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Welcome to my online daily diary
A beginner's walk through a writing career, please join me in my journey into the unknown land of writing.
Here you will find my daily ramblings and other things to keep you interested.
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Please take a peek at my archived posts...
Barry – Completed – Re-editing
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| 69,669 / 70,000 (99.5%) |
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| 50,315 / 70,000 (71.9%) |
Mirror Girl
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| 18,193 / 70,000 (26.0%) |
Emily
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| 10,142 / 70,000 (14.5%) |
The Alphabet Man – Completed 50k goal – Re-writing new goal 70k
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| 58,346 / 70,000 (83.4%) |
The Hell Of War – On hold
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| 9,999 / 70,000 (14.3%) |
Hello there, I'm still here, well sort of, I think the aliens left me in one piece, it would have been nice if they swapped some of my organs with some decent ones. I can't wait till we're able to buy new organs -- I'll be able to become an alcoholic then!
Anyways, I've been mighty busy these past few months, sorting the magazine out, writing a couple of novels -- and I'm glad to say, I completed my nano this year with no problems, which was surprising as I've been a tad under the weather lately. I'm also in the middle of writing another novel too, Mirror Girl here's a little taster for you:
MIRROR GIRL
PROLOGUE
Looking out a dirty old window
Down below the cars in the city go rushing by
I sit here alone and I wonder why
My name is Clara and I’m a prostitute… well, a sex slave to be precise. I work every day of the month, including when I’m on my periods, there’s some sick bastards out there who enjoys lapping it. My body no longer feels my own. To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I had my body to myself. Time has no relevance here. If I want to know what season it is, I look out of the grubby window, beyond the bars and take a guess by the weather. Every so often we’re told to dress up, then we’re led to a large room where we celebrate Christmas – I’ll tell you about that later on though.
For now, I’ll just tell you the basics. My world is one room, one small insignificant room, but at least I’m lucky, I have my own adjoining bathroom. It may be an old porcelain bath with yellow rings around it, but it is all mine. There’s only a few tiles left on the wall, most of them have fallen off over the years. Some I’ve smashed off due to losing my temper. Above the metal sink, which is located mere millimetres away from the side of the bath, is my pride and joy – a mirror. The surface is scratched in several places and it has a few misty patches that never seem to go away. Of course, wedged into the corner is my lavatory, no seat though. I use my reading material to wipe my backside, old newspapers, well, the sports, cartoon, TV and advertisement pages. Most of it doesn’t make any sense, as when I get my supply it is already ripped into strips inside of a blue stripy carrier bag.
In my room, I have a double bed; the flower-patterned mattress is worn. I’ve had to pull many springs out, it was either that or getting one jabbed up the backside while lying on my back. Trust me, when you have another person’s weight upon you that spring becomes more than uncomfortable. I have a small hole in my right butt cheek to prove it, I swear there’s a small piece of wire still embedded in there.
Don’t take pity on me. I don’t want it. All I want you to do is sit back and listen. Listen to my tale, then take a good look around you. Why? I’ll answer that later on, when I know you are listening.
Oh, and there’s one more thing – don’t judge me. Well, not until I’ve finished.
I suppose I better start at the beginning.
CHAPTER ONE
As a child my parents liked to show me off. My golden ringlets and angelic face could melt unbreakable hearts. Mommy’s little beauty queen.
“Dance Clara, dance,” my mother would say proudly, clapping her hands and tapping her foot.
Of course, I obeyed. I loved the attention, what child wouldn’t? I climbed on the tiled, tea stained coffee table in my fairy dress-up suit, wings and all, and spun around on my tippy-toes like a ballerina.
“Kick those legs,” she continued, cigarette dangling out of her mouth with a halo of smoke lingering above her head. Mommy’s halo. Mommy the angel. The murky grey halo dispersed leaving thin trails reaching up to the heavens.
Again, I would obey, kicking my legs as high as I could.
“Whoa there,” uncle Pete said, covering his eyes with his tattooed hands. “I don’t want to see your dirty knickers.”
“My knickers are clean,” I giggled, clinging onto the edge of my white tutu.
“Clara, show uncle Pete what we think of stiff bastards like him.” My mother nodded her head towards Pete and winked.
I placed my finger in my mouth and shook my head. I knew how to play my mother, well I thought I did, all along it was she who played me.
“Go on, you can have some extra candy.” She leant back on the sofa and reached behind it, pulling out a yellowed carrier bag. Her scrawny hand withdrew several coloured pieces of candy. “You’ll get two handfuls this time.”
I won, so I thought, extra candy for me.
Giggling, I turned my back to uncle Pete, bent over and dropped my knickers. “Kiss my sweet bum,” I said, slapping my right cheek.
My mother fell to the floor in fits of laughter. “That’s my girl.” Her laughter echoed around the shabby sitting room. “Fucking priceless ain’t it.”
Pete winked at me and laughed. “I’ll get you one of these days little madam. Just you wait till you’re begging for more candy.”
“No you won’t.” I stuffed a green piece of candy in my mouth and stuck my nose in the air.
“Hang on,” Pete said, now kneeling on the floor in front of me, “wasn’t there a little girl who needed someone to fix the tyre on her bicycle? I wonder who that could have been.”
I shoved the piece of candy to the side of my mouth. “It was me silly.”
“Nope, I don’t think so… anyway, who are you?”
“I’m Clara, silly.”
“Hmm, I don’t know any Clara’s.”
“Yes you do.” I laughed and slapped him on the arm.
He fell to the floor screaming, holding onto his arm. “Ahhh, you’ve broke my arm.”
I jumped on top of him and punched into his back.
“Help, someone get the police.”
My mother slapped her legs and laughed, which led to a fit of coughing.
I stopped and approached my mother. Her face now bright red, tears streaked her face. “Mommy?”
She held a fist to her mouth and waved me away with the other hand. Pete grabbed me by the shoulders and sat me on his knee. “Give your mom five minutes, she just needs to catch her breath.”
I huddled into Pete’s chest, watching my mother’s face turn several shades of colours. All I wanted to do was help her. No one else was. They all sat there staring at her. At the other end of the sofa my father rolled himself a cigarette.
A few minutes past, her coughing had eased. She wiped snot and saliva from her face, with the back of her hand, then she cleaned her hand on the arm of the sofa.
“Mommy, you better now?”
She nodded her head and took several deep breaths. “I will be in a minute once I’ve had my medicine.”
“I’ll get it for you mommy.” I jumped down from Pete’s knee and pulled the stool from the other side of the living room to her. She thanked me, opened the lid and withdrew a small box, then turned to her side clutching it as if her life depended on it.
I hovered over her, watching her set her medicine up in neat lines.
“Dance Clara, dance, wiggle that ass of yours,” my mother encouraged me. She bent over and dragged her nose along the side-table, then she wiped the white powder from her nostril and leapt on the coffee table grabbing me by the hand. “Turn that music up. Its time to party.”
‘Right Said Fred’ blasted throughout the house. Together we shook our behinds, swung our arms and sang along: “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt…”
My father, uncle Pete and their friends sat around us clapping their hands yelling, “Get them off.”
“Yeeehaar,” my mother called out as she pulled off her halter-top.
“Yeehee,” I shouted, copying my mother’s moves.
My mommy the angel.
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