky face. I told my wife about him and she went to see him and suggested that we should forster him. We did and then we adopted him. He was six year old then. He turned out to be a strapping young lad and lived for football. We had retired to a fishing village and he decided that he wanted to be a fisherman. It was not what I wanted for him. However some time later his boat was sunk and he was lost at sea. His body was never found. ONe night my wife said to me that she had been speaking to my son. She had seen him clearly picking up his sandwiches to go. Grief still goes on. He was only 19 and had a trial coming up for a football team. So we know how you feel. Will

Author's Reply:
Hi wfgray,

I'm so very sorry to hear of your loss. I think it is one of the worse things that life can sling at you. It's every parents nightmare to lose a child, but when the nightmare begins, it never ends! I know it's no compensation, because nothing will ever repair you or wife's heart, but the 13 years that you had your son are special and you have so many memories of him. Although I do wish you had had the rest of your lives with him.
I think that your son needed to let you both know that he is fine now. It can give comfort when you need it, another memory to treasure. I have had similar experiences too, actually you have just reminded me of something that happened two days ago, that had gone completley out of my head.
My husband and I lost our first son when he was 21 months old. We have never got over his death and never will. Just when we thought we could cope we lost another son when I was 18 weeks pregnant n him, due to many complications and it nearly pushed me over the edge! It brought back all the pain and suffering of loosing the first son and all the flashbacks. I can't describe it really, other than it was horrendous. My head was well screwed up for a good few months after.

I'm not sure what else you were going to say in this as it seems to have been cut off at the end. If ever you would like to talk in private, you're more than welcome to send me a pm on here.
Thank you very much for reading my story, I really do appreciate it very much.

Lis'. xx

zenbuddhist on 14-05-2010
Spheres Of Light
well lisa not what I expected, i read all the comments and I think I sortof echo what sunks has said [he articulated more or less what I was thinking] canny say much else bonny lassie,
soon Charliex

Author's Reply:
Hi Charlie, love. Thanks for reading this, I really do appreciate it very much. This will be published in Fortean Times Magazine in the 246 issue, which is being sold on the 24th June 2010. Cheers hun ๐Ÿ™‚

Lis. xx


Final Farewell (posted on: 17-07-09)
Yeah, you guessed it...it's another short one.

My dad had been ill for some months, but being seventy one we thought it was his age. Then on Friday afternoon in February 2004 he was taken into hospital. They done tests; the results were not good. My intuition told me that he'd be gone before the weekend was over. Saturday afternoon he was rushed into the intensive care unit. His breathing was being helped with the aid of an oxygen mask and tubes from his body were connected to a machine. It was heart wrenching to see him this way, so vulnerable, so ill. Mum went home to have a break; she'd been there all day. My husband and I stayed for a few hours with him. I told him to behave and not have the nurses running round because he kept taking off his oxygen mask! Before I left I said ''I love you. We'll see you tomorrow, okay?'' He held my hand, smiled, took the oxygen mask off and said ''I love you too.'' When the kids were in bed my emotions poured out like water from a damn. I cried non-stop for two hours. I wanted to be on my own so I wrote an email to my friend in Liverpool, telling her what was happening to get things off my chest. I'd almost finished it when I froze. I felt a large hand press firmly upon my back, just below my shoulder. I slid my hand over my skin to check what it was and my skin tingled. I panicked. ''Dad?'' I said out loud. Something didn't feel right. I looked at the phone expecting it to ring. I didn't want the call. My husband came in the room two minutes later and I told him what I'd felt. ''Something's wrong with dad,'' I said tearfully. ''If there was, you'd know because the hospital would phone,'' he said putting his arm around me and giving me a hug. ''Hmm,'' I said listening more to my gut feeling. I wanted to ring the hospital, but something told me not too. By 2am all was quite, no call – nothing! Sunday morning at 9am we were woke up by the phone; it was mum. Things weren't good at all. Dad had taken a turn for the worse! As I walked through the entrance doors, my uncle met me. I asked how dad was. ''I'm sorry, but he's gone,'' he said. I couldn't believe it, he had died an hour before I got there. I didn't get to say goodbye, none of us did, not even mum. I don't think he wanted us to have that memory of him. I spoke to the nurse and she told me that they had nearly lost my dad in the early hours of the morning, but brought him back! Maybe at that moment of passing he had come to say goodbye to me - his final farewell. I guess I will never know the truth - until we meet again.
Archived comments for Final Farewell
sunken on 18-07-2009
Final Farewell
Hello Ms. Sugar. It's good to hear that you've had success in getting this one accepted for publication. Much deserved and no mistake. Here's hoping that there will be more to come. Well done again! I feel that it is now only fitting to bestow a smelly Bernard on you. I'm sorry about that. I'm just re-balancing karma (-;

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. Thank you as always for reading and commenting on my stuff. I really do appreciate it. Yeah I'm still well chuffed over the publication thing, it's not anything ground breaking, but for me it's a start - hopefully in the right direction. Thanks again for Bernard, I always look forward to having him...what a little more chaos in the madhouse I call home lol.

Sugar. xx

Mezzanotte on 19-07-2009
Final Farewell
Dear Lis'


WHAT PUBLICTION ???

I feel out of the loop!!!!

Love Jack

Author's Reply:

sunken on 19-07-2009
Final Farewell
There's more information on the forum regarding Ms. Sugar's recent good news, Ms. Jackie. I hope this helps. Hello?

http://ukauthors.com/phorum5/read.php?1,148776

Sorry I can't make it clickable (I've forgot how to do it)

It's me, by the way.

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isn't it sunday?

Author's Reply:


Giggles and Lamplight (posted on: 13-07-09)
One of the many strange happenings in my eventful life. I kid you not!!

One afternoon I was busy in the lounge when I heard a young girl's giggles. I smiled to myself. There's nothing nicer than hearing my children's laughter. I carried on with what I was doing. The giggles started again. Curious I crept into the hallway and poked my head around the corner, hoping to have the last laugh and make my girl's jump. To my surprise there was no one there, yet I could still hear faint giggles. I went upstairs to see where they were, thinking they were probably playing a trick on me. When I looked in their room, one was asleep; the other was engrossed in a book. I asked my daughter what she had been laughing at but she said that she hadn't been laughing. I thought it a little strange, but shrugged it off. But I could have sworn I had heard it in the hallway. In a conversation days later, my husband mentioned hearing children's laughter in the hallway, but when he looked for the girls they were no where to be seen. A shiver ran down my spine and goosebumps covered my arms as I remembered the giggles I had heard only days previously. His words made me feel relieved I wasn't hearing things. A few weeks later before I went to bed in the early hours I headed upstairs to the bathroom. As I got to the door I noticed my daughter wearing a long white nightie; her hair trailing half way down her back. I remember thinking at the time why was she wearing one of those long petticoats to bed? They were only to be worn under her St David's day costume. She stood with her back towards me just inside her bedroom. I thought she may have been sleepwalking and turned to tell her to get back into bed because it was late. Before I had chance to say anything I watched the young girl fade into the darkness of the bedroom. I stood silently in shock for a few seconds, before checking on my two daughters, who were sleeping soundly in bed. On a different night in the same week, I checked on my children before I went to bed. There in the doorway of my daughter's bedroom stood the young girl again, just as before. She wore the same nightdress, but this time her long dark hair flowed beneath a frilly cap. In her right hand she held an old fashioned lamp, resembling the shape of a gravy boat, which held a single lit candle in the middle of it. I held my breath, stood as still as stone as I watched her take several steps into the room. Halfway across the floor she began to fade and disappeared into the darkness once more. I often wonder who she was. And why she'd visited that night? Was she the young child who I'd heard giggling in my hallway? So many questions that I guess I will never have the answers to and another one of life's mysteries whose truth will never be known.
Archived comments for Giggles and Lamplight
cat on 13-07-2009
Giggles and Lamplight
Omg Lis' no - you're not kidding are you! Well my ickil legs woulda been off and down the street so fast. Are you in the same house? How do you sleep? So many Q's ... oh but wait, no will email you.

*kisses & love* xxx

Author's Reply:
Hi Cat - Nope, I'm not kidding. Lol, well hun if I wasn't so used to things like this you wouldn't have seen my arse for dust I can tell you!! Yes, still in the same house. Umm, when I eventually go to bed...like a log lol. Look forward to your email.

Love Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 13-07-2009
Giggles and Lamplight
This isn't true right???

I'd have been on Cat's trail, speeding away with her. No way! Are you in the same house? If so, why? I'd never enter it again. I'm so scared of creepy things, even when I watch scary films I have to get somebody to come to the bathroom with me.

I had a supernatural experience with a teddy bear once, but in retrospect, think I had made the whole thing up for effect...haha.

I've scered myself with the memory...have to run away now.
Love jack



Author's Reply:
Umm, yes Jack it is true! Yes, I'm still in the same house. I love it here and it hasn't got a bad feeling to it regardless of the things I've seen and heard at times. I did have one scarey experience but that was in another house. Thinking about it now still gives me shivers and a feeling that is hard to explaine, but that is a different story, one I may share with you another day.
Will have to email you and Cat too, so watch yuh inbox this afternoon. May do it now acually when I finish writing this to you.

Hey I hope you don't run away for too long!! Come back!!

Love Lis'. xx

Sunken on 14-07-2009
Giggles and Lamplight
Hello Ms. Sugar. How exciting to have a ghost in your house. I wish I had a ghost in mine. I know have my spirit guide, Elvis, but he doesn't count. I wonder who'll get Jacko? Ahem. Anyway, yes. Thank you. Good to see you're still around and that you haven't been frightened away (by ghosts that is, not uka). Oh, it's me by the way - sunks.

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he can see thru glass

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. Umm not sure about exciting, sometimes I wish it was a ghostless house, but they're of no harm and don't get up to any mischief. I hope your spirit guide behaves himself! or is he all sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, lol. Nahh not been frightened away by ghosts or uka, just been busy as usual here. Thanks as always for stopping by to read my work, very much appreciated.

Sugar. xx

chrissy on 15-07-2009
Giggles and Lamplight
We once lived in a house with a ghostie. No one ever saw him but you could smell the pipe tobacco. It's a weird sensation to know that you inhabit a place where visitors from an alternate existance can be felt or seen or experienced by other senses.
My sister strongly believes in the alternates and would love this story.
Enjoyed this very much.
Chrissy

Author's Reply:
Hi Chrissy. Thanks for stopping by to read and comment on this. I'm really pleased that you liked it. Yeah, I have to agree it is strange to get have these senses. I wasn't sure if I believed in them or not really when I was younger, until things started happening in my teens and certain things still continue to me now. Sorry for the late reply been busy here with kids, dogs, puppy, writing etc...

Lis'. xx


Hailstones and Rubber Balls (posted on: 15-06-09)
Something I thought of whilst sitting in my garden yesterday afternoon. Not sure why, but this came about.

Your mood sombre temper is frayed words spill harshly from your mouth. I stand silently wondering why your tone slices me like a piece of glass and the windows to your soul harbour so much hatred and hidden secrets. They pour out without descriptions no warning no remorse. Inside I know what is wrong I ignore my feelings until the truth is released no going back apologies unacceptable. Mayhem. Despair. My tears like hailstones yours like rubber balls. Change is inevitable. We will never be the same.
Archived comments for Hailstones and Rubber Balls
Sunken on 16-06-2009
Hailstones and Rubber Balls
Hello Ms. Sugar. This is very brooding and no mistake. It puts me in mind of a girl I once knew named Amy. She'd do anything for fruit pastel, anything but bonk. Oh well. At least I got my drive tarmaced. It's the poems that come out of the blue that are often the best. Well done Sugary one.

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sponsored by zinc one a day

Author's Reply:

Sunken on 16-06-2009
Hailstones and Rubber Balls
Sorry, Ms. Sugar. I meant to slap a Bernard on you earlier. I blame fried brain cells. Hello?

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Author's Reply:

Sunken on 24-06-2009
Hailstones and Rubber Balls
Ms. Sugar, where did you go? Hope all is fine in Sugarland... Kind Sugar refinery... ahem. I'll get me coat. Hello?

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based on nothing more than a till receipt

Author's Reply:


Disastrous Intentions (posted on: 15-06-09)
Erotic with a twist...this is my take. I had 10 words I had to encoperate into the poem and used them all.

His smile unfolded and her inhabitations were cast against her vows. Tears of despair and her bruises fell into his heart while his family dissolved into thoughts of sorrow and budded into excitement. Each touch of her breast and her fingers against his cock waded them deeper into disastrous intentions and away from reality. Chains of lust bound them together as her screams of passion lured him against rational emotions. A mind of poison erased his love and belief in his home alone soul mate who's heart was thrashed with whips of adultery. The taste of deceit soured his tongue with each kiss and his hate grew more for his wife each time he relived his lover's intensity. The cherry on his cake was devoured in anger when the truth was spilt.
Archived comments for Disastrous Intentions
Sunken on 15-06-2009
Disastrous Intentions
Hello Ms. Sugar. Was one of the words you had to include 'cock'? Ahem. It's most refreshing to see said word used as it should be. As in, not an insult - just a cock. Mine says hiya by the way. Ahem. Hello? Enjoyed muchly. I did trip over 'deciete' and wonder if you meant 'deceit'? Apart from that, another cracking sub. It would appear that your block is well and truly unblocked? Did you go to dyno-rod? Nice one, Ms. Sugar.

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based on a family pack of cheese and onion crisps

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. Yes one of the words I had to include was 'cock'. Lol, tell yours I said hello. Glad you enjoyed my sub. Oh bugger them pesky typos, I have to blame the late nights and a couple of lagers. Didn't really noticeeither when I read it over. I wrote this straight to screen and din't use word 07. Well I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my muse don't bugger off on his hols again. Lol, no, no Dyno-rods just a couple of wedgies, I think they did the trick for now ;0)

Sugar. xx

Ionicus on 15-06-2009
Disastrous Intentions
Dear Lis', I very much enjoy your trips into the erotica and you use some good ideas but I am going to be a harsh critic this time, not about your poetry but the atrocious spelling.
Please, please make use of the spell checker.

Love, Luigi xxx

Author's Reply:
Hello Luigi. Thank you very much. I'm glad that you enjoy my trips into the erotica world. I like to dabble, with my writing I must say in haste. I don't mind you being harsh Luigi. I shall pull myself up with a firm hand with my spelling. I do apologise, however I must blame the last two weeks of crawling into bed at 3am and 8am starts, plus the couple of lagers so late at night haven't helped...tut, tut. I wrote this straight to screen too, hense the absence of my trusty spell checker. Would you care to slap my wrists?
Thank you as always Luigi for taking the time to read my ickle subs, as always very much appreciated.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 16-06-2009
Disastrous Intentions
Blimey, that Mr. Luigi can be quite forceful when he want's to be. I wonder now if this is how he attained so much love action in his formative years?
So 'cock' was one of the ten words? Disgraceful behaviour! Ahem. I passed on your greetings to mine, by the way. He sends back a cheeky wink. I said 'wink'! Hello? Ya know, sometimes, Ms. Sugar, it's as if he has a life of his own.

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now with less salt

Author's Reply:


Wet Kisses (posted on: 12-06-09)
A little bit naughty. I let my imagination run wild...or did I? You decide.

My clothes drop from my body like beads of persperation as your fingers glide across my naked skin. Nipples teased by an amourous tongue that flicks over them at furious speed. Curious hands follow each dip, each curve and your lustfull lips stalk their every move further and further down until your eagerness is welcomed with groans and a different take of my own wet kisses.
Archived comments for Wet Kisses
Sunken on 12-06-2009
Wet Kisses
Phooaarrrrr. Ahem. Sorry, Ms. Sugar. I'm just very taken with the end of your poem. I'll be frank, it's given me a boner. I will doubtless return to this later and comment properly. Hello? In the meantime, it seems only right to slap a Bernard on you. Good day.

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Author's Reply:
Lmao. Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. Thank you once again for stopping by to read my work. I'm please that you liked it so much and hope you find it just as satisfying later when you return, lol.
Thank you once more for Bernard, I think he likes it here with us lately. Good to have him again.

Sugar. xx

Sunken on 13-06-2009
Wet Kisses
Hello Ms. Sugar. I have returned after much thrapping (a nice word for 'knocking one off') - Perving aside, this is really well done. I like how it progresses from breasts to pussy as if I'm reading her/your body as opposed to a poem. And that's how it should be. Sex should be poetical (if it's done right - so I hear ๐Ÿ˜‰ The wet kiss line is genius and wraps it up perfectly. Wish I'd thought of that. Top stuff. Sorry for the typical blokey first reaction. Ahem. Hello?

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best before coronation street

Author's Reply:
Hello there Mr Sunky. Sorry I don't think I had a message notification to say there was another comment on this, so didn't realise you had commented again. I apologise for the late reply.
I hope you enjoyed your 'thrapping' as you so called it lol. I'm pleased that I...well not me personally, but my words helped you out a couple/few times in your hour(s) of need(s) lol.
Glad you like the wet kiss line, I was quite proud of that one myself, it's not too in your face, so to speak. I think maybe vulgar is the word I might be looking for. It's more subtle and as you say poetic!
Lol, no probs for the typical bloke reaction.

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is better after midnight!


Peace Maker (posted on: 12-06-09)
Another dark piece - A take on suicide and how it feels, then and after.

My head spins in several directions at a time like the Twister at a fairground. Voices swirl and mingle together geting louder and louder. Conversations tear at my emotions and my brain feels torn into pieces. I'm weak there is no fight in my body squeezed from me like my last breath. It chokes me and confuses rational thoughts. Tears fall and interupt the serenity of luke warm bath water. Ripples run free. Sobs break the silence. Courage errupts and the grass looks greener on the other side. Each pill takes me nearer to a more peaceful place. I close my eyes and wait... I'm still here hours later in the arms of serenity bringing up pills that didn't want to take me on my intentional journey. Shrieks of fright and annoyance ring in my ears and swirl in my head. Do you think I wanted to stay to hear your hurtful remarks and bitter sweet memories? It wasn't my time to go I had to stay to fight more battles recieve deeper wounds that would only make me stronger and fight back for my life's worth.
Archived comments for Peace Maker
Sunken on 12-06-2009
Peace Maker
Hello Ms. Sugar. A heart-rending piece and no mistake. Having said that, I sense a positive turn towards the end (unless I have it totally wrong, which can happen a lot when you're a lowly sunk). Two very different poems from you this week, Ms. Sugar. I always knew you were diverse. Well done and no mistake.

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where there is maggie, let there be breaks

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk,

Thanks again for popping by to read my sub. No, you didn't get it wrong at all, the end is more positive. Yes, definatley two very different poems this week. I like to surprise you, lol. I'll try again next week ;0)

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things don't happen in two's or three's - more fives and sixes!

artisus on 12-06-2009
Peace Maker
Sugar, you have some amazing lines here, deeply emotional and very good. I'd like to send you privately a version of your poem, if you don't mind!

Author's Reply:
Hi artisus,

thank you very much. I really appreciate your words. Yeah sure, feel free to pm me, I don't mind at all.

Lis'. xx


Serenity's Existence (posted on: 05-06-09)
I picked three words off the top of my head and made a poem out of them. This was the outcome. The words were: convey, tranquil & sway.

Silence deepens into thoughts of a voice that begs for tranquil surroundings. Inner peace battles to convey all that is natural and pure in a world of paranoia and pain that sways and teeters on the brink of unconnected emotions and a shattered song which shivers under the humid glow of serenity and pleads for it's existence once more beneath unblemished skies.
Archived comments for Serenity's Existence
PaulS on 05-06-2009
Serenitys Existence
Very good! I read it again and again.

I can associate with the wanting to be still in a world of rushing.

The idea of using different words and see you can put them together was done wonderfully.

Take care,

Paul



Author's Reply:
Thanks Paul, I'm really pleased that you liked this so much to read it over a few times. Glad this worked for you as a reader.

Take care too.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 06-06-2009
Serenitys Existence
Hello Ms. Sugar. What a damn fine idea. It works really well and no mistake. Fave bit has to be...

'a shattered
song
which shivers
under the humid glow
of serenity'

Oh yeah, that's nice. Well done on the nom.

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half past cheese on toast

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky. Thank you very much. I'm so glad that it works for you too. I like that part too, dunno why I just do. Thanks for the congrats hun.

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when her tears fall, they fall like hailstones. xx

cat on 06-06-2009
Serenitys Existence
Hi Lis' ๐Ÿ™‚
How are you? You wrote this from 3 promt words ... well omg! Well w.o.w you !!

Like hailstones? Sending you luv and kisses xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Reply:
Hey cat,

Umm, not very good at mo to be honest. email yuh shortly.

Yeah I just picked three words off the top of my head, wrote 'em down and he poem stemed from there.

Will explaine the hailstones hun.

Lis'. xxx

Elfstone on 07-06-2009
Serenitys Existence
I like this very much sugarmama, but I think there is a another (better) way of laying out the words on the page. I know I sometimes seem like a record stuck in a groove, but the visual appearance of a poem matters and the better the poem the more it matters. Ok I'll shut up now! (I *do* like this one.) Elf.

Author's Reply:
Hi Elfstone,

Thanks for your comments. I'm glad you liked it. Could you show me what you meant please? I'm curious of what way you think it would look better on the page. Sorry for the late reply, it's been another busy week.

Sugar. xx

Mezzanotte on 08-06-2009
Serenitys Existence
Dear Lis',

I love the 'shattered song' brilliant. You know, whilst we're thinking about random words for inspiration, how about random phrases. Cat has challenged me to write a poem about kissing strangers and buying shoes, what do you think? Why don't you have a go too?

Love Jack

Author's Reply:
Hello Jackie,

Thanks hun. I'm pleased that you liked this so much. Hmm, random phrases...sounds interesting. Kissing strangers and buying shoes, are they in the same poem? Let me know. Yeah wouldn't mind having a go. Actually I need to email you, things lately have gone pear shaped...again!! Not good news actually. If I get time will email you later.

Sorry for the late reply hun, been one of those weeks again here.

Love always,

Lis'. xx

Elfstone on 13-06-2009
Serenitys Existence
"Could you show me what you meant please?"
- certainly - I'll PM it to you so you can think about it in privacy.
Elf.

Author's Reply:


The Lost Stripes (posted on: 05-06-09)
The first story I ever wrote, although it has gone through numerous changes and many, many edits in the last four years. Aimed at very young children, but a story that their parents could read to them.

In the middle of Bluebell wood are three oak trees. In the first lived a squirrel. In the second lived a badger and in the third lived a rabbit. The animals are friends and play together. Badger and squirrel love to run through the bluebells, but rabbit likes to pick them and take them home for her mum. Mummy badger stood on the door. ''Don't go too far into the woods children. You may get lost,'' she called. ''We won't mummy,'' replied badger, waving. Rabbit, squirrel and badger walked into the woods. They played a game of hide and seek. After a few games badger became cross at being found first and stomped off deeper into the wood. He crouched inside in a burnt, hollowed tree. ''They won't find me first this time.'' ''BOO,'' shouted squirrel, making rabbit jump in fright. ''Let's find badger,'' said rabbit. They looked behind trees, under fern leaves and inside bushes, but he wasn't there. ''Where is he?'' said squirrel. ''Don't worry he can't be too far away,'' replied rabbit. They looked for badger everywhere, but they couldn't find him. ''I hope we find him. It will be dark soon,'' said rabbit. They called and called him, but there was no answer. Meanwhile, badger hid inside the hollowed tree. He waited and waited and waited... But still no one found him. He shivered and began to cry. ''I wish I had listened to mummy and not gone further into the woods,'' he said. Then he heard a noise outside. RUSTLE, RUSTLE. Badger huddled closer to the wood. A mouse peered at him from the opening of the tree trunk. ''Hello, badger. What's wrong?'' She said. ''I'm lost. Can you show me the way home, please?'' ''Oh dear,'' said mouse. ''I'm sorry, but I have to collect seeds for dinner.'' Badger looked sad. ''Follow your nose, it will take you home,'' said mouse. ''I have to go now. Bye.'' With a flick of her long tail, mouse scurried off into the grass. Badger sat down and scratched his head. What did mouse mean by follow his nose? He wondered. And he thought And he thought. Suddenly he jumped up. ''I know! Mouse meant I have to do what all animals do, sniff the ground and follow my scent. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy,'' he said cheerfully. Badger put his nose to the ground and sniffed. He could smell his own unique smell and followed his scent over leaves and twigs. Suddenly he could hear familiar voices. ''B-a-d-g-e-r.'' called squirrel and rabbit. ''Where are y-o-u?'' ''I'm here, I'm here,'' he shouted excitedly. Badger hurried towards them. Squirrel and rabbit gave him a hug. Rabbit looked at badger and pointed. ''Where are your stripes?'' she gasped. Badger looked down and sure enough his stripes had gone! ''I don't know. Maybe they have got lost too,'' he sobbed. ''Let's look for them, they can't be far away,'' said squirrel. They searched the woods, but the stripes were nowhere to be found. Badger sat on a tree stump and began to sob. ''Don't cry, badger. We will find your stripes,'' said squirrel. ''Yes,'' said rabbit. ''We will ask the animals.'' CRUNCH, CRUNCH. The noise made squirrel, rabbit and badger turn round. On the floor beside them was a hedgehog, sniffing through the leaves. ''Excuse me hedgehog, but have you seen my stripes?'' asked badger. The hedgehog looked up. ''No, I haven't seen your stripes,'' he replied. ''TWIT- A - WOO.'' They looked up and in the branches of a tree sat an owl. Squirrel climbed the tree and sat next to him. ''Owl have you seen badger's stripes?'' ''No, I haven't seen any stripes,'' said owl. ''Ask mole, he might have seen them.'' Squirrel thanked him and hurried back down the tree to tell the others. While looking for mole they come across mounds of earth. There was a singing coming from one of them. ''Dig, dig, dig, is what I do all day.'' They went closer to see what it could be and out popped mole! ''Have you seen badger's stripes?'' asked rabbit. ''No, I haven't seen any stripes in my tunnels,'' said mole. ''What am I going to do?'' said badger. ''I can't find my stripes anywhere.'' ''We will look tomorrow, it's getting late. We have to go home,'' replied rabbit. And they walked back to Bluebell wood. They stood outside their doors and said goodbye to each other. Mummy badger opened the door. ''Where are your stripes?'' She asked looking surprised. ''I don't know. I lost them playing hide and seek.'' badger sobbed. ''Where did you hide?'' asked mummy. ''In a hollow tree, but it must have been a magic tree, because when I came out my stripes had gone.'' ''Did you go further into the woods?'' she asked. ''Yes, mummy,'' he said tearfully. ''That's very naughty. You must never go off on your own.'' ''I'm sorry,'' said badger. ''You will have to go to bed early tonight,'' said mummy crossly. ''Because you didn't listen.'' Badger had his tea and mummy put him in the bath. SPLISH SPLOSH As the bubbles disappeared he noticed the water had changed colour. It was black. Badger looked surprised when he seen himself in the mirror. ''Mummy, mummy, guess what?'' he said excitedly. ''I've found my stripes. They found their way home. Hurray!'' ''They were never lost,'' said mummy. ''What do you mean?'' asked badger. ''The black powder that was left on the burnt wood where you hid must have covered your stripes,'' said mummy. Badger smiled. ''I'm glad I have them back,'' he said. ''You must never go off on your own. It's not safe. Always stay with the person you're with.'' ''I won't wonder off again. I promise,'' said badger, going to bed.
Archived comments for The Lost Stripes
Rupe on 05-06-2009
The Lost Stripes
The idea of a badger losing his stripes is definitely a good one & I think the strongest phase of the story is when he realises the stripes are gone & sets out to find them.

However, I felt you could have made more of this - since it's really the core of the story - and was a little disappointed by the ending. I was hoping for something more wildly improbable, I suppose...

There's definitely something good to work on here though.

Rupe

Author's Reply:
Thanks Rupe I'm glad you liked this. Maybe the ending to you is a little disappointing as it's not like my other children's stories that I have written. Possibly a little less imaginative? I hope that this will appeal to very young children, possibly 3-4 years. Cheers very much for your comments on this I really appreciate it.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 05-06-2009
The Lost Stripes
Hello Ms. Sugar. This is very imaginative and no mistake. It appeals to the big kid in me. I think this is a good thing (-:
Good to see you posting again.

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where there is sugar, let there be tea

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. I'm really pleased that you liked this, I'm well chuffed I can tell yuh. Oh it's a very good thing that the big kid in you likes it. Thanks so very much for reading as always.

Sugar Lumpkin. xx

Sunken on 06-06-2009
The Lost Stripes
Actually, this deserves a nib... Until then - a smelly bernard (-:

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ya know i hate to ask...




Author's Reply:
Aww, thanks Mr Sunky Le Munk, it's great to have Bernard again. As I always say 'What's one more to squish in.' Lol.

Sugar. xx


Escapism (posted on: 29-05-09)
Ispired by a picture of prostitution. This is not what was in the picture it's about what feelings were evoked from it and some imagination to boot.

I tread a tight rope and border on insanity hiding my pain from those who want me as their fantasy. They do to me what they daren't with lovers. Sickness pumps through them and into me. I cry silent tears with each grope, each kiss each slap. I scrub myself every hour of every day and night until my skin is red and raw like a piece of fresh meat. It's all I am to them. Crumpled notes stuffed into my hand or thrown beside my used and beaten body. They take what they want leaving their left overs for other scavengers to pick at and tear apart like a severed carcass. I hate the bitch who brought me into this world of lust and depravity to sell myself as she did. Born to serve others and please them at any cost, my life, my soul, my dignity. I have nothing left only manners that have worn thin. The person I once was is forever lost in the past. There is no escapism from this underworld. How I wish I could see her, catch a glimpse of how she may look. Pretty, confident, proud and Contented. Is who I want to be. To have the family she does one that I crave but am cruelly denied. All I see are mini skirts, fishnet tights high heels and a red lipstick the same colour as my blood. Spilled most nights when things get out of hand. When greed takes over and they want more than I will ever give.
Archived comments for Escapism
Ionicus on 29-05-2009
Escapism
You have painted a realistic picture of the world of prostitution and the feeling of disgust at having embarked on such a life.
Just one small niggle: carcuss should be carcass.

Luigi x

Author's Reply:
Thank you Luigi, I'm glad that it came across well to you. Cheers as always for reading and commenting on my work. Oops, thanks for picking up on my spelling mistake. Will sort it out right now before I forget.

Lis'. xx

Jolen on 30-05-2009
Escapism
Painting a true portrait of someone elses life is difficult always, trying to do one which is vastly different from our own is even more so. You've done a fine job in spite of that. One of my favorite poems is 'The Harpy" by Robert Service. I've posted here for your reading pleasure.


The Harpy
There was a woman, and she was wise; woefully wise was she;
She was old, so old, yet her years all told were but a score and three;
And she knew by heart, from finish to start, the Book of Iniquity.

There is no hope for such as I on earth, nor yet in Heaven;
Unloved I live, unloved I die, unpitied, unforgiven;
A loathed jade, I ply my trade, unhallowed and unshriven.

