Chapter Three

The nurse left a cup of soup on my tray and left like it was the most average thing in the world. I hadn’t eaten or drank in days because my liver couldn’t take it, choking on anything I tried to feed it and causing me intense pain. Now, a simple soup. I reached out to it and tried to lift it to my mouth but it was barely an inch above the tray before it clattered back out of my hands. Peter got out of bed and shuffled over to me.
“Here” He held my hands against the mug firmly and guided it to my dry sore lips. I watched his mouth tense with concentration, trying not to spill it anywhere. He parted his lips, mimicking drinking like you would with a child. I drank deeply, finishing the whole cup. He helped me lower it and then wiped my mouth on a napkin.
“There, is that better?” I nodded.
“I’m sorry.” I said.
“For what? The way you are recovering, it’s nothing short of a miracle. Is this common with your Sojo-mojo syndrome?” I smiled at his pet name for my murderous disease.
“Not really.” He went quiet and thoughtful, peeking at me through his fringe.
“Does it hurt?” I paused and then nodded. There was something strange about this man, he filled me with hope and healing even though I knew nothing about him.
“Who are you?” I asked, trying not to sound rude or intruding, just curious. It didn’t quite work with the deep gasp of my voice but he smiled, which was a good sign.
“What a thing to ask.” He leant back on his bed and pinched his lips in thought. “I’m a man who enjoys taking photos of trees and their shadows. I love the way they can sometimes look like clouds, like lollipops or sometimes like animals. Then you get trees in winter when they look naked and mean. Winter trees seem to sprawl out even more when you want them to curl into themselves and shiver. I love how their shadows can look completely different to the tree itself, almost an opposite.” He smiled to himself and closed his eyes. “My favourite tree is one that stands alone in a golden field of corn. Because of all the crop around it, its shadow quivers constantly... like it’s afraid of being so alone.” He hadn’t spoke so much since I’d come into the room and he captivated me with his passion.
“Photographer?” I asked, enquiring as to if that was his career. He chuckled to himself.
“I wish. Just a fanatic, really. I work in an office most of the time. High flyer executive man.” He grasped his fake lapels and primped himself
“What about you? Oh let me guess... You’re a model! You are a... masseuse. Am I right?” He winked cheekily and I blushed deeply.
“No job.” I whispered, looking at my folded hands. He tilted his head to the side quizzically.
“Too sick.” His mouth popped open with a gentle ‘aah’ as he understood, I had a life sentence. We sat for a while in a semi-awkward silence.
“Family?” I asked, genuinely curious to see if he was married or not. I hadn’t seen any wife visit but you never know with people nowadays. My parents had visited often, bringing a random aunt or uncle with them ‘just to see’. I really knew that they were giving people a chance to say goodbye without overwhelming me with them all at once, still I appreciated they were trying to be subtle. Peter considered his answer for a moment.
“Well, I was married.”
“Was?”
“Yeah, that didn’t really last too long.” The laughter left his eyes for a moment and I decided not to pry, hospitals were depressing enough without having to delve into your black past.

He sighed loudly and we were once again joined by a nurse. She bustled around the room with her incessant talking. 

“Well, hello my two lovelies. Aren’t you two peas in a pod now? I knew that you would get to know each other quickly! The weather is simply dismal, freezing outside – you won’t believe the amount of injuries coming in because of slipping over on the ice. People need to wear sensible shoes instead of these impractical doo-dads with a heel as high as a hand and no grip whatsoever...” She continued on and Peter rolled his eyes making me laugh. Throughout the whole time she was there he made faces behind her back and imitated her wiggle as she walks and her constant chatter. I tried to contain my giggles but it just came out as snorts and hiccups, making the nurse confused and probably a little disgusted. She tugged at my wires and disabled something which looked pretty vital which stopped my giggles immediately.
“What? No!” I cried pathetically from my bed.
“Oh no don’t worry dear, Doctor’s orders you know. You’ve been showing so much improvement on your own recently we’ve decided to put faith in your body and retract some of the harsher drugs which hinder more than help. You’ll be fine deary, don’t look so frightened; you remind me of a little robin bird. Rest for now, you’ll feel so much better when you wake up.” She left the room with a cautionary warning for Peter to stick to his meal plan or he’ll kill himself. I eyed the unplugged machine warily, a few days I was dead without it and now I was independent of my robotic other half. I almost felt lonely.
“That’s good news, you shouldn’t look so sad Kerry-cake.” He smiled at me and winked as he slipped a smuggled chocolate through his teeth. I tutted at him and he stuck out a tongue that was covered in caramel. He was really beginning to grow on me.

