Secrets are Monsters

Secrets hidden deep inside
Throw them into a fortress
Under lock and key they hide
Seeming to be forceless

Secrets are like monsters
Skulking in the dark
Transforming into creatures
Ready to leave their mark

The fortress may be strong
And hold those monsters in

Keep them right where they belong
Hidden deep within

But something unexpected
Your fortress walls are broken
The moment that you dreaded
Your fears now awoken

Monsters free and roaming
Pain and hurt will follow
Insides out and scars are showing
Feeling spent and hollow

But soon you’ll see a distant light
The hole inside is healing
Monsters gone and no more fright
You’re entering the clearing

Sun is shining, breathe the air
Monsters are no more
Revealing secrets is good I swear
Helps to heal the core

A ruined castle

Prose for Thought

The Inner Fort

Ever since I can remember I've been taught, in more ways than one, that showing emotions is a bad thing. Unfortunately when I was a child I was unable to control my emotions and would often end up in tears over something silly. This lead to me being tagged as the weaker sibling and I got picked on and bullied by family and so-called friends.

What does your inner fort look like?

I'm not sure how or why I was this way, it just happened. I was empathetic and I would always try to help someone in trouble. I would cry at movies and even the slightest sign of a fight and I would back away. I have never been the type of person who likes confrontations.

All of these things contributed to my weaker persona.

Snowfall continued...

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a piece entitled Snowfall for Prose for Thought. I'd been having trouble with the poem writing and decided just a very short piece of creative writing might get the juices flowing again. Well it worked and since 24th April I've been writing almost daily. Not on the blog I admit but the book is getting edits and other ideas have been spilling onto the page too. It feels so good to be creative again. I try to force myself to write whenever it's time for #Prose4T, sometimes it doesn't work and no matter what I do I can't think. Other times just making myself sit and write sparks so many ideas that I can't keep up, my inner writer is on fire and all I want to do is type. That's how it's been this last couple of weeks. So here's this week's entry for #Prose4T, enjoy.

The first snowfall of the year and he’d sullied it. Scarlet drops continued to fall from the knife in his hand and land on the white blanket. The crunch beneath his feet as he trudged across the yard distracted him from the ringing in his ears. His heart thumped and a white cloud exuded from his nose as he exhaled. He hurried towards the shed, leaving a trail of tainted snow behind him.

As he opened the shed door he glanced at the distant hills, the sun peeked over the horizon radiating an orange glow across the sky. He stepped inside the shed, his boots thudding on the oak floor, and closed the door behind him. A beam of light burst in through a hole in the wall and bounced off the top of his metal-framed chair. He sat on the chair, the knife still in his clenched hand, and stared at the closed door. 

The distant whine of sirens didn’t register. Images burned into his memory flashed in front of him. He turned the knife in his hand but it slipped landing on the floor with a clunk. In the darkness he focused on it, the liquid hidden by the shadows but he knew what it was. He knew who’s it was. 

His heart hammered the inside of his chest and every beat reverberated through his body. Blurred vision and a tight chest restricted his thinking. A tear trickled over his cheek and he lifted a hand to wipe it away. A sob escaped his lips. Pressing both hands to his face he screamed into them and began rocking back and forth. Tears flowed, ceaseless. Another flash of the boy and he threw his head back and wailed. 

The shed door opened and morning light flooded in, a silhouette stood in the doorway. 

“Sir?” A soft-spoken but toneless voice said, “sir, could you come with me?” 

He peered at the silhouette and sunlight glinted off silvery buttons on a dark jacket. A hat atop the head had a silver emblem in the centre. 

“Sir, this way please.” The police-woman said. 

He rose and stepped out of the shed. The blanketed yard reflected the morning light and he squinted. His eyes fell on the scarlet trail leading from the house to the shed and he dropped to his knees, sobbing. 

“Sir, I need you to come with me.” 

With bleary eyes he looked up and she waved at someone. A blanket landed on his shoulders a moment later and paramedics led him across the garden, through the gate and alongside his home. 

An ambulance stood, back doors open, in front of his house. They walked him up the steps and opened the gate. Three police cars stood next to the kerb along the street, lights flashing. Neighbours lingered at their gates, watching with intrigue. He felt their eyes on him as he sat in the back of the ambulance. He glanced across the street at his best friend’s wife, their eyes locked for a moment and she raised her hand to her mouth. She glanced at his house and then back at him. Her hair flicked up as she spun and ran back into her home. Was she going to call Trevor? 

“Mr Richardson?” 

He turned his head, a tall woman stood to his right. Her voice was soft and husky, jet-black bobbed hair framed her face and striking blue eyes studied him. He nodded once. 

“Mr Richardson, is this your home?” She asked. 

He nodded again. 

“Detective Inspector Baines.” A disembodied voice called. 

The woman walked away, disappearing around the side of the ambulance but he could hear the conversation. 

“Detective, I don’t think you’ll be able to question Mr Richardson right now.”
“And why is that?”
“He’s in shock.”

Detective Baines came back and stood in front of him. 

“Mr Richardson, we'll talk later.” she said. 

He nodded. 

Detective Baines hurried away, stomped towards the house and glanced back as she entered. His stomach flipped and he closed his eyes when she disappeared into the lounge.

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Prose for Thought


If only we could've strolled along Daytona Beach!
When you're a parent it is so easy to forget about your partner. Whether it be a husband, wife, fiancee or boy/girlfriend we often concentrate on the children and think that the other adult in the family doesn't really need attention. The constant slog of keeping a home functional and making sure the kids are ready for their after-school clubs or activities mean that we tend to ignore other things. 

Being a parent we often find ourselves making time for the children. We find crafts for them to enjoy while at home, we invite their friends over for dinner and we spend time reading books or listening to them tell us their made up stories. Having children is a 24/7 job and even when they're at school you're thinking about what they'll get up to at the end of the day. This job has almost no days off even, as I've said previously, when you're ill.

So when my sister called me at the end of last week and invited my boys to go and stay with her this weekend I was over the moon. It was such a surprise and at that moment I don't think anything else could've made me happier. Don't get me wrong, I love my boys, but sometimes... well, if you're a parent you know the feeling!