I paint my cheeks, for they are white, and cheeks of chalk men hate;
Mine eyes with wine I make them shine, that man may seek and sate;
With overhead a lamp of red I sit me down and wait

Until they come, the nightly scum, with drunken eyes aflame;
Your sweethearts, sons, ye scornful ones -- 'tis I who know their shame.
The gods, ye see, are brutes to me -- and so I play my game.

For life is not the thing we thought, and not the thing we plan;
And Woman in a bitter world must do the best she can --
Must yield the stroke, and bear the yoke, and serve the will of man;

Must serve his need and ever feed the flame of his desire,
Though be she loved for love alone, or be she loved for hire;
For every man since life began is tainted with the mire.

And though you know he love you so and set you on love's throne;
Yet let your eyes but mock his sighs, and let your heart be stone,
Lest you be left (as I was left) attainted and alone.

From love's close kiss to hell's abyss is one sheer flight, I trow,
And wedding ring and bridal bell are will-o'-wisps of woe,
And 'tis not wise to love too well, and this all women know.
Wherefore, the wolf-pack having gorged upon the lamb, their prey,
With siren smile and serpent guile I make the wolf-pack pay --
With velvet paws and flensing claws, a tigress roused to slay.

One who in youth sought truest truth and found a devil's lies;
A symbol of the sin of man, a human sacrifice.
Yet shall I blame on man the shame? Could it be otherwise?

Was I not born to walk in scorn where others walk in pride?
The Maker marred, and, evil-starred, I drift upon His tide;
And He alone shall judge His own, so I His judgment bide.

Fate has written a tragedy; its name is "The Human Heart".
The Theatre is the House of Life, Woman the mummer's part;
The Devil enters the prompter's box and the play is ready to start.


blessings,
Jolen

Author's Reply:
Thanks Jolen for your most welcomed comments. Glad that you liked this. It's people like you that make all the 4am's well worth it in the end. Cheers for posting The Harpy by Robert Service, I really enjoyed the read.

Lis'. xx

macaby on 30-05-2009
Escapism
Sickness
pumps through them
and into me.

Fabulous lines I thought. Hard hitting poem and it works.
mac

Author's Reply:
Thanks mac, really pleased that you enjoyed this one too. Thanks as always for stopping by to read and comment on my work hun.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 31-05-2009
Escapism
Dear Lis'

I was first struck by how this poem looked on the page. Very attractive, if you know what I mean. I liked the length of the lines and the stanza and stanza breaks...very nice.

You also provoked sandness inme for this poor woman, very well writeen dear Lis', I loved the last stanza particularly.

An excellent read...thanks
Love
Jack

Author's Reply:
Hi Jackie,

Sorry for the late reply. I've been well busy here the last few days. Will email you with what's been going on. Thanks for reading and commenting on this hun. Glad you liked it, especially the length and stanza breaks. It means that I am actually learning and maybe getting things right for a change.

Thanks so much.

Lis'. xx

discopants on 01-06-2009
Escapism
Top poem- it brings a sense of being trapped, almost of the character living out someone else's life or being shut out from the life that should be theirs.

disco

Author's Reply:
Hey DP,

long time no see! Hope yuh ok. Thanks for your comments, as always much appreciated. I tried to put myself in the position of the character. I'm pleased that it came across this way to you as a reader. Thanks again.

Lis'. xx


Fused (posted on: 29-05-09)
Something different from my normal doom and gloom stuff that has come to light lately. Hope you enjoy it.

Your hands slid gently to my waist and over my swollen stomach. Every inch of my body tingled as you held me close to you under the dimming lights. The pubs chatter dissolved only our breathing and heartbeats I could hear. People disappeared and for a few minutes it was only you and I on a humid night in June. I knew then we were meant to be together. Never to be apart only in the dream zone. The connection was likewise as was the love that fused us together recited our vows and bore our children. Seventeen years later your hands still make me tingle as they glide over my pregnancy bump and give me goosebumps in all the right places. Your kisses linger on my neck several hours after under our own dimmed lights and crumpled sheets. The love conquers heartache berevity and things in between without it our exsistance would have shriveled, gone stale, mouldy, like a discarded apple.
Archived comments for Fused
Sunken on 29-05-2009
Fused
Hello Ms. Sugar. It's me, sunks. All I can say is what I'm about to say here now, hello? He is a very lucky man and no mistake. I'm sure you are a very lucky lady too. After all, you just can't argue with 17 years. By today's standards that's pretty damn impressive. You give me hope, Ms. Sugar. It's good to read something upbeat, especially on a day as bloomin' lovely as this. Was this written whilst you were pregnant then, or er... are you up the duff again? Ahem. Did you know that my middle name is 'sensitive'? Thank you.

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currently sponsored by chewy bone - the bone shaped chew that actully freshens your pooches breathe

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky 'Sensative' Le Munk. Lol thanks very muchly as always for your comments on me poem. I meant to reply earlier than this but got caught up feeding Sozzy and helping the kids water the garden! Yeah can't grumble too much with 17 years, although I could have got less for murder!!

Sugar. xx

macaby on 30-05-2009
Fused
The pubs chatter
dissolved
only our breathing
and heartbeats
I could hear.

Seventeen years later
your hands
still make me tingle
What can I say,touching, lovely, romantic,and a lot more but you have already said it yourself. I really liked this one.
mac


Author's Reply:
Hi Mac,

Thanks very much for your loverly comments on this poem, I really do appreciate it and thrilled that you have liked it so much.

Lis'. xx


Confetti Garden (posted on: 25-05-09)
Something I wrote to screen after seeing someone's idea of writing something to do with brevity and metaphoric image what purple violets mean to you. This is my version.

Upon due drop grass petals fall and drift like confettie touching angel's feet. Your love floats around me and whispers on the summer breeze easing my deep sorrow. Velvet violets brush my skin like your tiny fingers on my arm. Comfort. Peace. You're spirit at my side in your Confetti Garden that I created in your memory. Beauty. Belonging. You play with stone angels that watch over the family you had to leave behind. Your love still grows like the violets that bloom.
Archived comments for Confetti Garden
PaulS on 25-05-2009
Confetti Garden
Lis'

Wow that took me back to a time so sad but in such a gentle way.

I particularly emphasised with the image of the velvet violets.

Thank you for sharing.

Paul.S

Author's Reply:
Hi Paul,

I hope that my poem didn't upset you. I wrote it for someone, my son, who I love and miss very, very much. Glad you too could relate to velvet violets and, you're welcome.

Lis. xx

PaulS on 25-05-2009
Confetti Garden
No it didn't upset me, just stirred the grey cells that I try to keep locked up.
In my case it was my daughter in 96.

Don't worry Lis'. You did good work!

Paul



Author's Reply:
Glad it didn't upset you. I know what you mean about the grey cells that are locked away. I try too.
So sorry about your daughter, Paul.

Thank you, very much.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 26-05-2009
Confetti Garden
Hello Ms. Sugar. I am loving the title (and the poem of course). It has a ring to it and no mistake. The world is a better place for gentle souls like your good self, Ms. Lumpkin. If I tried to write like this I'd end up in all kinds of bother. Two Sugars in one day! Now that's sweet. Well done.

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he sleeps in the recovery position

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. Thank you as always for stopping by to read my work and to comment on it as lovely as you do. I'm really pleased that you like this poem and it's flow. You don't need to write like this, you have your own lovely unique style and anyway you always end up in some kind of bother lol. Wouldn't have yuh any other way. Cheers Sunky. I know I've said it before and I'll say it again, but you really are a sweetie.

Sugar Lumpkin. xx

ruadh on 26-05-2009
Confetti Garden
Another lovely piece Lis'. You conjour up a sad but peaceful image in my mind. The idea of a 'confetti garden' is nice.

ailsa

Author's Reply:
Hello again Ailsa,

Thanks for stopping by to read and comment on my work. I'm pleased that you liked the tranquil imagery. I do have a sort of 'confetti garden' in the corner of my lager garden that I created only for my son and although it's not very big it is beautiful and I find peace there, even to just sit and look at it.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 26-05-2009
Confetti Garden
My Dear Beautiful lis',

what a visual and tactile poem, sweet and delicate. I adored it. NEVER stop writing my love. Your work is too special.

Love Jack

Author's Reply:
Hello again Jackie,

I'm so glad that you liked this poem so much.
Thank you, I don't think I will ever stop writing now, except for the long breaks I seem to be having of late...I have the bug too much. Thanks so much for saying that my work is special to you, that is a compliment in itself and means more to me than you will ever know my Italian friend.

Lis'. xxx

Sunken on 26-05-2009
Confetti Garden
Ms. Sugar, it's me again, sunks. I meant to slap a Bernard on you earlier but wasn't on my usual pc and didn't have the piccy code. He's been driving me mad all morning to put things right. I'm sorry, I know you have enough to put up with, but he's doing my head in. I hope this helps (-;

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Author's Reply:
Wow, hello again Mr Sunky Le Munk. I feel quite honoured to have two visits from you in one day. Thanks for popping in and bringing Bernard round, I will look after him, he can have fun with Shadow, Mystique and the three pups, he might be knackered though by the time he gets back, lol. As I always say, what's one more to add to my collection of kids and dogs!! Lol.

Sugar. xxx


Angel On My Shoulder (posted on: 25-05-09)
I had my first ever tattoo done last Saturday, on my shoulder, for my son and it inspired me to write this a week later.

Your wings are your heart they flutter with love that will never die Nor fade. Your youth is eternal and as beautiful as a red rose in bloom. Your name is as strong like the child you were Ben. You're etched upon my skin Sweet angel On my Shoulder.
Archived comments for Angel On My Shoulder
Jolen on 25-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
What a lovely tattoo, Lis, and a lovely poem for your son. I have two tattoos, one was a pair of lips on my ass, (you can imagine what that was for) but James asked me to change it so I had it reworked into a purple rose. The other is much more fun and on my chest above my left breast, it's heart with wings and lightening bolt through it.

blessings,
Jolen

Author's Reply:
Hi Jolen,

Thank you, glad you like the tattoo and the poem that was inspired by it. Lol had to laugh at the lip tattoo. Yeah I can imagine what that was for. The purple rose sounds lovely. I love roses. The other one two that you have sounds nice as well though. I'm hoping to have another tattoo on my other shoulder for my other little boy, in a week or two, which also has a rose in it.
Cheers hun as always for reading and commenting on my work, as always it's very much appreciated.

Love and Light to you and yours,

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 25-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
Oh for god's sake. That Jolen is a disgrace! A fitting tribute and no mistake, Ms. Sugar (both the poem and the tat). Angel on my shoulder - Perfect. Lips on my ass - Disgraceful! Ahem. As I've said before, Ms. Sugary Lumpkin, it's a good job that I am here to redress the moral balance of the site. Chuffed you've posted again.

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his claim for cheese and onion crisps has been refused

Author's Reply:
Hello there Mr Sunky Le Munk. Thanks as always for commenting and reading my work. Lol, I thought that the lips on the ass were quite funny. Actually a friend of Mr Lumpkin had an eye tattoed on each cheek of his ass, lol. Oops I suppose I'm getting as bad as Jolen, well almost, but it is fun.
Good job you are here to keep an eye on us women and keep us in check Sunky, who knows what would happen otherwise ;0)

Glad you liked my poem.

Sugar. xx

Leila on 25-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
Yes from the heart as always, Sugar, a gentle tribute full of love...Leila

Author's Reply:
Aww thank you sweet Leila. I'm glad you liked my tribute. They are coming thick and fast at the mo, so no doubt there will be several more. Thanks for your lovely words, as always they mean a lot to me. Lis'. xx

ruadh on 26-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
Beautiful Lis'. I hope you're keeping well.

ailsa

Author's Reply:
Thanks Ailsa. Yeah, doing fine, thank you.
Hope you and yours are all well too.
Thanks for reading hun and comenting.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 26-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
I've seen the tattoo, now I've read the poem. Both lovely tributes. A beautiful poem Lis'.

I have three stars on the inside of my wrist. The two larger ones are for the twins, and the smaller star is for the little one. When I come back to England this summer I want to get some more stars on my foot.

Be Careful, it's addictive...like writing poetry, once you start, you can't stop.
love Jack

Author's Reply:
Aww thank you Jackie. Glad you liked the poem.

I like stars too, was thinking of doing a Rhianna and having some put on the back of my neck, lol. Yours sound lovely. I know it is addictive. I want another tattoo on my other shoulder for my other little boy, might have it done in a week or two.

Lis'. xx

Ionicus on 26-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
I have seen the tattoo and I couldn't believe it was you. You looked so different. But I digress. Lovely poem worthy of a nib.

Luigi xxx

Author's Reply:
Hi Luigi,

Yes, I decided on a drastic change a few weeks ago as I was at an all time low and needed a pick me up. I guess I do look quite different to the pic that's on my profile on here now. Hope you like the tattoo, lol. Thanks and really pleased that you like the poem.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 26-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
Hey You!!!

Congrats on the nib. Well deserved my love.

Love Jack

Author's Reply:
Hey Jackie, love!!

Thank you. Not long noticed it, was a bit shocked when I seen it, defo not expected.

Will reply to your email in about an hour when I've had my food, didn;t get chance the other night to finish it, will explaine why later when I get in touch.

Lis'. xx

cat on 27-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
Omg Lis' this so is beautiful (crying). Love and emotion just seeps from every word - Truly stunning, as you are!

Love as always xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx



Author's Reply:
Aww catherine, thank you so much for your truely lovely comments. Don't you start crying otherise you'll start me off!!!

Love Lis'. xxxx

Sunken on 29-05-2009
Angel On My Shoulder
Ahem. Hello Ms. Sugar. It's me, sunks. Speaking of bum tats, I know a strange fellow who has a 'W' on each cheek. He thinks this is very clever as it spells 'WoW' when he bends down. I'll be frank, I find it most distasteful. I hope this comment doesn't/hasn't put you off your breakfast. Hello? Thank you.

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sleepless in argos city

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. Lmao, I find the W on each cheek very funny and amusing. I have a warped sense of humour as you are already finding out! Nahh you not put me me off my breakfast as I don't eat any.

Talking of tattoos I had another one put on my other shoulder yesterday, more roses. I'm quite chuffed with it :0)

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is a walking advertisement for the tattooists.


Ten Steps To Silence (posted on: 22-05-09)
I've put this on in the past, but told by someone (not off this site) that it needed more emotion of how the narrator felt. So I have given it a bit of a makeover. Don't read if easily offended or upset. Would like to know if it works at all and the readers feelings, please. It will help me understand how it comes across to people. Thanks.

Two, short agonised screams My heart stops. Alarm bells go off in my head. I'm at the stairs Fifth step I cross to grip the banister. Five more steps. One step closer. I look towards the landing. Disbelief. Horror. Fear emanates silence. I'm almost there. The bedroom door is wide open I freeze. Wake me up, Someone please wake me up. Blackness fills the room. My inner voice shouts hysterically My son, my son. Fear leaves love takes over My face burns. Hair singed. Four times I try. I can't get in. Your cot - is so near, yet so far away. I can't see you inside it Only a ball of flame your size, your height. I want to scream My mouth is open No sound escapes. I want to hold you in my arms. Kiss you. Hug you. Love you. Save you. But I can't… Because you're not there anymore. My life died The day you did.
Archived comments for Ten Steps To Silence
Jolen on 22-05-2009
Ten Steps To Silence
A painful and moving piece of work. Lis. I'm so sorry for your loss and hope that writing it was cathartic.


blessings,
Jolen

Author's Reply:
Thanks so much my sweet Jolen for taking the time to read and comment on this piece. It really means a lot to me. I'm glad that this worked for you as a poem. Yes, It did help to revamp it. I don't think in the first draft I said all what I really needed to, but in this I do and yes it did help.

Love and light,

Lis'. xxx

Sunken on 22-05-2009
Ten Steps To Silence
Hello Ms. Sugar. It's great to see you back. I don't think you could pack much more emotion into this. Each line is like a one inch punch to the guts. Terrifyingly real and straight to the point. You deserve a lot of respect for getting this down. I hope the appearance of a Bernard doesn't offend. This, of course, deserves a proper nib. I hope someone, somewhere sees fit to bestow one upon you soon. Well done and welcome back.

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Author's Reply:
Hello there Mr Sunky Le Munk. It's great to see you too and great to be back. Thank you so very much for reading this and for commenting on it the way you have, it really does mean a lot to me. I'm pleased that it comes across well or as you desecribed it 'Each line is like a one inch punch to the guts.' No of course Bernard doesn't offend me, not at all. I feel quite honoured acually to have him again. What's another dog with my other five!! Lol. He's always welcome here. I hope Shadow and Mystique won't mind my visitor again. No worries about the nib, I have Bernard and that's good enough for me ๐Ÿ™‚
Thanks again Sunky, you really are a sweetie.

Sugar Lumpkin. xx

orangedream on 22-05-2009
Ten Steps To Silence
Lis - this is heart-rending, and as Sunken quite rightly says, you need guts to write such as this.

You have stood up to the punches well, Lis and written an amazingly honest, and in its way, beautiful poem.

And a big welcome back to you, of course:-)

Tina xx

Author's Reply:
Hi Tina,

I don't think it was guts that helped me write this, I think it was the day itself and the cans of lager that I consumed over a few hours in the night, to help blot out the pain.

I guess I just write how I feel, I don't always have to 'dig deep' it's normally there just under the surface. Thank you for saying it's a beautiful poem, that in itself is such a compliment.
Cheers also for your lovely warm welcome back. :0)

Lis'. xx

cat on 23-05-2009
Ten Steps To Silence
Whoo hoo you're back! Hi (-:

I have missed you so, you and you're beautiful truth.

Sending you loooooooooooads a love right now ... oh and er kisses xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Reply:
Lol...Hi Catherine.

Yeah, I'm back, but not sure how long for. Still waiting for my muse to get back off his long break :0(

Aww, thanks hun. I've missed you too and your writing. Infact I read your poem tonight, you actually had me lost for words. I mean me, a Welsh woman full of waffle lost for words!! Can you believe that? See what your poem did to me. Takes a lot for me to be lost for words I can tell yuh. Told you that you have a talent.

Thanks hunney for your support, is well chuffed and much appreciated.

Lis'. xxx

Mezzanotte on 23-05-2009
Ten Steps To Silence
Oh, My dearest sweet Lis',

I'm just speechless, oh my love, what can I say to you. I can't see the keyboard clearly as I'm crying again. That image of the ball of fire, his size and height, Christ Lis' it's terrible.

Terrible, but as far as poetry goes, fantastic, such a great title too. Such a strong poem, really amazing, as Sunken says, it punches you in the gut.

Bless you my love.

I'm off to write you properly now
Love Jackie

Author's Reply:
Hello sweet Jackie,

Oh I'm so sorry that I made you cry. I hope your keyboard didn't get too wet and still works.

Thank you so much, I'm glad that you think it works so well as poetry goes, it's what I wanted to achieve, and by the looks on your comment and others above I have done just that. Thanks so much for your honesty, it means more to me than you will ever know.

Love and Light to you and yours,

Lis'. xxx

e-griff on 24-05-2009
Ten Steps To Silence
this is a very emotional and personal piece, and not one to critique in the usual way.

If you wished to consider it further, you might leave out the last three lines. Arguably, this could alter the impact. We KNOW that ...

Author's Reply:
Thanks Griffy :0)


The Call (posted on: 09-03-09)
Millie has some odd phone calls, but who are they from?

Translucent beads of drizzle coated Millie's skin as she fumbled with her keys. Her mood as grey as the April rain clouds. Nothing had gone right that morning. The car had broken down half way home. She had to leave it where it had cut out and died on her. Her feet ached and her arms felt as long as an Orang-utan's. The walk home had been the last straw. Now she couldn't even find the right key to get in. The phone rang inside the house. ''Bloody typical,'' she muttered, balancing two bags of shopping on each arm. ''Come on, come on,'' she said shivering, trying to steady her hand. The lock clicked and the door flung open. A cold gust of air greeted her in the hallway. "Great, just what I need...the central heating has packed in too." She slipped, sending tins of spaghetti rolling across the wooden floor. She swore and snatched the phone from its holder. ''Hello.'' she said in her posh phone voice. CLICK. ''Hello?'' She listened to the line's empty drone. ''I don't believe this!" She said, sighing. "What a day! Can anything else go wrong?'' Her fingers swiftly pressed 1471 and the automated voice gave the caller's number. Instantly recognising it, she rang back. ''Hello,'' said the bubbly voice. ''The Jolly Rooster. Rosalyn speaking.'' ''Hi Ros', its Millie. What's up?'' ''Olive wants to rid the sceptic in you; she's having a s้ance Sunday evening, after we've closed. I'm sure Richard and Dewi can have the kids for a couple of hours. I'll bribe them with a couple of free pints that ought to do the trick.'' ''Okay, we'll be there, but she won't convince me,'' Millie laughed. ''She's been trying for years and failed miserably.'' ''You know Olive, she'll keep on trying until she does,'' Roslyn chuckled. They caught up on the latest gossip then said their goodbyes. Millie remained adamant that when you're dead you're dead. You can't come back regardless of how many people say they can talk to the deceased. It's just not possible. It's a load of rubbish, only believed by people with over-active imaginations or those that have lost a loved one. She lacked imagination and all her family were still alive, even her ninety five year old, Aunt Doris. She had agreed to go to the s้ance because she liked the spritely seventy year old and Olive was family - her husband's aunty. She smiled as she clicked the button. At last a day to look forward too. It would be good to get out of the house and relax. It had been a while since the four of them had been out together as a family. Gabrielle and Sasha had been bogged down with one viral infection after the other. Millie put it down to their immune system being so low; they picked up the least little thing. The girls had gone back to school only yesterday. The house was silent except for the quiet whir of the washing machine. She put her coat on the radiator to drip dry. ''Ouch,'' she said holding her finger. The radiator was boiling hot, but the lounge had been freezing when she came in. After putting the shopping away, she made herself a strong mug of coffee and sat on the sofa with a book. It felt good to have some space, even if it was for only thirty minutes before the girls came home. Millie sighed heavily as the phone began to ring; she put her book facedown to save her page. ''Hello,'' she said picking up the phone. The line didn't sound good. Static hissed loudly, making her a little nervous. She tapped the phone with her hand then listened, still the same interference. ''Hello? I'm sorry but the line is bad and I can't hea...'' CLICK. The annoying 'dead' drone travelled down the phone. ''Oh, charming, could have waited until I'd finished.'' She dialled 1471 and frowned as the number was read out. ''Rosalyn? I thought she went to the cash and carry on Thursday afternoon's,'' she muttered to herself, putting the phone back. Then on retrieving it again, she tapped in Rosalyn's number and let it ring, but there was no answer. Later that evening she watched her daughters playing 'shops.' Their cheeks glowed grapefruit pink instead of the drained ash white she had been accustomed to lately. Their eyes flickered with hints of mischief. Giggles of laughter spilled from their mouths in generous amounts. Millie stood by the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water when the phone began to ring. Hurriedly wiping her hands in a tea-towel she rushed into the lounge. ''Hello.'' She listened and waited for a response, but there came nothing, only a loud crackling sound. ''Hello?'' The line crackled and whistled in her ear and she pulled the phone away quickly. She could still hear it in the background as she dangled it in mid air. CLICK. The line went dead. ''Oh, not again,'' she said, shaking her head. "This is getting a bit strange." She dialled 1471. The girls sat at the table eating their meal. Gabrielle scratched her head with annoyance and Sasha furiously chased peas around her plate with her fork. ''Mum, my head is itching,'' called Gabrielle. ''Eat your dinner. I'll take a look through your hair when you've finished.'' She listened to the number, Rosalyn's. She glanced at the clock on the wall – 7.30. That's odd she doesn't normally ring at this time on a Thursday, its quiz night. Ros' is usually rushed off her feet with customers. ''Okay, but I'm itching a lot,'' Gabrielle said, rubbing her scalp with the handle of the fork. ''I'll bath you and have a look,'' she said, putting the phone back in its cradle. I'll ring Rosalyn later, I wonder what she wanted? she muttered. Millie checked through their hair twice, but it was clean. She put them to bed, tucked them in and said goodnight. Millie picked up the phone to ring back Rosalyn. ''M-u-m,'' called Gabrielle from upstairs. Millie recognised the tone, it's the one she usually used when she wanted something, as all kids do. ''What's wrong?'' ''I'm still itchy and I've got a few spots on me…'' ''…and I have mum, come and have a look,'' shouted Sasha, sounding quite pleased. Millie could hear alarm bells ringing inside her head; she didn't like the sound of this, not one little bit. She put the phone back down and decided to ring later. ''Look mum,'' Sasha said pulling up her pyjama trousers. Millie looked at her daughter's leg and let out a quiet groan. There were a few spots dotted on the inside of her leg and a couple spreading towards her knee. ''Have you got any more?'' ''Yes, there are a few on my arms.'' Millie looked at the large, blister type spots scattered over her arm. It could only mean one thing. ''Me too,'' interrupted Gabrielle. Millie's thoughts had been confirmed by the doctor, she couldn't believe the girls were ill again. She felt disappointed, but knew it couldn't be helped, though after the last few weeks, she felt like crying. Was it too much to ask for a small break? After settling the girls into bed, she glanced at the phone, picked it up and dialled the number. Richard sat glumly on the sofa. ''Hello,'' said the shaky voice. ''The Jolly Rooster. Rosalyn speaking.'' ''Hello, its Millie. I rang to say I'm sorry, but we can't make it on Sunday, Gabrielle and Sasha have chickenpox.'' ''Oh! I'm afraid I have some bad news.'' ''Why, what's wrong?'' ''Olive passed away last night, seems she died in her sleep, poor love. ''Oh Ros' I'm so sorry. Please give Dewi our love and condolences.'' Millie put her hand over the mouth piece and whispered. ''Richard, Olive died in her sleep last night.'' Richard's jaw dropped and his eyes became moist. ''Is there anything we can do?'' she asked. ''Could you let some of the family know, please. There's so many of them!'' ''Of course we will. If there's anything else let us know...'' ''Thank you.'' ''Does Dewi want to speak to Richard?'' ''Yes, I think so Millie, thanks love. I hope the girls get better soon.'' Millie gestured to Richard. ''Dewi wants to talk to you.'' She passed him the phone and walked towards the kitchen. ''Hello, Dewi. I'm sorry to hear of Olive's passing...'' His voice trailed away as she tried to come to terms with the sad news. Tears slid down her cheeks like condensation on the window. The day after they stood outside the pub both teary eyed and hesitant. Richard knocked on the door and Millie glanced up toward the window that belonged to Olive's bedroom. The curtains were drawn. There was no cheerful wave from the grey haired, stoutly woman or welcoming smile. Slow footsteps could be heard on the tiled floor inside. Rosalyn answered the door, her eyes moist. Black mascara smudged below her bottom lashes. ''Millie, Richard!'' ''Hello Rosalyn. How are you bearing up?'' Millie asked, reaching out to hug her. ''What do you mean,'' she sniffed, hugging her back. ''Well, about Olive's passing.'' Rosalyn's mouth dropped open and she stared at them both as if in a daze. ''H-how do you know?'' she gasped. Millie threw a puzzled look at Richard, and then looked back to Rosalyn, who now looked equally as confused as them both. ''I rang to tell you we couldn't make it on Sunday because Sasha and Gabby have chickenpox. You told me on the phone that Olive had passed away the night before.'' ''I couldn't have,'' she paused and sucked in a large gulp of air. ''Olive only passed away an hour ago.'' Millie and Richard stared in disbelief at Rosalyn. It took a few seconds before either of them could speak. ''B-but, you told me on the phone on Friday!'' ''We had a conversation, yes, but Olive was still alive, so I couldn't have told you she had died. How could I?'' ''I spoke to Dewi and he confirmed it to me. I heard him,'' said Richard. Rosalyn shook her head. ''There must be some mistake. It's impossible, he couldn't have...'' Millie interrupted. ''We've told the family too.'' Her voice became strained and high pitched. ''You told me she had died in her sleep.'' Rosalyn stepped back in surprise. ''How the hell did you know that?'' ''Because you told me on the phone,'' Millie insisted. ''This is very odd, indeed. She did die in her sleep, but I didn't tell you on the phone. She only died an hour ago. I haven't had chance to let anyone know.'' Millie couldn't get Rosalyn's words out of her head all day or night. They had really spooked her. ''She only died an hour ago.'' They repeated over and over like a scratched CD. It just seemed so weird. ''Maybe Olive was still trying to convince me that there's life after death.'' She said, turning to Richard. ''What other explanation can there be?'' Instantly she wondered what had made her say that. She hadn't meant too. Had she really thought about it subconsciously? She didn't think so, but it had been a weird week, anything was possible. ''I haven't got a clue, love. It seems odd, especially as the calls have stopped since Olive died.'' ''Yeah, tell me about it.'' She shivered. It was a coincidence, at least that's what she kept telling herself. How could she even think of such a silly thing? It was too far fetched even for her to believe in. Next she'd be seeing little green aliens. As if they, like ghosts really existed, yeah right! It was ridiculous. To think that Olive had reached her from beyond the grave was too much. She couldn't have, could she?
Archived comments for The Call
cat on 09-03-2009
The Call
Oh my, this is so very good Lis' this had me all the way and I loved the whole story.
I'm not so sure about the subject but I must confess an interest along with my open mind, I mean who really know's right, the world is so wonderfully complex. If I'm really honest though I'd like to think there is.

My love to you and yours Catherine xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Reply:
Catherine, you've made my night! Thanks for the comments on this. I'm really pleased that you have liked this. Infact I will let you in on a secret, this story is actually based on a true story that happened to my Aunty over thirty years ago now. When she told me what happened it gave me goosebumps and decided to wrote it as a story. This is the second time I've put it on here, but have been busy editing it over the last couple of days.

Love from

Lis'. xxxxxx

Sunken on 10-03-2009
The Call
Hi Ms. Sugary Lumpkin. It's me, sunks. Hope you are well and no mistake. I read this over a strawberry mouse this morning. I swear you don't spell mouse like that - you know what I mean tho? Like a yoghurt but thicker, ahem - I should just make it clear that I would never dream of reading anything over a mouse, be he strawberry in colour or not. I'll be frank, I can't quite recall reading this before. This could be because of my recent course of electric therapy. I must get that heated underblanket checked out at my earliest possible convenience. Anyway, yes, it's good to read something with fresh eyes. I was going to pretend I was clever and pull you up on the spelling of 'Orang-utan's'. My pc agrees with your spelling though. And anyway, I can't even spell munky right. A very well rounded little gem of a story, Ms. Sugar. Your tweaking is to be applauded and no mistake. Good to see you subbing again.

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he believes that whitney is the future
teach her well and let her lead the way
show her all the beauty you possess inside
give her a sense of pride to make it easier
just let whitney's laughter remind us how we used to be...

I REMEMBER LONG AGO....

ahem, sorry.

