Saturday, 22 November 2014

After a long Hiatus..


So, a lot has changed in my life since I last wrote in this blog. I have been to University and come out the other side for a start! I have decided what to do with my life and begun it, working in the Film and TV industry (it's not as glamorous as it sounds!). In between working in that freelance industry, I am focusing on establishing a portfolio and client base for illustration and graphic design work. While I throw myself into demanding and difficult creative industries, I cannot resist any outlet for creativity; and there's something really wonderful about communicating the invented worlds you imagine using only words to absorb readers. I have been reading Robert Jordan's wonderful 'Wheel of Time' series for a shameful three years now - my student life didn't leave as much spare time as one might imagine! The world is so encompassing, so vast, and the characters so real that it cannot fail to inspire - and so, as I am in between jobs at the moment, I figured why not give it a shot again.

So without further notice, this one's been floating around in my head for a while..

Liahm stood in the shadows, his cigarette, gripped between dirty fingers, adding a lazy trail of smoke to the grey mist surrounding him. The air was thick and smoggy, the orange glow from the sodium light orb barely pervading through to highlight his solitary figure. Liahm's fingers trembled as he pulled out his battered, standard issue cigarette case, to see sixteen of twenty four slots empty, he let out a faint curse and his sigh formed a cloud of white noise in the cold. He had broken curfew, that would cost him tokens, last week's token, paid in for cigarettes, should have lasted him two weeks, now it'd have to last another. HR already had him on watch for unruly behaviour - it was a wonder he'd been allowed out tonight at all. His family belonged to the Textile sector, the corporation wasn't soft and lax on rules like the Education sector, but they only voluntarily involved the agency from time to time. He would go unnoticed this time. As he left the alley, and walked through the mist, towards the main waterway, Liahm hummed to himself. The sound was eerie as it echoed through the narrow walkways and suspended tunnels of the towering worker's accommodation above. His family lived up on the nineteenth floor. They had progressed sixteen floors since his grandfathers time, finally leaving behind the shame of his great grandfather's transfer from the Steel sector. His mother had told him stories of it as a child, to scare him into good behaviour no doubt. They were tales of continued beatings and abuse, all for the incriminating X tattooed on his great grandfather's arm; even after a dedicated adulthood serving the textile sector. No-one had ever told him why his grandfather was transferred, usually when a deal was made for a labour swap, the sectors chose their least capable, or the trouble makers. His grandfather and father had coldly dedicated their lifetimes to loosing the black mark that haunted the family, resentfully blaming his great grandfather even after his death. Liahm scowled and kicked a stone, his family's mistakes had led to a childhood of pressure, a basic schooling - he was a bottom level export from the education sector, expected to follow his father in raising the family name further in the textile sector. His father dreamed of a minor management position, the small aspirations of a man who saw no further than the corporation that owned him. Liahm leaned over the railings, tossing the stub of his cig. into the slow moving waterway, watching it slowly sink beneath the sludge coloured algae, on its way Bio-fuel plant. He'd get a notice through for littering, everything was seen by invisible eyes at the agency. Surely that's mean more tokens were sinking out of his reach, as surely as the smoking stub. He cursed his own inability to conform, running a hand through his messy mop, nearly an inch longer than regulation. He turned and dragged his feet towards his home, a standard issue annex to a mid level family flat in tier H, ending another evening in a well practised routine of solitary loitering. Rather that than surrounding himself with those who could not see to question the injustice of their lives, and the tyranny of the world that oppressed them. Liahm spat his anger at the unforgiving ground and looked up to see a jet black van pull up opposite him. A distorted voice, deep and inhuman spoke from a mounted speaker on the van,

"Liahm Jon Eliott. Former employee of the Textile sector, you are in the custody of the Unemployment Agency, you are Unemployed until further notice. Come Quietly and do not break the Order."Liahm closed his eyes, time seemed as inexplicably frozen as his own body, unable to move from pure terror - he heard a distant crash as his cigarette case hit on the hard concrete pavement, fallen from his unaware hands. It jogged the immobilising shock from his mind. Unemployment.

Liahm turned and ran into the darkness of the approaching night, with one purpose only, to escape and never return.

So, let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you,


Monday, 4 April 2011

D is for.. (and A and B and C!)

