Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Infinity

Never ending, goes on forever,
Stars crisscross end a cross the universe,
In full bright force.
Balls  so dangerous,
Yet so very precious.
Hidden within,
Are whispered secrets,
Only our universe, our stars, sun and plants may know.
Forever is eternity.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

VELVET WOOD

Here is the finished copy (yet who is to say I won't change it?)
_Merrie xox
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
VELVET WOOD


“You can still hear that haunted whistle from the old train,” my Grandmother told us, her eyes wide, her hands making movements from left to right, up and down, in front of our dying fireplace “my brothers and I would often follow its tracks when we were young and adventurous.”
                “But Grandmother,” my little brother Oskari piped up “how would you have followed the tracks if you cannot find them? You once told us, you had attempted to find them, when you were older, yet could not.”
Grandmother smiled mysteriously, replying in a whisper “That is because only those with the right intentions may find the tracks, the train, the other world. You see children, as you get older sometimes you can become selfish, which were my reasons for wanting to visit that realm. Those tracks are magical, they carry a train unlike any other upon their moss-covered rails, meaning, they cannot be fooled.”
                Grandmother spoke of how her and our uncles used to venture out, arms full from their satchels brimming with their pic-nics, faces stained red from eating wild berries in the woods they were exploring, feet squelching in their sodden wellingtons and their breath forming white puffs in front of their faces, obscuring the view before them.
                “It was one of these expeditions when my brothers had run off leaving me to follow,” the fire was crackling as if in response to our Grandmother’s old, steady voice, every time she wove a new web, the fire would flicker as if excited by the magic hidden within her sentences. The fire along with Oskari and I was controlled by the story.  “I had not seen the way those rascals ran off, yet I wasn’t concerned, being alone meant I was free to wander. If my brothers lost me, it was their fault.” Again the fire crackled, again the fire flickered.
                “The excitement of being alone had made me careless; I was ignoring the warning of the birds and trees, the prickle of hair at the back of my neck, the shivers and ripples of the creek. My mind was focused solely on finding adventure,” my little brother’s eyes were huge, the firelight reflected in them, his tiny hands were clasped together and his body was tensed ready for action.
                “I was quiet, as quiet as a mouse while I crept through the trees on light feet and as I crossed the creek the wind changed, pulling me forwards, whispering about ancient battles and of swords smeared with blood, it whispered about poison and of assassins, yet still I was not afraid, still I walked on, back straight, feet sure, eyes and mind determined.
After several minutes of walking the trees dispersed and a large clearing opened. On the opposite side of me was a stone wall, so high I needed to crane my neck to see the top, built into a hill. The wall on its face held ancient carvings. Moss covered the ground thickly,” My brother and I were holding our breath as if something were to jump out at us. “I began to walk forwards, careful so as not to kick up the moss. I changed my breath to a pattern slow and quiet as I crept forwards.
                Human instincts are interesting things children, they are fibres of our being planted deep down to our most bare and animal selves. If something is wrong you feel it like a breath of wind or a shadow being cast from a falling leaf, they are so slight you can often miss them, miss the warnings before it is too late. My instincts were screaming at me that day, telling me I did not belong. I still felt no danger, just a strong sense I did not belong.
The change, when it came did not surprise me, just the slightest twinge of a muscle and there it was an ancient train, transparent, but fully visible chugging along the rails, somehow never disturbing the moss. There must have been at least sixteen carriages, all of which held other organisms, people, animals, plants, all transparent, all hollow bodies whose souls had left them; All dead I realised.
I waited for the train to pass before I began to run, as fast as my little legs could carry me, back across the creek, down the valley and back home to my mother’s waiting arms, teardrops plopping down my face in huge balls, my hands and knees muddy from falling, my breath catching in huge hiccups from my sobs. I had seen the train from fairy tales, the passage from the living world to the dead realm, I had seen the dead, so hollow and empty and unemotional. It simply was not right.” Grandmother looked sad as she told the next.
“I had wanted to find the train again so I could make peace with my memories, now that I understood death better, but my being in that clearing as a child had been a mistake of my own determined stubbornness, when I see that train again I shall be ready because it will be my time to ride one of those carriages.” The fire dimmed at these words.
I wrapped my arms around the shivering Oskari as I whispered “Do you think that will be soon?”