Author's Reply:


Dreams of Destination (posted on: 23-02-09)
An oldie I wrote in August 2006 - has had a bit of an edit since.

Emotions swirl inside my head each one different from the other. Some are filled with uncertainty, that echo from situations past. Daunted by my ability to succeed, and re-occurring doubts of failure. To bloom like a flower and grow, not letting the petals cascade downwards. Standing tall ready to flourish, willing the wind to gently deposit me safely. Dreams of destination and fate, push me more towards achievement. Satisfaction and enjoyment spur me on, I float delicately along on my journey. Unknowing where fortune will take me, I enjoy the experience as I travel. Onward I roam, into a different world, my purpose absorbs my every thought. Willing myself to succeed, with time and dedication my companions.
Archived comments for Dreams of Destination
Sunken on 23-02-2009
Dreams of Destination
Hello Ms. Sugar. It's me, sunks. It's good to read a positive poem. I daren't revisit my oldies, they tend to smell of wee and mothballs. Yours, however, smell of good things, like freshly baked bread, ground coffee and febreze fabric conditioner. A winning combination and no mistake. Thank you.

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guanTANamo bay beauty parlour - opening soon

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunken. Thank you for your much appreaciated and positive feedback! I'm glad you liked the poem and thought that it was positive . Aww, thank you for your compliments, you're a sweet sunks and no mistake ;0)

Sugar. xx

macaby on 23-02-2009
Dreams of Destination
"Emotions swirl inside my head
each different
from the one another. " I think this should read " each one different from the other".Like sunken says a positive poem and just as you said in the last couple of lines,with "time and dedication" you are on the right track. IMO


Author's Reply:
Arrgghhh, that's what I get for staying up til 4am to write. I make mistakes. Thanks for pointing that out to me. I'll go and correct it now. Glad you liked it. Thanks for stopping by macaby, as always it's much appreciated.

Sugar. xx

cat on 23-02-2009
Dreams of Destination
Long may you bloom dear Lis' and your petals never, cascade down!

Love c x

Author's Reply:
Aww, thanks cat, very much. Your words are very much appreciated.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 24-02-2009
Dreams of Destination
What a blooming good read, you are a beautiful flower Lis' and long may you bloom with beautiful words and images...I enjoyed the joy and opitimism in the poem.

Lovely
Best wishes
Jackie

Author's Reply:
Aww, thank you Jackie. Glad you have enjoyed this so much. What lovely compliments.

Love and Best Wishes,

Lis'. xx

PS: Hope you got my email?


Grimeon's Pass - Third Part (posted on: 23-02-09)
Laura's summer holiday is not what she had hoped or planned for. Another chapter that I've ruthlessly edited and cut out quite a lot that was in here before.

Chapter One July 2008. Laura stood at the top of the stairs, her arms folded, staring at the suitcases that were neatly lined up in the hallway. She couldn't believe her mum was doing this to her again – not now. ''Are you ready, Laura?'' her mum called upstairs. ''Oh, there you are, ''she said, looking up. It's almost time to go, sweetheart.'' ''I'm not going,'' Laura replied. ''Can't I stay with Casper and Sorrelle?'' ''No, you can't. They both have work. Sorrelle has a flight to Japan in the morning and Casper is still away.'' ''Well, I'm fourteen and I can look after myself you know. I'm not a child!'' ''You're too young to stay on your own for three weeks, Laura. You're going and that's final.'' ''I don't want to go. I...'' ''Laura, I'm not having this conversation with you again. Do you hear me? The decision is made and you are going whether you like it or not.'' Her mum's voice had that edge to it that Laura only knew too well. It was time to back off, well almost. ''Doesn't look like I have a choice then does it.'' Her mum shot her a warning glance. ''That makes the two of us.'' The car door slammed and soon her mum became a small spec on the doorstep. Laura waved once more before she completely disappeared. That was it, no going back now. The next three weeks of the summer holidays had been decided for her, she didn't even get a say. Typical of adults, they never considered what she wanted; only what they wanted and what suited their needs...sod hers! David glanced in the rear view mirror at his daughter, her head buried in a book. He couldn't see her face clearly; it was hidden underneath natural curls of strawberry blond hair, which cascaded past her shoulders. ''I think you'll like your bedroom. Siobhan had the decorators in especially.'' Laura looked up, her face expressionless. ''Great, Dad!'' ''We thought you'd like the attic room. It's spacious and there's enough room for your easel and your other art stuff.'' ''Thanks.'' ''I'm sorry Laura. I know this must be hard for you, but...'' ''Huh! You have no idea. I didn't want to come...I still don't.'' ''I'm sorry you feel that way. I promise I'll make it up to you...I can explain.'' ''Oh yeah! Well maybe you should have thought of that two years ago...'' ''I had my reasons sweetheart, and I will tell you why, but now isn't the time.'' Laura glared at her dad in the mirror. ''There never is a right time...is there!'' She turned her head and looked out of the window. The fields and trees whizzed passed, but she couldn't see them properly through tear filled eyes. The rest of the drive was spent in silence. As far as Laura was concerned there was nothing more to say. The quicker the holidays were over, the better for her. Her dad's new home was in Eastham; in the middle of the country. How boring was that going to be? There'd be no cinema, no Bowlplex, no chance of seeing Alex or her friends, and she was sure there wouldn't be a McDonald's for miles. She'd be bored stiff there, but the worst thing was spending three weeks with the 'Witches of Eastham.' Why did her mum have to go away this summer? She wished she could have stayed home, just this once with her. Like most of the summer holidays that had been and gone she always got dumped with someone. This year had to be the worst though and the least expected. The narrow lane had come to an end and now they were on a road full of pot holes. Laura looked out the back window and caught a glimpse of a girl, holding a rag doll by its arm. She was a pretty little thing with shoulder length, blond ringlets and red bows in her hair. She wore a long sleeved, tartan dress. Laura thought it was an odd way to dress on a warm July afternoon. Maybe she'd been to a party or this was how country folk dressed! The girl waved at her. Laura waved back and smiled. ''Here we are. This is our new home. What do you think?'' She glanced round. ''Oh my god, it's huge.'' Then looked back at the girl, but she had already gone. The car pulled up slowly to the right and the tyres crunched over the gravelled driveway. Her heart sank to her shoes at the welcoming committee. Outside the front door stood her step mum, Siobhan and her two daughters, Harmony and Melissa. The Victorian house looked a more pleasing sight than the three awaiting females. She gasped at the surrounding garden. Adorned with fur trees, a variety of roses and other shrubs and plants that she wasn't sure of; it looked like something out of a movie. This would be a beautiful place to sit and paint. The sweet aroma of lavender lingered in the air. She couldn't wait to explore the house and what it had to offer. Half of her art exam could be painted here. At least that would keep her away from the tormenting twosome. ''Hello Laura darling, so glad to see you.'' Siobhan greeted her with open arms and kissed her on the cheek. Laura returned the greeting ritual and smiled falsely. Harmony and Melissa pulled faces behind their mother's back. ''Lovely to be here,'' she lied, then poked her tongue out at the sisters. Laura wondered if Siobhan had just stepped out of a salon; there wasn't a hair out of place or a chipped nail in sight. Her clothes were obviously designer ones. She'd expected to see her in a gingham shirt, jeans and wellies. Wasn't that what country folk wore? ''Hello Laura,'' chorused the two brats. They smiled at her as sweet as chocolate. Only she knew different. They weren't children; they were the devil's spawn. There to make her life a misery. ''Hi girls.'' The brats hadn't changed a lot since the last time she's seen them two years ago. They still had their dirt brown hair scrapped back into pony tails and their eyes were as unwelcoming as before. Sometimes they gave her the creeps. They were like female versions of Damien. ''Come inside and I'll show you our new home.'' Siobhan gestured with her hand towards the front door. The house was beautiful. Instantly she felt envious and wished the house was hers and her parents, so that they could play happy families again. After a commentary on every room they came to the last room in the house – the attic. ''I hope you like your room darling,'' Siobhan said, opening the door. Laura stood there with her mouth open. She didn't know what to expect, but certainly didn't expect this! It was beautiful; white washed walls and a huge window that let in loads of light and over looked the most amazing garden. It had everything a teenage girl could wish for; TV, laptop, hi-fi and of course an easel. ''Thanks Siobhan, it's wicked!'' she hugged her step mum. Melissa and Harmony scowled in the background. ''People say the house is haunted,'' said Harmony, giving a lopsided smile in Laura's direction. Laura shivered, not at the thought of sharing the house with a ghost, but because of the look in Harmony's eyes; they were almost black. Siobhan glared at her. ''Sometimes little girls should be seen and not heard,'' she said wagging her finger at her. ''Is it haunted?'' Laura asked. ''Well, umm...so we've heard, but it's probably just rumours.'' Siobhan rubbed her arms. ''We've had no problems since we moved in two months ago.'' ''Does dad know?'' ''Yes, darling. He doesn't believe a word of it.'' ''Who's supposed to haunt this place then?'' ''Umm...err...I don't know. Shall we go and have lunch?'' Melissa's voice piped up. ''I know. Someone...'' ''That's quite enough. I will have no more talk about ghosts in this house. Understand?'' Melissa nodded and bent her head. To be continued...
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Third Part
cat on 23-02-2009
Grimeons Pass - Third Part
Hi Lis'

Sorry I'm a little late in replying. I read this earlier then went back and read all three but I didn't have time to comment, bloody work! Can you believe that they actually expect me to earn my pay!!

Anyway to your story, I enjoyed it very much, the new characters. Intrigued to see how it all comes together and ties in, still cant wait to see what happens to those boys!
So until part four....

Oh, and thanks for the e-mail, sorry my reply was late.
Love xxxxx

Author's Reply:
Hi Cat,

No worries. I know how things can get so hectic and how work gets in the way. I've been busy all day since I got up at 7.45am and I've still not finished everything yet, just having ten mins before I feed the baby again.

Glad to know that you enjoyed this part of the story too. I hope I can keep it going. This part wasn't as good as one and two, but there is more to come and I stayed up until 4am to rewrite and edit this couldn't do anymore as I had trouble seeing the screen and don't like to put too much on here all at once otherwise the wordcount scares readers away.

No probs, I had your email just before I logged off my laptop, but afraid at 4am I was too tired to reply back straight away, but will reply once I've got my rugrats in bed and when I've given the baby her last feed. Thanks again for your feedback, hun.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 25-02-2009
Grimeons Pass - Third Part
Hello Ms. Sugar. It's me, sunks. I wanted to read this over a coffee break punctuated with chocolate digestives. Sadly I was all out of said biscuity treat earlier in the week and had to wait for tesco.com to deliver me a packet. I am happy to report that it was worth the wait. Oh I could have read you over a custard cream, Ms. Sugar, but I think everyone knows that a quality read deserves a quality biscuit. Like Ms. Cat of purring fame, I too am intrigued as to how it will all come together. I think these last three subs have been amongst your best, I really do and no mistake. It looks like the editing is paying off. Well done Ms. Sugary Lumpkin,

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he wonders if airbags will protect him from the credit crunch

Author's Reply:


Grimeon's Pass - Second part. (posted on: 20-02-09)
Continuation of the first part of this story. I've given it an edit and rewritten some of it.

Large rocks sat where the hand had appeared from. Charlie couldn't see any opening as such. He fumbled around on the rock's surface trying to find a secret lever, but found nothing. Freddy gestured impatiently with his hand, urging him to swim back to the boat. He wanted to get out of the water as quick as he could. He didn't know what was down there and being a coward he didn't want to find out. Charlie shook his head and indicated one more minute with his index finger. Freddy knew his friend had a curious streak and wanted to find out what they had seen, but he didn't want to go back into the water once he'd got out. He looked behind him and saw Charlie still searching for clues, muddying the water as he brushed the dirt away. He waited for Charlie for a few seconds, saw him behind him and began to swim towards the surface. Charlie wasn't far behind him when he jolted backwards. His foot caught amongst the tangled wreckage of the old bicycle and weeds. He tugged his leg in a desperate attempt to set himself free, but it had caught up in the rusty old chain. It gripped his ankle like an animal trap. He looked up. Freddy had almost made it to the surface. Frantically he wriggled his foot, but the rusty chain dug deeper into his ankle. Freddy broke through the water's surface. He gasped, sucking in mouthfuls of warm air. His heart thudded so hard he thought it would break through his flesh. His whole body trembled, as he looked for Charlie. There was no sign of him. He swam towards the boat, hauled himself up and waited a little longer. The water was still and calm. Where could Charlie be? He should have been up by now. Hesitant, he cursed under his breath and jumped back in. A sickly taste rose in his throat and he gulped, pushing it back down. There in front of him was Charlie; in the dead man's float. His eyes stared into nothingness and the sponge cake tan had started to fade, turning a deathly white. His lips began to turn frost blue. There was a slight movement in his chest. A bubble escaped from his gaping mouth. Freddy had a quick pang of relief, but knew there wasn't much time. He held him around his waist and pulled him towards the surface, but his body jolted back. Freddy looked puzzled then noticed the chain wrapped around his ankle. He wrestled with it for a few seconds before managing to free him from its grasp, then gripping on to Charlie's body he pulled him with all his strength. A bright, white light blinded him, he winced and covered his eyes with the back of his hand. When he thought it was safe he looked again. He could see Charlie, two feet in front of him, looking a little transparent. The bright light glowed and outlined his whole body. He looked radiant, the way he had always known him. What was going on? The day was really strange; like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. He wished that his sister, Daisy would wake him up with her constant chatter. He glanced briefly at Charlie still tucked beneath his arm. He was as limp as a dishcloth, his chest became still and no bubbles drifted from his mouth. The pigment of his skin looked chalky white and his lips a darker blue. This wasn't a nightmare... Freddy felt his own heart become heavy. They had been best friends since they were four years old. This couldn't be happening. He held Charlie and swam back towards the dinghy. He had to get him back to dry land and resuscitate him. Freddy told himself that he would be all right then. The apparition of Charlie smiled at him and waved, still glowing, bathed in the white light. Freddy's mind raced. Ghosts weren't real were they? And if they were did they look like this? The more he thought about it the more it frightened him and he wanted to get out of the water as quick as he could. He felt scared as if he'd been chased by a shark. Vibrations in the water sent an icy chill all over Freddy's body. They became stronger as an eerie shadow floated towards him. A dark liquid spiralled around Charlie's spirit; who tried to scream, but he made no sound. Within seconds it engulfed him. Its ink like shape altered in appearance into that of human form; a man wearing a gothic type coat that reached his ankles. Knee length boots, with silver skulls attached to the buckles. His long, black hair squirmed in the water like eels and his pillar-box red eyes burned with hatred. He leered at Freddy revealing uneven, yellow teeth. The ink-like creature held out his arm; his skin as pale as sugar. A flash of green lightning escaped from his palm and the liquid ink melted away to reveal Charlie. The magic attacked his soul as green fluid crept through his veins. He screamed under the water, jerking violently for a few seconds. His appearance began to fade. He looked weak and frightened as his soul glided unwillingly towards the him. The dark apparition opened his mouth wide to reveal a long, black tongue. It twisted around Charlie's spirit like a conga eel, pulling him into its mouth. Freddy stared in horror. He couldn't believe his own eyes. There's no way this could be real, surely? He glanced down at Charlie's body in his arms. Strips of flesh tore away; melting in the water like it was acid, leaving only the skeleton intact. If this was a nightmare it was the scariest one he'd ever had. It beat his Grandfather's stories hands down. Freddy dropped the remains and stared petrified as the bones drifted to the bottom of the lake. He kicked his legs frantically and in blind panic he swam for his life. Once inside the boat he huddled in the foetal position against the rubber of the dinghy. He shivered and his teeth chattered. Numb and confused he struggled to come to terms with what he'd sen in the depths of the lake. Had he really witnessed Charlie's death? Things like this didn't happen in real life, at least not to boys like them. The images of Charlie's flesh being stripped away from his body repeated in his mind. He shut his eyes tight, but it wouldn't go away. He screamed hysterically and his voice echoed around the Willows. He got up slowly onto his knees; his legs too weak to stand. The old gnarled oak caught his attention. It stood prominently in his view, beckoning him. Startled by the sound of gushing water, he broke his stare. The water loomed upwards and morphed into human form. The dinghy rocked upon the lake like it was caught up in a storm and he clung to the sides. Darkness smothered the lake. Dark clouds rolled in, blotting the burnt orange sky. The liquid image snaked towards him. It stood as high as a 30ft wave. A face appeared before him; its eyes red as fresh blood. A sly smile crept across his face. ''You have been spared, this time. But I will wait for your soul before it gets to Heaven's gates.'' Freddy couldn't move. He stared terrified into his eyes and shuddered. A flicker of evil raged inside them. "W-what are you? Who are you?" "Questions, questions dear boy! I am your worst nightmare. You will find out in good time." "W- w-what do you want?'' "Your soul," he sneered. "I will feed on your spirit and others, until I have what I need." "W-what do you need my soul for?" "Silence," he yelled. "When it's your turn you will know, and your turn will come child, mark my words.'' A strong wind blew, whipping the willows to writhe and dance. Violent flashes of lightning lit up the lake, highlighting Freddy's fear drenched face. The creature laughed as he raised his arms towards the sky. Surges of electrical light crackled and emanated from his finger tips. He twisted and spun out of control. The black ink merged together into a funnel; spinning recklessly like a tornado. Its spray saturated Freddy as it submerged back into the water. Daylight returned as he clung to the dinghy and calmness once more embraced the lake. To be continued...
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass - Second part.
Sunken on 21-02-2009
Grimeons Pass - Second part.
Well, Ms. Sugar, if you ever start to doubt your ability to write again I'm just going to point out this story. Both parts one and two make for a smashing read and no mistake. I'll be frank, my bagel went cold, I was that enthralled. I only spotted one typo, towards the end -

Numb and confused he struggled to come to terms with what heโ€™d *sen* in the depths of the lake.

I is one very impressed sunks. Well done Ms. Sugary Lumpkin of Wales on the green.

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Author's Reply:
Hey Sunky.

Thanks hun for reading and commenting again on my work. I'm really pleased that you liked this as much as the first part of it. Actually, your's and cat's comments make the whole editing process worth it.
Sorry that your bagel went cold, but glad top hear that you found my story that enthralling.
Cheers for letting me know about the typo, I missed that one, pesky little thing. I will sort that out later.

Sugar. xx

cat on 21-02-2009
Grimeons Pass - Second part.
OMG!

What? So when's part three?

I'm sure I have already mentioned the word 'chills' but how about Scarrrrrrrrrrrrry!

If I can't sleep tonight I am most certainly blaming you!

Loving this Lis', seriously, when's part three?

c x

Author's Reply:
Hey cat,

thanks so much for reading this, really do appreciate it. Glad you've enjoyed this as much as the first part of it. Lol, well I hope you can sleep tonight hun. Umm...not sure when part three will be. I'm still working on it, but hopefully if I get enough peace from kids and puppies later I will do some editing. If I finish I'll submit it on Sunday.
Sorry for the late reply it's like a madhouse here today, kids with their friends back and fore, trying to clean & sort the baby out, plus dogs and pups...fun, fun, fun, lol.

LIs'. xx

Gee on 05-04-2010
Grimeons Pass - Second part.
You know, its been a while since I've read a good horror story and this is shaping up very well. This part gives me more questions than answers and I'm wondering how this links to the next chapter.
Don't tell me! I'm enjoying finding out for myself.

Author's Reply:
Hi Gee,

Thanks very much for your comments again on this, very much appreciated. I'm thrilled that you are enjoy my story so much. Lol, okay I won't tell you how it all links together, but it does!! I've rewritten this part again, with some suggestions that were made from people and it is about to go through hopefully one last edit to get it into shape and knock off a few rough edges. Really I should have put the prologue and chapter one on again, instead of 3 & 4 first, but thought people might get fed up of seeing the same one, with or without an edit, so didn't bother. I'm working on chapter 5, but still have a fair way to go with it, but if I can get it finished today at all I will sub it for tomorrow. I won't have internet after Tuesday and unsure when I will be online again next!
Thanks hun so much for your continuing support on this. You really don't know how much it means to me and I cannot thank you enough.

Lisa. xx


Grimeon's Pass (posted on: 20-02-09)
An old story that I have left for a while, but have decided to edit in the hope I can make this story work and read more smoothly than before.

June 1946 The oak stood on top of the hill, its branches twisted like old arthritic fingers; its bark a deeper shade than any Freddy had seen before. It stood alone basking under the sun's afternoon glare. He watched his friend Charlie staring at its shape and height. Every time they came to the lake Charlie couldn't take his eyes off that tree. It was like he was hypnotised by it or something. He didn't see the fascination with it himself. It was just an odd looking tree. So what? Freddy sat with his legs crossed, plucking the petals off surrounding daisies. He watched them float from his fore finger and thumb. They swayed backwards and forwards like a crib, on to the meadow. He plucked the head off the nearest dandelion and flicked it with force at Charlie, making him jolt. ''Oi.'' He spun round, rubbing the side of his ear. ''I'm bored. Are you?'' ''Yeah,'' replied Freddy, shielding his eyes from the sun. ''Got any ideas?'' Charlie shrugged. ''Want to go fishing? Catch some supper.'' ''Yeah, got to be better than sitting here.'' ''Our ration book is low. Trout would be a treat,'' said Charlie. He already felt hungry and his stomach gurgled. They put the boat down and sat near the water's edge. Charlie took off his white vest, which in contrast showed his pomegranate pink sunburn. He used it to wipe the sweat off his face and chest. Freddy watched and rolled his eyes then looked at his own skin, which was as pale as the moon. He would never have a tan like Charlie's, which would eventually turn the colour of an over cooked sponge cake. He always burnt too easily and if he did catch the sun, he went a light golden brown and then peeled. He admired his friend from afar. Girls always went for Charlie and not him. They drooled over him like he was a vanilla ice-cream. What more could a teenage boy ask for? He, on the other hand, had hair the colour of manure, eyes like peas and a body that would scare a ghost. Large Willows were dotted around the outskirts of the embankment. Their thick branches adorned with light green leaves; cascading like a waterfall, the tips almost tickling the grass. Freddy noticed Charlie was staring at the tree again. He picked the head off a nearby daisy and twisted the stem around his finger. ''Well, are we going fishing or what?'' ''Yeah,'' Charlie replied in a dazed tone. They dragged the boat onto the water, until it reached below their knees, then took it in turns to get in and rowed until they were in the middle of the lake. After almost an hour their lines dangled in the water as still as statues. ''This is useless. So much for our supper!'' said Freddy. Before Charlie could answer he felt a gentle tug on the rod's line. As he peeked over the side of the boat, the movement became sharper. It tugged hard and the water rippled, spreading large circles across the surface. ''Freddy. I got one, I got one!'' ''About time too. Quick, reel it in.'' ''I am. It's a wild one, this,'' he said, standing up. The rod bent as he wound the line in. With one last pull the fish emerged from the water. It squirmed and dangled in mid air on the fishing line. ''Gee, look at the size on this trout.'' Freddy's jaw dropped as he watched the trout's large body wriggle feverishly. Its mouth opened and closed, gasping for air. Charlie laughed at his friend's expression. ''How come you always get the whoppers and I get the tiddlers? '''Because I'm good at fishing and you're useless,'' said Charlie. ''No I'm not.'' Freddy rocked the boat playfully as Charlie unhooked the fish. ''Hey, I'll drop our supper in a minute, quit it will you.'' The trout squirmed in his hands as he tried to keep his balance. Freddy chuckled and rocked the boat a little more. It slipped out of Charlie's hands, but he caught it, only for it to slide out of his grasp again. He tried to hold on but it sailed through the air like a paper aeroplane and landed with a loud splash, back into the lake. Freddy stood up and looked into the water. He could just make out the fish swimming away. Charlie prodded him hard in his chest with his index finger. ''Look what you made me do. ''Just because you're no good at fishing.'' Freddy pushed his shoulder with the palm of his hand. ''Well as you're so good, you can catch another one.'' Charlie stumbled backwards: his heels rubbed on the side of the dinghy. Instinctively he flung his arms out for balance, but he couldn't stop himself and plunged into the water like a torpedo from a submarine. He could just make out Freddy's muffled laughter above him. When he opened his eyes, he noticed he'd sunk deeper than he thought he would have. There were quite a few trout down there. Maybe they would get a second chance to catch another one for supper. From the corner of his eye; he caught a glimpse of something. It shone amongst the plants that had entwined their selves around an old bicycle. It gleamed like a mirror in sunlight, almost as if it were sending messages in Morse-code. He floated for a few seconds, trying to make out what the object could be, but his view was obscured. He began to feel a little light headed. He needed air and knew he'd have to leave soon. The dinghy's shadowy base became a little clearer as he emerged from the water. He swam until he reached the side of the boat and clung to its panels. Freddy laughed loudly at the sight of Charlie's short, dark blonde hair stuck to his head like seaweed. ''Been looking for that fish?'' He held his hand out to Charlie. ''No! But I did see something - it shone like a diamond,'' he said, gripping tightly to Freddy's arm. ''What was it?'' he asked, pulling him out of the water. Charlie sat down, combed his hair back with his fingers and sucked in the humid air. ''I'm not sure, I couldn't see it properly. ''Want to take a look? You owe me that much.'' ''Yeah, sure. May as well, you probably scared all the fish off.'' Charlie rolled his eyes and shook his head. ''Actually, I didn't. There's plenty of trout down there.'' ''Really! You're not pulling my leg now, are you?'' ''No, I'm not. Let's find out what it was. If it's worth anything we can take it to the pawn brokers and get some money for it.'' Freddy looked thoughtful. ''Yeah, okay.'' He liked the sound of that idea. If it came to it they could buy a big trout from Jolly's fishmongers, never mind catching one. They looked at each other and jumped, sending ripples across the water. Submerged they became deaf and mute. Charlie swam ahead and looked back at Freddy. He pointed downward and Freddy nodded and followed. Charlie swam in the direction he had seen the shimmer of light. He pointed repeatedly at a swaying green plant: a rusty bike by the side of it. The frame bent and twisted and the front wheel buckled. Amongst the fragments of dirt shone something as bright as a new shilling, part of it still wedged underneath the back wheel. They both went closer to get a better look. The object looked like a key; the top part of it engraved like a skull, its eyes as red as hot coals. Freddy stared at it for several seconds. What could it be for? If the rubies were diamonds, it could be worth a fortune. Maybe there was a treasure chest somewhere, with riches they could only dream of. Charlie reached out to grab the key and remove the mud that clung to part of the metal. Before he had chance, a child's thin skeleton hand lunged out. Its bony fingers curled tightly around the key stem, snatching it from sight. Charlie's eyes widened. He glanced at Freddy, whose colour had turned a septic yellow. A deep fear flashed in his pea green eyes. Freddy wondered if what he seen was a figment of his imagination. Charlie beckoned him with his hand to take another look. Freddy shook his head and pointed to the boat. He didn't like it. Whatever it had been, he wanted no part of it. Were there really such things as ghosts? He'd heard stories off his Grandfather over the years, but thought it was just his way of scaring him. He was surprised when Charlie stubbornly shook his head and swam to where the skeleton key had been. Freddy didn't want to stay a moment longer; this was more frightening than any stories he'd been told. He didn't want to hang around any longer than he had to. Freddy tried to reason with his mind. There were no such things as ghosts that he was sure of. So what had he just witnessed? Where had the hand come from and who did it belong too? To be continued...
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass
Sunken on 20-02-2009
Grimeons Pass
Hello Ms. Sugar. Ya know, I'd forgotten just how smashing this was. You're really bloody good at this prose malarky aren't ya? I liked your descriptions of the boys -

'Girls always went for Charlie and not him. They drooled over him like he was a vanilla ice-cream. What more could a teenage boy ask for? He, on the other hand, had hair the colour of manure, eyes like peas and a body that would scare a ghost.'

I don't know how much of this you've edited, but it's pretty obvious that you've put a lot of thought into it. I'm no expert in prose (or poetry come to that) but, in my opinion, this is quality. I'm going to read part two in the morning over a bagel. That's a 'bagel', not a beagle. Talking of which...

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. Thanks as always for stopping by to read and comment on my stuff. Aww, cheers hun, I'm really glad you liked this. This story has been in my head now for at least two to three years. I really do need to get this out of my head. I'm also pleased that you liked the descriptions of the boys, bits of which (the vanilla ice cream part and a little extra) I added in yesterday. Umm...not sure on the whole exactly how much I've cut out or added instead of, but I did go through it all last night, well this part and part two.
Anyway I hope you enjoy the second part of it as much as this one over a bagel. Talking of which, thanks so much for Bernard, it's a pleasure to have him again. What's another dog to add to my collection, lol.

Sugar. xx

cat on 21-02-2009
Grimeons Pass
Hi Lis'

I too liked 'vanilla ice-cream' and 'pea eyes', especially 'pea eyes'. You set the scene so beautifully.
I was at once taken in, my emagination involved, my intrigue met and kept.
I'll be honest, I was fully expecting an accident, a drowning...
loved that I was wrong, talk about false sense!
The Skeleton hand, a childs, sent chills, I actually shivered!
Want, no need to know what happens, so I'm off to read part two...

c x


Author's Reply:
Hi Cat,

Glad you liked the descriptions too and that the story so far has kept you intrigued. Yes, I wanted a little more omf to the story and a scary feel to it, what better than a childs's skeletal hand? I'm pleased it made you shiver coz for me it means it worked! Thanks so much for your feedback on this, which I really needed, especially as this has been edited. Glad you also liked part two just as much this :0)

Lis'. xx

Gee on 05-04-2010
Grimeons Pass
Hi again Lis.
Something that really stood out for me in this are your descriptions. I love the fact that you're not using the tired old ones I read time and again but coming up with something new. I loved "colour of an over cooked sponge cake" because I instantly knew exactly what you meant.
I was surprised to read this because, as you know, I started off by reading a later chapter and expected it to be about Arnold and Molly. I can see the link, but won't mention it in case it's spoiled for other people.
Again, I want to read more. I'm more intrigued than ever now!

Author's Reply:


Restless (posted on: 09-02-09)
Another dark, but purley fictional piece. Written a few months ago after seeing an old photograph.

Under tortured skies mournful winds carry echos of past misgivings. The castle stands not yet defeated but a skeleton ruin. Its structure untouched unloved. Haunted spirits wander aimlessly around its fragile tomb. Their cries and broken hearts Search for the truth. Answers they will never find. Branches like arthritic fingers beckon them to leave. They point to the afterlife. They see nothing no light nor forgiveness. Denied to rest in peace. Alone. Unwanted. Restless. Dark angels hide sacred secrets for eternity. Looking for those who murdered them in cold blood and haunt those that live.
Archived comments for Restless
Sunken on 09-02-2009
Restless
Hello Ms. Sugar of Mama fame. There is much in this that I liked. I really should try to structure my sentences better shouldn't I? This is a writers site after all and no mistake. My English teacher would be turning in her grave... Well she would if she were dead. As it is I believe she's alive and well and has recently taken up lodgings with a young student nurse named Debbie. I always knew she was a lesbian. I think it's why we got on so well. I'm a big fan of lesbians. Did you know that KT Tunstall is a lesbian. Or is it KD Lang? Anyway, this is hardly important right now. Yes, there is much in your poem that I am liking very much. The skeletal ruin of the castle and the arthritic fingers of the tree's branches are just two of my likings. Blimey, that sentence was even worse. I might go and see the lesbian and see if I can get some additional lessons. Not in lesbianism you understand. I'm a bloke, it wouldn't work. Ahem. I truly hope this comment meets with your approval. Please advice your approval to tell a friend where she's going. I hope this helps. Isn't it misty?