D is for... Daring
The dive was dauntingly ambitious. The turbulent waves below called mockingly as if in challenge to the pale soft flesh above. Thoughts ran in circles around her head, as unable to be still and silent as the relentless tide below. Strong fingers run through cropped short hair and rub salty breezes from open glazed eyes, the horizon did not seem so far away. One small step towards the invincible line that ruled all. One small step. The air rushing around snapped material tightly around her figure, whipped her hair like rats tails against her tightly squeezed eyes. Scrunched toes met icy oblivion, biting at her limbs. Her eyelashes darkened as water pervades through to open glazed eyes. A pull on strong muscles defeating the thick density of the foe, a gasp of precious air. Breakthrough.  
C is for... Command
Thick black smoke pervades through invisible sustenance.
Delicate pastel flowers surround an exhausted, great, felled oak,
Dancing flames lick and char, while playful rain runs paths on leaves.
Gentle winds and earthy allure play divine games across humble lands,
When roaring flame and surging seas take their cruel command.
B is for... Bumble Bee
Buzzing bumbling bumble bee, 
busy bumbling by.
By buzzing, bees boast big bristles,
brushing, blushing bluebells.

I wanted to see if I could write something using only Bs!
A is for... Aardvark
The poor little Aardvark is so readily scorned,
The first in the dictionary, and so often adorned
with the misnaming of Anteater, when it is not really so.
But really, if you must begin with not one A but two,
Well then, there you go!

'The aardvark (Orycteropus afer) (afer: from Africa) is a medium-sized, burrowing, nocturnal mammal native to Africa. It is the only living species of the order Tubulidentata, although other prehistoric species and genera of Tubulidentata are known.'

Hope you enjoyed my variety of titbits! Sorry It's all in one load, -slaps wrists. See you tomorrow!
Em x

Tuesday, 22 March 2011

Opening New Worlds

Hello all! I have just finished writing a piece for a new world and character I have created, what do you think?


Zai Brandon lay on the hot grey sand, unconsciously trickling lost empires through his slender fingers. He had his eyes shut, beyond his thick green goggles, as defence against the fiery rage of the huge red sun that dominated the sky. Still his face was creased against the light and he turned his head to one side, gently laying an arm across his burning skin. He was surrounded for miles by mountainous dunes of grey dust. The last remainders of unimaginable prosperity, he had been told. Now his own town was the largest to be found in a three day radius. Zai sat up, squinting at the green tinted horizon through his goggles. They were flashing various numbers and information on the screen floating before his eyes, and he cycled through the weather forecasts. Nothing to see. Sighing, Zai stood stretching his long limbs in fluid movements, and yawned at the saturated sky. He picked up his lovingly crafted board, perfectly shaped to shoot through the dusty air like a fish in the water. He powered it up, watching the green lights illuminating the surface flicker on in succession. Zai looked up and scanned the horizon once again, watching the red numbers change with the rolling terrain. The goggles had been a prize from his first boarding contest, he'd always shown promise, even as a kid. 

As Zai easily stepped onto the gently humming board that hovered a span from the sand, he begin to drift along, feeling the gently cooling effect of the wind, whispering past his face. He grinned to himself, pulled the thin scarf he wore around his neck over his mouth, and kicked back on the accelerator. He had to admire his workmanship as the board seamlessly zoomed forwards, responding to his gentle leaning with swooping curves. He drifted to a stop, scanning the horizon to find the perfect place to practice. Suddenly the numbers on the screen began to falter, as if unsure of their accuracy. 20...36..07. Zai panicked. He had never seen fluctuation so large! He winced as the numbers grew higher. Sure enough, as expected the sound of sirens begun to drone through the thick air. It was a stifling and oppressive sound, a reminder of the imbalance of power. The winds would come, and no one ever would return. Zai felt a sincere and drowning dread flood his body. He was hours from home, there was nowhere to go. He closed his eyes, willing the pervasive sound of the siren to leave. Still it penetrated his panicked thoughts, chasing them away to be utterly useless. He scanned the horizon again, tears of desperation leaking down his face. No one ever came back from a sand storm. Yet he could have sworn he saw a glint on the horizon, a faint glimmer of hope that fought through the repeating sirens, floating on the rising winds. The bunker. He stepped forward on his board, fighting through the biting wind, gnawing at his skin. He headed directly over the towering dunes towards the bunker, and directly towards the growing, billowing, clouds of black dust, clouds of oblivion. They were growing enormous and monstrous, moving faster than possible. Spinning up the air, and engulfing it's purity. Zai gritted his teeth against the pain of a million tiny grains hitting his skin, and pushed his body and his board to the limit, to beat the monster of nature. He rocked from side to side, as if in a boat on turbulent seas, but still he moved forwards, using his weight to precariously propel himself. Just a few more seconds to safety, just a few more to potential oblivion. 