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

When I woke up it felt like days had passed. I wasn’t refreshed from sleeping, just felt even more exhausted. I could feel that there was someone beside me, unusually close. I opened my eyes and an angel was inches from my face. I gasped and jolted in my bed slightly.
“Sorry!” He said, backing away slowly, his hand grasping the pole of his drip. I stared at the strangers face until I remembered who he was, Peter Peckering, the man with the unfortunate name and my new roomie. I had been introduced briefly to him right after I had been told that I would die in days. He jolted me out of my reverie about yesterdays occurrences by asking me a question.
“What’s your name?” I scowled with frustration, like I could answer! ‘I’m hooked up to a bunch of wires, idiot, I can barely breathe, never mind speak.’ I thought loudly at him. He waited patiently and then eventually picked up my chart. I felt violated, that was private and he was greedily reading every line. I grunted my disapproval.
“Kerry-ann Wymer. Oh God, this looks terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“Kerry.”
“What?” He looked at me startled and I stared back. I couldn’t help but correct him from using my full name but even I was surprised that I was able to open my mouth at all.
“Kerry then. I’m Peter.” He waited for a moment and then shuffled back to his bed, muttering about crappy slippers under his breath. He sat down with a huff and looked at me with a glint in his eye.
“Hey don’t take this personally but you look awful.” He laughed and I narrowed my eyes, what an ass.
“I’d murder a cake right now. Can’t though.” He poked his stomach which was no doubt firm and toned. I guessed he was referring to his gall bladder.
“A really big one. Chocolate of course, there’s nothing better. With ice cream at the side, and you could warm the cake so it melts a little. Oh, I can taste it!” I imagined the cake he was describing, dripping with rich chocolate that smelled of heaven. To my surprise, my mouth felt wet. I was drooling.
“I’m drooling.” I told him, sitting up in my bed a little more.
“Yeah... me too.” He replied dreamily, his eyes closed as he breathed in his imaginary smell.
“No you don’t understand...” I trailed off, licking my lips. It was a miracle. What was this? I was meant to be drying up until I died, not suddenly leaping back to health. I smashed the button that was at my side for the nurse, pressing it over and over again with two fingers.
“What are you doing?” Peter looked at me like I was mad. The nurse came in, looking annoyed at the constant ringing. She took the button away from me and put it on the side.
“What’s wrong dear? Are you in pain?”
“No.” Startled by my speech, she reached for my chart and then examined it alongside my current readings. Her brow furrowed and she walked over to an intercom on the wall.
“Can Dr Yammy come to room 14 please, Yammy to room 14.” She placed the chart back on the end of the bed and I watched her leave, hips sashaying from side to side. Silence permeated the air of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. Voices were hushed but hurried. The nurse spoke in a rushing and panicked tone. There was quiet and then hurried footsteps which slowed to a gentle pace outside the door. The doctor walked in, a picture of calm.
“Let’s have a look see.” He hummed to himself and clicked his tongue against his teeth as he checked all the machines that bleeped by my sides. I shifted in my bed and he watched me like a hawk, fascinated.
Peter peeked out from the side of the doctor, watching me with him.
“You’re getting better.” He said slowly.  
“Why?” I croaked, my throat cracking with the rare use. Turning to consult the nurse, she just stood in silent with her eyes to the machines. He shook his head.
“We don’t know.”

Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Have you ever felt that without the person you love, you would just die? That if they walked away from you forever, you couldn’t live without them? I did. Only for me life was a little more literal than that. 

