An Ugly Business



An Ugly Business


I had dissected my 8th victim, let me see, this darn watch – I must get it mended – oh, around an hour ago. A street girl. No-one will miss ‘it’. It is one of the many parasitical infestations within the area that is London. And, ‘Pests’, they must be, so sad and unfortunately, eradicated. Such vermin is not fit to live alongside the Nobler Gentile like myself. My, my, have I much work left to do – to clean this Capitals streets.

It is cold at this hour. The snow it falls heavily and the wind is bitingly prickling. As I pull my collar, I see there is blood upon my shirt. Disgust ensues me. I must be home to rid myself of the remains this ugly business has left on me – The filth of a rabid dog.

I see two Police Men. I tug my collar and coat ever closer. I am a hero. Though that, no-one will ever understand.

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Prompt – VisDare 54: Covert by Angela Goff

Photo Source Here

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The Looks & Stares

I’m walking into town just like any other day I have done a hundred times before. I took the scenic route from my house walking down the pleasant road to get to the high Street. I reach the end and as I turn the corner into it, a man looks at me strangely as he passes by. It’s the expression on his face that bothers me but I decide to just shake it off.

I continue on to the shopping centre; I am treating myself to a manicure today where I’ve been going for some quite time now. Heading towards it and thinking of my French manicure, I suddenly noticed that around me there are more than one person this time that is staring at me, to my left, to my right. I’m receiving a few odd looks from men and women too. It’s really peculiar. I decide to head to the toilets to check myself in the mirror. Maybe something is stuck to my face.

I inspect my face, nothing out of ordinary there. I look at my back and my front in the full length mirror, I look fine, unless I’m going blind. I just don’t understand the looks I am getting, so again, I shake it off. The Beautician is several shops from the toilets so I’m hoping this bizarre staring stops. I’m not even 50 yards from the toilets and this time a young kid is looking at me rather fearfully and hides behind his mother’s coat. I look up, she also has the same look and she cradles her son in closer to her. I decide to put my head down as i walk and look at the floor as this is really getting to me now.

With relief I reach the manicure parlour. But where’s Suzie who’s supposed to be doing my nails? The girl behind the desk, none to pleased with me, informs me that “time is money” and my appointment was 3 days ago. She tells me to call when Suzie’s in on Wednesday as she won’t give me another appointment. I leave the shop even more confused. How could I get the days so wrong, it’s not like me. I know my memory is not the best but still.

Once more, as on cue, I get the strange looks all the way home. I try and keep my eyes averted from meetings others gaze but I still see the looks. I get back home and decide to call my mum. After telling her all that’s happened today, she gives me no reason about my experiences, but instead tells me to go to see my Doctor. My Dr?, like he’s going to be able to do anything. I love and respect my mum so just to keep her happy I do as she asked. I’ve an appointment the next day and decide that I won’t sleep in case I miss it like the manicurists.

I’m sitting in the surgery and again the others waiting keep looking at me. I can’t take this anymore and just before I’m about to snap at them, Dr. Watts calls me in. “What?” I shout at him, he’s doing it too. “Amy” he asks me, “have you been taking your medication?” I reply no because I was better and didn’t need them anymore. The Doctor goes on to say that my mother called him this morning and told him about what happened yesterday. Great, now people are talking about me now as well. He hands me a prescription and tells me to come back in a fortnight. I tell him fine and walk out.

2 weeks later I am back in Dr Watts’s surgery. No one looked at me funny on the way here. The people in the waiting room give me no sideways glances or stares, and I am relieved. I go in to see him and after my consultation, I understand. The psychosis had started to come back and my mental health had deteriorated. The tablets he gave me made all the looks and stares go away; I really should carry on taking them even when I feel better in myself.

The thing I hate the most about mental illness is that when you become unwell you don’t realise it. It’s strange how it works. When you have a cold – you know you have a cold. But when your mind starts getting ill, you are unable to notice it, at all. But, others around you do. So, I’m just glad I called my mum that day and saw Dr. Watts. If I hadn’t of, within a week, I’d have been committed.


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Self Prompted: ‘Everyone is staring at you, why?’

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‘Writers Block’ – painful

Genre: Non-Fic Writing Related


I have had the most severe case of Writer’s Block since I started writing again: It has been 1 day shy of 2 weeks that I have written a story, 2 weeks almost, now that is ‘Writing Sickness’ ;). But, I listened to others who kindly gave advice, which I have found paramount when this strikes – and that is to just finish what you started writing.

