Amateur Writing

Can I write? No. Do I keep trying? Yes.





October first, 11:59.

The clock counted down the final minute of her teenage years, each tick bringing her closer to a brand new decade of her life.

Time had moved so quickly. Childhood disappeared and adulthood had been thrust upon her. If she tried hard enough she could still smell the mud from playing in the rain, or the lasagna her mother used to cook. She could hear her brothers laughing in their room as they played on their play station, or her father’s music playing loudly in the car.

But it always dissipated so quickly, like dandelion fuzz in the summer breeze.

October second, 12:00.

The two hands converged on the 12. Nothing happened. The clock carried on moving. She blinked a couple of times before drawing the duvet up to her chin and rolling onto her back. A sigh escaped.

“Happy Birthday to me…” She whispered.

She dreamt of fuzzy blue carpets and sickly pink cake.



112 miles

Settle to Newcastle. 112 miles distance. 2 hours via car. 3-4 hours via train.

Living in Newcastle is so different to anything I’ve ever experienced before. Being in a city with such vibrancy and colour can be overwhelming sometimes; it’s busy and constant. The streets are filled with people, all going about their day, trailing into their jobs or onto campus to lectures or seminars. There’s nearly always music playing, whether it be someone playing guitar and singing, or the infamous beat-boxing Spiderman surrounded by a crowd. Continue reading “September”


The End

   The city swarmed with a sea of tired commuters all on their way to work. The warm air that once kissed pedestrians had been replaced with bitter breezes and pouring rain which soaked most to the bone. One woman walked in a hurry, her boots splashing the small puddles that scattered the pavement. She nursed her latte in her frozen hands, enjoying the slowly fading warmth. Continue reading “August”


Another Day

Her hand flicks through the crisp new book that her father bought her the day before. He said it was because she’d been such a good girl lately. Her parent’s divorce hadn’t exactly been a pretty one.

Continue reading “July”



She can feel the sand beneath her toes, the soft grains sliding as she wriggles the appendages. The salty air brushes her hair off of her narrow shoulders, strands flying behind her. She is oblivious to the soft stare of the person beside her.

Continue reading “June”


Looking back.

This is going to be my first attempt at a ‘blog’ post. This whole adventure of writing is supposed to encourage me to try new things; so I suppose it’s only fitting I give this a go. I took inspiration from a few friends, who honestly are amazing at this sort of thing; unfortunately I don’t have such high hopes for myself…

Continue reading “May”


Growth Is Okay

I long for growth, something new to evoke my grin

I wish to drink in the sunshine

to feel the heat upon my pale skin. Continue reading “April”


Theatrical Dream

“Shall I speak for thee? shall I say ’tis so? O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, That I might rail at him, to ease my mind! Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp’d, Doth burn the heart to ashes-”

“Sorry, from the top please. It’s cinders, Francis, and maybe a bit more emotion? Your daughter literally has had her hands cut off and her tongue cut out.”
Francis sighs, running his hands through his dark hair and returns to his marker on the stage. The other actors roll their eyes and groan quietly, Charlotte rubbing her knees the best she could with her ‘mutilated’ hands.
Continue reading “March”


Interrupted Connection

Scattered apologies,
withered flowers, a box of chocolates.
That is what you offer me the day after.
I return to you a weary smile
a £200 watch and
4 long years of my life.
You put the watch amongst your
mismatched socks.
Continue reading “February”

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