“The test confirms it.” My mother broke down sobbing, my father cradled her like a child. His eyes were red and wet but he didn’t cry because he needed to be strong for me. It hadn’t sunk in. I had just been delivered a death sentence. This was it. I was dying.
“How long?” Dad croaked quietly, Mum stilled her sobbing for a moment so she could listen. The doctor flipped a piece of paper on my chart and took a moment to calculate how many weeks, months or years I had left. He fell still and dropped the chart to his side. Sitting down on my bed, he exhaled deeply.
“This disease is very unpredictable. With luck you could have a few weeks, but realistically we are looking at days.”

The silence in the room was tainted with dread. Days. No twenty-third birthday. No wedding. No children. No anniversaries. No grandchildren. Just days. I sunk into my bed, my arms weak. I could feel my lungs heaving for air more than ever before, rattling in my chest. It hurt to stare at my parents who were hushed. Dad was crying now, his bravado dissolved when confronted with the reality of time.

“Whilst you are welcome to stay at the hospital, we are open to the idea of you going home so you can be as comfortable as you like.” The breath seeped out of me in a crackle. I shook my head. I couldn’t speak because it was too much effort so I furrowed my brow and shook my head.
“Darling, come home so you can be somewhere relaxing, somewhere…” Mum faltered at the end of her sentence, her lip wobbling. I shook my head again. Dad tightened his grip on mum.
“If she stays here, can we visit?”
“Of course, Sir. You will have extended visiting hours but of course, for various reasons, you cannot be here all the time.”
“We understand.” The room fell silent again as they looked at me. The dead girl.
“You’ll take good care of her?” Mum was worrying away at a thread with her fingers, her teary eyes staring right at the poor Doctor.
“We will do everything we can. I promise.” They nodded at each other and a nurse entered the room.
“Doctor?”
“Yes.” He turned to my parents. “I’m afraid she has to be moved to the ICU and will be in a shared room with a male patient of ours. Is that okay? We can change the room if you request but there are curtains for privacy.”
“No no, that will be fine.” Dad shakes his head as he guides mum over to my bed. She takes my hand, I can barely feel her shaking touch but it’s there.
“I’ll have to ask you to say goodbye for now, we have to move Kerry-ann” I mentally cringed at my full name. I hated the added –ann, it was totally unnecessary. I privately wished that I could correct him but all I could do was frown slightly.
“She looks in pain.” Mum whispered, stroking my arm.
“She’s well medicated, she isn’t.” The doctor stated, glancing at my chart again to make sure he isn’t mistaken. He subtly waved in the nurse. She was all in blue, a cheery tone like the colour of a clear sky. My parents said farewell and I tried to look strong for them but my life was slipping away from me like sand through a sieve, I could feel it more than ever. 

The nurse introduced herself as Izzy, as in Isabelle. She babbled about her two children, the weather today, my lovely brown hair, her dirty blonde hair and the patient I would be sharing with. That caught my interest. Who would I be spending my final days staring at?
“He’s a twenty-something year old man, I can’t remember his exact age for the life of me, but he’s very dashing – or at least he was. He’s not here for long he’s just waiting for surgery to get his gall bladder removed. We would let him out but he’s so cheeky and never sticks to meal plans so we have to keep him here. We are sorry that we can’t have you with a female patient but I’m afraid with the current state of affairs we’re so short on beds at the minute. Did you know that on average each patient needs two nurses and…” I let her continue to talk, not that I could stop her exactly. A cheeky, dashing man who is around about my age… I wondered whether he’d talk to me or be freaked out by all the wires and machines. I felt like a puppet, strings and tubes all over so I can barely move for fear of dislodging something vital. 

Finally I was wheeled into the room, feet first so I could see where I was going. It was bright and airy with some flowers next to the beds, just some forget-me-nots. The windows as tall as a man and had huge heavy curtains that were patterned with a gentle pastel tone. I risked a look over to my roommate and was not disappointed. He was a little yellow, but other than that he was gorgeous. Sparkling blue eyes that were squinted with laughter and brown hair like mine that was stuck up too much from lying down all the time. He was talking to yet another nurse who was batting her eyelashes and giggling like a school girl, obviously under his spell. He stopped laughing for a second to look at me. Across his eyes I saw fleeting pity which was then buried by a huge welcoming grin. The nurse whispered in my ear, “That’s Peter Peckering, you’re new roomie.”
My eyebrows raised, what an unfortunate name. I wanted to laugh but I was exhausted so I closed my eyes with a smile pricking at the edges of my mouth. The bed rolled into the corner and my machines were lined up beside me, their beeping was insistent at my ear but I was beyond used to it. Comfortable, I drifted off into a painless, dreamless sleep.