The story I just posted ‘Unity Divided‘, was started last Monday. It was going well, the first paragraphs were flowing, and then it stopped; I did anything and everything to avoid carrying it on because I thought that I was not good enough. Self-doubt crept in like it never had before.

The funny thing about it, or strange should I say, is when I made myself finish it off tonight – I had a huge smile on my face – I was doing what I love a great deal, writing a story 🙂 I’ve been grumpy, irritable, a tad miserable as I didn’t know what happened and it scared me to be honest, I thought I’d end up quitting.

How this happens, why this happens, I am not sure but I do know it is a Writing Epidemic. People doubt themselves, listen to wrong advice, stop writing what they want to write (refer to ‘Grammar’…Urgh!!’ on that one) and it’s a painful feeling.

I’m going to finish here, but if this ever happens to you – seek out and listen to the advice of those who have been through it themselves, they’re the best to hear it from. And my two-cents worth – Do Not Give Up, It Will Come Back 🙂

Have a great week everybody 🙂



Unity Divided

Genre: Dystopian



There are 2 Province’s, 1 where people are free and 1 where they are not. I’m In the second group.

My school is next to the dividing line. From my desk I can see the freedom that the Province 1, or P1, girls and boys enjoy; no worry of their futures as they have one and can choose whatever they’d like. Us though, we have no such luxury, especially if you are an X like me.

The X,Y and Z’s of our Province are destined to work for the state however they see fit. We are nobody’s, we may as well not even exist. Whereas the A-C’s have every privilege they desire….. Here, we live by a ration system. And the state chooses what we are allowed at every given month depending on our social contribution….. And lack of rebellion.

The rebellion of our forefather’s made things worse. We were now no longer to grow on our merits to leave our province and join the prestigious P1. There was though one stipulation: Marriage. We could leave P2 if we wed an A,B or C. But, the chances of that now are slim. The Provincial Heads declared we could only marry if we underwent rigorous tests and interviews that are in place to determine the love between the two candidates are genuine and real.

In the past, the A-C citizens would have marriages of convenience to get the X-Y’s their freedom. The historical rebellions ruined that too. And that guarded secret came out through a harsh interrogation by the Provincial Heads of our then, P2 Leaders, and they changed the Law so it’s no longer as easy as it was. Even still, it is a way out, only if the love is genuine and of sincere intention and is believed.

I sigh deeply.

Through the window I see Ayra waving to me from his Schools playing field. Ayra and I have had a secret love-crush on each other since we were about 10. But, because of the strictness of the states rules, we are forbidden to spend time with each other; that doesn’t stop us though. Every week we meet up in the desolate farmhouse that once brought our province a generous amount of wealth – not as much as Province 1 – they’ve always been more wealthy than us – but Ayra and I now use it for our private meet-up’s. I waved back at him making sure the tutor’s back is turned to avoid severe punishment. Ayra smiles back up at me, along with the signal that we meet tonight. I smile back and signal too so he knows I’ve received his message.

Alone in the old barn together, talk turns to a sore subject. Ayra desperately wants me to live with him in P1. The problem is that my family have no way of leaving P2 and that would mean I would have to say goodbye to them for good. But Ayra insists he won’t let that happen, that his Father, an influential man, will grant us secret access as long as we remain silent. Part of me wants to be with him ‘there’ and the other part does not want to leave my family knowing the life they will be living in comparison to the one I will have. Yet this is the choice I must make.

Tonight, Ayra gives me a token of his commitment to me, a strong metallic key that is small enough to hide in my pocket. He say’s that it is the key to mine and his future. I know my family would let me go, they would be happy for me, yet I will not feel the same. However, I must choose. I look at Ayra, his warm brown eyes smile at me as they always do, and I tell him that I will come with him, marry him and live in P1. But our fates are still in the hands of the Provincial Heads whether they see and believe us as a genuine couple and accept us as Man and Woman. I sigh heavily. But Ayra says he can find a way, a way he could get me in. Via his Father I’m guessing, but he say’s that’s not it. What he tells me next I cannot comprehend.

Province 1 are planning an uprising. Why would they bother, I wonder, but apparently they don’t agree with the Provincial divide either and want justice for the way we in P2 are treated and have to live and survive so harshly: They want Unity, a Treaty and agreement that the A-C’s and the X-Y’s are treated as equals. 150 years ago we did live like that. But because of greed and power, when the rebels set to overthrow the State, we became disjointed – one Province having all, one having nothing. Yet before then there was no divide. I guess P1 has decided it’s time to go back to how it was. If this happens, which Ayra has sworn is taking place soon, I won’t need to choose between him and my family. I don’t know when or how this change will come about or how long it will take and if it were even possible.