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today he is mainly smoking lettuces (fuckin' credit crunch!)

Author's Reply:

macaby on 09-02-2009
Restless
i remember having to do an exercise once, where i had to look at a painting and write about what i couldn't see in the painting. i found it difficult, couldn't stretch my imagination enough. you have done a great job with your picture. i think you have looked at a picture of an old ruined castle maybe and just let your imagination run free. i like the story in the poem and the images are great.enjoyable, dark poem.

Author's Reply:
Hi Macaby. Sorry for the late reply. I've not been around for a while...needed a break. Thanks for stopping by and leaving your much appreciated comments. I'm really pleased that you liked the poem and the story. Yeah, I guess I did let my imagination run a little wild on this one, but loved the spookiness of the picture I saw and this was the outcome. Thanks again, hun.

Sugar. xx

Mezzanotte on 09-02-2009
Restless
Dear Lis',

Have you seen the photo prompt posted on the Forum's poetry contest? i think that this poem with its castle and branches would be perfect. Like Sunken, I loved the arthritic fingers and the skeleton ruin, and the fragile tomb.

Well done Lis'
Jackie

Author's Reply:
Hi Jackie,

Sorry for late reply...needed a break from things for a few days. Back on track again now. No, I haven't seen the picture prompt on the Forum poetry contest. I will take a look tomorrow, still editing an old story at the moment. Glad you liked the imagery and the words of the arthritic fingers and skeleton ruin etc.

Cheers hun.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 09-02-2009
Restless
Dear Lis',

Have you seen the photo prompt posted on the Forum's poetry contest? i think that this poem with its castle and branches would be perfect. Like Sunken, I loved the arthritic fingers and the skeleton ruin, and the fragile tomb.

Well done Lis'
Jackie

Author's Reply:

Sunken on 10-02-2009
Restless
Ms. Jackie of Maisonette fame is right, Ms. Sugar. I dunno why, but I just assumed she'd be wrong. Your poem fits the picture prompt very well and no mistake. You can find said thread

hereโ€ฆ



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life in monochrome


Author's Reply:
Hey Sunks,

Sorry for the late reply...needed a break for a few days. I think it's done me some good. I will take a look at the thread tomorrow as I gotta go to bed soon. Early start in the morning. Cheers Sunky Le Munk.

Sugar. xx


Midnight's Call (posted on: 09-02-09)
A spiritual piece written after seeing a photograph online.

Through life you have stood by me. Watched me from afar and guided me in troubled times. Unlike others you have never doubted my abilities nor my strengths. Always near awaiting the call. To serve me and to speak only when you are spoken to. Under midnight's moonlight you came without a sound or trace of your exsistance. You walked by my side in darkness and led me to into the light. You promised me that together we would look after my newborn child who I lived and died for. I hold my son's spirit guide - your cub close to my heart and we listen for his call. For we shall show him the way and protect his soul until we meet once more.
Archived comments for Midnight's Call
Sunken on 10-02-2009
Midnights Call
Like you, Ms. Sugar, this pome is very beautiful. Your hubby won't be reading this will he? I'm not flirting anyway. I'm just saying that it's a very beautiful poem. I refuse to meet him by the school gates for a fight. I'm a poet (sort of), not a fighter. Thank you.

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he recommends radox shower gel

Author's Reply:
Aww, Sunky you really are a sweetie. Thank you for your lovely compliments. Lol, no hubby not read this. You flirt Sunky...never!! Glad you liked the poem hun. Again I'm so sorry for my late reply. Back on track again now. ;0)

Sugar. xx

barenib on 10-02-2009
Midnights Call
I'm fascinated as to what the photo was now. This is a slightly mysterious poem which gives it intrigue, adding to the more general spiritual feel. An interesting and delicate read - John.

Author's Reply:
Hi John,

The photo was of an American Indian woman, holding a tiger cub. Glad you enjoyed it and found the theme interesting and delicate. Thanks for reading and commenting on my work. Sorry for the late reply...needed a break for a few days.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 10-02-2009
Midnights Call
Dear Lis',

I'm not sure but I think I know what the poem's about, which makes it even more poignant. It really is a lovely poem, I love the image of holding the cub, and listening for the call.
Very beautiful
best wishes
Jackie

Author's Reply:
Hi Jackie,

No, the poem is not about what you think it is. It was just an idea for the picture I seen. It was of an Anerican Indian woman holdin a cub. I know how much the animals mean to them and how they see them as spirit guides also, so that is where the idea stemed from. I'm pleased that you like it though and glad you liked the imagery too. Thanks so much for your comments. Again I'm so sorry for the late reply on this too.

Lis'. xx

cat on 14-02-2009
Midnights Call
Hi Lis, me too! What was that photo of? No, don't tell me. Not knowing is better. A thought provoking piece, beautifully written c x

Author's Reply:
Hi Cat, sorry for the late reply. I've been away from the site for a while...needed a break coz I was feeling a little low. Thanks for stopping by to read and comment. Glad you liked the poem. Ok, I won't tell you what the photo was of. Thanks for your lovely comments.

Lis'. xx

Leila on 15-02-2009
Midnights Call
A poem of genuine sincerity and the desire to always have that connection through this life and beyond...tender and moving...Leila

Author's Reply:
Hi Leila,

Thanks for stopping by and commenting on this. Yes, I guess the poem brought out something that I strongly believe in. I'm pleased that it came across as tender and moving to you.
Sorry for my late reply, but have been away from here for over a week...needed a bit of a break.

Lis'. xx


Sweet Delight (posted on: 06-02-09)
As the genre suggests - Erotic. Explicit content, please don't read if easily offended. I decided to dabble in something different from my normal stories. This is all completley fictional. If you don't want a leave a comment on the story you can pm me instead. Greatly appreciated.

We spoke for a couple of hours last night. Whispers and dirty talk down our mobile's, that's when he had the idea. I wasn't sure about it if I'm completely honest, but he said it would be fun – he'd make it a night to remember. I felt guilty for lying to my family. I rarely ever left them unless it was absolutely necessary – usually career and money orientated. Part of me wanted to go, the other half didn't. What if I was seen? What excuses could I make? I was scared of being found out, but was it worth the risk. It took me all of a few seconds to make up my mind. I stood outside the plush hotel, this was the one. The one he'd given me directions to by txt that very morning, after I dropped the kids off at school and told my husband I loved him, only twenty minutes before. It said 'see you there, sexy'. xx My hand shook as I took one last drag of my cigarette before I opened the glass doors and walked in. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I had never done this before, ever, but I was excited to meet him nonetheless. I checked in, picked up the keys for the 'peacock suite' and made my way to the bar. There were only a few people, mainly couples or so they seemed, scattered around the nearby tables. After ordering a drink I sat down, took my jacket off and made myself comfortable at a table on the far side. The neat Southern Comfort slid warmly down the back of my throat. After being there for only ten minutes a large hand brushed across the back of my neck then slipped to my shoulders. Goose bumps covered my arms. I turned to face him. ''Would you like another?'' He asked, smiling. ''I'd love one, thank you,'' I replied, looking into his light blue 'fuck me' eyes. On his return we made small talk, but not much. We both knew what the other wanted. No time like the present. He put his hand underneath the table and his fingers gently slid over my black stockings. I sensed his arousal as he eagerly felt the softness coating my slender legs. He skimmed over their lace tops and my bare skin until he reached my inner thighs. I parted my legs slowly. The edges of my crotchless knickers were already damp as he rubbed my clit. My pussy tingled and pulsed and I tried not to squirm too much on the seat as not to bring attention to ourselves. I wondered if anyone did see us, would they say anything or be too embarrassed. Part of me didn't care. Once the pleasure took over, nothing else mattered. One finger…two fingers thrust inside me; deeper and deeper until my juices flowed, I groaned quietly. My hand slid across his trousers, until it reached his crotch; his bulge throbbed with excitement. Within seconds it grew to almost bursting point. ''I want to fuck you now,'' he whispered in my ear. ''Let's go,'' I gasped, giving his cock one last squeeze. We hurried out of the bar and had to stop ourselves from sprinting to the lift, which was empty. Once inside he pushed me against the wall. Adrenaline and lust pumped through my body. At that moment I wanted him to fuck me, right there and then. He kissed me and our tongues entwined, licking at each other frantically. Our breathing deepened as our bodies pressed tightly together and I felt his cock grow harder beneath his trousers as he rubbed it against my covered crotch. His hands swept over my back and down towards my arse, which he gripped for several seconds before releasing. He inched my dress up and stopped when my crotchless knickers were revealed. I slid my leg up and down the side of his a couple of times, then let it rest on his hips. I wanted him to take me now! I couldn't stand a second rush of frustration. I needed…wanted to feel his cock inside me. It had been a while since I'd felt this horny. My sex life was practically non-existent and I missed the intimacy and fulfillment that I'd once had with my husband. The birth of our children had put paid to that a long time ago. I wanted to feel loved again, sexy and once more in control as a woman should, whether in lust or love. His soft lips kissed my neck then my shoulder blades as he moved his hand to my now very moist pussy. 'TING' the bell rang. The lift came to a standstill and the doors began to open, much to my dismay and annoyance. My lover left my dress fall back into place as I slid my leg back down his. An elderly couple got in and the look of disgust on the woman's face was apparent. The four of us stood in awkward silence for the next couple of minutes. ''Third Floor'' said the recorded voice. We held each others hand and walked briskly out. ''Youngsters these days don't know how to behave in public, they're a disgrace. What is this world coming to?'' muttered the old woman. We had barely got into the room before we started to strip each others clothes off. A trail of discarded garments adorned the plush cream carpet. We fell onto the bed kissing each other passionately. Our fingertips hungrily ran over the contours of each others skin. My lover slid himself on top of me, cupping my breasts in each hand as he did so. His tongue flicked over my pink nipples in turn, making them as large and as hard as toothpaste tube tops. I writhed and arched my back, pushing my breast further into his mouth. He sucked it more and squeezed my other breast firmly. I let out a groan of pure pleasure. The more he continued with his seduction, the more I wanted him, in fact I couldn't get enough and it wasn't coming as quick as I needed it to. I wanted everything he would do to me all at once and I mean all of it. Stuff the waiting; just give it to me now! The very thought of what he would do to me made me hornier than ever. He moved off my breasts and his lips and tongue teased my skin, past my navel until it got to the inside of my thighs. I waited only a second before he licked my clitoris, hungrily tasting the juices that he'd beckoned only moments earlier. My breathing went from slightly heavy to short pants and I could contain myself no longer. ''Finger me,'' I gasped. ''For fucks sake, finger me.'' My wish was his command and he did exactly as he was told. Slowly at first his two fingers probed inside me and his pace quickened. I felt the wetness within me leave and cover his fingers as he entered me again and again, harder - faster. I cry out as I orgasm and sigh with, relief, but it leaves me wanting more. I have to have more, just give me all you got. In the lamplight I can see his cock, hard and erect. I hold it and move my hand up and down in a slow rhythm. He moans as each one pushes his foreskin over the tip of his cock. ''Suck me, suck me now,'' he said, holding a handful of my long black hair and pulling me closer him. I oblige and taste his wet excitement. He moves my head up and down and my tongue slips and slides over his shaft, and I caress his balls; shifting my hand from one to the other. He pushes my head further down onto his cock and its tip nears the back of my throat. The more I take it, the harder his cock gets and I sense his need to cum. He withdraws from my mouth. ''I don't want to cum yet. I have more planned for you later,'' he said, running his fingers through my hair. ''But first I have a surprise for you.'' ''A surprise, what surprise?'' I asked. ''Close your eyes, you'll find out soon.'' My eyes are shut. The bed springs twang with release as he gets up. I'm curious now about the surprise he has for me. What can it be I wonder? Maybe it's something to wear. Is he going to tie me up? Handcuff me to the bed? What is it? A zip opens and closes in the background and I can only think it's his overnight bag that my surprise has been kept secretly hidden away from me in. ''No peaking,'' he said. ''I won't,'' I replied, wondering what the hell he's up too. ''Well, just to make sure you can put this on,'' he said grinning. I open my eyes and draped over his hands is a blindfold. I stare at him for a minute, stuck for words. ''Are you serious?'' is all I can muster. He nods. ''Yes, you want your surprise don't you?'' ''Well, yeah, but…'' ''Then put it on.'' His eyes reassure me and I give in. He wraps the blindfold around my head and cover my eyes. Even if I wanted a sneak preview of what was going to happen next, I couldn't. The silk material was too thick to shed any light on the situation. I couldn't see a thing through it. Once the blindfold had been tied, he laid me gently back on the bed and I waited… Something cold and sticky lands on my stomach and I flinch. It's running down my sides when I feel his hot breath on my skin. His tongue laps at the sticky substance that he's poured towards my groin. I love the way he touches me. It's sensual and god damn sexy. He makes me feel special, just like a woman should when she's being pampered. Sod having my nails or hair done every week. This is my idea of being pampered and spoilt and it feels good. He pulls my legs gently apart and pours more of whatever it is over my wet pussy. He's going down on me again. My clitoris is tingling with excitement and it's throbbing. I squirm, gasping at each lick and suck he makes. He reaches for my hand and rubs my fingers in the substance spreading it over my body like butter on toast. Then he pushes my fingers inside me and I feel the wetness coat my fingertips, he withdraws them after a couple of minutes. ''Lick your fingers for me, one at a time,'' he whispered. I did as he asked and could taste the sweetness of chocolate sauce mixed with my own juices. It only turns me on more than I already am. Another noise gets my attention, but I recognize what it is – squirty cream out of a can. He covers my breasts in it twice and licks it all off - teasing me, making my back arch and my body spasm in sweet delight. I grip the sheets as he sucks my pink bud; the tingle is like an electrical vault surging through me. How much more can I take before I loose control? Every suck intensifies and each one makes me wetter than before. I try to push him away - he's driving me nuts and I find I don't know how to deal with it, but he holds my hands and I can't move. My breath is short and sharp – panting as if I'm going to give birth at any moment. I gasp and a few more sighs follow and juices run out of me that he can't swallow. He sucks long and hard one more time and I shudder. He takes the blindfold off and I look at him through dazed eyes. My legs are shaking, but I don't care. I get up onto my knees, put my hand around the nape of his neck and pull him too me. Skin to skin we kiss, our tongues licking at each others furiously, my nails running up and down his back. I grab his cock and slowly caress his body with my lips and make my way down to his groin. I tease the top of his cock with my tongue making circles on it then going anti – clockwise. I lick the full length of his shaft until I get to his shaven balls and I suck them gently, my tongue randomly running over his flesh. He moans and grabs my hair and I make my way back to his erection and his juices that have spilled over. I take his cock in my mouth and take in his length, over and over again, harder – faster. My hand guides it as I suck. ''Oh yeah, oh yeah,'' he moans, pushing my head further onto his cock. It slides over my tongue and touches the back of my throat. I pull back, lick its tip and let it back in. I place my hands on either side of his legs and suck the top of his cock, taking only an inch of him in. ''I want to fuck you,'' he says breathlessly. I turn and go on all fours. I want him to fuck me for as long as possible. How could my life have turned out this way, not having this type of intimacy with my husband? How have we survived this long? I really don't know, but this, this is what I've longed for, hoped for and now I've got it. I don't feel an ounce of guilt, not one bit of lying to my family, at least not yet. I shiver with excitement as he enters me from behind – his cock delving into my wet pussy. I gasp at the tight feeling I get and the way he thrusts it inside me, pulling it half way out and then pushing it back inside me, harder with each thrust. My juices flow and I groan at each one. His hands move over my breasts, squeezing them and tweaking my nipples. My gasps become higher pitched and I clutch the ivory pillowcases. ''I want you to suck your juices off my cock,'' he whispered. I turn to face him and delve straight in, running my tongue down his shaft. I can taste my wetness and I like it. This feels so good. I can't remember the last time I got this dirty, this horny with anyone, but this guy makes me feel like a woman again – alive. This is fantastic, probably the best sex I've ever had…well apart from when my husband and I first met, now that was steamy! It's strange how things change. My lover makes more soft groaning noises and he pushes his cock further into my mouth, he's getting harder. I sense his needs as he strokes my hair. I feel his body stiffen, legs shake and his pleasure is released in my mouth. I swallow twice and lick my lips. He takes me in his arms and kisses me. My body tingles and I feel the rush of longing in my groin – I want him again, to feel him inside me. I wake up the next morning, my hair as disheveled as the bedding, but he's no-where in sight – his clothes and his bag gone, just like him. I'm disappointed that he didn't stay, but foolishly I thought he'd be different. Men they're all the same, well at least the ones I pick – they have what they want then fuck you, in both senses of the word. I take a shower, tidy myself up and look as presentable as I walked in last night. It's time to go back home and face reality, back to my drab life. I guess last night was as good as it will get, but I enjoyed it more than he will ever know. The reception is dotted with people arriving, some are chatting at tables etc and I wonder if any of them have been in the same situation as me and done what I have. Would they have the balls to go through with it? Who knows! I never thought I would, but I did and thinking back on last nights adventure I'm glad I did and I'd do it again. My mobile rings – it's him. ''Thanks for last night. Want to meet up another time?'' ''Yeah, sure, let me know.'' ''Oh, I will sweetheart. See you soon.'' We say our goodbyes and I check out and smile at the memories. Well it was fun while it lasted. I walk over to the car park and get in my silver Audi. ''You took your time didn't you, he said grinning. ''I've been for breakfast while I was waiting.'' ''Sorry I was tired, it was a long night,'' I replied taking off my black wig. ''Yes, guess it was. Let's get home and see the kids,'' my husband said with a smile.
Archived comments for Sweet Delight
Sunken on 06-02-2009
Sweet Delight
Oh my bloody good god and no mistake. Fuck me. Blimey. Ahem. Sorry Ms. Sugar. I may have to return later to comment fully. Something has most definitely cum up and I must attend to it immediately! I'll be frank, I have a stonking hardon and no mistake. It was the squirty cream what done it. What a marvellously sensual write. And so well penned too. I actually wrote penis then. I'd better go sort it out. It shouldn't take long. Well done. You are like literary viagra.

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too aroused to bother thinking of a tag line


Author's Reply:
Pmsl. I take it by your intro you liked the story then Sunky Le Munk! Thanks for your comments and glad you liked this and thought it was a sensual write and well penned, you've made my morning. Hope you sort out that something that has cum up ;0). Oh and I'm pleased the squirty cream worked for you too.
Cheers sunky for stopping by to read and comment on my work, as always it's very much appreciated.

Sugar. xx

Ionicus on 07-02-2009
Sweet Delight
Phew!! I'll have to take a breather after this marathon. He seems to have quite a stamina, this stallion of yours. And you, or your fictional you, what a hottie! Hard (no pun intended) to match.
Cum to think of it, I could give it a try.

xx

Author's Reply:
Lol. I hope you recover Luigi. Thanks so very much for commenting. I had begun to give up on many comments on this if I'm honest. People seem to be reading it but not making comments, which is a shame, but maybe it's out of embarressment or a loss for words, lol. Cheers for letting me know your thoughts, it means a lot and I mean that.

Yes, he does seem to have a lot of stamina doesn't he and her too. It's amazing where your imagination can take you too ;0)

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 08-02-2009
Sweet Delight
Ahem. Dear Ms. Sugar, it's me, sunks. Did you know that the average male expels 20% of his body's zinc supply when he ejaculates? Munky told me. With this in mind, there is every chance that I might go overdrawn before the weekend is over. I blame you entirely for this. I feel lethargic and have a terrible zit on my chin. I'm off out now to get a zinc supplement from Tesco. I hope the checkout girl doesn't know about zinc deficiency and how it effects serial wankers. Ahem. Good day!

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today he's hanging his jacket on it

Author's Reply:
Hey Sunks. No I didn't knw about that useful piece of information, but thank you for enlightening me. Munky is such an intelligent...erm...munky! Oh dear I wouldn't want you to get overdrawn, especiall not before the weekend is over. I'm so sorry I will take the blame completley for the story I wrote and that you've comented on twice. Did you manage to get the Zinc? and by the way I hope your chicken is okay ;0)

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is thinking of another story that has so called 'coat hooks' ;0P


Little Boy Lost (posted on: 02-02-09)
I know that I have put this on a few times now in the past, but this story has a special place in my heart. The reasons I will keep to myself. I have edited this at least 20 times now and will probably be my last edit. Does this come across better?

Half the street must have heard the screams that were coming from our house that afternoon; the argument as cold and bitter as the October wind. I'm sure I saw the curtains move at number 37. ''Don't you ever come back, you hear me Jason?'' Mum shouted. ''Huh. You think I want to spend the rest of my life with you and those brats!'' He roared. ''Brats! Is that what you think of your own children? Well if that's how you feel we're better off without you,'' she screamed. ''I hope that you and that bimbo from the pub get everything you deserve. She's welcome to you.'' Dad's reply was cut off by the door slamming. I watched him through the droplets of rain that smeared the glass; rucksack on his back and carrying a black bin bag. He didn't even look at me as he swaggered down the street. My tears fell as heavy as the rain outside. I heard mum sobbing by the front door and went to see if she was okay. She sniffed and wiped her face with her hands. ''I'm sorry Jake, It's not the best Halloween this year is it?'' she said, running her fingers gently over my cheek. ''It's okay mum, honest.'' ''No, it isn't Jake. Come on I'll take you and Jenna trick or treating. I promise next year we'll have the best Halloween ever.'' Mum didn't go back on her word the following year. Our party would start soon. I loved dressing up for Halloween. This time my costume would be the best. There was no way my best friend, Joey, would beat me again. Mum took three weeks to sew our costumes by hand; no one would have the exact ones we had. In the kitchen, Mum had put out gruesome looking food: witches' fingers and dragon's toes made of shortbread with red food colouring on almond nails. Squashed frogs were melted marshmallows, a mud swamp of lime jelly and chocolate mousse, and blood punch: cranberry and apple juice mixed with lemonade. I licked my lips as I ogled the treats before I left the room. I peered around the lounge door. ''Can I have a biscuit, please?'' ''No, once you start you won't stop.'' She giggled. ''You can help me blow these up.'' ''Aww, do I have to?'' ''Yes. I won't get the room ready in time. We haven't got much longer.'' I shrugged. ''Okay.'' The lounge was a sea of black and orange balloons. Mum's cheeks were pink and puffed out as she blew one up. The house looked eerie with dangling cobwebs inhabited by tiny spiders and cardboard skeletons and plastic bats were dotted around the rooms. I helped mum put up the rest of the decorations while Jenna rushed through the few random balloons left on the floor, giggling as they scattered and floated by us. ''Jake, get ready. It's almost time.'' ''Okay.'' Within minutes Dracula, witches and mummies invaded the house. My jaw plummeted as I stared at Joey in his costume - blue short ragged trousers, white top, black waistcoat, eye patch, a bandana around his head and drawn on goatee beard. I couldn't believe it. "Cool, two ghost pirates," Joey said, lifting up his sword. "Fight you for the treasure," he chuckled. Sounds' of 'Monster Mash' echoed through the rooms. Our weapons clashed fiercely and he stumbled backwards into the kitchen. Jenna was climbing on the cupboards, her arms outstretched towards a glowing pumpkin and her young plump legs dangled over the edge of the worktop. Her shoes slid on the cupboard doors as she tried to lift herself up more. I stopped dead in my tracks, threw my sword on the floor and raced across the room. "Mum. Mum." In the background I heard Joey's voice desperately trying to compete with the music. "Sarah...Sarah." "No, Jenna, no." I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her backwards. "Let it go!" "No, mine, mine." "No, it's not." "Yes...mine." The tips of her fingers made contact with the black plate the large pumpkin sat upon. As it inched towards her, she turned to face me and giggled. With one more tug she gripped onto the plate. The more I pulled her away, the more the flaming pumpkin came towards her. "Jenna! No." My mind raced and I began to panic. I didn't know what else to do. If I let her go she'd fall and it would land on top of her. My arms ached and I could feel my grip loosen a little. I struggled to hang on. The face glowed; its gruesome features grew closer. "Mummy, quick." I heard Mum's hurried footsteps getting nearer. "Oh my god." Mum's tone was high pitched. "Let it go now, Jenna." She grabbed her from my arms. "You naughty girl, it's hot, you'll burn." She took a deep breath and blew out the flame inside the hollowed out pumpkin, turned to face me with a grateful smile and gave my shoulder a soft squeeze. "Thank you Jake." She turned to look at my sister and cradled her in her arms. "You must never touch the lit pumpkins Jenna. It's dangerous. Naughty girl." ''Sorry, mummy, sorry.'' We played ducking for apples and got drenched. Next we had games of musical statues, pass the parcel and wrap the mummy; wrapping someone up in toilet paper - the quickest and most covered wins. My team breezed it and were allowed some gruesome treats. Joey and I were first in the kitchen. It looked quite spooky, the lights were turned off and the pumpkins had been re-lit giving an eerie orange glow, their menacing faces projected on the walls and ceiling. I grabbed a handful of sweets and bolted through the door, with Joey in hot pursuit. ''Do you want to play a game?'' I asked. ''Yeah. What one?'' ''I dunno, but I'll think of something.'' I pulled Joey's sleeve and grinned. ''Come on, let's get the others.'' The adults were hanging out in the conservatory drinking wine. We had the run of most of the house. Mum was stressed trying to keep an eye on Jenna, while being host to our guests. Now it was time for my party piece, the one thing I had waited all night for to show off my skills. My favourite game was about to commence. ''Who wants to play hide and seek?'' I called out. Several pairs of hands waved in the air. David covered his eyes and began to count, while the rest of us scattered to various rooms. Bethan, Joey and Billy stomped up the stairs. I stayed in the lounge and crawled inside the large oak dresser, peeping through a small knot hole on the bottom. I waited silently for the others to find me. I knew they wouldn't for a while because I was good at hiding and always found the best places. I had a feeling I would be the last one found. I shut one eye, putting the other against the small gap and watched for movement. Within minutes Jenna ran in, her eyes darted around the room. She turned the volume button up a little and skipped out the door giggling. Moments later she staggered into the room, both arms wrapped around an orange object, her face highlighted by a warm glow. As she continued to walk across the room, she stared inside the pumpkin, fascinated by the dancing flame she bent her head and peered at it at close range. "Jenna! No not again. Put it down." I shouted, but she didn't hear me. My fist pounded against the door, then I attacked it with my feet, but the latch had jammed. "Mummy, Mummy." I tried to shout above the loud music. "Ouch," Jenna cried. She lifted her hands to her face. I watched in horror as the pumpkin slipped through her fingers. It crashed to the floor in pieces and she sped out of the room, her face bright pink, tears rolling off her chubby cheeks. The lit candle rolled over to the edge of the curtains, which were devoured within seconds. I gasped at the room which had become an inferno...I had to get out. I kicked the wooden doors again in violent short bursts. "Mummy, Mummy...I'm here." 'Ghostbusters' belted out from the hi-fi. I began to cough and felt like I was going to be sick at any moment. Fire engines roared into the street, their sirens screamed in my ears and reflections of their blue lights flashed across the windows. I stood trembling on the pavement, staring at our house. I jolted backwards from the piercing noise and gasped as shards of glass catapulted into the garden. Thick black smoke floated out of the downstairs window spiralling upwards, while flames licked hungrily at the stone building. "Mummy, Jenna." I felt myself being hoisted into the air, my feet dangled precariously as I stared into the watery eyes of my Nan. She wrapped her arms around my waist and kissed my forehead. Tears slid down my cheeks. "Where's Mummy and Jenna?" "I don't know sweetheart.'' She swept her index finger across my cheek. ''I want Mummy.'' "I know, love." A single tear fell from her eyes and she wiped it away. I watched through blurred vision over her shoulder. In the distance everyone wore the same flesh coloured masks. A surge of tears trickled freely down my face, which absorbed into my Nan's clothing. At that moment I felt so alone. I had never felt that way before and never wanted to again. I opened my mouth wide to scream and let out all the confusion and anger, but no sound escaped. Instead I clung tighter to my Nan. My eyes searched for my mum and sister in the crowd, but I couldn't make them out, faces were featureless and looked the same. I squinted to focus at the face before me, it was my Grandfather's. "Hello Jake. You're safe now." He smiled, his arms reached out towards me. "Hi Gramps." I embraced him with delight as Nan passed me over. I felt warm and secure snuggled against his chest. It has been a traumatic experience for me to lose my family in the way that I did and to know that things will never be the same again. People say 'time heals', but it doesn't, you learn to cope better with your grief, but it never leaves. ''Ready Jake?'' ''Is today the day, Nan?'' ''Yes, it's time, sweetheart.'' ''I don't know if I can face it.'' ''You'll be fine. The first time is the hardest.'' I nodded. Part of me wanted to hold back, to dig my heels in and cower away, but I knew it would be inevitable. What I didn't know was how I would feel and react to what I was about to face. I had to try and come to terms with things. Maybe then and only then, would I be able to have some peace of mind. ''I'm not sure where they'll be Jake.'' ''Guess we'll find out soon.'' The journey was quicker than I expected. Before I knew it we were there. I didn't want to be – not yet, but there was no going back now. Through tear filled eyes I looked for my mum and sister at each and every gravestone I came across. That's when I seen it - them. I watched in silence as mum and Jenna's tear stained faces distorted in pain. Their hands trembled as they laid red roses upon the dew-sodden earth below a slab of black marble. The name etched in gold; Jake Michael Jessop. Aged: 8. Died: 31st October 1998. I guess part of them died with me too that day.
Archived comments for Little Boy Lost
Mezzanotte on 02-02-2009
Little Boy Lost
What a powerful story.

I'm crying now as i write, please believe me, I really am. This is the best short story I've read on this site. I really wasn't expecting the ending. It was a comlete shock. Usually I have an idea where a story is going but this time the rug was pulled from under me. And how very, very sad.

I was wondering why you didn't tell the reader how the boy got out of the cupboard and now I know.

I thought the end was clever too, the crying at the graveside was the mother and sister, as I said above, completely unexpected.

There's a typo at the end though, "that's when i seen it".

A tragic and disturbing short story, but well written and planned.

You were right to never put it down, i think you should enter it into some competitions, i reaklly think it stands a great chance of recognition.

Best wishes
Jackie

Author's Reply:
You're crying!! I'm crying too at your lovely comments. Thank you so much, Jackie. You're words mean more than you will ever know. Yes, it is a sad tale, very sad. Cheers for letting me know about the typo I will sort that out later tonight (another busy day ahead, off to the clinic with my little girl).