Another New Story.

CHAPTER ONE

Heat. The muggy pressure was covered the whole town like a blanket of cotton wool. It wasn’t bright, the sun snuck behind the clouds to chuckle as it slowly heated the air to a boil. People wiped their hands across their foreheads, flicking the beads onto the pavement with an exaggerated flourish. Children ran about with an inappropriate amount of clothes on, their heat stroked mothers too tired to care. Fathers loosened their ties in the offices whilst silently cursing the dress code.
Someone lay half hidden next to a gushing river. They were soaked through from their dip in the fresh stream. They took a deep breath, a curved defined chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, gasping at the thick air. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching the river pass by her feet. Staying still in the river was a struggle enough, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to try and swim against the current or to the other side. A movement in the brushes made her sit up straighter.

“Hello?” She swung her head around the surroundings, peering through the leaves to try and catch sight of the stranger who stood there. She repeated herself.
“Hello?”
“Hello.” A boy emerged from the trees, hanging his head shyly. He scuffed one foot in the dust. He was dressed in cut off jeans and an open shirt. His shirt framed a chest that wasn’t a boy’s but not a man’s either. His hair was too long for him, hanging limply over his eyes. It looked like it was brown usually but the recent sun had lightened it to a dirty blond. He peered out with grey eyes from underneath his heat-limp fringe and looked straight at her chest.
She was in a dress. A very sheer and now very wet dress. She gasped and threw her arms around herself, covering her dignity. He smiled widely and after a moment, she did too.
“I’m sorry.” He said, still smiling.
“It’s okay, I didn’t expect to see anyone.” She kept her arms around herself still.
“Does the water feel good?” He asked, cocking his head to one side and burying his hands her his pockets. She nodded silently and he stood for a moment, taking her in. Then he shrugged off his shirt and it floating to the ground gracefully, it was joins soon by his jeans. Her mouth fell open as he watched him undress and she felt something stir insider her that was unknown. She trembled, partly with fear of what came next and partly down to the feeling she couldn’t place. He turned away from her, thankfully leaving his boxer shorts on. He walked into the water, feeling the coolness reach his calves, then past his thighs. He gasped when it passed his hips and then crouched into the water to fully submerge his body.

He stayed underneath the water, feeling the swell of his breath fight the pressure of the freezing water pushing it out. When he emerged, he pushed his hair back so he could see without the interruption of it. The girl was pretty, breaking into womanhood. Her breasts had been soft and puffy underneath a simple dress, giving no hint as to her background. Her hair was wet but braided to fall over one shoulder and her face was bright and clear, obviously untouched by any trauma or problems. Her blue eyes were light with the innocence of childhood but had the curiosity of a woman. As he watched her, she turned towards him, her full lips pulling tight.
“Who are you?” She asked him in a demanding voice.
“Tobias.” He paused, watching her watching him. “And who are you?” He mimicked her tone.
“I’m Chloe.” He almost laughed at her average name, she was so beyond average and they had only just met.
“How do you do.”
“How do you do.” They smiled at each other.

