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Dance Is A Passion, Or So They Say.

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My best friend, if asked to describe herself, will say that she is a dancer. Not that she is blonde or loud or funny. No, she is first and foremost a dancer. She says that dance is a passion which takes over your body and you can’t help yourself, but when the music starts playing you start to dance. After hearing her say this a dozen times over I began to wonder whether it was true. And even after hearing countless others in her dance group say the same, I still wondered.
To be perfectly honest, I myself love to dance. Personally, when i’m at home I think of myself as a dance goddess. But when I am dancing in front of others, even if it is just my best friend, I suddenly gain two left feet and my limbs poke out at awkward places and my hands look like squashed spiders and god-knows what the hell is going on with my facial expression. In simpler terms, I make a right fool of myself.
But in secret, I adore dancing. It just makes you feel so darned good. I am often shimmying around my flat when I know no one is looking. But I could never ever get up in front of an audience and perform. So how on earth can my best friend?
I am often in control of the light and sound system when my best friend and her dance group are putting on a performance. And of course during that time I get the chance to watch them. And they are good and they clearly enjoy what they do. And i realized why they perform. If you love doing something so much and look good while you’re doing it, why shouldn’t you flaunt it?
I became obsessed with the shapes a dancer makes with their body when they dance and how beautiful the human body can become when filled with so much passion. And I was itching to test it out with my new camera. Dancing makes for good photography, I realized. And if I can’t dance, I can take pictures. And this is how I, a non-dancer, see the beauty in dance.

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I Ask You, Why?

The most awful realization, is knowing that after reading the novel you have been working on for the past 2 years, you want to completely rewrite it from a whole new perspective.

Commence, heart falling out of your stomach…

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Wow..

Intuition hits again…

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Colour Of Darkness

This is a little something i’m working on right now. It’s a twist on the classic, Red Riding Hood and i quite like it. What do you think? Btw, it’s only the first chapter.

 

Once, in an empty town square during a time of harsh cold winter days, there was a coffee shop. The coffee shop was warm, inviting, almost irresistible. Its glowing windows and aroma of fresh ground coffee drew in caffeine addicts like moths to a flame. Just inside the coffee shop, staring out of the frosty window was a girl, 16 years of age. She had long, curly dark hair and sea blue eyes. Her skin was olive coloured and she was of slim stature. Her cheeks were flushed, as they always were, like she had permanent blusher. And her hands were clutched around a cup of coffee, white mocha to be exact with 4 sugars and extra froth. On the back of her wooden chair hung a startling red coat, old and worn yet still withholding some sort of beauty.
Every now and again she would glance out the window, tap her nails on the mahogany table and then check her mobile phone and sigh. She did this several times, in this exact sequence, before the young man entered the coffee shop.
He was tall, so much so that he had to duck slightly as he walked into the door. He was wearing a duffel coat, zipped all the way up over his mouth to just under his nose. Flopping down over his forehead was golden brown hair, meaning that the only real facial feature you could make out were his eyes which were a stormy grey. He rushed into the coffee shop, making the bell on the door ring loudly and he stalked past the girl’s table, knocking it. Her coffee went flying and with only a small squeak of indignation she stood up to stop it from going all over her.
The young man stopped, ‘Sorry.’ He mumbled. He grabbed some napkins and began mopping the coffee up.
‘It’s ok.’ She replied.
He continued to mop and without looking up asked, ‘Were you waiting for someone?’
‘How do you know?’ she frowned. This time he looked up at her and grinned. ‘A pretty young lady like herself does not sit in a coffee shop all alone. Stood you up, huh?’
She sighed. ‘Yeah, it looks like it.’
The boy looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, sorry about your coffee anyway.’ And he walked into the coffee shop towards the back. The girl just sat back down and stared at her phone again, wishing, praying, hoping.
Suddenly a fresh coffee was placed down in front of her. She looked up startled, her eyes wide. The boy was staring down at her in a friendly manner and said quite cheerfully, ‘Like i said, a pretty young lady like yourself does not sit in a coffee shop all alone.’
‘Thank you. But you really didn’t have to.’ She replied, taking the coffee.
‘Think nothing of it. So who is this idiot?’
‘Nothing more than that. An idiot.’
‘Oh certainly.’ The boy agreed. ‘He missed out on staring upon such a beautiful face as this.’ The girl blushed. ‘And may i ask the lady her name?’ he carried on.
‘Its Raeja. But most people call me Rojo.’ She said with a grin.
‘Rojo?’ said the boy frowning. ‘You do realize that in Spanish that means…’
‘Red. I know. You can blame my grandmother for that one.’
‘Interesting.’ Replied the boy with a twinkle in his eye.
‘And you? What’s your name?’ the girl asked.
The boy grinned crookedly. ‘I’m William. But most people just call me Wolf.’