I'm really pleased that you thought that this was well written and well planned. I have to confess I did have some help in the begining on this story, but a lot of the edits I have done myself over a long period of time and from your comments, it looks as if they and all the hard work have paid off.

I did enter it once somewhere in 2007 and was told it had potential with a little bit more polishing, so maybe I can finally put my writer's duster away and retry. Thanks again so very, very much. You have made a crap Monday seem a little brighter.

Sincerly

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 03-02-2009
Little Boy Lost
I remember this one, Ms. Sugar. Obviously, as I am of the male persuasion, I did not cry. Anyone who says that I did is quite obviously mistaken. Well done on the nomination. I hope this makes it to print one day. I suspect it stands a very good chance of doing so.

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr. Sunks. Your such a sweetie for stopping by and commenting on my work, thanks hun. Well I believe you when you say you didn't cry, even if thousands don't ;0) I hope that this will make it into print one day too, but we all have our dreams. Thanks again Sunky Le Munk.

Sugar. xx

Sunken on 04-02-2009
Little Boy Lost
Hello again, Ms. Sugar. It's me, sunks. Just a quickie to say well done on the nib. I almost slapped a Bernard on you but, as they have a tendency to jinx, I didn't. Now the nibbers have done their thang I think I can safely go ahead. Surely another dog is just what you need (-;

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Author's Reply:
Hello again Mr. Sunks. Thanks for popping by to say well done on the nib and for sending me Bernard, he really is a cutie. Mystique thinks so too, but I don't think Shadow is best pleased. They are all chasing each other round my house as I type this. I don't mind having Bernard. As I always say 'another one won't matter, I'll squish 'em in somewhere'. Actually that's probably the reason I have so many kids, and dogs etc, lol.

Catch yuh soon, Sunky Le Munk.

Sugar. xx


The Mirror's Image (posted on: 02-02-09)
An old poem revamped

Impurities of darkness ravage the soul, tearing at each piece maliciously, as years cruelly take over. A life torn by unforgiving tragedies. The mind twisted with hallucinating thoughts stretched to peaks of destruction. Every part others cling to is numb and out of reach Solitude the only comfort and confidant in this dark underground world of desperation. Black tears drop into a whirlpool of despair, that fade into an unknown void. A different spirit, stares blankly at the girl in the mirror's image, no longer the ability to take control, she crosses over at peace on the other side. Rewritten on Sunday 4th January 2009.
Archived comments for The Mirror's Image
Mezzanotte on 02-02-2009
The Mirrors Image
What a dark poem, but i enjoyed the images, and the use of the mirror to portray the girl's soul.

Off to have some chocolate to cheer myself up

Best wishes
Jackie

Author's Reply:
Hi Jackie. Yeah, I do tend to write dark poems every so often. Glad that you enjoyed the images and like the way used the mirror. Hope my poem didn't make you sad, but I hope you enjoyed the chocolate.
Thanks again for stopping by to read and comment on my work, as always it's very much appreciated.

Lis'. xx

teifii on 02-02-2009
The Mirrors Image
I feel a bit super critical in making suggestions when you say you have revamped it a lot but no good commenting without thought.
I was not too happy about unforgiving tragedies -- can't quite see how a tragedy itself could ever be forgiving but I may be missing the point.
My other point is more definite and concerns punctuation partly. The last verse seems to be two sentences but I'm not sure where the break would come. This is confounded by
no longer the ability
to take control - if it belongs in second sentence, I don't think 'she' can be an ability -- she can be able to [or not here].
Am I making sense? I'm only nit picking because I think the poem could be really good.
Daff

Author's Reply:
Hi Daff. I don't mind you being critical at all on my work, it's the only way I'll learn. So don't worry over it, even though it may say I've revamped it. The reason I put unfogiven tragedies' was because there is no tradgedy that a person can forgive. It's just my way of thinking.

i will take another look later at the puntuality part of it too, so thanks for pointing it out to me. What I meant by 'no longer the ability' meaning she no longer has the ability to take control of her life.
Thanks for stopping by and commenting, Daff, much appreciated cariad.

Lis'. xx

Ionicus on 02-02-2009
The Mirrors Image
Having earlier said that in these days of doom and gloom we should aim for a lighter vein in our writing, I am now confronted by this sombre piece. Hopefully, as it is an old poem revamped, this is not the mood which is prevalent at the moment in your life. Good imagery but I agree with Daff's criticism about the ambiguity of certain passages.
Luigi xx

Author's Reply:
Yeah, this is a bit doom and gloom, Luigi. Like I said though it's an old poem with a bit of a revamp, so thankfully it's not the emotions or feelings I'm having now. Glad you too liked the imagery. Well as you have also agreed with Daff I will take both your comments on board. Thank you for reading and commenting. Your imput is valued greatly.

Lis'. xx

PS: Sorry for the late reply, but Sienna-Sorrelle had her first injections earlier, bless her, and she's been a bit grizzly tonight. Mind you I guess I would be the same if I'd had a needle in each leg :0(

Sunken on 03-02-2009
The Mirrors Image
Hello Ms. Sugar. It's me, sunks. This is indeed very descriptive of a dark mood. I'm glad you're not in that place now. I remember when my Playstation broke... I can't even begin to talk about, Ms. Sugar. I'm joking of course. It was a Nintendo Wii. I'm waiting for a Wii game that simulates masturbating. I swear I'd be king of the high scores and no mistake if ever such a game should make it onto the market. Ahem. I wish I could get the hang of this critting. I do apologise. I hope little Sozzle is ok this morning. Thank you.

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he's allergic to simply red

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr. Sunks. Oh dear, how did you manage when your playstation broke? Now that really is a tradgedy in itself hun. Hope you find a game that stimulates masturbating! I have no doubt that your scores would be high, but please don't tell shywolf otherwise we will never hear the end of it.
I think you crit rather well Sunky and the replies just wouldn't be the same without yours, truely unique as is a sunks.

Sugar. xx

macaby on 03-02-2009
The Mirrors Image
very dark images indeed, written i presume at a sad point in your life.it's good to know that it happened in the past.i liked the part with the mirror, when we look in a mirror, it reflects only what it sees( the truth) and not what we would like it to see.

Author's Reply:
Yes, I guess it is a dark and deep poem. You're right it was written at a time when I felt very low and I just wrote down how I felt in poetic form and this was the result. I guess the girl in the mirror is me when times are tough and I'm not coping, but I guess we all go to a place like that at some point in our lives. Thanks for stopping by and commenting mac, much appreciated.

Sugar. xx

cat on 04-02-2009
The Mirrors Image
Hi lis', The dark heart of sorrow is a place we all visit from time to time, I really do love your honesty. I personaly liked the use of 'unforgiven tragedies' and think in the context of what you were convaying it worked well. Thank you for the pm's, you are so very kind, my love to you and yours catherine x

Author's Reply:
Hi Catherine,

Yes, unfortunatley we all will visit that 'dark place' at some point in our lives, sometimes more than once. Thanks again on your lovely comments on my work, it really does mean a lot to me, more than you know. I'm pleased that you liked he use of 'unforgiven tradgedies' and that it worked well for you in what I was trying to get across. You're very welcome for the pm's. I meant what I said too. No need for you to wait :0)

Sincerely,

Lis'. xx

Leila on 06-02-2009
The Mirrors Image
Sugar you write such deeply heartfelt poems, their honesty is moving and this one is particularly so...Leila

Author's Reply:
Leila, thanks so much for your words. I'm pleased that you found this heartfelt and honest. I was in a 'dark place' when I wrote this, so it does come from the heart. Thanlks you too for your honest opinions.

Lis'. xx (Sugar).


Present to Past (posted on: 30-01-09)
Just something that flowed onto the paper once I started.

Eyes open, eyes shut You're there Mocking me with I told you so's Your smokey finger spirals towards me pointing out my ignorance Showing the flames I couldn't save him from. My life rewinds in my mind From present to past. Is it my time to go? To follow the son I couldn't protect And meet the children I couldn't carry. I go back to my childhood Playing on the mountain Happy times Reality kicks me back to the time, the place I'm at now Back in the smoke filled house Alive, but not relieved Devastated I escape With only my hair singed But more horrified at the loss of my child And the life I have to live without him. From present to past I wish I had died.
Archived comments for Present to Past
Sunken on 30-01-2009
Present to Past
It seems wrong to slap a smelly Bernard on this, Ms. Sugar. Trouble is, I can't think of what else to do or say. Those poems that 'just flow' are often the best. A very brave and worthwhile write.

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr. Sunky Le Munk.

Thank you, as always for stopping by to read and comment on my poem. I always appreciate your opinions. It's good to have Bernard, thank you. He is always welcome here. I just hope that he will get along with Shadow, Mystique and 7 puppies!!
Cheers Sunk, sorry I got you stumped on what to say or do, but glad you popped by, it means much more than you know.

Sugar. xx

macaby on 31-01-2009
Present to Past
sometimes the first write stands good the way it is as changes can spoil the flow of the poem. for a first write this is a really good poem, sad as it is. well done on the nomination.

Author's Reply:
Hi Macaby. Thanks for stopping by to read and comment, much appreciated. Glad that you liked the poem, even though it's sad. Cheers for the congrats on the nomination.

sugar. xx


Now and Then (posted on: 30-01-09)
Another poem I wrote in early January 2009.

You used to hug and kiss me then say I love you Now you ignore me and walk past without a word. We used to spend time together Talking, Laughing, Now there is silence And you're never home. Lengthy conversations on the phone Now I'm lucky if I speak to you For more than two minutes Before you make excuses And ring off. When I touched your skin You'd groan And run your hands over my body Now you turn over When I get into bed and moan That you're tired. Days out together in the car Without the kids. Now I stay in With our young family While you go here and there, alone For hours on end. I know the reason why now. Your hugs Kisses and I love you's are kept for someone else. Now you spend time Talking and laughing with her instead of me. Phone calls last forever, txt messages are many But they're not for me Your fingers and your body Squirm with passion And you groan in pleasure But not with me. A ride in the car To different places With the one you love But it's not me.
Archived comments for Now and Then
Sunken on 30-01-2009
Now and Then
Who is he? Where is he? I'll sort him out for ya, Ms. Sugar. It's a disgrace! Ahem. As it is, I know you are in a good place right now. Ok, it might be knackering, but it's good. You have a lovely new Sugar-lump and a man with lucky hands (oh yeah, they're bloody lucky alright) ahem. Sorry. What I'm trying to say is, you've written something that sounds very realistic, and for that I say well done and no mistake. It's good to be reading you again.

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follow the yellow thick toad

Author's Reply:
Lol, Thanks Sunks I shall call you my personal body guard from now on. You really are a sweetie and no mistake. Glad this came across as realistic hun and thanks so much as always for your time, opinion and comments on my writing. You will never know how much it means, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart.



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she aims to please, but misses the target.

ruadh on 01-02-2009
Now and Then
Nicely done Lis'

ailsa

Author's Reply:
Hi Ailsa,

Thanks for taking the time to stop by and comment. If I'm honest I was almost giving up on any more comments on this and my other poem. Cheers hun. Glad you thought it was nicely done.

Lis'. xx

cat on 01-02-2009
Now and Then
Hi Sugar (-:

It is very nice to meet you. I liked the honesty in your words here, some men still like to play at being boys, I think it's something to do with denile. I'm sure whoever he is, he dosn't deserve you.
Best wishes c x

Author's Reply:
Hi Cat :0)

Nice to meet you too. Welcome to UKA if you're a newbie or even if you're not. I've been away for a few months, unintended, so a little unsure if you're new or not.
Thank you for your lovely comments on my work. Yeah, some men do like to play at being boys and think the grass is greener on the otherside, as the saying goes. Shame they find out too late that it's not. Thanks again for your words and for stopping by to comment on this. Much appreciated.


Identity (posted on: 26-01-09)
Another poem I wrote after being inspired by a song on Pink's new album 'Funhouse'. I've not written for a few months and this is one of about 5 poems I wrote at the begining of January 2009.

Love's passion fades Regret takes over It's in my eyes. Mistrust. Each lie you trip on Brings me closer To your true identity. The real you. Who are you? I thought I knew You don't exist Never have. The knock on the door Changes our lives forever. Identity lost. Daily moods revealed No longer just the two of us you and I have become three. She doesn't love you Like I do. You're her ticket To freedom. Her hell being erased Mine's beginning You don't give a shit Until you're caught. A double life for you Does she suck? Does she fuck Better than me? Tell me does she? Does she want you Really? I don't think so! Does she act out Fantasies I can't? The threesome's I won't? Is she the thrill I'm not? Gonna make you crawl Gonna make you beg For me Gonna make you sorry. You're screwed But not your way This is mine My turn to fuck you.
Archived comments for Identity
Mezzanotte on 26-01-2009
Identity
Wow,

I loved this poem, i also love pink, and was captivated by the video for 'still a rock star', if that's the correct title, where she sings about her divorce from Carey Hart. I think she is a powerful lady, and indeed an inspiration.

I liked the short stanzas and the idea of being three because of the infidelity. I also thought the lines does she suck/ does she fuck? worked very well. They were particularly powerful because they were unexpected. I think when profanity is kept to a minimum it makes a greater impact than when continually repeated in a poem.

Fantastic. I really don't think you should stop writing again...really.

Jackie

Author's Reply:
Hi Jackie,

Thanks so much for stopping by to read and comment, much apreciated. Sorry I've not had chance to reply until now, but I'm up to my neck here with 6 children (youngest is 2mths) 2 dogs and 7 puppies and struggling to find some time to myself.

I'm really glad that you liked this poem. I know the Pink video that you are refering too it's called 'So What'. I agree, she is a powerful lady and I love her songs, they are so full of meaning and some of them are quite sad and touching. If you like Pink and her songs I suggest you listen to her newest album, it's more raw, but bloody good!!

I didn't want to put too much profanity in it as like you said it would spoil the poem. Thanks for the compliment. I will try and keep my writing going as much as I can, but struggling at the moment with such a hectic lifestyle here. Sorry again for the late reply.

Lis'. xx

Mezzanotte on 26-01-2009
Identity
Wow,

I loved this poem, i also love pink, and was captivated by the video for 'still a rock star', if that's the correct title, where she sings about her divorce from Carey Hart. I think she is a powerful lady, and indeed an inspiration.

I liked the short stanzas and the idea of being three because of the infidelity. I also thought the lines does she suck/ does she fuck? worked very well. They were particularly powerful because they were unexpected. I think when profanity is kept to a minimum it makes a greater impact than when continually repeated in a poem.

Fantastic. I really don't think you should stop writing again...really.

Jackie

Author's Reply:

Sunken on 27-01-2009
Identity
Ahem. Blimey. I can see that Pink woman has had quite an affect (or should that be effect... I always get them mixed up). Her hair's not really pink ya know? I've a good mind to get Trading Standards onto her and no mistake. Another strong (and I mean that in every sense of the word) sub, Ms. Sugar.

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he lived by the sword but died by the off licence

Author's Reply:
Lol, thanks Sunky. Yeah, her songs do inspire me. Her one song 'Bring it down' did have quite an effect on me and that is what has inspired about four poems I've written in the begining of the year. She used to have pink hair at one time, wish she would redye it, it looked more funky.

Cheers for your comments. I'm glad that you liked the poem and thought that it was another strong one.

Sugar. xx

PS: Sorry for the late reply hun, up to my eyeballs here. Off to the chinese now. Can't be bothered to cook tonight, had enough and being lazy lol. Catch yuh soon. x


Dreams (posted on: 26-01-09)
This poem was inspired by a song called 'This is how it goes down' on Pink's album 'Funhouse'.

My feelings pour out Like wine from a bottle To anyone who will listen. I sit alone crying day and night Waiting for the pain to stop There's no release You're with her Even in my sleep. You're secret isn't safe I see it in my dreams Confronted twice you laugh at my accuracy Trying to hide your guilt And the bitch You're fucking. So was she worth it? A few months of passion Exchanged For you being screwed Your family Your life fucked.
Archived comments for Dreams
Sunken on 26-01-2009
Dreams
Hello Ms. Sugary one. Itโ€™s me, sunks. Iโ€™m currently between jobs and thought Iโ€™d pop onto the tinternet to welcome you back to planet Uka. I like the new direction. Thereโ€™s an harder and sharper edge to your current subs and no mistake. Iโ€™m out of razorbladed and may use them to shave with later. Did you see it what I did there? It didnโ€™t really work did it? This is what comes of trying to comment from a phone booth. Why I have to wear my pants on the outside is anyoneโ€™s guess! Anyway, Iโ€™ve just seen a girl having trouble with a hotdog vendor so Iโ€™d better go assist. Iโ€™m just doing my job, Sugar. Itโ€™s nothing, really. I bet you never realised that Superman stole the 'S' logo from me did ya? Heโ€™s a twat and no mistake. Do you know, in the privacy of his own home, he likes to coat the wings of ladybirds with varnish? He just canโ€™t stand the fact that heโ€™s not the only one who can fly. Wanker. Ahem. Iโ€™ll leave a comment on your other sub when Iโ€™ve finished helping young ladies out of tricky situations. Did I say I liked your poem? Well I did. Thank you.

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superman 1 - blu-tack 4

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk. Good to hear from you again. Thanks as always for stopping by and commenting. Oh and for the welcome back!! It's good to be back amongst my friends again. I've missed everyone and this place a lot.

Glad you liked my poem and thought that it was harder and sharper than my other writing/poems. I'm pleased that it comes across that way.

Lol, I didn't realise you had two jobs Super Sunk!! You must be as busy as me lol. What a cheek Superman has nicking the 'S'' logo off a Sunks!! If I was you I'd give him a wedgy the next time you see him fly past, actually give him two wedgy's, one for that poor little lady bird.

Sugar. xx

macaby on 26-01-2009
Dreams
i think the 3 opening lines are great and the short lines are good for the overall theme/ tone of the poem. i liked it, good poem.

Author's Reply:
Hi macaby.

Thanks for reading and stopping by to comment, much appreciated. Glad you liked the three opening lines and the theme and tone of my poem. Cheers.

Lis'. xx

Ionicus on 29-01-2009
Dreams
As I remarked in one of my comments, I don't know where you find the time to do so many things. Now you tell us that you can even fit in a bit of music listening! Well, I am not surprised that you are inspired to come up with a good poem like this. Liked it, bitter tone and all.

Luigi xx

Author's Reply:


Invisible Tracks (posted on: 29-08-08)
This was inspired by a photograph that I seen on the internet - A silhouette of a man shouting and a young child sitting in the corner covering her ears and crying.

Anger bubbles forth and venom pours off your tongue. Hatred in each blow as your fist meets my face - again. Shook until my head hurts. Kicked until I bruise and break. No bedtime fairytales, only a monster I see. Blackmail used for your own sick mind. My innocence stolen and damaged. Lies upon lies you spin. My tears fall on invisible tracks.
Archived comments for Invisible Tracks
Jolen on 29-08-2008
Invisable Tracks
I can see that the picture moved you greatly. A good representation of abuse.

blessings,
Jolen

Author's Reply:
Hi Jolen,

Yeah, the picture did move me greatly. I'm one of the fortunate ones that never had to go through so much trauma and had a good childhood. I do feel deeply though for those that have and how much it not only screws up their childhood, but can also interfere with their adult life in more ways than one.
Thank you for your words. I'm glad that you think that this is a good representaion of abuse because it means it has come across well to the reader, which I'd hoped for.
This is a subject that I feel very strongly about and have for a very long time.

Lis'. xx

Doughnut on 29-08-2008
Invisable Tracks
An evocative poem, with enough to work out to provoke us into unaccustomed thought: the blackmail, the invisible tracks. Duncan

Author's Reply:
Hi Duncan,

Thanks you for stopping by and commenting on this piece, very much appreciated. Yes, I hoped that people would think along some of the words I used without having to actually 'tell' them. I'm glad that it came across to you in the way I wanted it to comoss to the reader. Thanks for chosing me too as a 'favourite author' I feel quite honoured. Cheers. You've made my day. :0)

Lis'. xx

Jen_Christabel on 29-08-2008
Invisable Tracks
Very nicely done. Thought-provoking. It's 'invisible' by the way.
Jennifer x

Author's Reply:
Hey Jen,

Great to see you back on here huney. Thanks for your comments. Glad you liked the way it was written. Oops, soddin' typo - fixed now. Cheers. :0)

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 30-08-2008
Invisable Tracks
Hello Ms. Sugar. Another strong sub from you and no mistake. You are on a roll, and I'm not talkin' sausage. Ahem. I'm so glad people can't rate comments (-;

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his toes are due a shave

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky. Thanks very very much for your comments. I'm pleased that this is anoher strong sub. Yes, I think I am on a roll and about time too. My muse went awol for a while. If I could rate your comments I'd definatley give yuh a big 10 outta 10.

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Gone to get some razors :0)

Mandrake on 31-08-2008
Invisible Tracks

Wearing my editor's hat, I think this would have more impact if it was stripped down to its stark and brutal core.

Either make the opening lines sharper or begin it at 'Shook until...'

The 'Blackmail used...' and 'My innocence...' lines could also be stronger.

Maybe tie them in to the dark 'fairytales' theme so that 'lies you spin' makes the reader think of spiders? (Without being too obvious.)

Though I like 'invisible tracks', I'm not sure how the image connects with the rest of the poem.

OK, so it sounds like I'm asking you to delete half your poem and re-write the rest, but I'm not making this suggestion in a negative way. Just write what is essential and trust the readers to fill in the details from their own nasty imaginations.

Regards,

John W



Author's Reply:
Hi Mandrake,

Thanks for stopping by and commenting. I can see the point that you are making, but as this is a new poem, I think I will let this stew for a while before I even think of messing with it at all, if I do. I've learnt the hard way and don't like potching with poems too much.

The words invisible tracks mean that the child cries but nobody knows because the abuser hides his tracks and his secret well - therefore 'invisible tracks'.

Cheers again for your comments, much appreciated.

Lis'. xx

discopants on 01-09-2008
Invisible Tracks
The last 2 lines made me think of the song 'Tracks of My Tears'. Anyway, I liked this and wondered if there might be a way to work in some confusion on the child's part as to why they're being abused or almost having an element of them blaming themself for the abuse, which is a fairly common reaction, but of course I'm saying that without having seen the image that inspired the poem.

disco
x

Author's Reply:
Hey Disco,

Thanks for stpping by and commenting. Glad that you liked this. I actually wondered about working in the confusion of the child too and putting in how they blame themselves for their abuse, when it is not their fault at all, which like you said is a very common reaction. I'll have a think of that and see if maybe |I can incorperate it in somehow, but I will leave this 'stew' for a while as it's new.
Cheers DP. :0)

Lis'. xx


Ten Steps to Silence (posted on: 25-08-08)
A quick flash of inspiration...and here it is.

Two, short agonised screams. I'm at the stairs. Fifth step I cross to grip the banister. Five more steps. I'm almost at the top. Silence. The bedroom door is wide open. I freeze. Blackness has filled its space. Panic. My face burns. Hair singed. I can't get in. Your cot – so near, yet so far. A ball of flame Is all that I see And the last thing I will always remember. Three times I try. Unsuccessful. You're not there anymore.
Archived comments for Ten Steps to Silence
Sunken on 26-08-2008
Ten Steps to Silence
Hello Ms. Sugar. This is obviously a very personal piece. It's extremely hard hitting and equally as hard to comment on. It's an old cliche, I know, but sometimes there just aren't any words. I hope you don't mind me leaving a Bernard here. This couldn't have been easy to write.

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Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunken. Thank you so very much for reading and commenting. It really means a lot to me, more than you will ever know. To be honest I was begining to give up on any critique on this at all. I thought that maybe it was so crap that people didn't like it at all.

No, of course I dont mind you leaving Bernard here. I promise I will look after him and I'm honoured to have his company. I shall have to watch that Mystique doesn't see him, otherwise we may hear the patter of paws ;0)

Thanks again Sweetie, very much. Take care Sunky Le Munk.

Sugar Lumpkin. xxx

orangedream on 26-08-2008
Ten Steps to Silence
Lis - a heart-rending piece. Your words seemed to jump off the page at me and I could almost see it. I guess it is a scenario every parent dreads. Not easy to write about, but you did it with your usual skill.

Hope you are OK, dear Lis.

Tina x

Author's Reply:
Hi Tina,

Thank you so much too in reading and commenting on this piece. If I'm honest I didn't think it worked I guess because I hadn't any comments and thought that people hadn't bothered because it was crap.
But from yours and Sunken's comments, maybe it has worked more than I ever thought it would.
Yes, I think it is a nightmare in itself that every parent dreads and is petrified of. No, wasn't easy to write, but it has taken me years to do this and something I've needed to do for a very long time.
I never know if the words I write are the right ones and even though they may mean something to me, they may not come across well to the reader. Maybe it's just a confidence thing, I dunno.
Anyway my sweet Tina, Thank you again from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read and comment, as always so very much appreciated.

Yeah, I'm okay. Hope that you and yours are too.

Lots of love,

Lis'. xxx

RoyBateman on 27-08-2008
Ten Steps to Silence
Short but not sweet...shocking, in fact. Yes, it's every parent's nightmare, being unable to help when we know that we should. The stuff of very bad dreams indeed. Good to see it nibbed - your fears about its quality were obviously for nothing.

Author's Reply:
No, definatley not sweet, Roy. I think the word terrifying springs to mind. Actually I dreamt of this last night and it scared the hell out of me. I couldn't get to sleep for 2 hours after. Thank you very much for reading and commenting on this, it means a lot to me.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 27-08-2008
Ten Steps to Silence
Yey! A nib and a nom. Well done, Ms. Sugar. August is a bit of a quiet month, so I wouldn't get too down. I blame the summer hols.

Take care and a napkin,

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she'd never really noticed that his left ear was a lettuce leaf

Author's Reply:
*Smiles* Thanks Sunky hun. I'm actually quite gobsmacked this has had a nib, but especially been nommed. I'll be glad when the Summer Hols (If we can call them that - where's summer?) are over. Roll on next Wednesday and Thursday!!

Thanks very much to whoever nommed this. I'm well choked. Cheers.

Sugar Lumpkin. xxx

Andrea on 27-08-2008
Ten Steps to Silence
This is absolutely heartbreaking Sugar - what else is there to say, except congrats on the nib and nom

Ax


Author's Reply:
Hi Andrea,

I'm lost for words, for once and tears are welling. I guess the reply should be 'Yes' it is heartbreaking.
Thanks so very much for the congrats.

Lis'. xx

Jolen on 28-08-2008
Ten Steps to Silence
Very strong and emotive work. As all the others have said before me, something every parent dreads. Congrats on nib and nom, you've certainly earned them here.

blessings,
Jolen

Author's Reply:
Thanks very much Jolen for your words, they mean a lot to me. I guess it's what my tutor would call 'raw emotions'. Did't think that they came through that well, but I guees I was wrong from what yourself and others have written.

Thanks again, sweetheart.

Love and light,

Lis'. xxx

AlexClay on 29-08-2008
Ten Steps to Silence
can't add much more than the others really. Very emotive, and done with such brevity. It's not actually easy to tell a hard-hitting tale in so few words, but you have succeeded with this.

Author's Reply:
Hi Alex,

Thank you very much for your words. It's strange, but I found this easy to do once the first stanza had been written, which most times I struggle with, but this seemed to go well, for once. Thanks again Alex for reading and commenting. It means a lot.

Lis'. xx

artisus on 30-08-2008
Ten Steps to Silence
I read this the other day, and thought this poem portrayed a nightmarish situation very well and effectively. Well done and congratulations on the nom.

X

Author's Reply:
Hi artisus, thanks you for stopping by to read and comment on this. I appreciate it very much. Thanks also for the congrats. I'm pleased that you thought that this poem portrayed a nightmarish situation and what I wanted to show came across to you.