Ten Minutes as Me

She ran, her feet hitting the pavement with a rhythmic smack that satisfied her yearn for movement. Her muscles felt like a plant starved of water, finally feeling the first droplets of rain. She ran without grace, in a primal way. Her run was hectic and rushed, not that of the joggers at the side of the road. She seemed to mimic more a person in trouble, running from danger or punishment.
Her fear that she ran from was distant, it was the fear of failure. By running she felt that instant gratification, no chance of getting it wrong, just one foot, next foot, left right. Past her she saw the monotonous landscape of identical houses. With each one she could track her pace, counting how many houses till the turning or how many she passed with 50 footsteps. Unfortunately, it wasn’t running without purpose. Her mother had asked her to go and buy eggs for Yorkshire puddings, and since the girl herself did like to eat eggs with breakfast, she decided to oblige.
With the shop in the distance her pace slowed to a swagger. Feeling it silly to walk into a shop huffing and puffing she dawdled along, catching the breath that had escaped her. Success flooded through her, even at the small achievement of being able to run to the local store; nothing was too small to be proud of. Inside the store was blaring with the shouting colours of packaging, each one boasting to be ‘Best in the market’ or ‘Even tastier!’. She scoffed and found the plainest carton of eggs, scooping it into one of her arms. She grabbed some chocolate off the best shelf in the shop, a bargaining chip thrown in to convince her to get eggs. She sighed and approached the till.
“How are you?” The brightly ginger woman said from behind the till, her voice distant and uninterested.
“Good” The girl replied. She was stuck for words after that, not knowing how to interact. The woman recited the price and she paid, silently pondering what she could say.
“Have a nice day” The woman said and the girl murmured “You too.” But it was too quiet and too late. She wandered back out in the street, disappointed she couldn’t run back home. The handful of change, eggs, chocolate and mobile was too much to try and keep track of when trying to run in her own way.
Sauntering back she took more time to look at things, namely people. Two boys on bikes passed her, both peering inquisitively at her. They were blatantly younger than her but she felt closer to them than the two teenagers in bright hoodies and dark hats across the road that probably were her age. She saw a woman moaning at her teenage daughter about presents and wondered if all teenagers looked so moody and then deliberately brightened her face. She watched her shadow for a moment, watching her hair writhe around her in the breeze. She liked her hair in this style, front sections tied at the back of her head but people called it ‘odd’ and ‘unusual’ so she tended to not do it.
Her house came up quicker than she expected. A car blared past with grime music playing loudly out the rolled down window. Home felt so good, although it never felt safe. She felt like often she couldn’t be herself in the presence of her mother; censoring her words, toning down her actions and tiptoeing around feelings. She quickly threw down the eggs and change, running upstairs to her personal haven. She stopped off on the way to place a chocolate bar on her sisters laptop, to surprise her for when she got home after her hard last day on her project. Smug at her thoughtfulness she returned to her cushy bedroom. Swathed with fur, fans and clutter – she loved it. Flopping on the bed she picked up her laptop and began typing, perhaps a little too hardly, as a creative idea zipped its way inside her head….

My Competition Entry

Cannot be bothered posting the first part of it, I didn't write it after all so it don't really matter. This is my bit. (Basically a girl called Lucille is in her cabin when the boat she's on in caught in a storm and a hole is created in the wall then this bit happens)


The ship rocked and rolled beneath her and she watched the view of the sea through the hole in the wall. The sky was grey above her, with huge clouds bucketing down rain that sprayed her. The sun was setting in the distance, setting the bottom of the clouds on fire. She gasped as the ship tilted further and further in the exact direction she wanted to avoid. She felt her steady seat on the floor begin to give way. Her sweet silky dress felt like a mistake as it gave her no grip. He fingers scrabbled at the floorboards, bloodying the tips as her nails broke against the rough wood. She screamed as she felt her toes hit the remaining wood underneath the hole. It buckled against her oncoming weight and she prayed one last time that it held.

Seconds that felt like hours passed, the wood was firm against her feet, the boat still tilted further. She felt a glimmer of hope; if she could push against the board she could reach the bed that was firmly attached to the wall and pull herself away from the danger zone of the weakened wall. Gradually she began to extend her arms in front of her, lying face down on the floor. Her fingers brushed the bedpost and she gritted her teeth. With one last push, she practically jumped off the wall.

Then it broke. She screamed as she felt herself hurtle backwards off the boat. Briefly she caught a glimpse of the boat, tilted on its side against a huge wave, the crew attached to the boat with thick ropes around their waists. Falling, she wondered what drowning felt like – but only briefly. The water slammed into her back, breaking her weak spine. She knew she should have felt pain but none came, only numbness. The water crept up behind her ears, flooding them and muffling the noise. Salt water reached her nose and mouth and she gasped at the burning cold that make her skin contract and hurt. At the shock her eyes shot open but then began to burn against the salt so she shut them quickly, the damage already done, grating pain made her want to rub her eyes but she found that the muscles in her arms wouldn’t obey her.