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17th December 1766

Remember how earlier in the week, i said i would post a scene from my book about Samuel J Harrison? Well here it is. Btw, Sam is a vampire…

17th December 1766
‘A toast then? To my wonderful son, Samuel, 18 years of age today. A man at last.’ A portly man sat at the head of the grand old table. His face was flushed with pride, his right hand raised with a flagon of wine. He was dressed in his finery, that of the 1700’s, and his beard and moustache were grey. No hair was upon his head. He was staring down the table, past all of the friends gathered along it, at the young man whose head was bowed with embarrassment.
His hair was dark and messy, as if it had not seen a comb for days. His face, although blushing, was still remarkably pale. He was dressed rather drably, compared to the guests. On his body hung a loose cloth shirt and dark brown trousers, held up with a leather belt. His eyes were pale blue like a summer’s sky.
‘Father, it’s only one birthday. There are many more to come. Let’s not make a fuss.’ He said, piercing his father with a look.
‘Nonsense, boy! They’ll be running out before you know it!’ the portly man said joyfully.
‘You know how much i hate to be centre of attention father.’ The boy smiled briefly.
‘Aah, so much like your dear mother. She wasn’t one for attention either.’
‘Unfortunately, being the Lord of the Manors wife, it came with the package.’ The boy said quietly.
‘Of course she couldn’t help it,’ the Lord continued to his friends. ‘Being the beauty that she was.’
‘And you flaunted it as much as you could.’ Samuel said through gritted teeth.
‘She had suitors lining up at her door.’ Said the Lord, Sam’s words falling on deaf ears. ‘Why she chose me i dont know!’
‘I sometimes wonder myself.’ Sam hissed, coming increasingly more agitated by his fathers words. His hands were clenched under the table.
‘Ahhh her beauty never faded. Not even on her death bed. And she says to me, look after Sam for me. Make sure he grows into a fine young man. I kept my word. I mean, just look at him!’
At this Sam stood, scraping his chair loudly along the floor. ‘i’m going for a ride.’
The Lord look bewildered. ‘but you have not touched your meal.’
‘I’ll have Cook make me something later.’ Sam said as he grabbed his cloak and stalked out of the door. The air was chilly, the sky exceptionally dark. Pale flakes of snow nestled in Samuels dark hair and on his soft cloak as he stormed to the stables. The stables were around the back of the large manor house. They were filled with hay, the smell of horse and excited whinnies. Samuel went straight to his horse. He was black, like coal, all except the white star on his left ear. Strong as an ox, as loyal as a dog, he was Sam’s best friend. His name was Jasper.
‘Good night for riding my old friend.’ Sam whispered as he harnessed him and strapped up his saddle. Jasper whinnied.
‘I think we should go down to the village, don’t you?’ Sam whispered again, voicing his inner thoughts. ‘We should take a few hours, please ourselves. Perhaps go to the tavern? Yes, that’ll annoy the old fool.’ Sam whispered viciously.
The horse only stamped his foot. ‘Or perhaps i should go and see Clara.’ Sam said quietly. ‘But if father catches me there. He’ll string me up by my pants and Clara…well Clara will lose her job. Her whole family will starve without her. No, we mustn’t go and see Clara. We’ll go to the tavern.’ Sam wrapped up his thoughts and mounted his horse with a cry, ‘To the tavern, Jasper!’
And they galloped loudly out of the stable doors, down the hill and towards the glowing lights of the village. The village was small, yet jolly. It had everything the villagers could ever need including a mighty fine pub, The Dirty Donkey. This was where everyone went to have a good time, even the Lord himself. The Lord was a kind man, and a fair ruler. The villagers quite happily drunk with him, and in turn, favoured his son. Samuel could go into that pub with no coins in his pocket, yet still come out of it, staggering under the weight of all he had drunk.
When Sam arrived, the merriment was already underway. He beckoned the stable boy towards him. ‘You there.’ He said gently.
‘Yessir?’ Asked the young boy, tripping over his too big boots.
‘Take Jasper into the stables. Make sure he is fed and watered well.’
‘Yessir.’ Said the boy with a sharp nod, causing the hat on his head to slip over his eyes.
‘And boy?’ Sam called out to him as he walked away. The young lad turned, his hand adjusting his hat. ‘Take this for your troubles.’ Sam said, flipping a golden coin in his direction.
‘Oh thank you, Sir!’ the boy cried joyously.
Sam grinned and strode into the pub. There were bundles of people crowded around tables, singing songs, banging flagons of beer on the table tops. There were shouts and jeers and laughter. The place glowed of happiness and unity. Sam drank it all in.