But, we are still only 15 and our marriage could not take place anyway until we are 17; maybe it would happen before that time, if everything goes accordingly to their demands as Ayra has assured me it would. And then after what seemed like hours in the farm-house, I lay my weary head on Ayra’s chest, hoping and praying he is right. Time will only tell that fate and I drift off to sleep.

Ayra wakes me an hour later. Dozily I get up. We have to be so careful that no-one see’s us and we head back to the fence where we first met all those years ago where we cut through the dividing line: We always giggle at that. It was time now to say goodbye for yet another week. Ayra leaves me with encouraging words, assurances and his love. We hold one another one more time. Then in safety, I return home to P2.


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Daily Post Writing Challenge: Names. 17th March 2014 by ‘Tim’

Goodbye my Child

   To My darling Daughter,

  I haven’t much time left anymore Erin, by Friday I know I will be gone. I cannot go without leaving you with a memory of your dear old Mum.

  Please do not cry for me, I’ve led a wonderful life – including the most wonderful of all – having you x

  I need you to look after yourself well, my sweet, so you don’t have the same fate as I. You are 15 years old and there was so much more I wanted to teach you. My 40-year-old body has failed me because I didn’t look after it. I don’t want the same to happen to you.

  Take care of your body for me, eat all the right food. Exercise, doing what you love most; as with age, my love, comes wear and tear and illnesses more frequent. That’s the only thing I regret, that I didn’t take care of my body. But , you my precious, have time on your side. Don’t follow the same route that I took..

  Keep that wonderful, intelligent mind of yours active; as that starts to frail too, the older you become. Never stop studying, it will keep your mind alive. Do Not let my passing hold you back, instead learn from the mistakes that I made in life and move forward making better choices..

  I will always be by your side, my angel. And if you don’t do what I’ve asked of you, I’ll be forever whispering in your ear until you do!

  I must go now my precious, my hands are weary, my body tiring.

  I love you with all my heart, my sweet Erin. Please live happily for me and make sure that you listen to my words.

  Take care my sweet girl,

  Forever yours,

   Mum xxx

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Daily Post Writing Challenge: ‘Golden Years’



What the….?

Genre: Humour/Humor

What the…..?


Godfrey Hamilton-Price‘: The most self indulgent, arrogant, pompous, weasel I had ever had the misfortune to date.

The first date: He told me my clothes made me look ‘cheap’; that my hair style looked ‘provocative’; And my shoes were ‘suggestive’.

The second date: He takes me clothes shopping. What he chose, I wouldn’t let my Grandmother wear. Then I had to fake being sick as he tried taking me to a hairdresser.

The Third and final date: Private Jet Plane, to meet ‘Mummy’. I turn up in his worst nightmare outfit. The look on his face, I’d never seen a man so speechless. And after the speech I gave him – I’d never seen one piss themselves either! And I nearly did too!

No doubt though, when he see’s ‘Mummy’ she’ll give him what I imagine a man like him would get – a good old spanking for spoiling his Sunday bests.

And me? I laughed all the way home!


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Prompt from ‘VisDare 51: Carefree’ by Angela Goff. Photo Source here


Genre: Non-Fic Writing Related


If there’s one thing about writing that bothers me the most is the formality of using ‘correct’ Grammar – it drives me crazy. I have read many a book where the use of ‘proper’ grammar has been excluded and it has still been a very well put together text and made for interesting reading. Why should we have to write all the time, everything, to the old school, unbreakable rule of the correct use of grammar? Why? Is it not about time that we should be able to write not only what we want but how we want? My answer is Yes.

I read an article in the Huffington Post that was pleasure to my ears. A list of Very famous Authors who…..broke the rules. And their style is part of what made them famous. I am fed up with all these grammatical rules which we writers are expected to follow. Reading books with correct grammar gets boring. As long as the words flow, are understandable and the reader is able to follow the story, then what harm does a unique style of writing do? My answer is absolutely None.

I’m being totally lazy today (I did say I was lazy in my about me page) but I wanted to get my point across. For the full article in the Huff, click on its wonderful title below:

These Famous Authors Made It Okay To Commit Grammar No-No’s

It’s worth a read.


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