Who and what you are.

I just received a comment that made me remember something.

A little around 2 years ago, I was looking to find work and it was causing me a great deal of… stress would be describing it lightly as I would often claw my own face when it peaked.

Now I’m in a better place it allows me to reflect on that time and realise something.

If I’d written my damm c.v with my writing ability instead of what had been pushed into me by various government training programmes and other things to cut it into a square instead of the bizarre shape my writing makes me I would’ve been sorted much faster!

What I’m trying to say is, don’t hide who you are.
If you are a painter, paint your way forward. Always retain your flair for colour, pictures, whatever you have.

Everyone has a talent and with that, everyone can bring something unusual and stand out.

I hope this helps somebody, I was unemployed for a long time, yet using my writing skill got me a job with a very promising future.

Do not forget who, nor what you truly are.
We are artists of our own design.


The block

The air burned as St Verne drew breath within the icy cave.
His rival , King St James stood at the far end.
The echoes of war carried up the mountain and hammered on the walls just outside as they stood opposite each other.

“I’m here to avenge my brother!”
St Verne yelled, his shout reverberating off the walls as he did.

“Your brother was a fool! He would have wasted that power given half a chance”

“That was not your decision! Die!”
They rushed at each other, long swords drawn and clashing violently.
Sparks ignited as the blades danced off each other, illuminating the cave.

Dodging and swinging, the two moved gracefully, with a twist of brutality as they kicked and punched outwards.

Suddenly they stopped.
Standing roughly two feet apart, they stopped fighting and stood expectantly.

“Why have we stopped?”
St James asked.

“I think he’s run out of ideas.”
Verne replied, a bemused shrug accompanying the speech.

“Out of ideas? But we where mid fight? What else is there to think about?”

“Who won?”

The battle outside drew to a standstill as well, one lone soldier looks up to the sky
“Yeah. Who won?”

I don’t know? I don’t really even know why your fighting!

“What? You mean to say, that you brought us to this mountain cave, freezing our arses-”

“Your a saint. Think of your words”

“Bollocks to the words, this guy dosent even know why were fighting”

How dyu know I’m a guy?
“Cause I’m in your head dumbass!”


St James and Verne
“St Verne if you please”

OK, St James and st Verne stood amidst the cave. Their swords now at their sides, both looking up at the ceiling of the cave, annoyance clearly shown on their faces.

“Yeah we can see that bit, and the readers have probably guessed it as well. So what happens next?”

Uh… how about

“Wait! Stop your fighting! I live! I can reclaim my rightful place!”
St James brother runs into the cave from the shadows, bringing
“Wait. I don’t have a brother”
“I… don’t have a brother…”

But isn’t that why you guys where fighting?

No! It’s my brother that died!”
St Verne shouts angrily

The brother speaks at this point
“Plus it’s a bit contrived really… brother back from the dead? Never really dead blah blah blah… boring…”

OK how about this then?

And with my return I gained incredible necromancer powers! Which I will use to create a Kingdom of… of… look my hearts not really into this-”

Oh fine!

The brother erupts into dust as quickly as he had arrived.

“NO my brother!”
St Verne drops to his knees at the pile of dust.

“Wow you just killed his brother like that? Not. Cool.”

Oh come on… what do you guys want from me!?

“As long as we don’t get a cliff hanger-”

Something rumbles from the shadows, a low growl threatens the pair of warriors

“Oh for fu-“

R.C: After the golden PT 5

The lid creaked-
Stop. You know there’s no way back from
It ached inside as she lifted it light wood, plastic texture.
Her eyes desperate to see what was hidden
Stop this! It’s a trap!
She held still.
What if it was? They had arrested her and locked her up away from society
“For her own protection and the public”

Lian looked around the dusted room, sunlight peering through the beams, catching glittering dust as it fell from the ceiling.
It felt like magic still hovered in the air here, with a deep breath, reassured that there was nobody there
That it wasn’t a trap or a figment of her imagination, she fully opened the box and…

She stared into the black lining of the box, but there was nothing.
Had it been prepared for something that never managed to happen?
Maybe it was a crate to pack their stuff up and leave town if it went sour one day…
But how?
She was hit by the car and awoke from the hospital barely an hour later to see them get
Blown up.
Yes. That.

She spent some time in the room, trying to figure out what could have happened.

The sunlight passed out of the building slowly as she sat racking her brains for an answer, a plausible explanation that could cover this.
She paced across the room and something glint ed in the box.
Moving back and forth, she looked for it again but it evaded her now…

The lining of the box was slightly smaller then the box. Not small enough for it to be the lining thickness but small enough to hide
Something you shouldn’t be messing with.
Back to the box she went, fumbling around the inside, when it caught her finger.
Tiny and metallic, a small lever stuck in her finger as she ran across the Base.

With a click, she tugged the lining out and knew inside this was what she had been waiting for.
Since she got released, this was the moment that she had needed as it lay before her, neatly folded, mask fresh as the day she made it, her stone twinkling with what could only be described to her as “a look of love”.
And at the bottom, something new.

