Dreams

I was standing in a cottage with a dirt floor it's the late afternoon. There is a man standing in front of the fire his back is to me. Next to me there is  a woman shes wearing a corset top, long black skirt and no shoes shes telling me that we need to find a way to destroy the man in the room as he has killed many people for their hearts so he can prolong his life. She was trying to find a spell in the book to hold him long enough so we could kill him. He wasn't trying to kill us just protect himself. There wasn't anything in the book. He started to come towards us I ran but he grabbed my ankle i fell in and a cloud of dust rose. The woman looked down and yelled "Thats the secret we need to destroy him" I couldn't believe he was using an ancient tappesty as a floor covering.

Dark Night

I see him standing in the door way to the room

He asks me a question I don't fully understand

But hes the adult so i just nod

Hoping it's the right thing

Then hes there lifting back the blankets

My mind is racing the smell of cigarettes and beer

His hands linger at my hips

I struggle for breath

Then he's in my underwear

I go rigid with fear then my body betrays me

I feel like I want to cry then he grabs my hand

Leads it to him, down his underwear

I go rigid again he drags my hand to him

I am forced to feel him every inch of him

He is constantly checking to see if anyone wakes

Then he is done, he puts his finger to his lips and exits

I feel so dirty and want to shriek and cry

But I don't afraid to cause a commotion

I just lay there crying in silence knowing

I can't tell anyone who's going to believe me

I'm nine and hes mum's friends husband

So I store it away playing the survivor because victims get no where

Every time I stay at their house I see him standing in my door way

I bundle myself tightly in blankets and pretend to be asleep

Hoping he will go away.

I am a survivor thirteen years on

Teaser for a book i'm currently working on

If you asked me my favourite era I’d be torn between a few....

The 1900’s because of its decadence and gorgeous dresses. I remember trying to get in and out of those dresses my favourite was a deep wine red, black lace selves and petty coats and silk ties at the back. I always wore it with a black netting fascinator nestled in a disarray of deep red curls attempted to be pulled into a bun; to not only to disguise my identity but also to protect my porcelain skin. With red lace up boots, black fur coat and lace gloves I fitted the bill of a classic 1900’s lady. I loved the decadence of the era with luncheons, balls and high teas I was never without company whether it be a dashing man or close friends and a chaperone. Still I always did have a wild streak being the dutiful seen and not heard daughter never really appealed to me.

The 1920’s an era of up hevel as the war had only ended three years prior. It was a time of prohibition, gangsters, and girls. I lived that era with every fibre of my soul; you could say it agreed with me. I guess I just fell in with a bad crowd or at least that’s what I wanted people to believe. Truth is I found my fit as a gangster’s moll; I eventually worked my way up through the ranks ruthlessly and became the puppet master. I guess you could say I’m the one ‘Ma baker’ followed or perhaps I’m where the legend came from. The boys and goons under my watch quickly learned that if they crossed me they’d soon find out that women are a whole lot scarier than men. I set out to establish my mark on the world at the time I thought I had succeeded but as I found out women rarely make true history, as it is written by the successor.

The 1940’s another war over we had survived the depression or at least I had. Several people I knew had died of a severe bought of melancholy, I tried to save as many as I could stealing from rich men in order to feed starving children. However to land these rich men I had to rely on what my charms. I guess you could say scamming people is what I do best. I would go out to dance halls and society parties dressed in my finest wear. The sneaking in was the easy part, it was finding an excuse when asked why, I was there and not being found out was the hard part. I began to pass myself of as anything from a dancer to a fortune teller. It was a darn good thing I could dance and was quite clued into my surroundings. Those men were not even smart enough to catch on to my generalised fortunes, or that I was using the same jitterbug or swing routine at every party. So in my opinion they deserved what they got.