Collection of Short Stories and Poetry

http://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/victor-duenas-teixeira-423539.jpg Is it her soul which evaporates from her, into a smoke, puff huff and it disappears? Is it some magic trick performance that vanishes into a smoke, puff huff and it relishes into nothing. Is it a wish from a some dandelions from her hands into a smoke, puff huff and they disappear? Is it something burning some twigs holding into smoke, puff and huff that fade away like a sphere of smoke? Whatever it is in her hands, she holds the power and control to erase, puff and huff and watch that steam go into the wind and to perish and become distinct and embrace the new beginnings of her life.

http://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/tim-mossholder-414902.jpg You are Worthy of Love But she didn't believe it You are Worthy of Love But she didn't hear it You are Worth of Love But she couldn't take the compliment. You are Worthy of Love But she denied it You are Worthy of Love But she rejected it and him so Love went away from her. But she couldn't see it. Worthy of Love left her, because she denied its Love Worthy of Love went elsewhere Worthy of Love is only Worthy If you believe in its Love and Worth.

Crouching with her legs huddled, she held the lamp griped and looked at the mirror, her aunt had gone to bed and she unable to sleep had sneaked into the spare bedroom on the top floor. 'That place is forbidden dear, there is nothing of interest anyway...now off to bed Julie' her aunt had said to her when she had enquired about the room upstairs. Julie could hear her snorts whilst crept past her bedroom to walk up the spiral staircase to the top bedroom. It was dark and dusty, but stranger was the absence of any furniture, only a tall, long mirror that lay there on the wall. Julie felt disappointed but at closer inspection of the mirror thought that she saw something in the mirror so crouched down. Her lamp was glistening but there was no reflection of her at first which didn't make sense. She moved the lamp closer to the mirror and then on investigation she could see there was an older woman staring at her holding a lamp. The woman had grey ...

The sea is calm, fresh and breezy, But I feel uneasy. I want to jump and end it all. The water is blue, crisp and flowing But my heart is towing. I want to jump and end it all. I stand here at the edge of the promenade and prayed, for him to come back to me, not to be dead. we were just newlywed But he was taken away. I want to jump and end it all, But I know he would say carry on, I can hear his voice , so now its my choice to live another day.

'Damn.... Where are we?' 'I thought you were looking at your map?' 'I was...But I can't work out where we are'. 'I was supposed to be home hours ago Jake, my parents will be worried' 'Michelle, calm down...now let me see'..... Jake and Michelle had decided to take the long way around after their date at the usual diner 'Kate's Burger Joint' where Jake had the king size burger with cheese and Michelle had the same thing as always nuggets with chips. They had only been dating for about six months, when Jake recommended he take Michelle through the woods to drop her home. 'Look it says Private Property up there. We are going to get in trouble Jake'. 'Don't be such a baby Michelle, lets go and have a look further down and see what there is'. 'But Jake, the sign, what if we get told off?' 'Michelle' he said as he grabbed her hand, they lumbered their way through the tall grass an...

This piece has been inspired by: http://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/ Through the mist, cloud I walk and try to find a way, But I am lost within the the fog of grey. I have my backpack, coat and jumper, Through the mist, cloud I walk and find it such a wonder. I don't know where to go, whether to turn back or go further, Through the mist, cloud I walk merely an observer. But I am lost with the fog of grey, All that I hope is that I can finally find my way.

This piece has been inspired by this photo and : http://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/ The dirt on my hands is thick, black, mucky and rancid. I have buried her with my bare hands scrapping the dirt to cover the lifeless body. I look at my hands the only witness to my crime as they stare at me but I don't feel remorse, its the third or forth time that I have done this. The lifeless body is beneath me, rotting away as I stand on it and she was beautiful and I like my other prey charmed her with my tails of fame not that I have had any. But the young women always seem to believe me as they say I am handsome, I am called ' pretty boy' as they can't seem to resist my black hair and tall stride that I have. I have that natural look which makes me seem vulnerable and I lure them like a cheese on a mouse trap to their end. These hands will be washed, with no tale or mark neither with the girl who is now beneath me, all the newspapers say is ...