‘Samuel, sir! What be you doing here?’ Cried the landlord, Harry.
‘I be wanting some beer, that’s what, Harry!’ replied Sam, easily slipping into what he called village-speak. He perched on a stool and reached into his moneybag.
‘Oi, you dont put a penny on tha’ table. You drinks for nout in my pub.’ Harry said sharply as he poured the beer.
‘Jus’ because i be the Lord o’ the Manors son don’t mean nout, Harry. I pay me way like any fellow in this here pub!’ Sam said slamming the coin down on the top.
Harry, not wanting to refuse any money, just nodded and slid him his beer.
‘Hey, it in’t your birthday now is it, Sam?’ Harry asked.
Sam nodded. ‘But dont say nout Harry. I jus’ wants a quiet drink.’ At that the door flew open.
‘Oh, it dont looks like you be getting tha’, my boy.’ Harry said quietly, staring at the newcomer.
Sam whipped his head around and his eyes widened. ‘Clara?’ he said incredulously. What’s she doing all the way out here?
Clara was beautiful. She had long, dark curly hair which blew all around her shoulders. Her eyes were big and blue and her skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Her lips were as red as ripe strawberries and nose as cute as a button. Snow glistened on the hood of her tattered burgundy cloak.
‘Oh master Sam, thank Goodness!’ she cried upon spotting him.
‘Clara, what is it?’ Sam asked worried.
‘It’s the Lord, sir. He asked me to find you. I’ve been everywhere.’ She said breathlessly.
Sam smiled. ‘How many times do i have to remind you Clara? Dont call me sir.’
‘I know that. But we’re in a public place.’ She hissed. ‘if your father…’
‘But he is not here!’ Sam said, brushing her cheek. ‘only friends.’
‘Friends who talk! But you need to get up to the manor now! Your father is incredibly angry.’
‘He’s always angry.’ Sam said dismissively.
‘He’s the angriest i’ve ever seen him Sam.’ Clara said anxiously.
‘Clara, my sweet dont you worry. I shall deal with him.’ Sam said, cupping her face in his hands.
‘Samuel! Behave yourself!’ Clara said sharply. ‘i shall lose my job.’
‘I dont see what is wrong with…’ Sam started.
‘I’ll tell you what’s wrong, mister! I am your scullery maid! And your father if he ever found out about us, he’d disown you and sack me. You’d have no money and i shall starve to death. Is that what you want?’
‘all i want Clara, is somewhere you and me could be together. Somewhere true love trumps status and social normality.’ Sam said furiously.
‘You dream too big, Sam.’ Clara said sadly.
‘Sometimes you dont dream big enough.’ Sam said stoutly. ‘Don’t you want to get away from this place? Some place where no one knows us, where i can pay for my beer like any other man, and we can be in love like any other couple.’ He looked her in the eye.
‘How many beers has Harry served you?’ Clara asked, squinting at him.
‘I’m not intoxicated, if that’s what you mean, Clara. I’m serious. I could have horses ready within the hour.’
Clara’s eyes widened in shock. ‘Master Sam, stop thinking such silly things!’
‘All i ever do is think of such silly things, Clara!’
‘Well you shouldn’t! It’ll get you in such trouble!’
‘With who? My father?’ Sam demanded, his eyes dark. ‘I dont care about him, or his values.’
Clara ran her hand through Sam’s unkempt hair. ‘What should i do with you, Samuel?’ she whispered.
‘You could agree with me.’ Sam whispered back.
‘I..’
‘Think about it. We could be gone before anyone noticed. I could take enough gold to last until we find work.’ He interrupted.
‘What would my mother think if i ran off with a man i wasn’t even betrothed to?’ Clara said shrilly.
Sam smiled warmly. ‘I’m sure we could do something about that.’
‘Master Sam!’ Clara exclaimed. ‘You’re not serious!’
Sam grinned. ‘Clara, Daughter of Rothenbod, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Clara just gaped at him, not saying a word. Sam’s smile faltered. ‘Don’t you love me Clara?’ he asked.
‘Of course i do Samuel!’ Clara scolded.
‘Then why the hesitation?’ Sam frowned.
‘Because you only proposed in order to get me to go along with your wily ways! You think of it as a joke, Sam!’
‘Oh Clara, how could you believe that?’ he said, his face softening. ‘I love you. I’ll shout it as loud as the rooftops. I LOVE YOU CLARA ROTHENBOD!’ Sam stood up from the bar stool and threw his arms wide, shouting at the top of his lungs. Most of the men stopped drinking and stared over at them. Sam grinned wickedly. ‘I ask you again Clara, will you become my wife?’
‘Yes.’ Clara whispered. And Sam lifted her into his arms and whirled her around, kissing her gently. The men in the pub cheered heartily. Only Harry looked worried. ‘Oh the Lord aint going to like this, Sam. Marrying the scullery maid? The shame!’ Harry shook his head.
Sam stopped kissing Clara and glared over at Harry.
‘I’ve loved this woman ever since we were children, when Cook and my mother let us play together. My father cannot stop true love, Harry. Nothing can.’