Zai jumped off his board and dragged it with him as he dived for the steel door emerging from the sand. his fingers numbly, desperately punched in the emergency code, and the door slid open to the safety air lock. Zai gasped as he threw himself into the space, inhaling particles and choking. The door slid shut with a slam, which echoed in the confined area. Zai collapsed his heart racing and his throat dry from the grit. Once he had recovered a little, he opened the second door to reveal a sight of comfort and safety. A blissful smile crossed his face as he swept his blond hair out of his face and removed his goggles to reveal expressive green eyes. It had been close, but he was alive.


Let me know, drop me a comment!

Thanks, Em :)

Saturday, 12 March 2011

Dear Patient Followers

I do apologise, I have been gone for so very long! Due to a mass of school work and A level fun I've been rather swamped and unable to post. However do not fear, I have returned! I can't promise to be hugely reliable though!

So to make up for my time away, I am posting two extracts from a role play I was part of a little while ago:

May slowly undressed, allowing the tears to fall freely down her cheek. She tasted the warm, salty moistness on her lips, and lightly dashed away the flow, feeling the softness of her skin. She stood at the window, only her undergarments protecting her modesty to the darkness of the night. As she stood, she began to feel the elation of her change, the tingling sensation in her limbs. She closed her eyes, leaning back her head, and breathing a little shallowly. She felt a long shiver travel down her back, and through her arms and legs like a bolt of energy. May opened her eyes, their intensive green starring out harshly into the night. She found herself on the windowsill, poised in perfect balance. She felt the strength in her muscles and the absolute sensitivity in her awareness. The change was complete. 
May dived. There was no fear, no sense of being out of control now. She pulled up, feeling the wind driving upwards on her wings. The massive eagle form spiralling upwards far above the city and the clouds into the eternity of the night sky. May was eventually free, in her eagle form, she was able to use all her senses to a point unimaginable to the human mind. She could feel every twisting thread of wind, laughing and twirling around her, as if playful children. She could hear the roar of the sea, angry and violent, and the gentle song of the whispering wind, amongst the fragile leaves. She could taste the bitter salt of the sea air, reminiscent of her bitter tears just minutes before, yet it seemed so simple now, the tears so unnecessary when compared to the enormity of nature. Most treasured of all, was May's emphasised sense of sight, she embraced it and it made her life worth living. Every night when she flew on the winds, the sight of the world from so far above filled her with a wonder and joy unachievable through any earthly pleasures. The mountains and the valleys seemed to be a continuous form, reaching up to the heavens and down to the core of the earth, the forests reached out their arms for miles, spreading their thick coats over the luscious green skin, moist and full of the goodness of life. May glided, feeling every heightened sense of the world come together to paint a picture of beauty and serenity. This view of the world, the beauty of nature that those looking from the perspective of mankind could never truly see, was her secret, all hers, and she treasured it more than life itself. 
May spent much of the night hunting, appreciating the thrill that is the chase, and the relish in the triumphant catch. After staying as long as she felt she could she flew back to the city, enjoying the flight home somewhat childishly, swooping and catching herself before the fall. Upon reaching the city, she slowed, carefully navigating, as she had so many times before, to her home. She stealthily arrived, feeling the power drain from her as she entered through the open windows. May felt the shivers and the draining of her senses, she contorted her face, and curled up into an embryonic form as the elation left. This transformation was not so pleasant as the first, convulsions wreaking her body as she felt the weak frailty of the human form returned to her. She shed one more bitter tear, out of frustration and pain that she could not just stay bound to the freedom of her other self, before collapsing onto the soft, silk sheets in a state of exhaustion. The secret was all hers.