The breath that she was holding on to for her life escaped her lips, creating perfectly formed spheres that drifted away from her like a soul leaving a dying man. She took a tentative breath and began to choke on the salt water that flooded her lungs, causing her to inhale more of the cold hurt. The pain began to fade and her breaths faded into stillness, a complete ecstasy washing over her. Death crept upon her disguised deceptively as extreme happiness. It curled its long fingers around her heart, crushing the weak beats with a morbid chuckle.

“Another child.” Death said, chuckling to herself. She was pleased with her work; the storm she had conducted was truly a beauty to behold. The rumble of thunder over the clouds was her roar of laughter at taking a strong heart of a spoiled girl. She felt the squirming life between her fingers and placed it in the stream of souls that floated around the nowhere. Death herself took no form, just a power that could chill the hearts of her victims and paralyse those who took her fancy. She stretched herself and felt a wash of boredom. Her hunger for new additions to her prized collection of souls never ended and with a passion for drama she began to conduct another theatrical performance that ultimately lead to the most impressive of all endings: a meeting with Death.

And the drugs don't work...

they just make me very dizzy...

Basically I have had some pretty bad reactions to drugs in my time, I seem to be pretty sensitive to anything over the strength of a couple of paracetamol. And I mean like even feminax and ibuprofen screw me up.

Let me tell you all a story! It's a pretty well known fact that I'm on the pill and have been for a while. The current brand I take (cause apparently there is loads of varying strengths) is called Cilest and it's probably one of the weakest. First of all though I was put on Microgynon 30, the strongest.
When it finally came to taking it I took it and for about an hour I felt fine, although was pretty wary that the side effects list was a good few inches long. Eventually I started to feel dizzy. Dizzy in the sense that I couldn't even lie down without the world spinning like a spin-top. I didn't dare walk for fear of running into a wall. Then it was nausea that came. I felt so horrid, I just lay in bed with my head spinning and my stomach making the worst noises ever. I couldn't sleep but I wasn't sick until about three in the morning and up until then I had just lay there with my head spinning.
At last after I had emptied my stomach of all it's contents, I could sleep. I slept until six and then had to the take the pill for the next day. Not connecting the two (I wasn't aware of my drug sensitivity back then) I took it and went back for a snooze since I was bound to be off school anyways.

Something else odd that happens to me is I get very woozy and close to fainting when I don't eat, something to do with blood sugars. So combined the fact I had no food in me, had just taken a pill that made me dizzy and nauseous I got so so so horrible. I got out of bed and for a few minutes felt fine, so I went to the shower and got undressed and was about to go for a shower when suddenly the dizzyness hit me, and pain so hard  in my stomach I just buckled. I lay there, rather embarassingly still naked, on the bathroom floor thinking "If I can't get help, I may just die."

So I pulled myself along the floor and managed to get into the living room doorway, holding a towel round me for somewhat decency. The step-dad was thankfully hope. As soon as he saw me, pale and sickly he jumped up and pure panicked. I began retching and he rushed around me getting a bowl and then making toast, soup, getting a blanket and hot water bottle and masses of water. He was amazing and I can't imagine what I would have done without him. Even when I managed to basically flash all of my body to him whilst mid-puke, he didn't bat an eyelid. Superstar.

So that was my first experience with the pill and when I realised just how sensitive I am to medication, how fun! I brought this up cause I have the biggest headache and had to take brufen and then my head was spinning like crazy. I'm alright now though!