Chloe blinked. What had she just seen? How had she seen it? She was still holding the ring she had picked up off of the floor. She turned it in her hand, wondering.
‘Having fun rummaging through my memories, Chloe?’ a voice rang through the room. Chloe jumped and dropped the ring. She turned around to face the figure in the doorway. Sam’s eyes were furious, his mouth set in a grim line. He was lounging casually against the door frame yet his body was tense.
‘Sam, I…’
‘What did you see?’ Sam said in a tight voice.
‘You were in a pub and there was this girl..’ Chloe whispered.
‘Clara.’ Sam whispered, closing his eyes.
‘Who was she?’ Chloe asked.
‘My first love.’ Sam replied.
‘Did you get married?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then?’
Sam opened his eyes and smiled, showing all of his teeth. ‘What do you think?’
‘Oh.’ Chloe gulped. ‘How…how did i see that?’
‘Some objects hold a lot of sentimental value. The memories associated with it can be imprinted upon it. I’ve spent a lot of time holding that ring, just remembering. Someone with great power can then tap into those memories and see them, as if in a vision.’ Sam explained.
‘This was your wedding ring wasn’t it?’ Chloe whispered.
‘Yes. Which memory did you see, exactly?’ Sam asked.
‘You got engaged.’
‘Oh yes.’ Sam smiled dreamily. ‘That was one of the best moments of my life.’
‘You seemed so happy..’
‘Yes well, what is the saying nowadays? Shit happens.’ Sam said bitterly.
Chloe could only nod. Poor Sam. He had had a life, a wife and it had all been ripped away from him in a mere moment. She could feel herself welling up and she blinked furiously to stop the tears that were threatening to spill over. No wonder Sam was so cynical about life.
‘Chloe? Are you ok?’ Sam said, looking worried.
‘Yeah. Fine.’ She said wiping her eyes.
‘Why the hell are you crying?’ Sam looked confused.
‘You were so happy and now…’ she whispered.
Sam crossed his arms. ‘i think i got over it a couple of decades ago.’
‘Did you ever see her after…you know.’ Chloe asked awkwardly.
Sam’s throat muscles tightened. ‘Once.’
‘How was it?’ Chloe asked cautiously.
‘How do you think?’ Sam snarled.
Chloe averted her gaze. ‘Sorry.’ She mumbled.
Sam sighed and walked into the room. He sank into the wicker chair by the window and ran his hands through his hair. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘I asked.’ Chloe shrugged.
‘That does not mean it is your fault though does it?’ Sam said in a clipped tone.
‘I shouldn’t have brought it up.’
Sam stared at her for a second, then began speaking very quietly and very slowly. ‘I did go back to see her. A few years after the change. I thought i had a bit more control over myself and i thought that i could go and see her without anything bad happening. I was naive. I thought she could look past the fact that i was damned and would still love me. I was wrong. She had gone back to live with her mother. I remember watching the house for days, waiting for the right moment. At last i did it. She opened the door and i remember the look on her face. Mingled shock and terror.’ Sam paused and drew in a deep breath. ‘She didn’t speak. She screamed. I tried to calm her. I told her everything was ok. All she could say was, ‘you died.’ Over and over again. I explained that it wasn’t quite the way she thought it was. she stopped screaming enough to demand an explanation. I deliberated over truth or lies. In the end i decided on truth. But all that did was make her scream further. ‘You are not my Sam.’ She spat. And then a tiny voice came from inside the house. ‘Mummy? Why are you screaming?’ i remember her eyes widening in terror. A little boy came into my view. He looked about 3, maybe 4. He had her curly dark hair. And he had my eyes.’ Sam’s face contorted in pain. Chloe resisted the urge to hug him. ‘Everything had gone deathly silent. My eyes, wide, flitted between Clara and the little boy. ‘Mummy, who is this man?’ he asked. Then Clara found her voice. ‘Samuel, stay away from him.’ both of us answered at the same time. ‘Why?’ Clara started getting hysterical. She began pushing the young boy back into the house, trying to close the door behind her at the same time. I stopped it with my foot. I leant in towards her and whispered in her ear. She froze. ‘Is he mine?’ i asked, in a low voice. ‘Yes.’ She whispered, brokenly. Then she threw a wooden cross at me and slammed the door.’
‘Oh Sam.’ Chloe choked.
‘After that, i was so angry that i showed the human world the very meaning of ‘vampire’. They were some of my darkest months. But i stopped myself in time to realize that my son needed me. I had money. Vampires can acquire it any which way they need to. So, every few weeks i would leave a little bag of gold coins on the door step. I was never seen by Clara or the boy. I don’t know if she used the money or if she knew it was from me. If she had known, i doubt she would have used it. I watched him grow up, hidden in the shadows of his life. I watched him fall in love, get married, become a father and eventually die. His funeral was entirely funded by me. And i was there, watching through the window. I wasn’t the best father, but at least i had seen him all the way through his life.’
‘Sam, you poor poor man.’ Chloe sobbed.
‘It was years ago.’
‘And yet you still hurt.’
Sam looked away, his body tensing up. ‘Is that why you hate love so much? Because it was taken away from you?’ Chloe said quietly.
Sam’s head whipped around so quickly, Chloe was surprised he didn’t crick his neck. He glared at her so viciously that she had the urge to run out the room really fast and to never come back again. ‘I dont like love’ he barked, ‘because all good things end. I lost the love of my life. Nothing lasts Chloe, except the bad stuff. That lasts alright. I’m a prime example.’
‘You’re not bad. Just, cynical.’
‘Oh sweet naive Chloe. You’ve only seen one side of me. Be glad of that.’
Chloe sat in silence for a few moments, knowing that Sam was wallowing in a pit of self hatred and she knew that to disturb him would be a very bad idea. Eventually he spoke again.
‘Sometimes i plague myself with ‘what if’s’.’ He said.
‘Oh, Sam that’s not a good idea.’ Chloe said worriedly.
‘I realize that. But i cannot help myself.’
‘Have you heard from Lily, lately?’ Chloe said desperately, trying to deviate from the sorrowful route of conversation.
‘She is ill.’ Sam said, monotone.
‘Oh.’ Was all Chloe could say.
Suddenly Sam stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. His own were blazing in fury. ‘Do you see what i mean Chloe? About nothing lasting? The world will keep on spinning, no matter if you need it to slow down enough for you to catch your breath. I met Lily not long after my disastrous meeting with Clara and i thought ‘finally!’ some good luck at last. But it does not last. She’s dying and there is nothing, NOTHING i can do about it. The universe laughs at me Chloe, it laughs at all of us. Because there are some things we cannot stop, cannot foresee. Happiness only lasts for a short while. Misery comes back again and again. ONLY THE BAD THINGS LAST CHLOE!’ Sam yelled. ‘Only the bad things.’ He finally choked. And all of a sudden he was no longer sat on the chair. He was no longer even in the room. He had ran away. He had gone.