Upon escaping the marketplace, May swiftly made her way up to an isolated graveyard, hidden through a passage of leafy trees and tall grass. May was glad she had worn her practical clothing. There was rarely anyone there, and if they were they often left upon her presence. May entered a stone family crypt, a monumental structure containing several graves and two intricately carved alters to leave prayers to Lleweyln and Conor, the forbidden lovers. May sighed and knelt before them as she always did mouthing the familiar devotion- 

'Mother above, May you rise in the morning, and give us your warmth and your guidance.Father above, May you light through the darkness, and and show us the path to your truth. Portaere lae lucae di guidae di amore ci, - May the light of love guide us in darkness.'
- 'How appropriate' she mused cynically. 

May bowed her head - so few came here and said the devotion anymore, the words once echoed freely through the holy crypt, but now the words sounded hollow and lonley, unheard and uncared for. May sighed and brushed away a tear. She stepped out the crypt and looked around before darting into a secret stairway leading to a small bell tower. She quickly pulled off her clothes, and stood in the chill wind in her undergarments, shivering from the cold and fear of discovery. She briefly bundled up her clothes, tying a sturdy knot in the leather cloth and attaching the bundle around her leg, it would feel lighter soon enough. May closed her eyes willing the tingling magic sensation to overcome her, to corse through her veins and transform her. The sensation was brief, the process was easier, but then she had been using the magic more recently, building her will and her stamina. May thought only of the destination as she flew in her eagle form, ignoring the playful wind and snaking forest. She followed the winding river back to a of the tributary mouth, a idylic clearing, rocky caves surrounded by exotic fruits and rainforest, there was a cooling lake with a small waterfall over a hidden cave - it was there she was aiming, and she shot to the earth good and true. The giant eagle form landed in the lake, splashing around cleaning her feathers and enjoying the cool water after the rapid flight. After a short while May reluctantly let the feeling of magic bring her back to earth back to the human that she was - after all she had work to do. She lay in her weakened stated, exposed in her revealing undergarments on the banks of the lake, letting the wind dry her body of the effort. She had found this isolated oasis upon flying some time ago and had rested in the caves. After exploring for quite some time she had discovered a previously inhabited cave. There were provisions and strange ancient languages scratched forcefully into the wall. Tribal patterns drawn on the floor, which tasted of magic, the cave had a sinister echo and May had left afraid of what she may discover. Well she had run for long enough, she had a nasty feeling that deep down she knew who the inhabitants were and that it had been the footsteps of her destiny to find the cave that day all that time ago. May sat up as the exhaustion trickled away from her leaving her with more inquistitiveness. Suddenly May froze, she did not cover herself up, she not not move a muscle at all, for she had a terrible feeling that something in the darkness, something with no good intention was watching her, and waiting to pounce.

There you go! Hope you enjoyed that little insight into one of my fantasy characters!

Sunday, 12 December 2010

Micro fiction Monday!

Microfiction Monday is a challenge where Susan, at Stony River provides a picture and we have only 140 characters to come up with a story. 

This Monday's image:

‘There’s a hole in my bucket’, dear Liza did call,
When Henry replied with a foolish ‘then fix it’,
Henry didn't see the bucket coming at all!

A play on the old nursery rhyme, hope you enjoyed it!

Em x

Saturday, 11 December 2010

HP Blogfest!

Hi all!
Today I am posting my entry for Michael's (over at In Time...) Harry Potter themed blogfest! Here is the brief:

In honor of HP, I would like to have an HP blogfest. In 500 words, I would like you to create a scene with any of the HP characters from any of the seven books. It could be anything you want. Funny, magical, serious, etc. And for an added twist, let's have it set during the holidays. Christmas or Thanksgiving. 

In addition to this we also had to involve ourselves in the scene! This I'll admit I found tough, trying to write how I would genuinely think and react was quite challenging! Still I couldn't resist placing myself as a student in Hogwarts when the opportunity arrived, having been a long held fantasy of mine. I hope you enjoy my story!