Lis'. xx


The Gloves (posted on: 04-08-08)
This started off as homework for my writing class in June, which was only supposed to be 800 words long, but I got carried away as my ideas grew. A little ambitious - probably, but thought I'd give it a whirl and see where it took me. This is the end result. It's taken me weeks to finish with different things going on here. I've edited and gone over it as much as I can, but as it's now 4.22am I'm word blind and tired - Goodnight/Good morning. :S

Every few steps Julianna glanced over her shoulder. She knew that someone was there, even though there were no footsteps. She clutched her bag and hurried through the lane. A black leather glove lay across the fence. Her body tensed and she shivered as she stared at it. A rustle in the bushes made her jump. She held her chest and breathed heavily. Her heart thudded so much it echoed in her ears. A ginger cat strolled out in front of her and she gasped. Her heels clicked on the cracked concrete as she hurried to the safety of the main road. Julianna drew in a deep breath and leant against the door as it shut behind her. Marion spun round. ''Morning Jul', you're early,'' she said shutting her desk draw and locking it. ''Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost!'' Julianna shrugged. ''What's wrong?'' Marion asked, slipping off her coat. ''It's ... Oh nothing, really. I'm just being paranoid, again.'' ''Come on Jul' spill the beans.'' ''Umm...I dreamt someone was following me and before everything went black I saw those damn gloves again.'' ''Oh sweetheart.'' ''But this morning I felt as if someone was following me, there was no one there of course, but there was a black leather glove on the fence!'' ''Someone must have lost it, sweetie. It's just a coincidence.'' ''Mmm...maybe, but it's really freaked me out.'' ''Look, don't worry over it. I'll drop you home after work. All right?'' ''Okay Marion, thanks very much.'' Julianna sat at her computer twisting a pencil round in her fingers and staring at the screen. ''You okay, Jul's?'' asked Geraint, putting his hand on her shoulder. ''You're shaking.'' She jumped and put her hand on her chest. ''God, you scared the hell out of me. I'm a bit cold, that's all.'' ''Sorry, didn't mean too.'' He chuckled. ''Let's chat about it over coffee, but I have to make a phone call first. ''Okay,'' she said. She sat down in the empty tea room and waited for Geraint. Today's newspaper lay across the table. She picked it up and flicked randomly through the pages. The heading 'Satanic victim's body found in woodland' made her gasp. The words became blurry as she read about the horrific injuries sustained by the victim. The same marks that had been carved into her flesh. That fateful night one year previously repeated in her mind. She had taken a short cut home across the park that night. Another late night rendezvous with her lover of seven months - his wife was out of town. She didn't know who she was and he always avoided her questions about her. Julianna was almost home when she heard footsteps behind her and felt a hot breath on her neck. Within seconds everything had gone dark. The only thing she heard was a raspy voice. At first it was just a jumble of words that didn't make any sense. Then they became as clear as tap water. ''You won't be going home tonight. You have a date with the devil himself,'' said the voice. Julianna felt a gloved hand on her shoulder blade. Fingers dug into her neck like a claw. She could smell the leather from the gloves before she passed out. She opened her eyes a little and the only thing she seen was the glint of metal, before a warm sensation bathed her neck and her cries became desperate gurgles. A bright light stung her eyes and she could make out the outline of a face above her. She heard a voice and screamed. Lashing out; her long nails scrapped on soft flesh. A deep moan filed the air. ''Julianna...You passed out.'' Geraint sat with her in his arms; a trickle of blood ran down his cheek. ''I-I don't know what happened. Oh god, look at your face. I'm so sorry Ger...'' ''Shh, it's okay. I'll live,'' he said smiling and helped her up on her feet. ''Sit down. I'll bathe your head.'' She touched her hair; it was warm and sticky. She felt sick, dizzy and her head throbbed. Geraint dabbed wet cotton wool on the cut. ''You need to go to the hospital. Looks like you banged your head on the corner of the table,'' he said dabbing another piece of cotton wool on the wound. ''It's a deep cut, Jul's.'' ''No! Umm...thanks. I'll stay here; it'll be fine, honest.'' ''Are you sure? You really should get it looked at you know.'' She smiled. ''I'll live.'' He stroked her hair and smiled back. Inside she didn't feel so sure. What if this was some sort of warning to her? The police had never caught her attacker. She constantly lived in fear. Maybe he'd find her and finish off what he'd started. The poor girl in the woods hadn't been as lucky to get away. If it hadn't been for the homeless tramp that found her she would have been murdered too. Marion grabbed her coat. ''Are you ready Julianna? I'll take you home, sweetie.'' ''Yeah, thanks Marion. Roll on the weekend eh!'' she said, reaching for her bag and jacket. Underneath lay a small parcel with her name on. She stared at it for a moment before ripping the paper off. ''Got a secret admirer, Julianna?'' Marion asked, raising an eyebrow. Julianna blushed and shook her head. She gasped as the last part of paper dropped to the floor. ''Is this someone's idea of a sick joke?'' In her hand she held a pair of black leather gloves. She glanced around the room at the gawping faces of her colleagues. ''You know the hell I've gone through! Are you all bloody deranged?'' she yelled, before dropping the gloves in the waste bin. She slammed the door behind her. Tears streamed down her face as she ran down the corridor. Marion ran after her. ''Julianna...wait...please.'' A heavy silence hung in the car for part of the journey home, until Marion couldn't stand it any longer. ''Jul's, I really don't think that the gloves were in any way a malicious gesture.'' ''Huh! Don't you? Well I damn well do.'' ''No! Why would someone do that to you? I mean, we all know the hell you've been through.'' ''Probably some bastards idea of a prank! Arseholes.'' ''I don't think so, sweetie. It's almost a year to the day it happened. You've probably wound yourself up over this without realising it.'' ''Oh, come off it Marion. First someone follows me this morning, then the newspaper and now leather gloves left mysteriously for me!'' she said, shaking her head. ''It all seems a little too coincidental if you ask me!'' ''I still think you're reading too much into this. Go home and chill out with a few glasses of wine. You'll feel better by the morning.'' ''Yeah. Whatever!'' Marion ignored the last comment. She lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply as the car came to a standstill by the traffic lights. Sirens could be heard in the background and a police car and a fire engine screamed past them two minutes later. The two women watched as cars pulled out of their way. Marion strummed her fingers on the wheel. The lights were green, but they still hadn't moved. ''What the hell is going on? We haven't got much further to go!'' Finally the cars in front started to crawl along. A hundred yards down the road a policeman stood directing traffic towards a different route. ''Shit, If I go this way it's out of you area, sweetie! Could I drop you off here? It will be another hour before either of us get home,'' She said, looking sheepishly. ''Yeah, sure. I don't live far from here anyway. I'll be home in fifteen minutes.'' All right, sweetie. See you on Monday!'' Julianna felt uneasy as soon as she stepped out of the car. She shrugged the feeling off as best she could and headed home. The October wind stung her face and she pulled her jacket tighter around her. She stopped and listened. Were there footsteps behind her? She gulped and looked round - no one there. Silly cow, paranoid again. Maybe Marion had been right. She hadn't been sleeping too good lately, bad dreams and all that. Her mind plagued her with insecurities. For god sake, Julianna, get a grip, she told herself. Her apartment block could be seen clearly, like a partially lit Christmas tree. She could already taste the Lambrini and smiled to herself. She glanced around. There were a few scattered commuters hurrying home. She felt safer knowing that she was not alone. She took the shortest route that was well lit. Only halfway and her nagging doubts came back. She walked a little faster and looked back. Most of the people had gone now, just one or two strays. She could vaguely make out someone in the distance. Julianna stepped up her pace. Faintly she heard footsteps behind her. The more she rushed the more the footsteps seemed to quicken. It was probably her imagination getting the better of her. She turned to see someone running in her direction. She took off her shoes and ran. There were people up ahead. She could see their outline. Her heart felt as if it would push through her rib cage and her mouth felt like sandpaper. The lamps flickered above her. One by one with each step she took, they went out. The footsteps became heavy strides. She glanced over her shoulder. The guy had almost caught up with her. She carried on running. ''Julianna, you forgot these,'' shouted a male voice. ''It's me.'' The lights flickered again and came back on. Julianna looked back recognising the voice. Geraint stood directly under the lamp's light, his chest heaving. ''I found these in the bin. Didn't you like them?'' he said, holding the gloves in his hand. ''Sorry, I thought it was someone's idea of a sick joke. After what happened...'' ''Christ, I didn't think. I'm sorry. I bought them because you were shaking earlier.'' She gave a weak smile. ''Come on I'll walk you home.'' Julianna didn't know whether she felt relieved or not. She still felt a little uneasy. After five minutes Geraint stopped by the edge of the trees near the main road. Across from which was her apartment block. ''You okay here, if I go? Because...well, you know...in case we're seen together.'' ''I'll be fine, thanks.'' He smiled, said his goodbyes and walked away. Within seconds the lights flickered again and went out, Julianna swore. She froze as a hot breath coated her neck. ''Geraint, is that you? This ain't funny!'' The smell of leather lingered in the air. ''You got away before. I cannot let you again,'' said the raspy voice. ''The master was not pleased you had been spared.'' Julianna gasped and turned to run, but she felt a tight grip on her wrists. Her arms were pulled behind her back. A glint of metal shone in the silver moonlight. ''Aww, sweetie it will be over soon.'' The knife's blade revealed her attackers reflection. Julianna drew in a deep breath. ''M- Marion?'' A familiar laugh pierced her ears. ''Why?'' ''You were the chosen one, but we failed. We had to lure you somehow.'' ''Today was planned?'' ''The last seven months have been. You don't think I'd let you screw my husband without wanting something in return!'' ''It was good while it lasted Jul's, but I had my reasons,'' Geraint whispered, before stifling her sobs with his hand. A warm liquid seeped down her neck and everything went black.
Archived comments for The Gloves
DocOrange on 04-08-2008
The Gloves
An enjoyable well written piece. I guessed pretty early on though that her work mates were going to 'off' her, but that might just be because I saw the 'horror' tag at the top of the page before reading, or just paranoia on my part (I always think my work-mates are out to kill me). Some times 2000 words can seem like a long read, this didn't, it hooked me and reeled me in, just wish I hadn't guessed the ending.

Author's Reply:
Hi DocOrange,

Thank you for stopping by to read and comment on my story. I really appreciate it. I'm pleased to hear that you thought that this was 'an enjoable and well written piece'. Yes, I wasn't sure if I should have put this under 'Horror' or 'Drama'. Well I hope you haven't got work mates like Marion and Geriant, lol.
It's really good to hear that this story hooked and reeled you in. Maybe I made the ending a little too obvious, but I tried hard not to. Nevermind, glad you enjoyed it anyway.

Sorry for the late reply our street had probs with the electric and I got thrown offline a few times and then got busy with family life etc. Thanks again very much for reading and commenting.

Sugar. xx

Sunken on 04-08-2008
The Gloves
Hello Ms. Sugar. Ya know, you always manage to give me the willies. I actually saw a stray leather glove on the edge of a kerb today. What are the chances of that? If you have some paranormal explanation than I'd rather not hear it. I fancy getting some sleep tonight (-; It's really good to see you posting again, Ms. Sugar Lumpkin. I read this earlier in two parts as my eyes were struggling. It was worth it tho. Good to see ya back.

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hello magazine 2 - breakdancing for monkeys 4

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky Le Munk (your name has a lovely ring to it).

Lol, sorry for giving yuh the willies, again. Had you read this story before or after you seen that leather glove on the kerb? A bit spooky I'd say, lol. Okay, I'll keep my supernatural opinions to myself I don't wanna get blamed for a sunk having nightmares!! Thanks as always for your comments and encouragement. I'm really pleased that you enjoyed this even though I've no doubt spooked you again Sunks. ;0)

Sugar Lumpkin. xxx

Sunken on 04-08-2008
The Gloves
I saw the glove before I'd read your piece, Ms. Lumpkin. It was early this morning. You have freaked me out and no mistake. I'm about to lock my doors and windows. I wouldn't mind, but it's a lovely sunny evening. Do you see what your psychic meddling has done? Disgraceful behaviour (-; Now, where's me crucifix...

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le munky

Author's Reply:
Oh that's strange Mr. Sunks seeing that glove this morning on the kerb, before reading my story. Maybe it was a premonitition? Ok I'll stop I'll only freak you out, lol. I hope you didn't roast too much in your house by shutting your windows and doors? Sorry for meddling again Sunks, you can slap me legs tomorrow if it'll make yuh feel better ;0) Hope you found your crucifix!!

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Lumpkin (with an extra sugar lump). xx

orangedream on 05-08-2008
The Gloves
Haven't we all seen it? That stray glove on the hedge or on the top of a garden wall?

You've really got me going now, Lis and no mistake!

Enjoyed;-)

Tina xx

Author's Reply:
Yeah, I think we all have. I will probably end up thinking twice about a stray glove now too, come to mention it, lol. I'll join the wuss queue - Sunken, Tina, me! ๐Ÿ˜‰

Glad you enjoyed it Tina. Thanks as always for stopping by to read and comment, very much appreciated.

Lots of love,

Lis'. xx

sirat on 07-08-2008
The Gloves
I know this is going to sound a bit vague, but my feelings about this one were that the atmosphere was too relentlessly bleak and scary, and too many clues were given regarding the fate awaiting Julianna. Also I wanted more reason to care about Julianna, more reason to become involved.

The way I would like to see this done would be with a central character who was quite jolly and outgoing, but who had this bad experience in her past and was trying to forget it and convince herself that the whole thing about the dreams and the leather gloves were in her imagination. Just a slight unease, not such thoroughgoing obsession with gloves and murderers. The affair with Geraint could be in the recent past, she could be feeling regret aboput it now and trying to be particularly nice to Marion out of a sense of guilt โ€“ I'm trying to think of ways to make her a slightlu deeper and more sympathetic character. Then there would be more shock value in the ending when it comes. At the moment I felt the piece was a bit too plot-driven and the characters a bit underdeveloped. I admit that is the norm in horror stories but it's nice to rise above it if you can.

Just noticed one little grammatical error: '...the only thing she seen was the glint of metal' Should be either 'had seen' (past historic) or 'saw' (simple past), which I think would fit best.

Author's Reply:
Hi Sirat - Sorry for the late reply to your comments on this story, but I'm having probs with my internet connection, which is driving me mad.

I actually wanted this scary, so I guess that part of it worked. I put in some clues to this one after remembering your words that there was no hint of things to come in 'Little Boy Lost'. So it did make me think as to whether I should in this one, so I did it, but looks like I've failed again. I wasn't going to put any clues at all in, maybe I shouldn't have. I probably made this too obvious from the begining.

This story was only supposed to be 800 words long, but I got carried away with my writing and the more I wrote the more the ideas changed. So I guess that is the reason for not putting too much background in. I will leave this 'stew' for a while and see if I can improve it all, doubtful, but I may try.

Cheers for noticing the grammatical error. I will sort it out.

Lis'. xx


Little Boy Lost (posted on: 07-07-08)
I know I have put this on before in the past (over a year ago) but this is now at least the 16th draft I've written. Would really appreciate any feedback given. I have changed the begining at least 4 times. I hope this will be the last time, lol. I have made minor alterations with suggestions from Sirat.

Half the street must have heard the screams that were coming from our house that afternoon; the argument as cold and bitter as the October wind. I'm sure I saw the curtains move at number 37. ''Don't you ever come back, you hear me Jason?'' Mum shouted. ''Huh. You think I want to spend the rest of my life with you and those brats!'' He roared. ''Brats! Is that what you think of your own children? Well if that's how you feel we're better off without you,'' she screamed. ''I hope that you and that bimbo from the pub get everything you deserve. She's welcome to you.'' Dad's reply was cut off by the door slamming. I watched him through the droplets of rain that smeared the glass; rucksack on his back and carrying a black bin bag. He didn't even look at me as he swaggered down the street. My tears fell as heavy as the rain outside. I heard mum sobbing by the front door and went to see if she was okay. She sniffed and wiped her face with her hands. ''I'm sorry Jake, It's not the best Halloween this year is it?'' she said, running her fingers gently over my cheek. ''It's okay mum, honest.'' ''No, it isn't Jake. Come on I'll take you and Jenna trick or treating. I promise next year we'll have the best Halloween ever.'' Mum didn't go back on her word. The party would start soon. I loved dressing up for Halloween. This year my costume was going to be really good. There was no way my best friend, Joey, would look better than me this time. Mum took three weeks to sew our costumes by hand; no one would have the exact ones we had. In the kitchen, Mum had put out really gruesome looking food: witches' fingers and dragon's toes made of shortbread with red food colouring for the almond nails. Squashed frogs were melted marshmallows, a mud swamp of lime jelly and chocolate mousse, and we had blood punch to drink: cranberry and apple juice mixed with lemonade. I ogled the treats before I left the room. ''Can I have a biscuit, please?'' I asked, peering around the door. ''No, once you start you won't stop.'' She giggled. ''You can help me blow these up.'' ''Aww, do I have to?'' ''Yes. I won't get the room ready in time. We haven't got much longer.'' I shrugged. ''Okay.'' The lounge was a sea of black and orange balloons. Mum's cheeks were pink and puffed out as she blew one up. The house looked eerie with dangling cobwebs inhabited by tiny spiders that were stretched across the ceilings and walls. Cardboard skeletons and plastic bats were dotted around the rooms. I helped mum put up the rest of the decorations while Jenna rushed through the few random balloons left on the floor, giggling as they scattered and floated by us. ''Jake, get ready. It's almost time.'' ''Okay.'' Within a few minutes our guests started to arrive. Dracula, vampires, witches and warlocks invaded the house. My jaw plummeted as I stared at Joey in his costume - blue short ragged trousers, white top, black waistcoat, eye patch, a bandana around his head and drawn on goatee beard. I couldn't believe it. "Cool, two ghost pirates," Joey said, lifting up his sword. "Fight you for the treasure," he chuckled. Sounds' of 'Monster Mash' echoed through the rooms. Our weapons clashed fiercely and he stumbled backwards into the kitchen. Jenna was climbing on the cupboards, her arms outstretched towards a glowing pumpkin and her young plump legs dangled over the edge of the worktop. Her shoes slid on the cupboard doors as she tried to lift herself up more. I stopped dead in my tracks, threw my sword on the floor and raced across the room. "Mum. Mum." In the background I could hear Joey's voice yelling desperately to compete with the music. "Sarah...Sarah." "No, Jenna, no." I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her backwards. "Let it go!" "No, mine, mine." "No, it's not." "Yes...mine." The tips of her fingers made contact with the black plate that the large pumpkin sat upon. As it inched towards her, she turned to face me and giggled. With one more tug she gripped onto the plate. The more I pulled her away, the more the flaming pumpkin came towards her. "Jenna! No." My mind raced and I began to panic. I didn't know what else to do. If I let her go she'd fall and it would land on top of her. My arms ached and I could feel my grip loosen a little. I struggled to hang on. The face glowed; its gruesome features grew closer. "Mummy, quick." I could hear Mum's hurried footsteps getting nearer. "Oh my god." Mum's tone was high pitched. "Let it go now, Jenna." She grabbed her from my arms. "You naughty girl, it's hot, you'll burn." She took a deep breath and blew out the flame inside the hollowed out pumpkin, turned to face me with a grateful smile and gave my shoulder a soft squeeze. "Thank you Jake." She turned to look at my sister and cradled her in her arms. "You must never touch the lit pumpkins Jenna. It's dangerous. Naughty girl." ''Sorry, mummy, sorry.'' We played ducking for apples and got drenched. Next we had games of musical statues, pass the parcel and wrap the mummy; wrapping someone up in toilet paper - the quickest and most covered wins. My team breezed it and were allowed gruesome treats as our prize. Joey and I were first in the kitchen. It looked quite spooky, the lights were turned off and the pumpkins had been re-lit giving an eerie orange glow, their menacing faces projected on the walls. I grabbed a handful of sweets and bolted through the door, with Joey in hot pursuit. ''Do you want to play a game?'' I asked. ''Yeah. What one?'' ''I dunno, but I'll think of something.'' I pulled Joey's sleeve and grinned. ''Come on, lets get the others.'' The adults were hanging out in the conservatory drinking wine. We had the run of most of the house. Mum was stressed trying to keep an eye on Jenna, while being host to our guests. Now it was time for my party piece, the one thing I had waited all night for to show off my skills. My favourite game was about to commence. ''Who wants to play hide and seek?'' I called out. Several pairs of hands waved in the air. David covered his eyes and began to count, while the rest of us scattered to various rooms. Bethan, Joey and Billy stomped up the stairs. I stayed in the lounge and crawled inside the large oak dresser, peeping through a small knot hole on the bottom. I waited silently for the others to find me although I knew they wouldn't for a while, because I was good at hiding and always found the best places. I had a feeling I would be the last one found. I shut one eye, putting the other against the small gap and watched for movement. Within minutes Jenna ran in, her eyes darted around the room. She turned the volume button up a little and skipped out the door giggling. Moments later she staggered into the room, both arms wrapped around an orange object, her face highlighted by a warm glow. As she continued to walk across the room, she stared inside the pumpkin, fascinated by the dancing flame she bent her head and peered at it at close range. "Jenna! no not again. Put it down." I shouted, but she didn't hear me. My fist pounded against the door, then I attacked it with my feet, but the latch had jammed. "Mummy, Mummy." I tried to shout above the loud music. "Ouch," Jenna cried. She lifted her hands to her face. I watched in horror as the pumpkin slipped through her fingers. It crashed to the floor in pieces and she sped out of the room, her face bright pink, tears rolling off her chubby cheeks. The lit candle rolled over to the edge of the curtains, which were devoured within seconds. I gasped at the room I saw before me, which had become an inferno...I had to get out. I kicked the wooden doors again in violent short bursts. "Mummy, Mummy...I'm here." The only sound I heard was the song 'Ghostbusters' belting out from the hi-fi. I began to cough and felt as if I was going to be sick at any moment. Fire engines roared into the street, their sirens screamed in my ears and reflections of their blue lights flashed across the windows. I stood trembling on the pavement, staring at our house. I jolted backwards from the piercing noise and gasped as shards of glass catapulted into the garden. Thick black smoke floated out of the downstairs window spiralling upwards, while flames licked hungrily at the stone building. "Mummy, Jenna." I felt myself being hoisted into the air, my feet dangled precariously as I stared into the watery eyes of my nan. She wrapped her arms around my waist and kissed my forehead. Tears slid down my cheeks. "Where's Mummy and Jenna?" "I don't know sweetheart.'' She swept her index finger across my cheek. ''I want Mummy.'' "I know, love." A single tear fell from her eyes and she wiped it away. I watched through blurred vision over her shoulder. In the distance everyone wore the same flesh coloured masks. A surge of tears trickled freely down my face and were absorbed into my nan's clothing. At that moment I felt so alone. I had never felt that way before and never wanted to again. I opened my mouth wide to scream and let out all the confusion and anger, but no sound escaped. Instead I clung tighter to my nan. My eyes searched for my mum and sister in the crowd, but I couldn't make them out, faces were featureless and looked the same. I squinted to focus at the face before me, it was my Grandfather's. "Hello Jake. You're safe now." He smiled, his arms reached out towards me. "Hi Gramps." I embraced him with delight as nan passed me over. I felt warm and secure snuggled against his chest. It has been a traumatic experience for me to lose my family in the way that I did and to know that things will never be the same again. People say 'time heals', but it doesn't, you learn to cope better with your grief, but it never leaves. ''Ready Jake?'' ''Is today the day, Nan?'' ''Yes, it's time, sweetheart.'' ''I don't know if I can face it.'' ''You'll be fine. The first time is the hardest.'' I nodded. Part of me wanted to hold back, to dig my heels in and cower away, but I knew it would be inevitable. What I didn't know was how I would feel and react to what I was about to face. I had to try and come to terms with things. Maybe then and only then would I be able to have some peace of mind. ''I'm not sure where they'll be Jake.'' ''Guess we'll find out soon.'' The journey was quicker than I expected. My eyes drowned in fresh tears. An emotional cocktail of ecstatic pleasure soon turned to a harsh reality. I watched in silence as mum and Jenna's tear stained faces distorted in pain. Their hands trembled as they laid red roses upon the dew-sodden earth below a slab of black marble. The name etched in gold; Jake Michael Jessop. Aged: 8. Died: 31st October 1998. I guess part of them died with me too that day.
Archived comments for Little Boy Lost
orangedream on 08-07-2008
Little Boy Lost
Lis - I really think you've got it! For me, it really works.

You have worked so hard on this one and I think it has paid off.

Love this bit,

"Squashed frogs were melted marshmallows, a mud swamp of lime jelly ..."

Yuk - it's really put me off my Cheerios and no mistake!

Have a good week!

Tina x


Author's Reply:
Tina,
Thanks so much again for stopping by to read my work. I really do appreciate your imput, advice and encouragement. Yes, I have realy worked hard on this one one, but have steped away from it now for over a year. This story is a special one for me for reasons I'll hang on too. :0)

Lol, sorry for putting you off your Cheerios with metioning the squashed frogs and mud swamp jelly. I've actually made all those things myself for Halloween parties that we have had here. Looks quite gruesome, but good and the kids loved it!

I'm really glad that this story worked for you. Thanks for letting me know and for sharing your thoughts with me.

Lis'. xx

sirat on 08-07-2008
Little Boy Lost
I like the beginning. We are straight into the action and the details of the scene are introduced subtly and in context. You don't stop to tell us that it was Halloween and raining outside and what the street was like: you use the characters' dialogue to tell us that '...Itโ€™s not the best Halloween this year is it?' and tell us that 'My tears fell as heavy as the rain outside'. You let us imagine the street and the house with phrases like 'Iโ€™m sure I saw the curtains move at number 37'. For me, that is a really good beginning to a story. I am smoothly drawn in without any clumsy descriptive passages.

After the opening, there is indeed a fairly lengthy description, but broken up and brought to life by dialogue.

I think some of the narrative could be improved here and there: for example, some of it seems a bit wordy:

I licked my lips as I ogled the treats before I left the room. I peered around the lounge door.
โ€œCan I have a biscuit, please?โ€

Maybe that could be cut down to:

โ€œCan I have a biscuit, please?โ€ I asked, peering around the lounge door.

You'll find other instances where the text can be condensed a bit, especially leading up to the climax, the outbreak of the fire. We half know what's coming and don't want to spend time on detailed description. Extreme brefity as the fire starts.

The ending of the story is very powerful, and I think needs to be stark and simple. I would leave out entirely the paragraph beginning: 'It has been a traumatic experience ...', that is simply over-writing. What you need here is just a clear section division, which you could perhaps achieve if you allow other breaks to become merely new paragraphs and not new sections (I hope that's clear). I would also cut โ€œIโ€™m not sure where theyโ€™ll be Jakeโ€, which is just a distraction, and a bit unlikely. Finally, when they do get to the gravestone, I think it should have both names on it, so that the situation is completely clarified.

Overall, a very affecting, grim piece of story-telling. With a few tweaks, Anthology standard.


Author's Reply:
Hi Sirat,

I'm really pleased that you liked the begining. When I wrote this part it flowed and came out quite naturally and I'm happier with this begining than I have been with the others that I've written in the past. Hopeully I'm getting the gist of this writing lark :0) with the 'showing' and not 'telling'.

Yes, I do agree with you that some of the narrative could be improved. As I read it over last night again I knew there was something not quite right about parts of it and in one way I wasn't quite sure what it was, but in another I had a vague idea, if that makes sense?
I see what you mean also about the paragraph begining with 'It has been a traumatic experience. No, wasn't too sure what you meant by other breaks and not new sections. Could you pm me and let me know?

Do you mean to put something like 'Son of Sarah' and 'Brother of Jenna' on the headstone? to help clarify it more, because the thought had briefly crossed my mind, but I wasn't sure if I should do it or not, but if that is what you meant then you have just proved my intuition right. I thought I'd see what others said first.

Wow, thanks for such a compliment of giving this the 'Anthology standard' after a few tweaks. Thanks also very much for taking the time to read my work and to pick me up on a few things I'd missed, I'm very grateful and appreiate your feedback. Cheers David.

Lis'. xx

sirat on 08-07-2008
Little Boy Lost
I'll answer your two main points here rather than in a PM because I now realise my remarks don't quite make sense, and other people are going to notice!

I read your story this morning, just before setting out for work, and I now realise in a bit of hurry. I don't think I had read any earlier versions. To be honest I totally misread the ending. The words: 'My heartbeat became erratic and my breath came in sharp, short bursts. I gulped several times' threw me, and I thought, or rather assumed, that this could only apply to a living boy. I assumed, stupidly, that it was his mother and sister who had died and didn't really take in what the inscription was on the tombstone.

Now, if I have to be honest, I not only didn't 'get' the surprise ending, I think I would like the story better without it. I would prefer if Jake was still alive and living with his grandfather (or whatever) and this was his first visit to the grave of his mother and sister. Maybe it's a personal quirk of mine, but unless a trick ending makes a point of some kind (such as revealing a prejudice in the reader) I don't think it should be there. It cheapen's slightly what could be an emotionally very involving story โ€“ suddenly it just becomes a display of cleverness and I feel alienated. As I say, this may be a reaction that is unique to me, but I mention it for what it's worth.

Regarding sections and paragraphs, a skipped line represents a new section, an indented line a new paragraph. I think you have perhaps over-used the skipped lines here and I would be inclined to save that for the space presently occupied by the 'trumatic experience' paragraph.

I hope this is now a bit clearer!

Author's Reply:
I can see where you are coming from about the words 'My heartbeat became erratic and my breath came in sharp, short bursts. I gulped several times' I guess it does throw the reader a little that the Jake is still alive, which I didn't realise. I will have a think about it and probably delete that line to clarify the situation more.

To be honest with you after reading your comments the second time round I feel quite disheartened by them myself that you read it in a hurry and didn't take in the story properly. Your comments have gone from 'Anthology standard with a few more tweaks' to 'an act of cleverness' and I feel a little cheated myself because you rushed to read it, which in turn gave you the completely the wrong impression of what I hoped would be understood.

If I changed the story to Jake being alive and the mother and sister that had died it would take away what I'm trying to get across to the reader. Without the twist it would be just an ordinary 'run of the mill' story, which I don't want at all. The story is being told through the spirit of a young boy who has tragically died in a house fire. It's about how he feels in death having lost his family. We all know how it feels to lose a loved one, but I wanted to do the opposite and have a different outlook on this. How do the dead feel when they lose the living? Everyone knows how the living feel when they lose someone close to them. So I didn't want to go down the usual road.

The part of the grandmother picking up Jake is because she has already passed over and is going to meet her Grandson's spirit to take him over to the afterlife, which is what a lot of people believe in, including myself. I know that a lot of people will be able to understand this and will know what I mean by it and where I'm coming from. I hope you will understand more now about the story and my reasons for choosing to write it the way I have.

I was not trying to be clever when I wrote this, I never tried to be or intended to be, but I did want the twist at the ending and for the reader to think that Sarah and Jenna had died not Jake because I think it adds more poignancy to the story when the reader realises what has actually happened. It hits home harder. IMHO I don't think that cheapens the story one bit. I think it adds something extra and will make people think a little more.
I have to ask, but why do you feel alienated by this? I'm a little lost with your comment.
Lisa. :0)

ruadh on 09-07-2008
Little Boy Lost
I enjoyed this Lis'. I have to disagree with David in part though. Jake being dead works for me.

Author's Reply:
Thank you ruadh for taking the time to read and comment on this, I really appreciate it very much. I'm glad that you enjoyed it and it made sense to you.

Lis'. xx

sirat on 09-07-2008
Little Boy Lost
I can really only repeat, it seemed to me that I had been tricked โ€“ expectations delibersately built up and then an ending contrived to catch me out. We had Jake and his grandmother watching the fire, supposedly from the street, and Jake shouting 'Mammy, Jenna' and asking "Whereโ€™s Mummy and Jenna?" and being told "I don't know sweetheartโ€. There's nothing here to suggest that Jake is dead. Similarly in the next paragraph, beginning โ€œReady Jake?โ€ No suggestion of Jake's death. Even less suggestion of death in the last paragraph, where Jake reports that 'My heartbeat became erratic and my breath came in sharp, short bursts. I gulped several times. My eyes drowned in fresh tears'.' Completely physical, biological things โ€“ no suggestion of death or of 'spirit' status here. They are in a graveyard looking for 'them' (โ€œIโ€™m not sure where theyโ€™ll be Jake.โ€). Presumably a grave containing two sets of remains, Mother and Jenna. Everything is concealed from me, I am in effect being tricked, right up to the last couple of lines โ€“ I don't think I'm being shown events from the point of vew of a dead boy, I'm being tricked into believing that he is still alive, or so it seems to me. Hence the feeling of alienation โ€“ it's the natural response to being taken for a ride.

I am not saying that you intended your readers to feel this way, only that it is the effect that trick endings have on me. I find them a turn-off, by and large, whether I see them coming or not. I don't personally think they add anything to a story. I know that lots of other people think differently. I'm just giving you my own views.


Author's Reply:
Well we all have our opinions and I appreciate yours as I hope you appreciate mine. I will change some things in this that you have picked up on, (the breathing part etc) but will leave the majority of it as it stands. I guess it's up to the reader to what he believes when reading a story like this and how he sees it unfold it. I probably have misled the reader in a way, but like I've said I wanted that particular ending. If I told the reader in some way he was dead then it wouldn't have the same impact at the end. This story has a special meaning to me, one that I will keep to myself, but one that I do feel strongly about and for that reason I will leave the story mainly as it stands. You are the first person to question this story and not liked the twist. Each to their own. If you don't like twists in a story then I very much doubt you will like much of what I write, but thank you for your comments and opinion.

artisus on 12-07-2008
Little Boy Lost
A good, good story Lis', I also liked sirat's comments, very interesting observations.

X

Author's Reply:
Hi Nic,

Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read and comment on this story. I'm peased that you liked it so much :0)

Yes, Sirat did make some interesting observations, some of which I have taken into account and altered, but the majority of it will stay the same.