“I am not sure my dear, sometimes I feel my instincts telling me one thing and then another. When the day comes it will be a time to celebrate, not for mourning, my soul will have departed long before my body and I will see you again when you ride that train and we jump into our next lives together.” Grandmother cradled us both in her strong arms in front of the dying fireplace, and as we fell asleep the last of the embers died away, the last of our Grandmother’s breath was released and in our dreams Oskari and I realised the lie she had told us to allow her passing was filled with love. Neither my brother nor I cried the morning after. We smiled and listened to that haunted whistle of the old train as our Grandmother stepped onto it and was carried away. We smiled; hugged each other and we knew peace would come into our lives now we knew the story; the story of death and life and how all is tied into one.  

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Update

I gave you all an excerpt of my story "Velvet Wood" and I am letting you know it is coming along very nicely, I have decided to make it into an extended short story and change my story line slightly and how I am telling it. I hope those of you wo are following will enjoy the changes I've made!
-Merrie xox

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Black midnight

Sadness comes and sadness goes,
Echoing the sound of silence,
Soldiers march and soldiers fall,
Carrying rifles never fired.
Woodpeckers peck,
Bumble bees buzz,
Silence fills the void,
Running footsteps down empty hall,
Crying mothers,
Bleeding wombs,
Babies live,
Old men pass.
Black midnight hood,
Handheld syth,
Knocks like winter on your pane,
Carries stories of no loss no rain,
Droplets fall like god's only tears,
Echoing the sound of silence. 

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Velvet Wood


Velvet Wood
“You can still hear that haunted whistle from the train,” my Grandmother told us, her eyes wide, her hands making movements from left to right, up and down in front of our dying fireplace “my brothers and I would always follow its tracks when we were young and adventurous.”
                “But Grandmother,” My little brother piped up “how could you have followed the tracks if you can’t even see them? You say you once tried to find them again when you were older, yet could not”
                Grandma smiled mysteriously and replied in a whisper “only those who have the right intentions may see them. See, these are not just any train tracks; they’re magical train tracks, which carry a train unlike any other upon their moss covered rails.”
                As Grandma spoke, her words disappeared and pictures began to form in our minds of how her and her brothers used to venture out, arms full of their satchels and pick-nick baskets, faces stained red from eating wild berries from the woods they were exploring, feet squelching within their sodden wellingtons and their breath forming white puffs in front of their faces, obscuring the view before them.





----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Above is the beginning of a new story I have been working on, inspired by the photograph below. I believe this story will be quite interesting as soon as I work out the plot!

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Hey there!

Hey there readers,
So long time no post aye? Well as I am a hard working student and also have a social life I am not going to make apologies fr my lack of blogging, however I would like to let you all know, whoever you are that my newest piece of work is coming along quite nicely. The (medium length) story I gave you people a tease of called Roshin has been completed and is now available for reading, I will put it up shortly for those who wish to read it.
On another serious note I found someone )I will not name names with this) plagiarize my writing so I will be installing a function that does not allow people to copy and paste, I realise this would not be able to stop anyone form copying it pen to paper, but this is a serious crime. I will not be pressing charges, although I did confront this person about it.
Thanls fpr reading, must get back to work now!
-Merrie xox

Monday, March 25, 2013

Nothing...

There is nothing,
Nothing inside my head,
Where there once was colour, words,
No dread.
My mind is only empty,
Nothing here,
No sound,
There is no inspiration,
There is nothing,
That, is no doubt.
Where did all of my brilliant words go?
My songs, my stories!
Why is there no laughter?
All I can do is fight,
Fight for what I had,
For that thing that died inside,
That detail that fell,
Behind my books, behind my chairs.
Perhaps when I am happy again,
My talents will come back,
But for now,
With this fog,
I turn in circles,
And do not return.
-Merrie xox