Poetry in Motion

There once was a girl. Many stories start with something as simple as one person, one person in billions and billions who has a story to tell. Sometimes the story is dramatic or even melodramatic, it could be happy or sad but most stories are written to tap into your heart and scrawl something new.
This girl was nothing spectacular. Hair that was only just brown in the light and eyes that became totally black in the dark, skin a faint gold that fades into a pale pink-yellow in the winter, the cold pinching her cheeks until they shone red. 
It was winter where this story stands although it is being written every minute of every hour of every day. Today she walks, wind biting her lips and making it hard. She bites the insides of her cheeks as she does every day, a nervous habit that has now slipped into a boredom habit. Walking steadily she hobbled across the icy road where the snow was compacted and black with the dirt of too many tyres.She didn't like the snow, it only caused disruption where it fell and it always spent too long fading away. Not to mention snow days were rare due to the absolute determined opening of the school. That's where she was headed. 
Such a miserable place, full of measuring people up to someone elses standards. You could only feel like you had achieved something if someone else told you that you had. Could they measure wit? Or creative flair? Or a good sense of humour? She thought not, and those were the things that mattered in a person; at least to her they were.
But there was one thing spurring her on in this repeated journey to and from school. A boy, or rather a man. Perhaps both. Someone stuck in that unnamable stage of maturity, where the innocence of childhood has faded but they haven't yet been stained with the cynicism of adulthood. A beautiful stage she thought. Many of the stories she read were based on people in this stage, growing through experiences rather than time. She was in love with this person, or so she suspected. 
When they were together it was comfortable whether words were said or not. When they were apart a faint longing touched their minds no matter what they were doing. He accepted her; chips on each shoulder and all. She could be raw and honest with him and he smiled with his blue eyes and would stroke her hand claiming that it didn't matter. 
But most of all he forgave her. Forgiveness is the one thing that can solidify love. If someone can accept your mistake, your broken being, and continue to love you all the same; that is love. And that is what he did. She had expected to see an accusing look in his eye asking 'Why?' but she was wrong. His eyes were clear as water and held only an affectionate sympathy for her. 
They shared their pain. His of the betrayal he overcame and hers of the mistakes that would forever cast a shadow over her life. But at least someone would step into the shadow to be with her. 

xx

Keep writing your life story people.

New Story - Chapter 1

It was the height of summer 2013. The world had finally declared peace and all weapons had been completely abolished, small groups that wanted to change the ideals of their country were being hushed and quietly dealt with before the media caught on and caused mass panic. All of the nations were working together to save the world, scientists everywhere were being called to try and come up with new fuel ideas, their funding almost unlimited. It had seemed that progress was finally on its way.

Amongst this was a school for gifted children. Although the name might suggest that these children were academically above the average, it was in fact something completely different. Only those who attended the school or received an invitation knew what the ‘gifted’ really meant. It meant those who were a new model of human, above average in talents and skills and have been given a special genetic ‘gift’ through whatever means. Some were born with a power that developed as they did, for example one boy could speak to animals and on occasion (when they cooperated) ask them to do his bidding. His parents had only realised this when he began chatting to a dog in a language they couldn’t understand and the dog then ‘spoke’ back. Needless to say, the shock almost killed both of them. Some other children were picked up by scientists at birth, through ethical and sometimes unethical means. Some had been taken as soon as they were born and the mother told it was a still birth. Some were given away by teen mothers who thought they were furthering research into genetic diseases. These children all had a past that was abnormal to any other child’s and a future that was far from what they expected.

The school was founded many years ago by one of the most powerful gifted known to have existed. Jerome Dupree. Jerome had the ability to make people believe things. He had made his mother believe she had never had a child when he was only a few years old, resulting in him being taken to an orphanage and told he had no parents. His powers grew to obscene levels and so did his aspirations. His bank believed he was a millionaire so he opened a school; ‘Dupree’s School for the Gifted’. The nature of gifted children meant they were usually given away or rejected by families who thought that the children were a danger to all around them. They were easy to track and invite to the boarding school, giving the parents a welcome break.