I walked slowly down the corridor, trailing a finger on the rough, familiar stone and humming a festive tune. My stomach was contentedly full with rich, moist chocolate cake and warm eggnog, and I smiled somewhat wistfully. As I had sat at the friendly Hufflepuff table, my last Christmas at Hogwarts had a sense of both celebration and sadness. Lost in the sentimental musings of my mind, I did not notice a hovering light down the corridor. Upon finally seeing it, I froze, unable to prevent the irregular hammering of my heart in my chest. I swallowed dryly, an irrational fear suggesting possibilities to my mind and I shook my head as if to dispel them.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice cracking in the darkness of the corridor. I cursed myself for offering to help clear up after the feast, forgetting the dark walk back to the dorms. “I’m a prefect you know…” I stuttered trying to place some kind of authority in my voice. The only reply I received was a snigger and an unintelligible whisper. I sighed, raising an eyebrow; I had fallen into a Christmas prank it seemed. I ventured forward in a somewhat tentative manner, looking around for the usual traps. There were no dungbombs or stink pellets as it seemed to my trained eye, only the hovering candle.
A rustle of paper from that direction, caused me to frown and search for movement in the dark alcoves of the passage; still I could see no-one.  There were sudden curses in chorus of male voices and a hissed “It’s Lily”. I glanced around in wonder, as feet seemed to hurry across the corridor, seemingly with no bodies. The candle fell to the cold stone floor with an echoed crash, and the light was extinguished. I panicked a little, searching my pockets for my wand. “Lumos” I murmured seeing the glow of the light sprout forth from the dark elm.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps down the corridor interrupting the strange goings on. I turned to see Lily Evans making her way towards me, a strange, knowing smile playing on her lips when she saw my slightly paled face and guarded expression. “Evening Emma,” she greeted me nodding before walking straight past, to the rolling candle on the floor. She sighed loudly, marking her exasperation, before moving over to an alcove.  With a tug she pulled a large cloak, which seemed to materialise from the air, to reveal James Potter and Sirius Black grinning sheepishly.  I gaped in astonishment, and Lily passed me a look, rolling her eyes, before turning back to the whispering boys. “Severus walked a different way, you idiots” she remarked raising an eyebrow as Sirius frowned over a piece of parchment, apparently searching for something. I remained mystified at the odd events and shrugged, moving towards the dorm. I smiled as I passed, hearing James whisper “Merry Christmas Lily” and plant a gentle kiss on her blushing cheek, under a flourish of mistletoe.

500 words exactly, may I add! Let me know what you think, Thanks for reading,

Em x

Thursday, 9 December 2010

Through the Keyhole!

The lovely Madeleine at Scribble and Edit is running a Blogfest called Through the Keyhole!
The instructions were to write a descriptive passage detailing the room of a person, so you can guess who that person is! I hope you have fun trying to figure this one out, I didn't even know until I was halfway through!

The luxurious, creamy, soft pillows are freshly plumped, complimented with a small mint on a silver platter. The walls of the small room are perfectly white and smooth, with a smart inlayed metal, reflecting the powerful bright lights on the ceiling. The room has a large screen built into the wall, tracking the progress of the ship and the detailing the surroundings outside. There is, of course, no window to see out of in the cabin, and the internalised computer regularly states in a calm and friendly voice, ‘we are now only 42 days from our destination, all systems are working in order, I hope you are having a good journey with the star-cross express.’ This is subsequently repeated in multiple languages. There is a touch screen built into the glass and steel desk, detailing the menu and activities for the day, currently up on the screen is an advertisement for a sky-deck show with a famous impersonator.
Lying on the bed is an untouched thick dressing gown, embroidered with a golden emblem, and a large suitcase. The case contains a large and tattered book on the legend of the mafia, a brief guide to dialects of the modern world, an android device for accessing the world news database and hologram message hub. The hub is playing a touching message from a middle aged woman, wishing the recipient a good journey and a safe return, but flashes with other ‘locked’ messages categorised as business. Surprisingly, there is a rather large pile of worn clothes lying in the corner of the room, unfitting to the smart grandeur of the setting. Under closer inspection, it seems perhaps the inhabitant is not the first class passenger they seem. Peeking suspiciously from the pile of clothes is an old fashioned cheque book, which has thick black lines covering details of previous transactions. There is crinkled paper money stashed in a steel box, seeming to have been held in fond hands too many a time. The android device lingers over unstable markets which dip and rise in a repetitive wave, watching and reporting large transactions. In well oiled draws under the dresser, and hidden under reams of rich attire are wigs and contact lenses, along with a box of prosthetics.
Returning to the suitcase, in a zipped up pocket appears to be a modern holographic passport, only it is flickering from one image to another, finding no substantial person. John Smith, Hector Worthington, Jacques de Bonne show their faces, all seeming to share a slightly intimidating, stern expression.
Suddenly, the sound of applause on the deck above causes me to throw the passport back on the bed and scurry out of the room, wondering all the while, who could possibly inhabit that room? 

Hope you liked it!
Em x