Creative: Lies and Secrets (short story)

One of the joys of this blog has been able to share the things that interest me and that have grabbed my attention. It’s also been great to have shown you some of my creative works with you in the past, including my poetry and writing process.  So I thought why not put up one of my short stories, one I’ve always had a soft spot for.

To give a bit of context. I wrote Lies and Secrets in college (the photo would have been taken a year or two later – I’m on the right) and even won some book vouchers when I entered it into a local competition. At the time I was writing lots of short stories and was even part of a weekly writing group. What with Google, Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn, it hasn’t dated well but I still feel an attachment for it. Do you like it? I’d welcome any feedback so please let me know what you think.

very very old pic

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Creative: A Life in the Day

A newspaper I’ve been reading since I was a teenager has always had a back page feature entitled ‘A Life in the Day’; a reverse reference to the famous Beatles song. In it, a celebrity or even an ordinary person will explain a regular day and how that relates to their life. It continues to this day, and a few years ago I bought the 25th Anniversary book. As part of a writing project, I wrote one myself when I was 18. It’s amazing to look back the hopes, dreams and routine of myself over a decade ago. I hope you like it. And no, I still don’t drink tea or coffee.

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Creative: Before the Embryo

I’ve read so many great creative pieces by bloggers on here, and with some even explaining their process of writing, that I wanted to share something the way I write. I penned this years ago, before even going to university so it’s quite a feeling to look back on it. Hope you all like it.

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Creative: Yesterday’s Tomorrow

Unlost yesterdays lie luxuriously while life flies fast forwards
Lovingly lasting in memory, they await instruction
For when they must be ready for repeated viewings
By the audience comforted by blurred certainty.

But what those memories know, as we know,
Is that yesterdays can rust to nothing
And so unexplored and unfelt memories
Must be allowed to crash the revolving stage.

Because the roulette wheel is best when spinning
And triumph waltzes with infinite shades of possibilities
At kaleidoscopic speeds with unveiled messages
That life is not remembering but redesigning, living not reliving.

Creative: As the Night Fades

As the night fades to nothingness
And the nothingness fades back to light,
I sit alone staring at the sky
Lay ever infinitely away, ponder what I am thinking.

That laying before a heartless horizon I so adore
I am destined to be replaced,
And never to be traced,
Back to the chance for a paradise I never faced.

But I am to be comforted.

The sky will always sleep above me,
It guarding me forever,
Until that nothingness
never dies again…
And again…
And again…

Creative: Nightworld

Amidst the silence, shadows and cloak of secrecy,
Amongst the dismayed, disgusted and despaired
There lies a place: unseen, unheard of.
Beyond anything, care or repair
Filled with haunted, taunted, distorted souls,
Who, tortured by the tainted night
Create their own images and ideas.
The thoughts and fears,
Become tantrums and tears
As those lost souls wait patiently by the door
For new members to arrive and fall.

Creative: The Hand of Nature

The cold, transparent, frozen, hand of Winter
with its heavy, shivering, fingers
and sharp yet fragile claws,
touches all it can see,
covering three season’s worth of nature
with its web of glass,
and the haunting words it uses
confirms its work has been done.

Spring’s hand gently yet forcefully
pushes Winter aside
with its leafy green, smooth, steady fingers,
and removes all of Winter’s trace
with a few brief touches
that have been rehearsed for so long,
concluding with a lovely melody
that it sings quietly with perfect rhythm.

Summer’s decorated, dextrous, talented hand
joyfully arrives,
waving goodbye to spring,
while at the same time
summoning the rest of the animal kingdom,
who are attracted,
by the infinite shades of yellow,
and the hypnotically enchanting
wordless song sung with such happiness.

Autumn’s hand gives a quiet signal
to the ever rejoicing Summer,
before the ever different creatures
are warned
by the warm, comforting, auburn
cloak more than hand,
through repeated murmers,
that those heavy, shivering fingers
are not far away.