Currently the school housed probably around fifty children, varying in ages from only a few years old to about twenty and of course there were a few teachers. One of those teachers was Muraki Daijo, who taught the biological side of things due to his impressive knowledge of pretty much everything there was to see. He used to be a scientist, looking into genetic mutations when a rat had kicked a syringe he was using into his own eye. The concoction had mutated his eye beyond the normal boundaries of ‘good vision’ and he had joined the ranks of many gifted humans. At the current moment in time Muraki was enjoying a cup of sweet tea in his office before the weekly quick check-ups of a few students. His shoes were dangling off his toes, revealing plum coloured socks to match his mutated eye’s iris. He wore white mostly, the purity of it was so refreshing and he had to admit, he was a little obsessively clean. He sipped his tea, his eye roaming the surroundings, watching children play in the enclosed courtyard, balls of electrical energy being thrown and then blocked by force fields of impenetrable materials. He sighed and placed his cup on the desk.
“Children, they play and play until someone gets hurt and then blame us for not stopping them, yet when we stop them we are the bad guys.” He rolled his eye completely round in his socket, keeping it fixated on the children, they were a few corridors away and he wasn’t sure whether he could be bothered going to tell them off. Of course he could, he was a teacher.
He shuffled his shoes back onto his feet and flung open his office door, shocking the life out of the student who was sat facing it.
“Oh my! Viempar, you gave me such a shock sitting there!” Muraki exclaimed, his hand to his heart to stop it beating so erratically.
“Sorry Sir, you asked me to come for my check up today? I know I’m early, I don’t mind waiting for a while.” He tilted his head, his eyes unfocused and totally black all the way round the ball with a light grey centre. He was blind but hadn’t been born that way. He was one of the children that have been taken from their mother and said to have been a still born. Scientists had been experimenting with genetic hybrids of animals and humans and he had been one attempt. Vampire bat DNA had been infused with his and throughout his development he had gradually become an amalgam of the two species. Huge black wings with a span of over four metres and still growing, tiny sharp canines that had hollow canals leading straight into his circulatory system and of course, hearing that could hear way beyond the levels of the natural at the expense of his sight, which was completely eliminated.
“Um... Yes, I did. Well I still have around fifteen minutes and there are children playing a bit too roughly in the courtyard I have to deal with. I will be back in time for our appointment, I promise.”

Muraki bustled off, leaving Vi sitting outside his office patiently. He listened to the commotion in the courtyard and Muraki’s footsteps and muttering as he approached the scene. A care in the distance was approaching and Vi touched his watch to check the time. He had removed the glass face so the hands were touchable and he could tell from the position what the time was.
He had time to check what was happening. Rising from his seat he shook out his wings, opening them to touch the sides of the corridor and closing them against tight against his body. His hand ran along the wall, waiting for the handle to hit it.
He opened the front door and stood outside feeling the warm breeze of Summer’s air rush through his chin-length hair, whipping it across his cheeks. The people in the car were yelling at each other from what he could hear. Focusing hard the sounds became as clear as if he were right between them.

“...fucking school is in the middle of nowhere! Lucky the general public won’t have to see your ugly face regularly.” A deep, gruff voice mumbled.

“I got my genetics from you, father, So if I’m even vaguely ugly you are millions of times more!”
“Fuck off did you get anything from me! You’re a freak of nature, you were a mistake for me and your...”
“DON’T MENTION HER!” The younger voice interrupted brashly.
“mother! You killed that woman! You drove her to her suicide with your freakish..” He was cut off by the younger boy screaming his words right next to the driver’s ear.
“DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME A FREAK!” He yelled hard, almost trying to break the eardrum of his father.
The car door opened and a teenage boy practically leapt out of the car. His suitcase was thrown after him, along with the letter that had bought him to this school.
“Fucking freak.” The man muttered as the boy slammed the car door shut. The car began to drive off quickly, the wheels spinning up dust in the gravel.

“Better a freak than a fucking FAILURE!” He made a gun shape with his hand and pointed at the car wheels. As he pushed his thumb down he made a shot noise with his mouth. Metal seeped quickly out of the tips of his two fingers and hardened in a bullet shape. Instantaneously it shot from the boys hand and slammed into all four wheels of the car in sequence, puncturing each one and sending the car skidding sideways in the gate.
“FUCK!” Vi heard the man curse loudly, smacking his palm into the steering wheel. He got out and began to inspect the damage.
Vi heard someone’s feet smacking on the gravel as they ran past the boy and towards the car to help. It was Muraki, going to calm the man and sort out another mess caused by someone else.

The boy span to look at Vi who’s eyes were wide open at amazement of what he had heard.

“You looking at me?” The boy said, causing Vi’s wings to rustle with discontent and nerves.
“How could I be?” Vi said, holding his ground as the boy approached.
“You’re looking right at me.” The boy said calmly now that his father was taken care of. “Man you’ve got weird eyes. Black as a black thing.”
“They don’t work.” Vi said glumly and the boy averted his eyes with embarrassment.
“Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean..”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” Vi shrugged nonchalantly, listening to Muraki babbling at the man across the courtyard. He turned away and went back inside, walking quickly back to his seat outside Muraki’s office.