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A Dark Character

A character of mine in my book, Samuel J Harrison, is going through some dark times at the moment. i have to admit that i am enjoying writing his scenes. i decided to explore his past and uncovered some heart wrenching secrets about him. it was hard to write but it was worth it. i will upload the scene over the weekend. Read and review please!

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3 Amazing Things That Have Happened To Me In The Year 2012

#1 – I Made a New Best Friend

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Yep, that’s right, this year i made an absolute best-friend-for-life in Olivia Turner-Smith. Although we were in the same year, in the same classes we had never really ‘clicked’ before. We kind of ran in different circles, forever missing each other. And yet, by some sort of miracle, January 17th 2012, we started on an amazing friendship. Possibly it was because a friend of mine said ‘hey, Olivia’s alright! We should speak to each other more!’ or because i have a tendancy to take people under my wing (Olivia was going through a pretty rough time). Whatever it was, the transistion between briefly saying ‘hi’ in classes to going on mad camping trips together on the coast of Wales was incredibly smooth. Not only did i get to be friends with Olivia this year, but also with her amazing (if a little mad) family. They all hold a special place in my heart and i think if it wasn’t for Olive, this year would not have been as amazing as it has.

#2 – I Got Me Some Independancy

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Previously, my parents had a pretty tight hold on me. But this year, i have not stopped, socially. Two trips to Weston-Super-Mare with friends, four absolutely amazing (very drunken) parties, a crazy weekend camping, a trip to Paris and of course going out somewhere every single day inbetween. I have had so much freedom this year that i am feeling rather giddy with it all. What i will treasure most are the memories (and hilarious photos).

#3 – I Discovered My Love Of Writing

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Although i had a slight suspicion that i might enjoy writing before the beginning of this year, this year it was finalized. I wrote my book in a frenzy, i started writing on anything i could find, i carried notebooks around with me. I even branched out to poetry when i found i absolutely loved the english module we were doing on the art. I also finalized my career, journalism, and chose my college course accordingly. It was a real discovery of self. It was a goal set in my path, whereas before i had been roaming in the dark, kind of going in the right direction but never being sure of whether i actually was.

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