Lis'. xx


Toilet Talk (posted on: 07-07-08)
I wrote this for my creative writng class. We couldn't use any names or 'he said' or 'she said' etc. This was my effort and end result.

She stumbled through the door with a tumbler half full of Bacardi and coke. Her heels scraped across the tiles; like nails on a blackboard. Both cubicle doors were shut and one had an 'Out of use' sign sellotaped to it. ''Not again!'' She crossed her legs and tried to keep her balance. A high pitched voice came from behind the door. ''Is there any bog paper spare?'' ''No. Sorry none out here.'' She squirmed on the spot. ''You gonna be long? I'm bursting.'' ''It depends on the bog paper, love.'' ''Great, that's all I need!'' The woman pulled herself up on the unit and fumbled around inside her bag for fags. ''Look on the floor.'' ''Nothing there.'' ''Any on the tank?'' "No." ''Hang on, I'll go take a look.'' ''Cheers.'' She rolled her eyes, slid off the unit and walked over to the unused toilet and caught a glimpse of bottle-green shoes and wrinkled tights below the door. An image of her late nan formed in her head. She been brought up to value everything. Tights were a luxury and she would wash the same pair over and over again until they lost their shape and become wrinkled at the ankles. Of course they had tried to tell her, but at eighty four she didn't care. She smiled at the thought and pushed the 'Out of use' door open. ''Found any yet?'' ''I'm looking.'' She checked the tank, the floor and then the loo roll holder. ''Got some. I'll roll it under.'' A few seconds later the chain flushed and the door opened. ''Cheers, love.'' Her jaw dropped open and she stood staring at the blonde in a miniskirt, boob tube and complete with a chin full of designer stubble. ''Gents was full. Well, it is Children in Need night.'' He grinned as he heard the toilet door slam shut behind her.
Archived comments for Toilet Talk
orangedream on 07-07-2008
Toilet Talk
This was such a 'real' situation. One I am sure which most people can identify with.

Just a couple of minor typos. First line, I think you mean her heels 'scraped' across the tiles and on the thirteenth line, I think it should be 'slid' off the unit.

All in all, Lis, I think you pulled this one off admirably - if you'll pardon the pun. Really enjoyed:-) And it wasn't an easy thing to do, considering the restrictions you were faced with. In a way, I think it made it even more effective.

Tina x

Author's Reply:
Thanks Tina, glad you liked it. Yes, I guess at some point in our lives we've seen this type of thing happen, lol. Cheers for pulling me up on the typos, they do tend to sneak in when I'm not paying attention in the early hours as I write. Will sort them out tomorrow. It was a bit of a tough one, but later on we had to write one with 3 characters without names etc, now that was tough!! Pleased you thought that it made this effective. Thanks as always and sorry for the late reply, been busy with the kids, dogs, pups and too much housework!! And a laptop that likes to freeze on me. Grrrrr.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 08-07-2008
Toilet Talk
Lol. Nice one, Ms. Sugar. It's not easy writing without 'he said' or 'she said.' You not only managed it, but you also kept it entertaining. I didn't see the end coming at all. Please accept a smelly Bernard for your efforts (I know, the last thing you need right now is another dog). Sorry (-;

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Author's Reply:

sirat on 12-07-2008
Toilet Talk
This little incident works quite well. I wouldn't have noticed the absence of the speech tags if you hadn't mentioned them. What I found a bit irritating was the large number of minor errors, especially in such a short piece. You will give a very bad impression if you don't try to proof-read your work a bit. It's perhaps unimportant in the great scheme of things but it's a pity to sell yourself short. Here are the examples I spotted:

heels scrapped across (scraped across)
cubical doors (cubicle doors)
cello taped to it (Sellotaped to it)
'The woman put her handbag on the sink, pulled herself up on the unit and fumbled around inside for her fags' Do you mean inside the unit?
slide off the unit and walked (slid off the unit)
the blonde in a mini, skirt, boob tube and (no comma after 'mini'. In fact you could have 'miniskirt' as one word)
it is Children in need night (Children in Need night)

Author's Reply:


Silent Tears (posted on: 30-06-08)
dfhshdvgflglafhdruhfv

I watch, waiting in darkness for the cold to subside. Eagerly listening for voices, wanting only loves warmth. Heart beating with anticipation of what could possibly be - soft chatter - drifts past nothing! it's not meant for me. Alert - a car engine whispers, faint footsteps come closer. Stopping - not passing me by, a child alone - without hope. Crying out I'm unheard, my silent tears - not seen. Their pain - has no boundaries, at my graveside - they mourn.
Archived comments for Silent Tears
orangedream on 30-06-2008
Silent Tears
A poem written from the heart, Lis.

'Their pain has no boundaries'.

For me, this was the most emotive line.

An atmospheric, touching write.

Tina :-)x

Author's Reply:
Yes, it was written from the heart, Tina.
I wrote it after visiting my son's grave, just needed to get some things on paper that strangley enough inspired me and got me thinking of something while I was there.
Thanks so much for your words. I think the line 'Their pain has no boundries.' sayit all really.

Lis'. xx


Always There (posted on: 30-06-08)
ggfgfhlsgsflhf

My mind is numb Yet it churns and twists. My body is tired Yet it continues to work. My life feels over Yet my soul refuses to give up. My hopes turn to dust Yet new ones are planted. My guilt gnaws away Yet my conscience fights back. My self confidence leaves Yet my inner strength returns it. My self pity cries Yet my determination wipes away its tears. My self destruct button pushed Yet my angel turns it off. My happiness fades Yet my endurance sheds light. My grief tortures me Yet my son's spirits are always there.
Archived comments for Always There
artisus on 30-06-2008
Always There
Nice poem SugarMama34, i think you expressed yourself very clearly and the first two stanzas are my favorite.

Author's Reply:
Hi artisus,

thanks for stopping by to read and comment on this piece, much appreciated. Yes, I think the words came naturally and didn't tae me long to write. I'm glad you liked it. The first two stanzas are my favourites too because I think they sum up things well. Sorry for the late reply, I've been busy trying to edit work, look after 5 kids, 2 dogs and 6 puppies - Chaotic!!

Lis'. xx

Bootylicious on 30-06-2008
Always There
Hi Sugarmama

Thought the first two verses were ace. Loved the whole idea of the poem. Not sure about the really long line 2nd line in the third verse. Sort of just didn't quite sound right.

This poem expresses what most of us are feeling at one time or other. Not so long ago that I was feeling along the same lines myself. Damn - why didn't I think of writing it in a poem. Because you came along and did it so much better.

Booty

Author's Reply:
Hi Booty,

Cheers for reading and commenting. Glad you liked the idea for the poem. Yes, I was a little unsure too of the long line, but altered it at the last moment. Will take another look at it.
I think anyone who has lost a child or children will understand this a lot more about the feelings etc and the emotions. Thanks so much for your words.
Sorry for the late reply I've been up to myeballs with editing, trying to look after 5 kids, 2 dogs and 6 pups!!

Lis'. xx

Griffonner on 30-06-2008
Always There
I like the way you have constructed this, and too the way you've introduced the gamut of feelings and sensations. I wonder if the reason for the preference for the first two stanzas might be the meter? But nevertheless I enjoyed the read, SM34. ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:

Sunken on 01-07-2008
Always There
Hello Ms. Sugar. Not seen you around for a while. I is glad you is back and no mistake. I hope you realise that I have spent an age studying your description (ggfgfhlsgsflhf). I am still in the dark, but perhaps it's best that way. A strong piece that I won't ramble all over. Good to see you posting again. Take care and lip-balm.

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should have gone to skool

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunks. Nope, not been here for a while. I think my confidence has been bruised more than I thought by that one comment and haven't been able to write anything since. I've also been busy here with the kids and Mystique's 6 pups! They're just over 6 weeks old now. It's been hard work. Hey, I'm glad to be back. Missed yuh Sunky. Lol, sorry bout the description, I didn't know what to write!
Cheers for the lip balm.

Sugar. xx

Jolen on 03-07-2008
Always There
Hello Lisa,
I agree with the rest of the pack. A moving poem, the contradiction and reaffirmation throughout makes it especially poignant. Nice to be reading your work again.
blessings,
Jolen

Author's Reply:
Hi Jolen,

Thanks for your comments on this too. I wanted to put the bad side and the good side to this. I'm glad it came across and pleased that you liked it.

love 'n' light,

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 06-07-2008
Always There
Well you're amongst friends here, Ms. Sugar. Hope you get back into the flow soon. When I say flow, I mean writing - not dog wee. Ahem. Yeah, I'm still single. Amazing isn't it? (-; Don't answer that. Take care and napkins.

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on a wing and a stare

Author's Reply:
Yeah, I know I'm with friends here Sunky Le Munk. I think I'm getting back in the flow with my writing slowly, but only the last day or two. Lol, I'm well and truely with the flow of dog wee - my new cologne is bleach :0(
Well I for one cannot understand how you being the only sunk I know is still single!! You should be snapped up, turnips and all! Oh and of course Rudy too.
Your so considerate, first lip balm and now napkins! You are such a sweetie. ;0)

Sugar. xxx


Half Way Dead (posted on: 26-05-08)
Not sure what to say about this really. I'll let the reader make up their own mind.

The eyes within the mirror see reflections of the past. A toddler with copper-coloured hair, giggles and smiles As his mum dances with him in her arms and twirls him around on the spot. The laughter is contagious and mum laughs – staring into Sapphire eyes that dance with mischief and love. A perfect row of milk teeth are widely on display and giggles and coos echo in the narrow hallway of peaches and cream. A week later a tear stained face stares back at her from the mirror and she chokes on the smokey air – that still lingers. Her arms are limp at her side – only silence greets her now In the once, fun filled hall. The little boy who once shared her life and who she adored – no longer laughs, nor does he cry. When her tears fall he does not look into her face and question silently what's wrong, anymore. Only the mirror replays the memories. Each mouthful of lager takes away the pain – a little at a time, But it doesn't erase his agonising screams in her head and doesn't repair her heart That's torn in pieces, nor does it stifle the anger that bubbles to the Point of eruption. Ten years to the day – snatched so tragically in the darkness - alone, crying. Her footsteps – Her concern – too late. No cake with twelve candles on it this year – only pink flowers lie on his grave She's almost with you – thirty six and half way dead.
Archived comments for Half Way Dead
e-griff on 26-05-2008
Half Way Dead
not sure you wrote this out as if it were a poem. Not saying you shouldn't have, just can't quite see why ๐Ÿ™‚ G

Author's Reply:
I wrote this after going to my son's grave, on the tenth anniversary of his death, last Tuesday. It brought back a lot of memories, some good, some bad and the same feelings that continually bubble to the surface came flooding back. This was the result. Not sure if it makes sense to others at all. Thanks for commenting annd stopping by.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 27-05-2008
Half Way Dead
Third time trying to comment )-: Uka hates me these days. I can hardly use it. Anyway, take 3 -

Hi Ms. Sugar. Firstly, well done on this. You have very good reason for getting your thoughts down and you do it with style, grace and maturity.

Thinking of you and yours,

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Author's Reply:
Hi Mr Sunken. Thank you very much for your words, in fact I was quite choked up as I read them, they mean a lot to me. What a beautiful comment you have left, which I will cherish and feel so proud of. Thank you.

Thinking of you too Sunky le Munk.

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xxx

orangedream on 27-05-2008
Half Way Dead
To use Sunken's words (and I'm sure he won't mind), 'style, grace and maturity', is what best describes this poem and its author.

My thoughts are with you and in my own way, I share them.

Much love,
Tina

Author's Reply:
Aww, thanks yo very much Tina for your lovely words. No, I don't think that sunky will mind you using a few of his words. Yes, I can imagine you do share my thoughts in your own way. I hope the poem will help you in some way.

Lots of Love,
Lis'. xxx

ruadh on 09-07-2008
Half Way Dead
A poignant piece Lis'. A great opening line and a hard hitting ending. Take care.

love ailsa

Author's Reply:
Thanks Ailsa for your lovely words and comments on this piece. I wrote this in memory of my eldest son. I'm glad it worked for you. Will be commenting later on your work. Busy and upsetting day today as 3 out of the 6 pups are going to new homes around 6ish :0(

Love Lis'. xx


Barriers Of Time (posted on: 23-05-08)
Just something I had been mulling over. Deleted when I was at an all time low with my writing, but have put it back on as it was nominated.

Its invisible force concealed within the walls of the past. Dark fears haunt underneath layers of the subconscious. Divine thoughts mask emotions buried deep inside one's mind Until grief's fingers grip and drag terror close enough to touch. It summons paranoia to a vast extent of manipulation. Erasing will power to suffer at its mercy and control. Suffocates rational feelings into powdered fragments. Memories, crushed agonisingly into painful blocks of destruction. The sorrow wrenches reality away and dissolves it in its grasp without concern or attention for anything it catches. The barriers of time creep upon whatever breathes and lies in its wake. The past haunts. Its boundaries have no end, neither does time, for it never dies.
Archived comments for Barriers Of Time
eddiesolo on 23-05-2008
Barriers Of Time
Very deep write Lis. Enjoyed reading this very much, many a a true word-time never keeps still and never dies as you stated.

Good one.

Si:-)



Author's Reply:
Yeah, was in one of my dark philosphical moods when I wrote this. Glad you enjoyed reading it Si and thanks very much for stopping by, leaving a comment and rating it 9. Cheers.

Lis'. xx

Sunken on 23-05-2008
Barriers Of Time
Hello Ms. Sugar. Yet again I am in leg slapping mood. I would like to make it clear that I gain no perverted kind of pleasure from this act. I just feel that you should not be deleting your work. What if I wanted to go through your stuff sometime, only to find that it's no longer there? I would cry into my pot noodle and ruin it's overall consistency. Please think of my stomach in future! Good day!

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lego 4 - derby 3

Author's Reply:


Rock-A-Bye-Baby (posted on: 23-05-08)
Life can be cruel in so many ways. I know I put this on before, but when I was at an all time low with my writing, I deleted it, but I have edited again and put it back on as it had been nominated.

Isabella's tear-stained face told me that the IVF treatment had failed again. She tried to hide it, but black mascara slid down her flawless, cream-coloured skin. I could give her anything she wanted, holidays abroad, clothes, jewellery, but not the baby she so desperately longed for. It tore me to pieces to see her get excited each time we went to the clinic. Only to see her dreams shattered by the cold, unacceptable words ''I'm sorry Mrs Yeltkin, but I'm afraid the treatment hasn't worked this month.'' The complications lay with me and of course, I felt inadequate. Isabella knew I constantly blamed myself for our childless relationship. She tried to remain optimistic. Always offering me encouragement to salvage my pride. ''Sam, next month could be our month,'' she'd say squeezing my hand. Smiling weakly, I played along, ''Of course, we'll hear the pitta-patter of tiny feet soon.'' Month after month had passed. The date ringed in red ink on the calendar, became a bitter reminder of previous failures. Isabella became more despondent at each visit to the clinic. She didn't have to say anything, I could see the sadness bubble beneath the surface in her malteser-brown eyes. The morning of the clinic she suddenly kissed me long and tender on the lips. Her fingers softly caressing my face. I wondered what had brought it on. ''Sam, if it doesn't work this time. I think we should let nature have its own way.'' ''You mean stop the treatment?'' ''Yes. If it's not meant to be, no amount of treatment will work,'' she said, gently closing my gaping mouth. ''Are you sure? I mean, have you thought this over?'' She pressed her index finger against my lips. ''It's all I've thought about for the last two weeks. We can't go on like this. It's not fair.'' ''But I don't mind, if it's what you want, then so be it. I know you would be a great mum.'' ''Maybe, but as long as I have you, it's all that really matters, Sam.'' I held her close and looked deep into her eyes. I knew then, her mind had been made up. ''Well if you change your mind…'' ''I won't. This is the right thing to do. If it doesn't work this month, then it doesn't work.'' We sat silently in the waiting room. Isabella twisted her wedding ring, first one way, then the other. I strummed my fingers on the edge of the table. Every time the nurses walked passed, she would glance up quickly and sighed as they strolled past us. ''Shouldn't be much longer,'' I said, giving her knee a squeeze. Isabella smiled nervously. ''Mrs Yeltkin,'' said a rather plump, but cheerful nurse. ''All ready, love?'' She looked up and took a deep breath. ''As ready as I'll ever be, yes.'' ''Isabella, do you want me to come in with you?'' ''No, it wont take long. We know the answer already, don't we?'' Smiling weakly, she bent her head, leaving me alone in the comfort of the warm waiting area. I glanced at my watch every couple of minutes. Maybe this is what an expectant father felt like. She should be out shortly, it never took long for the results. Another couple came in. They looked late 30's to early 40's and seemed as apprehensive as we had when we first arrived. I sifted through the neatly stacked magazines on the table in front of me, most of which were woman's magazines. I managed to find one copy of 'Auto Express' and flicked through the pages without much interest. I worried what the outcome would be. Several minutes passed and I heard the creak of the door. I glanced up to see Isabella being helped into the room, by the same nurse she had left with. Tears streaming down her face, her mascara running down her cheeks. She sat down beside me, trembling. I put my arm around her and hugged her gently. ''Will you be alright, dear,'' said the nurse. Isabella nodded. ''I'll get you a hot coffee.'' ''Thank you,'' sniffed Isabella. I coughed, clearing the lump lodged in my throat, ''We can always try again, sweetheart.'' Her sobs increased. ''No, there's no need, Sam, honestly. She paused, breathed in deeply. ''I'm, I'm pregnant.'' I sat there soaking in the words like a sponge. ''You're pregnant! It worked, it actually worked.'' I jumped up from my seat punching the air with an explosive ''Yes.'' Isabella laughed, her delight obvious in the stream of black tears flowing down her face. The pregnancy took its toll. Her extreme bout of morning sickness, which lasted nearly all day, every day led to exhaustion. In the months that followed, I refused to let her do anything. I wouldn't risk her losing our baby, however small the jobs were. The ultra sound scans left us both ecstatic, although we didn't manage to find out the sex, but I didn't care. As long as the baby is healthy and Isabella is too, it's all that matters. The months rolled past quickly, before we knew it the pregnancy hit its third trimester and we were in the forty week zone. Isabella shook me gently in the early hours of the morning. ''Sam, I think our baby wants to come into the world.'' ''What?'' I said, still struggling to prise my eyes open. ''The baby…I think it's on its way.'' ''Umm, right,'' I threw the duvet cover off me, hurriedly got out of bed and tripped over. Isabella laughed in between sucking in deep breaths of air and stifled groans. ''I'll give the hospital a ring to let them know.'' ''Okay, sweetheart. I'm going to have a bath…'' ''A bath! You haven't got time, I have to get you to the hospital.'' ''No, you daft bugger, it will help ease the pain. I won't be long.'' ''Oh, okay.'' After ringing the labour ward to let them know we were on our way, and a few close relatives to say the contractions had started. I grabbed Isabella's over night bag and put it in the boot of the car along with a large, cream-coloured rabbit I had purchased from The Nursery Shop yesterday. She didn't have a clue, I'd got it as surprise for her and the baby. ''Are you ready, Isabella?'' I shouted up the stairs. ''Yes, on my way.'' I turned the key in the ignition, the engine coughed, spluttered a few times and cut out. I tried again, still the same. ''Oh for Christ sake, start will you,'' I said slamming my hands down hard on the steering wheel. Isabella rubbed my shoulder, ''Calm down, give her time, she'll start in a minute.'' I turned the key slowly. ''We haven't got time!'' ''Stop panicking. Deep breaths,'' she said with a grin. On the third attempt, the engine purred with satisfaction. I sighed heavily. ''Bloody car, its never done that before.'' ''Always a first time for everything, Sam.'' ''Yes, but today, of all days!'' ''There's a reason for everything, love.'' ''Hmm.'' I could hear Isabella's breath rasping in short, sharp, bursts. She gripped onto the side of the seat, her knuckles white, ''I never thought that labour would be this painful.'' She groaned loudly, swearing under her breath. ''The contractions are every five minutes now.'' ''It's okay, not much longer, sweetheart. Hold on we're nearly there, five more minutes.'' Everything seemed against us, even the traffic lights. Each one turned red as we approached it. I began to think I might end up delivering the baby myself. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. ''Come on, damn it, change.'' The green light glowed like a cat's eye in the darkness and I put my foot down moderatley on the accelerator. The hospital came into sight; its large white building with modern architectural structure looked impressive lit up. Isabella groaned again. I turned and glanced briefly at her. She grimaced, her body arched forward as she rocked back and fore, her breathing becoming more strained. ''Nearly there, sweetheart,'' I said, focusing quickly back to the road ahead. The traffic lights on the other side changed to red. I heard the screeching of tyres and glimpsed a car ignoring the lights, its headlights shone directly into my eyes. I squinted, struggling to see .''Shit,'' I yelled. I tried to steer away from the on-coming car. I felt the impact as it bulldozed its way into the side of us. As my head hit the dashboard I heard glass shattering and Isabella's screams. Two weeks later. I walked briskly past the playground. My head bowed, eyes firmly cast upon the grey concrete and it's patchwork of black tar. I tried hard to block out the children's shouts and excited screams that filled the mid morning air. The street was fairly quiet, most had gone away on their Summer holidays. I wanted to get by unnoticed and slip in through my front door, away from prying eyes and sorrowful stares. The thing I dreaded most were the questions, I couldn't handle them. Nearly there, a few more steps, the gate was in clear view. My legs felt like they were being weighed down by lead shoes, I fought to put one foot in front of the other until I faced the white PVC door, with it's rose patterned glass. I gripped the handle, hesitated, gulped, and slowly turned it clockwise. Isabella lay asleep on the sofa, with a blanket draped over her legs. I sat opposite, watching her as she slept. She looked worn out, her colour pale and dark circles hung beneath her eyes. The accident had taken what we both longed for - a family. We would never have another chance. The large, cream-coloured rabbit I had bought for the baby sat idly on the chair and lots of sympathy cards stood upright on various pieces of furniture around the room. I put my hands over my face and sobbed quietly. Isabella woke up and crossed the room slowly. ''Oh, Sam. Why did this happen to us? Why our family? Why now?'' she cried. I didn't answer her. I couldn't find the words to comfort her grief and ease her pain. ''Why Sam? It's not fair,'' she sobbed. I brushed strands of hair, softly from her eyes. ''I don't know, sweetheart,'' I whispered. ''I wish I could tell you.'' I kissed her gently on the forehead and breathed in her musky perfume. The knock on the door interrupted us and Isabella left to answer it. She opened the door to a man dressed in a long, black overcoat standing on the doorstep. '' Mrs Yeltkin?'' Isabella nodded. ''I'm from Hargreaves & Son's Funeral home. I'm so sorry to hear of your sad loss, '' he said, shaking her hand. ''Thank you. Please, come in.'' He nodded sombrely. '' Is today convenient? ''Yes, it's fine.'' ''Okay, then.'' He smiled at her. ''What a beautiful baby you have,'' he said, looking at the small bundle she cradled in her arms. ''Thank you. His name is Sam.''
Archived comments for Rock-A-Bye-Baby
Sunken on 23-05-2008
Rock-A-Bye-Baby
I remember this, Ms. Sugar Lumpkin. Well done on the muchly deserved nom. I feel like slapping your legs for deleting it in the first place, but I shall resist. Just don't do it again! Thank you. Good day.

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take a ruler, i predict graphs

Author's Reply:
Thank you very much Mr. Sunky le Munk. I'm glad you remembered this. Thanks for the congrats too. I've never had a sunk slap my legs before or even feel like slapping my legs!! Lol, I'll try not to do it again, if only for you sunks. Cheers as always for commeting on my work.

Sugar Lumpkin. xx


Sirat's May Challenge - On A Cloud (posted on: 19-05-08)
A little late, I agree, but written for Sirat's May Challenge. The theme - Self Delusion. Not sure if it works, but I'll let the reader decide.

Rachael stood by the pine dresser; polish in one hand and duster in the other. She smiled at the couple that stared back at her from inside the silver frame. Wisps of chestnut hair framed the woman's heart shape face, her cheeks were as pink as cherry blossom and her eyes were the colour of emeralds. The man next to her had an impish face and flashed a cheeky smile. San Francisco had been their last holiday together. It had been one of the momentous times of her life. The more she gazed at the photograph, the more the memories appeared as vivid as yesterday itself. The walk along winding concrete paths and the earthy smell off the bark and forest leaves followed them through Muir woods. The sun glistened through the branches and peeked around the trunks. They stood against the deep grooves of the bark from the Douglas firs, which dominated the background. Richard's arm rested on her right shoulder and her arm snaked around his waist. After thanking the passing tourist for taking the photo, Rachael watched Richard get down on one knee and take something out of his pocket. ''Will you marry me?'' He asked, opening a black, velvet box. Inside it a cluster of diamonds shone and Rachael could only stare for a few moments before she let out a small gasp of surprise. ''Oh Richard, of course I will,'' she replied, flinging her arms around him and then kissing him on the lips. ''Lets get married as soon as we get home; I think we have waited long enough, don't you?'' He said. ''Yes, but there is so much to do ... there's the church, my dress, the catering ...'' He put his index finger against her lips and smiled. ''Shh. I know, but you'll do it ... you always do.'' She smiled and looked into his sky, blue eyes. ''I love you, Rachael Ferral. You've made me the happiest man alive.'' A wave of tingles washed over her body and she melted like chocolate on a sunny day as he scooped her up in his arms and twirled her round. She slung her head back and giggled, watching half of the Douglas firs spin above her. The rest of the holiday, her mind was consumed with the forthcoming wedding and her thoughts tumbled round like washing in a tumble dryer. As soon as they got back to the bustle of London she would start phoning around for venues and check that their local church would be available in two months time, it would be the anniversary of when they first met six years ago at the wine bar on Clifford Row. Rachael flicked the duster over the glass; she knew she didn't need too as she did the same cleaning ritual every day, but she liked to keep busy. The more times she washed the floors or did the dishes, she realised that she didn't think too much, if she did she knew she would fall apart, she couldn't and wouldn't let that happen to her now, not today of all days. A small sigh escaped her lips and she gulped, putting down the silver frame in the exact position it had been moments before and then turned abruptly on her heels. Before she walked through to the kitchen/breakfast room she took another quick look around the room to make sure it was all perfect. Satisfied she smiled and left. The strong aroma of beef slapped her warmly in the face as she opened the oven door. The joint already had a medium coffee look to it, but she knew it wasn't quite ready yet, so she turned it over and placed it back into the oven then set the timer for another thirty minutes. It would give her enough time to have a shower and get ready for when Richard returned from work. She hoped he'd had a good day; most times he came home looking like he'd dropped the winning lottery ticket down a drain. Their conversations had become strained at times; this wasn't the way she had thought marital life would be. Maybe it was his change of job – going from an office job to working in the local Tesco store probably hadn't boosted his confidence any. Yes, that was more likely the cause of it all. He seemed fine at first and happy enough, but the last couple of months he didn't seem himself. It must be stress and the lack of salary they were obviously getting to him. Richard had been made redundant when the firm had gone bust, but he was too over qualified for the jobs he applied for and the bills were coming in thick and fast, so he took the first job that came his way. Rachael stepped into the shower and passed through clouds of steam that hung in the air. As the droplets of water ran over her pregnancy curves she washed away the housework grime and any negative thoughts that she had. ''Stop it Rach', don't think like this today. Today will be different, you'll see – it's your Anniversary,'' she repeated and took several deep breaths. After one last soap down and rinse she wrapped the towel around her and patted herself dry, got dressed and went back downstairs. The timer buzzed as she entered the kitchen and she clicked it off. She could hear the beef sizzling and the fat spitting inside the oven. It smelt delicious and didn't disappoint her when she opened the oven door. She put it on an oval plate to let it cool before she carved it and set about peeling the potatoes and cleaning other vegetables for their roast dinner to be complete. Everything was on and bubbling nicely on the cooker. It should be ready ten minutes before Richard came in, which would give her time to set the table and serve dinner – perfect! In the half hour she had spare she pulled the bobble from her chestnut hair and let it fall to her shoulders before brushing it a few times and smoothing out any kinks with the straighteners. Next she rummaged in her make-up bag and took out mascara, blusher and skin toned lipstick. She applied them one by one, making sure she looked perfect as she always did for Richard. Not happy with the clothes she had on she changed into black maternity trousers and a white top. ''That's better, more comfortable and a little more appealing to the eye,'' she said, adjusting her blouse to show some cleavage. Rachael draped the white lace table cloth upon the table and arranged the knives and forks and put a silver candle holder in the middle and placed a red candle in it. Dinner was ready and she drained and served the potatoes and vegatables on the two plates and then carried them into the dinning room and placed them on the table. Richard should be home at any moment. There was only one thing left to do. She walked over to the silver frame that sat upon the antique pine sideboard and opened the top draw. Inside was a small, black box. She opened it and smiled at the gold watch. He would love this; he'd often pointed it out to her as they passed the jewellers. This was her surprise to him, her treat; it would make things better between them and cheer him up a little. She had spent the last of her money on him, but it didn't matter, when it's gone it's gone she always said. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and she closed the box and put it on the table in front of Richard's plate. Adjusting her blouse and trousers as she walked she took in a deep breath and then opened the door. ''Oh ... umm. Hi Mandy.'' ''You okay, love?'' ''Yes.'' Mandy walked past her and stared into the dining room and the table set for two people. ''Sorry, are you expecting company?'' ''Of course I am. It's my Anniversary; Richard is due home at any moment.'' Mandy sighed and tilted her head to the side and gave her friend the 'puppy look.' ''Rach', when are you going to get it through your head, he ain't coming back.'' ''Stop it,'' she said putting her hands over her ears. ''Don't spoil today, please.'' ''You can't go on like this. He left you a month ago for that Tesco tart – remember?'' ''It's a phase, he's stressed, he'll come back to me; I know he will.'' ''No, Rachael – He won't!'' "He will Mandy, he will. If not for me, for the baby – our baby.'' Mandy shook her head. ''It's a phantom pregnancy, Rach. You can't have children, love.'' ''Yes I can,'' Rachael said, her cheeks turning red. ''Oh, sweetheart, he won't be back. He spent your inheritance money and left you for a slag he's been having an affair with for the last three months.'' ''Get out! Leave me alone,'' ''Okay I'm going. I'll ring you later, check you're all right.'' ''Don't bother, Richard will be here.'' Mandy sighed and watched as the door slammed in her face and the glass rattled. She turned and walked away. Rachael woke up the next morning on the sofa, dressed in yesterday's clothes. The meal she had prepared the night before still uneaten on the plates and the gold watch it its box – unopened. She cleared the table, scrapped off the cold food into the bin and washed the dishes. Then with polish in one hand and duster in the other she cleaned the house from top to bottom and polished the silver frame on the pine dresser, until it gleamed. ''It's our anniversary today, Richard,'' she said, smiling at the couple in the picture.
Archived comments for Sirat's May Challenge - On A Cloud
pombal on 19-05-2008
Sirats May Challenge - On A Cloud
Hi Sugar - Imp in the first paragraph - excellent.