It looked like a polished metal rod, two bands on either end.
She had always wanted to use a staff, but the rules stated “no weapons, we’re there to help, not break bones”
So that was a no go, but her training had always been to use one, coupled with her gymnastic prowess.
But a baton was always a good place to start.

She reached for it when the voice screamed at her
Trap! Free gifts like this!? It has to be, someone knows you where coming and placed it here! White room, white room! Don’t touch!
With a deep breath, pictures of the cell flashed before her eyes as she reached toward the rod. A final bite of her cheek and she clenched the rod in its box.

For PT 1

PT 2

For PT 3

For PT 4

I will

I will hold the bags for you
As they are heavy

I will take him in the morning
As the rest is much needed

I will clean what you can’t

I will do what you can’t.

I will love you

Forever I will.

Well, I do miss it.

30 weeks.
30 weeks minimum.

Possibly more, but around that time.

Wow do I miss it.
That little 5-10 minutes of nothingness
The crisp burning sound in the silence and peace of the night.
That orange glow that erupted with every drag, casting it’s light across the environment when dark.

It’s familiar tickle
Down into my chest
Stretching as I breathed
Raising my heart beat
Quietnening my head with its soothing
Very thought of it

I don’t struggle.
I have not caved
I can sit next to a smoker and think nothing of it
I’m lucky in that aspect
Lucky that it hasn’t been stronger
Lucky that I haven’t caved into its craving
No matter the stress
No matter the time nor the location

No matter if the sex was fantastic.
I stayed the course and resisted the little white sticks of leaf and (in some cases)
Wood coloured chips.

It’s been hard
Like missing an old friend.
Yet here I stand
Smoke free
Non addicted
Not craving nor climbing the walls nor scratching at my face with a headache.

Simply wishing for a postcard that says
“I miss you just as much.”
But I know that won’t happen.

Just know that I miss you,
You poisonous lil bastards.

British swear words.

OK so I know there’s some words that are “globally offensive” but there are some that just sound so good in British.

BASTARD. Woad sorry bout the caps there…
Pronounce it bar-sted instead for that little stiff upper lippedness.

Bollocks. Pretty much as it is
Also my favorite one haha.
“Oh bollocks.” “It’s bollocksed” and finally
“What a load of bollocks”
Boom. Now your British.

Oh also “bloody” pronounced “blood-ee” seems to be something English though I’m not a fan myself.

Maybe I’ll make another of these when I feel…

Or pissed off somewhat haha

Cees fun photo challenge: architecture

OK so I made this before I took the pictures but I have some ideas of what to do… if I get the time haha
Well I had 5 minutes so I grabbed a few haha


Castlegate island


The old hippodrome, they might not be keeping this for much longer so get pics whilst you can!


The zoos old main entrance, it’s not used very often anymore


Bottom end of dudley high street


Bottom end of dudley market place, something that dates back to the middle ages.
Also features a statue of Duncan Edwards, a footballer from the area.


Carving representing the industrial side of the town that no longer really exists.
It’s still there but nowhere near as much.

R.C: After the golden PT 4

Lian moved around the room, the memories flooded back, the laughter, the fun. All of it came back as a tidal wave of emotion that came to her in tears.
Her throat was dry and cracking as she pictured everyone.
It wasn’t fair what happened to them.
Not in the slightest.

There was no stopping him. He was determined to get to the bottom of it and it got him-
It got him killed! Don’t deny it… you know he got himself killed chasing a story about magic and necromancer.
He got them all killed.

She spotted a chest at the back of the room.
It had less dust on then the other parts, but still looked untouched in a very long time.

The urge to open it was powerful. Immensely powerful.
She approached the chest, more of a box really, black in colour and almost… militaristic in fashion, with two metal clasps that lined it.
She reached the clasps, and felt the cold metal against her skin
Trap! It’s a trap! The whitecoats placed it here to get you to
Bang, one cracked open
You’ll go back! I’m just trying to help you!
The other snapped open and the chest was free.
Something inside told her that this was a turning point in her life.
She could always walk back out the door, looking back at the secret entrance to the room.
Back to her family, finish her schooling, get a job, a lover, kids etc etc etc…

Or open the box.

For PT 1

PT 2

For PT 3

That which burns!

Beneath the skin
The flesh
The bone and
Deep into the soul
Words bring about the fuel
A flint catches against the steel
Flashing against the soul
How long before it catches?

For it burns inside all of us
With their words
Undisputed rulings and laws
They say it happens
It happens
No comeuppance to the higher.

That which burns!

The fuel within all of us
Flaring within our hearts
How many sources can
Not catch when
So many sparks
Fly towards them

That which burns!

It only takes one
One to light the rest
The action of one chains into the other
Two become four
Four become sixteen
Multiply and enrage!
Dispute what they say!
Dispute what they do!

The water comes out, splashing against the flames
Hosing the fires as best they can
The fires are the bad ones
The fires are
‘Destroyers. Hate filled hooligans.’

That which burns…
That which.