Would you give me permission to put it on my forum topic "I would write it like this"?

Author's Reply:
Hi pombal. Glad you liked the imp in the first paragraph, thank you.



I'm being a bit thick now, but do you want to put my story on your forum topic "I would write it like this?"

I think I'm overtired, sorry for being so dense! Yeah, of course I give you my permission to put this on your forum.

Sunken on 20-05-2008
Sirats May Challenge - On A Cloud
Hello Ms. Sugar. For one whose confidence was so low recently, this is a truly smashing write. Ok, I know naff all about prose, or writing in general, but I know when a piece flows and I knows what I likes. My only complaint? You made me hungry again. I wouldn't mind, but it's only 7.30am and I'm suddenly craving a roast. Well done on the nom.

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quarter to turnip

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunky le Munk. Thanks sweetie so much for your lovely words. I'm not sure about my confidence at an all time low, I think it had disintegrated. I'm thrilled that you like it so much. Lol, sorry for making you hungry again, especially so early in the morning. Cheers for the 'well done on the nom' too. *smiles* xxx

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*Hands over a huge bag of turnips and a roast dinner*

sirat on 21-05-2008
Sirats May Challenge - On A Cloud
Well, your confidence deserves to be high after this fine piece of writing and the way it has been received. It's a brilliant portrait of a woman in denial. Nicely paced, shown rather than told.

The only thing you need to do is to tidy up a few minor typos and technicalities. Here are a few things i noticed:


its self โ€“ usually written as 'itself'

domineered the background โ€“ 'dominated'

Lets get married when we get home โ€“ This was the only place where I thought the dialogue didn't quite do the job. She assumes he means immediately (?) they get home. Why? Maybe he should say 'as soon as we get home'.

forth coming โ€“ 'forthcoming'

she didnโ€™t need too โ€“ didn't need to

set the timer on the fridge for another thirty minutes โ€“ something a bit Mr Bean about that. Don't you mean the timer on the oven?

he came home looking liked heโ€™d dropped the winning lottery ticket down a drain โ€“ looking like

on a oval plate โ€“ an oval plate

Itโ€™s a faze โ€“ phase

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the comments you've made on this, I really do appreciate it very much. It's a relief to be honest with you that it has been recieved so well by the readers, yourself included. When I started writing this and had the fist part of the idea I wasn't really sure if it would work well enough, but it was all that came to mind and I started writing it, but after about 30 words I stopped because I couldn't go any further and mulled the idea over in my head for over a week. The majority of the story was written on Sunday night (18th) and found that I couldn't stop and more things fell into place and more ideas emerged as I continued with it, hence, the end result.
If I'm completley honest with you, I haven't got a lot of confidence, never have. Initially I had doubts about this story, but I'm really pleased that it has worked.
Thanks also for picking up on certain things for me that I missed, which at 3am, after I'd finished writing it I was too tired to look for or even find. I will make amends to this later and take all your suggestions on board. Thank you once again, David.

Lis'. xx

delph_ambi on 21-05-2008
Sirats May Challenge - On A Cloud
Good story. Needs a very light edit here and there to clear up the typos (that Sirat's already pointed out) and a few over complex tenses, but those niggles aside, the way this develops is excellent, and I think will have all readers on the edges of their seats, just knowing that something is wrong with this situation, but not finding out until the end exactly what it is. Very well paced.

Author's Reply:
You don't know how relieved I am to hear your words Delph and the others that have commented on this. I had doubts if it would work, but by the comments I have recieved it has and I'm really pleased and glad that I've managed to do something right, for once.
Glad that you liked the story so much and that you think that it will have readers on the edge of their seats. Thanks for your comments, as always, much appreciated. Yes, I will give this an edit later on tonight and get it up to scratch.

Lis'. xx

e-griff on 21-05-2008
Sirats May Challenge - On A Cloud
bit late coming to this - good story indeed.

Author's Reply:
That's okay. Thanks very much for stopping by and taking the time to read my work. Glad you liked the story.

Lis'. xx

eddiesolo on 21-05-2008
Sirats May Challenge - On A Cloud
Hi Sugar,

Enjoyed this, good story.

Gongrats on the nom.

Si:-)





Author's Reply:
Hi Si,

It's really good to hear that you enjoyed the story. Thanks for stopping by to read and comment on it and also for the rating, also for the congrats on the nom.

Lis'. xx :0)


Grimeon's Pass (posted on: 25-04-08)
Freddy and Charlie get more than they bargained for at the lake. Will Arnold and Molly suffer the same fate? This has been revised, with a huge "Thank you" to discopants for taking a look at it for me.

Prologue June 1941 The oak stood on top of the hill, its branches twisted like old arthritic fingers and its bark as black as a midnight sky. It stood alone basking under the sun's afternoon glare. Charlie looked hard at its shape and height. Sometimes, he felt it beckoned him, longing to whisper of secrets past, carried only to him on the fresh breeze. He shivered and an army of goose bumps crawled over his skin. It made him feel uneasy, but he found it hard to break his stare. He couldn't help it, but he felt intrigued by its presence, yet intimidated at the same time. Beside him Freddy lay on his stomach, plucking the petals off surrounding daisies. He watched them float from his fore finger and thumb, swaying backwards and forwards like a crib, on to the meadow. He plucked the head off the nearest dandelion and flicked it with force at Charlie, making him jolt. "Oi." He spun round, rubbing the side of his ear. ''I'm bored. Are you?'' ''Yeah,'' replied Freddy rolling onto his back, shielding his eyes from the sun. ''Got any ideas?'' Charlie shrugged. ''Want to go fishing? Catch some supper.'' ''Yeah, got to be better than sitting here.'' ''Our ration book is low. Trout would be nice. Let's get our gear,'' said Charlie. He already felt hungry and his stomach gurgled. They raced home to Hallow Valley, grabbed their fishing rods and dinghy from the outhouse. On the way back to the lake they stole some crab apples from Mr Butler's tree, whose branches hung like catkins over the stone garden wall. They trekked across the countryside, under the suns hot rays, their breathing heavy and sweat glistened on their foreheads. They put the boat down and sat near the water's edge. Charlie took off his white vest, which in contrast showed his grapefruit pink sunburn. He used it to wipe the sweat off his face and chest and bite into a crisp, green apple. Freddy watched and rolled his eyes and looked at his own skin, which was as pale as the moon. He would never have a tan like Charlie's, which would eventually turn the colour of an over cooked sponge cake. He always burnt too easily and if he did catch the sun, he went a light golden brown and then peeled. He admired that girls loved. What more could a teenage boy ask for? He, on the other hand, had hair the colour of manure, eyes like peas and a body that would scare a ghost. Large Willows were dotted around the outskirts of the embankment. Their thick branches adorned with light green leaves; cascading like a waterfall, the tips almost tickling the grass. Charlie glanced back towards the oak, which always caught his attention. Freddy picked the head off a nearby daisy and twisted the stem around his finger. ''Well, are we going fishing or what?'' ''Yeah, sure.'' Charlie took one last bite out of the apple then skimmed it across the lake like it were a stone. There was a faint splash and the water rippled. He smiled to himself, pleased at how far he'd thrown it. ''What you waiting for?…let's go fishing,'' Charlie said, rolling his trousers up above his knees. Freddy did the same. They dragged the boat onto the water, until it reached below their knees, then took it in turns to get in and rowed until they were in the middle of the lake. After almost an hour their lines dangled in the water as still as a corpse. ''This is useless. So much for our supper!'' said Freddy. Before Charlie could answer he felt a gentle tug on the rod's line. As he peeked over the side of the boat, the movement became sharper. It tugged hard and the water rippled, spreading large circles across the surface. ''Hey Freddy. I got one, I got one.'' ''About time too. Quick, reel it in.'' ''I am. It's a wild one, this,'' he said, standing up. He could feel the rod bending as he wound the line in. With one last pull the fish emerged from the water. It squirmed and dangled in mid air on the fishing line. ''Gee, look at the size on this trout.'' Freddy's jaw dropped as he watched the trout's large body wriggle feverishly. Its mouth opened and closed, gasping for air. Charlie laughed at his friend's expression. ''How come you always get the whoppers and I get the tiddlers? '''Cause I'm good at fishing and you're useless,'' said Charlie. ''No I'm not.'' Freddy rocked the boat playfully as Charlie unhooked the fish. ''Hey, I'll drop our supper in a minute, quit it will you.'' The trout squirmed in his hands as he tried to keep his balance. Freddy chuckled and rocked the boat a little more. It slipped out of Charlie's hands, but he caught it, only for it to slide out of his grasp again. He tried to hold on but it sailed through the air like a champagne cork and landed with a loud splash, back into the lake. Freddy stood up and looked into the water. He could just make out the fish swimming away. Charlie prodded him hard in his chest with his index finger. ''Look what you made me do. Just 'cause you're crap at fishing.'' Freddy pushed his shoulder with the palm of his hand. ''Well as you're so good, you can catch another one.'' Charlie stumbled backwards; he could feel his heels rub on the side of the dinghy. Instinctively he flung his arms out for balance, but he couldn't stop himself and he plunged into the water like a torpedo from a submarine. He could just make out Freddy's muffled laughter above him. When he opened his eyes, he noticed he'd sunk deeper than he thought he would have. He looked around, swimming in a semi circle; there were quite a few trout down there. Maybe they would get a second chance to catch another one for supper. He twirled around in the water and from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something shining amongst the plants that had entwined their selves around an old bicycle. It shone like a mirror in sunlight, almost as if it were sending messages in Morse-code. He floated for a few seconds, trying to make out what the object could be, but his view was obscured. It could be possible he had stumbled across something of value, a diamond necklace or similar. He began to feel a little light headed. He needed air and knew he'd have to leave soon, but before he did he took one last look. The dinghy's shadowy base became a little clearer as he emerged from the water. He would have a break, catch his breath and tell Freddy and then they could both go down and take a look. Freddy owed him that much. He swam until he reached the side of the boat and clung to its panels. Freddy laughed loudly at the sight of Charlie's short, dark blonde hair stuck to his head like seaweed.''Been looking for that fish?'' He held his hand out to Charlie. ''Very funny. But I did see something - it shone like a diamond.'' He said gripping tightly to Freddy's arm. ''What was it?'' he asked pulling him out of the water. Charlie sat down, combed his hair back with his fingers and sucked in the humid air. ''I'm not sure, I couldn't see it properly. Fancy taking a look?'' ''Yeah. Sure. May as well, you probably scared all the fish off.'' Charlie rolled his eyes and shook his head. ''Actually, I didn't. There's plenty of trout down there.'' ''Really! You're not pulling my leg now, are you?'' ''No, I'm not. Let's go and see what ever it was I saw. If it's worth anything we can take it to the pawn brokers and get some money for it.'' Freddy looked thoughtful. ''Yeah, okay.'' He liked the sound of that idea. If it came to it they could buy a big trout from Jolly's fishmongers, never mind catching one. They looked at each other and jumped, sending ripples across the water. Once submerged they became deaf and mute. Charlie swam ahead and looked back at Freddy pointing downward, who nodded and followed. Charlie swam in the direction he had seen the shimmer of light. He pointed repeatedly at a swaying green plant. By the side of it lay a rusty bike, its frame bent and twisted, the front wheel buckled. Amongst the fragments of dirt shone something as bright as a new shilling, part of it still wedged underneath the back wheel. They went closer to get a better look, Charlie first. The object looked like a key, the top part of it engraved like a skull, its eyes as red as hot coals. He stopped and stared at it for several seconds. What could it be for? If the rubies were diamonds, it could be worth a fortune. Maybe there was a treasure chest somewhere, with riches they only dreamt of. He reached out to remove the mud that clung to part of the metal. Before he had chance to touch the key, a child's thin skeleton hand lunged out, its bony fingers curled tightly around the key stem and snatched it from sight. Charlie's eyes widened. Had he really just seen that or had they been under water too long? He glanced at Freddy, whose colour had drained to a septic yellow and a deep fear was etched in his pea green eyes. Charlie instantly knew it had been real and pointed downwards again. Freddy shook his head and pointed to the boat. Charlie stubbornly shook his head and swam to where the skeleton key had been. Large rocks sat where the hand had appeared from, but where the hell had the hand come from and who did it belong too? He couldn't see any opening as such. There had to be a way in somewhere. He fumbled around on the rock's surface trying to find a secret lever, but found nothing. He glanced back at Freddy, who gestured impatiently with his hand, urging him to swim back to the boat. Charlie shook his head once more and indicated one more minute with his index finger. He needed to find out what they had seen. There had to be a reason, but what? He carried on searching for a clue, muddying the water as he brushed the dirt away, but found nothing. He decided to come back later and have another look with or without Freddy. He swam after Freddy, who was already swimming furiously towards the surface, but instantly jolted back. He looked behind him. His foot was caught amongst the tangled wreckage of the old bicycle and weeds. He tugged his leg in a desperate attempt to set his foot free, but it had caught up in the rusty old chain. It gripped his ankle like an animal trap. Charlie looked up. Freddy had almost made it to the surface. Frantically he wriggled his foot in a desperate attempt to free himself. He could feel the rusty chain dig into his ankle, scraping away the flesh the more he struggled. Freddy broke through the water's surface and gasped, sucking in generous amounts of warm air. His heart thudded so hard against his chest he thought it would break through his flesh. He felt his whole body tremble, as he hovered looking around for Charlie, but couldn't see him. Freddy swam towards the boat and hauled himself up, watching for Charlie to surface. Minutes passed but the water lay still, no ripples interrupted its serenity. Where could Charlie be? Surely he should have been up by now. Hesitant, he cursed under his breath and jumped back in. A sickly taste rose in his throat and he gulped, pushing it back down. Freddy could see Charlie in the dead man's float position, his eyes stared into nothingness. The sponge cake tan he'd been so proud of started to fade and turn a deathly white, his lips began to turn frost blue. Freddy noticed a slight movement in his chest and a bubble escaped from his gaping mouth. He held him around his waist and pulled him towards the surface, but his body jolted back. Freddy looked puzzled then noticed the chain wrapped around his ankle. He wrestled with it for a few seconds before managing to free him from its grasp, then gripping on to Charlie's body he pulled him with all his strength. A bright, white light blinded him, he winced and covered his eyes with the back of his hand. When he thought it was safe he looked again. He could see Charlie, two feet in front of him, looking a little transparent. The bright light glowed and outlined his whole body. He looked radiant, the way he had always known him. He glanced briefly at Charlie still tucked beneath his arm. He was as limp as a dishcloth, his chest became still and no bubbles drifted from his mouth. The pigment of his skin looked chalky white and his lips a darker blue. Freddy felt his own heart become heavy. They had been best friends since they were four years old. This couldn't be happening. He held Charlie and swam back towards the dinghy, he had to get him back to dry land and resuscitate him. Freddy told himself that he would be all right then. The apparition of Charlie smiled at him and waved, still glowing, bathed in the white light. Vibrations in the water sent an icy chill all over Freddy's body, it became stronger as an eerie shadow floated towards him. A dark liquid spiralled around Charlie, who tried to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth, then it engulfed him. Its ink like shape altered in appearance into that of human form. A tall male wearing a black gothic type coat that reached his ankles and black knee length boots, with silver skulls attached to the buckles. His long black hair squirmed in the water like eels and his pillar-box red eyes burned with hatred. He leered at Freddy revealing uneven, yellow teeth. The demon held out his arm, his skin as pale as sugar. A flash of green lightning escaped from his palm and the liquid ink melted away to reveal Charlie. The magic attacked his soul and its green fluid crept through his veins. He screamed under the water, then jerked violently for a few seconds. His appearance began to fade. He looked weak and frightened as his soul glided unwillingly towards the water spirit. The dark apparition opened his mouth wide to reveal a long, black tongue, which searched for Charlie's spirit. When it had found what it was looking for, it twisted around him like a conga eel and pulled him into the water demon's mouth. Freddy glanced down at Charlie's body in his arms. Strips of flesh tore away, melting in the water like it was acid, leaving only the skeleton intact. Freddy dropped the remains and stared petrified as the bones drifted to the bottom of the lake. He kicked his legs frantically and in blind panic he swam for his life. Once inside the boat he huddled in the foetal position against the rubber of the dinghy, his body shivering and his teeth chattering. He felt numb and confused. Had he really witnessed Charlie's death? It must be a dream, all of it had to be a dream. The images of Charlie's flesh being stripped away from his body by an unknown presence repeated in his mind. He shut his eyes tight, but it wouldn't go away. He screamed hysterically and his voice echoed around the Willows. He got up slowly onto his knees, but his legs felt too weak to stand. The old gnarled oak caught his attention. It stood prominently in his view, beckoning him. Startled by the sound of gushing water, he broke his stare. The water loomed upwards and morphed into human form. The dinghy rocked upon the lake as if caught up in a storm and he clung to the sides. Darkness smothered the lake, black clouds rolled in, blotting the burnt orange sky. The liquid image snaked towards him, growing in size until it towered above him. A face appeared before him, its eyes red as fresh blood. A sly smile crept across the water demon's face. ''You have been spared, this time. But I will wait for your soul before it gets to Heaven's gates.'' Freddy stared terrified into his eyes and shuddered. A flicker of evil raged inside them. "W-who are you?" "I am Grimeon." "W-what do you want?'' "Your soul. I'm looking for an apprentice, maybe I will come back for you," he sneered. " I will feed on your desperate spirit and others, until I have what I need." "W-what do you need my soul for?" "Silence," he yelled. "All in good time, child. All in good time." A strong wind blew, whipping the willows to writhe and dance, while lightning lit up the lake in violent flashes, highlighting Freddy's fear drenched face. Grimeon laughed as he raised his arms towards the sky. Surges of electrical light crackled and emanated from his finger tips. He twisted and spun out of control, the black ink merged together into a funnel, spinning recklessly like a tornado, its spray saturating Freddy as it submerged back into the water. The daylight returned as he clung to the dinghy and calmness once more embraced the lake.
Archived comments for Grimeon's Pass
Sunken on 25-04-2008
Grimeons Pass
Hello Ms. Sugar. Smashing to see you back. I've been having major pc probs today and I'm not sure if, or when, I'm going to get spewed offline. With this in mind I just wanted to post a quick well done. I love that 'army of goosebumps' line. I hope you're feeling better about stuff. Getting a sunk to read these many words can't be a bad thang. Does this mean I'm big kid then? Well done to Disco too. What a nice man. Don't tell him I said so.

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with a dodgy phone line )-:

Author's Reply:
Hello Mr Sunken. Thank you very much for such a warm and lovely welcome back. I'm glad you liked this. I cut a lot of it before I gave it to disco, who kindly helped me with my punctuation. Yes, I'm feeling a little better about things, thanks. Lol, well if you're a big kid for reading stories like this then I must be a big kid too for writing them. :0) Okay, I won't tell disco if you don't. ;0)

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has a dodgy phone line too. :0(

orangedream on 25-04-2008
Grimeons Pass
Wow - you have really worked on this piece, Lis. And it has paid off. The dialogue between Freddy and Charlie is really well done. Dialogue I always have such problems with to get it to sound 'natural' and not stilted and false. You achieve this very well.

I wish I had your imagination - the Grimeon sequence I could almost see. You describe it graphically and in my head I could picture it.

I have missed your writing of late and shall look forward to hearing more of the Grimeon saga and finding out about Arnold and Molly.

Best wishes

Tina:-)x

Author's Reply:
Yes, this story has gone through quite a few changes since I started it, but all I think for the better. I've cut a fair chunk out of the prologue and some of chapter one to try and tighten it up. I'm pleased that you especially liked the dialogue and the descriptions of this piece and you could see it as you read it. There is one part I'm not too sure about at the moment, but will wait and see if anyone picks up on it, so won't mention what it is.

Thank you, Tina for your compliments on my imagination and missing my writing too. It's lovely of you to say. It's nice to be back. Ill begin my reviews tomorrow though as I have been working since this morning on an assignment for my Children's Writing Course, which has been on going now for the last three days (the assignment not the course).

Lots of love,

Lis'. xx

discopants on 25-04-2008
Grimeons Pass
Too late, Lis' and sunky- I hear everything!

Author's Reply:
Damn! You caught saying what a nice guy you are. We'll have to whisper it the next time. ;0)

Seriously though, thanks so very much for your help, discopants.

Lis'. xx

e-griff on 28-04-2008
Grimeons Pass
Think you should look at some of your descriptions. the oak works well. The catkins and water/corpse don't make it.

watch for 'like' where you really mean 'as if' -(saw at least a couple of them)

I'm happy with this generally, but in the action scenes, I think you loose clarity and the description becomes confused. You need to review this and make sure it's all on-focus

Author's Reply:
Hi e-griff,

Thanks very much for reading and comenting on this for me, really do appreciate it. Can I ask you something? Do you think I have put too many action scenes in this and that is why it looses clarity? I don't know if I should rewrite this or not! Cheers for pulling me up on some things too. I wasn't sure on the catkins part and will take another look at the corpse part.

Lis'. xx

e-griff on 28-04-2008
Grimeons Pass
Blimey! The action scenes are those that make you sit up and take notice. I think what I'm saying is that when you get into those scenes, you get enthused.

My suggestion would be to maybe take a pen and big paper, plot it out and go through it slowly, make sure you tell us everything in your head, not just the shorthand bits, plot out the actions. ๐Ÿ™‚

Hey, that's the best I can say. very best from me... G

Author's Reply:
Oh right! Thanks. Gonna have to go and look up enthused.

Okay will take your advice on board and see what I can do. Been told that this isn't written as well as chapter one, so it gets a little confusing trying to figure out what to do for the best and how to make it better.

Thanks for replying, again.

Lis'. xx

e-griff on 29-04-2008
Grimeons Pass
perhaps an example would be more helpful. BTW, chapter one doesn't really have any scary moments in, so maybe that's the answer about the writing.

One example of what I'm saying is at one point there are two charlies - one a body and the other, presumably, a spirit. When the inkman appears, it's not at all clear WHICH charlie you are talking about at first, so it becomes very confusing. YOU know, but your words haven't told us readers clearly ... that's what I mean. and it happens to a lesser extant whenever the pace hots up, it seems to me. ๐Ÿ™‚

and I noticed another small thing, you sometimes 'tell' and make an author intrusion into the story POV. EG we have this strange creature etc. and we (the readers) are thinking, 'blimey, I wonder what this thing is?' then bang! you TELL us: 'the demon ...' (or something like that). The recognition of what the thing is should be by the character in the story or stated clearly in the narration, not suddenly slipped in... eg since she was a child, Mary had heard tales of 'the demon' who haunted the pond. Or earlier, you say: there were strange tales about the pond, some said a demon lived there, who ..... ' and then: 'a strange figure appeared, Mary drew in her breath in horror. It was the demon!' --- this is a bit rough, but I hope you see what I mean.

more than enough from me I think. Hope this helps, though.

Author's Reply:
Hmm ... have the about the non-scary parts in chapter one, but have thought of cutting some of it to make it shorter and get to the heart the story as there is more to come and there is a scary part on the way.

Yeah, I can see what you mean about the spirit of Charlie and the grounded Charlie. I actually thought of that myself, but hoped after a few tries it would be clearer to the reader. I guess I need to look over that part again.

I also see the point that your making too about about the telling part. I'm really trying ard to try and curb that, which is a bad habbit I've picked up and like most it's ard to break. Maybe I should rewrite the story? Can I ask you what do think should I rewrite or just edit ruthlessly?

Thanks John for your much appreciated comments on this and all the advice you have given. I'm really sorry for the late reply, but I have been cut off the internet for the last two weeks.

Lis'. xx

e-griff on 09-05-2008
Grimeons Pass
rewrite/edit? where's the difference? ๐Ÿ™‚

Author's Reply:
Lol. Well to me a rewrite to an edit can make a big difference. Come on, gimme your opinion and put me out of me misery. ;0) What do yuh honestly think, J?



Lis'. xx


Teen Thoughts (posted on: 25-04-08)
A brief look into a teenagers life and what they go through. Written for teens. Not sure if I've put it under the right genre?

Mum didn't believe the excuses I made this morning. Dead on nine o'clock I sat in registration. I didn't want to be there, but I've felt like this for three months. My stomach did somersaults every time I turned into a corridor. I was petrified to go to class. I hate English now because of her - the human boiler. That's my nickname for Charlotte Levie, she makes my life a misery. I wish I could stand up to her, so she'd leave me alone, but I'm too scared. It isn't just her though, her cousin and friend pick on me too. I don't know why they have a go at me because I haven't done anything to them. They always start an argument over something stupid. I'm usually on my own when they do because my friends are in different classes to me sometimes. I wish she'd stop picking on me. I've been seeing Darren for a month now, although we've never been on a date. I've liked him for ages and was well chuffed when he asked his friend, Chris, to ask me to go out with him. He's two years older than me and in the sixth form. All the girls like him and they were shocked when they found out. We finished at dinnertime. I'm gutted and hurt, not just because we've split up, but the way he done it and how he told me. I'll never forget it as long as I live. Darren's best mate Chris came over to me and tapped me on the shoulder. ''I got a message for you. ''Darren said he's finishing with you.'' I just stood there looking at him and then I said, ''Why?'' ''I don't know. You'll have to ask him yourself,'' said Chris. I couldn't understand it and stood there stunned. My friends tried to cheer me up. ''Sod him, plenty more fish in the sea,'' said Tracey, putting her arm around my shoulder. ''You can do better than him anyway.'' Louise folded her arms and threw him a dirty look. ''If I was you I'd ask him why!'' ''Yeah, I think I will,'' I said. As I walked over to him I had a feeling it was a bad idea. Darren and his mates stood there sniggering. When they noticed me they shut up. ''Why did you finish with me?'' ''I dumped you because I never wanted to go out with you in the first place. I only done it for a bet.'' I couldn't believe it. How could he be so cruel? What had I ever done to him? My anger bubbled inside me and I felt my face flush. ''I hate you, Darren. You're nothing but a creep.'' I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction and another excuse to make me look small in front of his friends. I felt such a fool. Their laughter followed me as I walked back to where my friends were. The rest of my day didn't get much better. By the end of dinnertime, everyone knew why Darren had finished with me. I was the school joke and most of the kids made fun of me. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Biology class was the worst. Mrs Hewitt made an excuse and left the room. I cringed when the door shut behind her. Charlotte Levie and her cronies sat behind me and I just knew I was going to have stick off them the moment the teacher's back was turned. I hoped she wouldn't be too long. Charlotte prodded me in the back with a pencil and I turned round. ''I heard that Darren finished with you today.'' ''Yeah. So what?'' ''He only went out with you for a bet.'' ''Oh, shut up.'' ''Make me.'' The next thing I knew she grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me back. I tried to get her off me, but I couldn't. A few seconds later she shoved me forward and let go of my hair. I picked my books and pencil case up and went to walk to a desk on the opposite side, but as I turned she spat in my face. That was the last straw. I walked out of the classroom, down the corridors and out of school. I spent the next hour and a half in the public toilets. It wasn't far from the school. When the bell sounded I ran through the gates and got on my bus to go home. I was glad that school was over and I could relax this weekend. Mum was in the kitchen ironing when I went in and she looked up. She asked how school went and I lied and said it was fine. Then she asked how the biology test went and I had to lie again. That was when she slammed down the iron and called me a liar. I tried to deny it. Then she told me the school had rang her and said I had been bunking off for the last three months and had been skipping certain lessons. What could I say? I had to tell her I had been, but I couldn't tell her that Charlotte Levie was the real reason and that I was getting bullied in school. How could I? Things would get much worse for me and it was bad enough now. I wish I could tell mum the truth, but I'm too frightened. I wish I could stand up to the bully, but I'm too much of a coward. I'll be glad to leave school because it won't end until I do. Maybe mum will find this and read it one day, then I won't have to tell her and she'll understand. I'm grounded for the week, but I don't care. Anything is better than facing Charlotte Levie.
Archived comments for Teen Thoughts
Sunken on 27-04-2008
Teen Thoughts
Hello Ms. Sugar. I think I've read this before? I remember the boiler line. It's not like me to remember stuff. This is surely a good sign (-;

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tomorrow the ladies (i'm just curious is all)

Author's Reply:
Hey Mr Sunken. Have you read it before? I can't remember if I put it on here before, oh well. Yes, I think it is a good sign that you remembered the boiler line. Thanks as always for stopping and readiing. :0) Lol, if tomorrow's the ladies, where will Tuesday take you? xx

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Off to see the wizard and find the yellow-brick road.

discopants on 27-04-2008
Teen Thoughts
Not far off the mark, I shouldn't think, especially the bits about being dumped by a friend of the boy and his dating her for a dare. I was kind of wanting the narrator to exact her revenge but then life's not often like that, is it? (Unless there's to be a sequel where Charlotte Levie meets a particularly grisly death).

dp

Author's Reply:
No, sh*t like that does happen to teenagers, so I guess I'm not far off the mark. Lol, there's plenty of time for the narrator to get her revenge on Charlotte Levie and excuse the phrase (especially cat lovers) but there are more ways to skin a cat, as they say, but I don't mean it literally.
Cheers for stopping by dp, much appreciated.

Lis. xx

e-griff on 28-04-2008
Teen Thoughts
yeh, I've read it before ๐Ÿ™‚

I kept an eye open for your punctuation ๐Ÿ™‚ it's fine.

a couple of small points - on presentation for the screen, I think you should put a blank line in for every para, rather than run them together as you have.

and the only error I spotted was 'had rang her' which should be 'had rung'

Author's Reply:
Oh, so I did put it on before! I've got a crap memory. What do you mean by a blank line? I'm not very computer literate. I seem to be having sending a file at the moment. :0( Cheers for checking on my punctuation and for reading and leaving a comment, much appreciated. I'll change the 'had rang' to had rung' thanks for pointing it out, I wouldn't have noticed.

Lis'. xx

sirat on 01-05-2008
Teen Thoughts
Unless of course you're writing it in the pertsona of a fourteen or fifteen-year-old, in which case she might well say 'had rang'. I liked the story and agree that a lot of people would identify with it โ€“ after all we were all this age once. It reminded me of the Janis Ian song At Seventeen, which I thinks gets through to everybody, young, old, male, female. It's a very well written and memorable piece.

The only minor technical point: I think the line breaks are a bit odd and need sorting out.

Author's Reply:
Hi Sirat. Thanks for stopping by and for your comments. I'm glad that you liked the story. Yes, I was writing in the persona of a fourteen/fifteenyear-old. I agree I think most will relate to this as we have all either gone through this sort of experience or know someone close to us that has. Not heard of the song you mentioned but wll check it out. Cheers for your advice on the line breaks too.
Sorry for the late reply, but I've been cut off the internet for two weeks.

Lis'. xx

SugarMama34 on 18-05-2008
Teen Thoughts
Wow! I'm gobsmacked. Thank you to whoever nominated this piece. I'm very grateful and thrilled that it has made such an impression on someone. Cheers.

Lis'. xx

Author's Reply: