The Relentless Paralysis of Sleep

The sounds, the mental noise. I know I am tired, I know I need sleep, but my mind won’t allow me. I plead for it to recognise my weary, worn-out body, tell it to please let me sleep. But it won’t.

I turn on my back, making my space comfortable. I shut my eyes, I focus on my breath – in, out, in, out, in – hold…. and out. I feel it’s calming me. Then I hear the noise, the other one; it hisses intermittently in my ears as my head falls under its spell and I know I must fight the demons that come when my mind is awake and my body slowly locks as it falls into paralysis.

I fight, using every bit of strength in my body to kick myself from its constricting grip. I don’t want to see the monsters, I don’t want to hear the moans that taunt me by calling my name. I’m able to move again, sighing, asking why it happens to me.. But, to date, I’ve found no answer I’m yet to believe.

So when the buzzing passes my ear, I know I am slipping down once more. Again, I muster all my will to pull myself from its nightmare hold.

I have to get up.

I go to the lounge, curling up on the sofa, hugging the pillows close to my head. I’m not out of danger yet, but at least I’m no longer in the room where this terror usually occurs.

How wrong was I.

Hissing and buzzing – like electricity scorching through my brain. I get up, so tired I almost fall, the frame of the door holds me. I rub my eyes as I decide whether to be safe, and opt for a decaf, or know through my many accounts of this, to give in and work.

I opt for decaf just in case it has passed.

I don’t distract myself yet, as I am consumed with exhaustion. So I give it one last shot, offing the light, resuming my place, closing my eyes and wishing for sleep.

I wait, almost holding my breath far too long; then a hand brushes my face, a buzz passes my ear again and I know that I am defeated. The sleep paralysis has taken over and I can fight it no more.

I pull myself up, the computer comes on, I make a strong coffee and I start to work.

Taking comfort in knowing tonight’s nightmare has ceased, I agree that later, I will sleep. Because by then, through enough experience, I know I’ll be able to rest… The omen of the night is now the past and just a shadow I want to forget…Again.

And I make another coffee.


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A Mothers Venom

Hello All! This is a short story, just 400 words. Telling a tale in which I’ve also taken a look at the conscious awareness of the world in which we live.

Sad child.
Sad child. (Photo credit: apdk)

A Mothers Venom 


All she did was spite her daughter, the one she left in the Fathers care at the mini age of just 4.

Eva’s Mother left her as she was in love with another man who lived in another country. To her, he was more important than her daughter.

How can a woman pick a man over her own child?

She got her comeuppance though when the bloke had enough of her and filed for divorce.

But did she go back for her daughter? No. Instead her energy went into her other daughter, Sophie: And her love interests.

As the years went by, her Mother had wanted nothing at all to do with Eva, hell, even Sophie shunned her half-sister… And the rest of the family members could never understand why – because we weren’t made that way to treat people like that.

All we knew, was this woman – and her ‘new’ daughter – were one heck of a heartless, venomous and selfish pair. All they cared about, deep down, was themselves and money. But…

…Now even Sophie wants nothing to do with her Mother – who became a raging alcoholic – so suddenly, poor Eva, who was never loved or cared for by her Mother, is now on the receiving end of her torrent of abuse one minute, kindness the next and then her nasty spite.

Eva is 51 years old: She just still wants her Mothers love.

We cannot take Eva’s pain away, but what we can, and do, do is give her our love, no strings attached – totally unconditional.

If only her Mother could see what all of us see. Because to me, she is the best cousin/sister in the world, and likewise, niece to my Mum and Dad. (I regard her as my sister).

Her Mother doesn’t deserve her. But, at least Eva has us: And there’s more than enough love to be given still!

It’s just so surprising to me how very different members of the same family actually are…. Like ‘Chalk & Cheese’, ‘With a heart’ to ‘Having no compassion’.

We all have our own story’s about our family members; you know, the ones that are cast aside, the black sheep, the disapproved of… Yet we are all of the same blood.

If the members of the same family can’t even get along, how do we expect the world ever to be able to?*

*I’ll leave you to ponder on that one.

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A Self Prompted Story: ‘Exploring Motherly Love’. Feel free to use this prompt, all I ask is that you credit it back to me. Thanks!

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Wait for Meeee!

Genre: Humour/Humor



Wait for Meeee!

The Sheep, they saw their perfect opportunity for escape.

Bleating in their excitement, some never saw the car coming and sadly, a few brothers and sisters were lost. They bleated mournfully.

Their grief had to be displaced if they were going to make it past Farmer Giles: He was so mean, wanting to steal their warm coats to amass wealth while they froze.

They had cottened on early though: No pulling the wool over these Sheep’s eyes.

Without a backwards glance, they ran and ran and ran;

Then stopped. Where were they exactly going to go?

Poor, poor Sheep. They need to now find another leader:

They are lost Sheep after all!

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Another instalment for the Friday Fictioneers! For May 16th from our host – Rochelle


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‘Boat’ – Watch Out!

Genre: Humour/Humor

Sunday Prompt


‘Boat’ – Watch Out!


“Hey, Bob, take a look” Dave said on passing over the binoculars. “Tell me, what do you see?”

Bob was unusually quiet as he gazed at the view in front of him. Dave was getting impatient; “Well? What do you think it is?”

“To be honest Dave, I haven’t a clue – a ship?”, then passed the binoculars back.

“You idiot, of course it’s a ship. Some flipping genius you are” Bob muttered as he took another look. “This could be a tidy sum we’re looking at Bobby-boy. A very tidy sum”.

Finally Bob spoke. “If I were the captain of that ship, why would I leave her and what would I leave with her?”

Dave smiled at his friends words. ” My thoughts exactly. I say we get the boat and go take a looksy”.

And off they set.

“This is the Police! Get down, hands on your heads, Now!”

Bob and Dave were known to the Police as the thieves that they are, both with impending warrants for their arrests. The ship was a decoy.

“Robert McCormack and David Sculley; I am placing you both under arrest”.

Both prayed their transformations into good Christians while imprisoned would work again. It always did, every single time they went to jail, leaving early.

The officer in charge smirked at them. “By the way lads… In your cells this time? your reading material will no longer be a Bible!”.

Walking away laughing, he shouted over his shoulder “Do enjoy your stay at Her Majesty’s Pleasure!”

And with that, Bob and Dave looked at each other. And then the pair of them looked up at the sky in unison – and prayed!

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Prompt: ‘Sunday Photo Fiction 18th May 2014








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The Lion and his Lioness

Genre: Romance


I used to look at him, there was something strange that I could not put my finger on, he was beautiful though. Our eyes literally spoke as we walked past each other “I want you” his said, and mine? “come get me”. And with that, ‘We’ were created as an ‘Us’. Then he went away.  My heart broke in half, I didn’t want to live any more, but I had a strange feeling of hope inside, that he’d one day come back.

I moved on after that, went away to study, yet I always had this feeling of wherever I went, he was there, right by my side as if we never parted. I dated other boys, but they were nothing like him.

The seasons rolled by one at a time after each other until a full circle would bring them around again. I never did see him in all those years. But something felt, in a good way, right. I just knew, like the seasons, we’d come full circle once we’d completed carving out our own destinies: It was like The Light had bought us together and The Light – it never misleads.

Dark days occurred where I’d miss him throughout my entire being. Madly, though, I kept hopeful one day will come where we’ll meet. And it sure as hell did!

Lions in a forest, lost, but always looking for their pride. Beasts will always find their mate, enduring harsh realities and much walking. But they always meet, eventually. And when they do, they create their off-spring; a Lioness, cleaning and teaching her young; The Lion, protecting his prizes. They stay together, whatever the researchers think who can’t get close enough to see the real truth. A Lion never loses his first mate; the Lioness nor hers; they remain, whatever.

And that’s how the story goes with him and me. We’ll never lose sight of each other again. And we’ll never stray away. If we did, we’d lose the fight, grow weak and be lost in the wilderness like the Lions.

My friends always thought me odd that I’d wait this long for a man. What they didn’t know was that we loved each other and we never left. In distance we did leave, but in spirit, we were there in each others grasp the whole time.

Learn from this my friends: Learn to let the other breathe and clear their spaces first before you jump right in. Because if it is eternal, you’ll never be apart for a single moment, however you feel. They’ll always return in a full circle like the cycle of the seasons. And when that happens, you’ll be laughing your heads off!

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FWF by Kellie Elmore Prompt, here



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Writing Self-Doubts

Writing Self-Doubts.

Today I am writing about ‘Not being confident enough to write a novel’. Why not? Because I read other authors work and start to feel very inferior. I think to myself that I cannot match some of my favourite storytellers and that it’s a whole load of a futile attempt to even get started.

My writing is suffering. I don’t believe in myself, I seem to have an imagination ‘block’; I want to read about published authors and their journeys, I need to find out ‘How’ To Write given I barely scraped through my English exams in school.

I ask myself the question.. “Who am I to write?” That’s not getting me far, so I guess a change of mid-set, and just going for it is what is needed. Hell, even my blog is suffering as a result of all this self-doubt.

Part of me wishes I would have gone to University, then at least I’d be able to write ‘easier’ because as it stands, I am not a confident writer.

I’m writing all this, believe it or not, for a post on my blog about this very topic. Hey, I may as well c/p this and be done with it. When in fact all I need TO DO is write the damn stories and stop feeling sorry for myself that I am not worthy, even good enough.

That plus the guilt for a story I started and decided to turn it into a book and no longer publishing next parts on my site. And the stuff I am coming up with now, is not that great – in my eyes.

There was a time I’d get a follower per story posted – that doesn’t happen any more. So, I NEED TO WRITE and stop fretting.

THIS is my warm-up, the story comes next. And I am going to read other authors Q & A sessions wherever I find them. Wish me luck!!

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Write For 10 is a website for writing ‘Warm-Up’s’ in the space of 10 minutes. This post was written there – getting it off my chest basically – so as it was a topic I was going to write about anyway, I have literally c/p this straight ‘as-is’. It’s a great site, so here’s the link (just click on its name)…

Write for

Nature’s Revenge

Copyright -B. W. Beacham


Nature’s Revenge


The rain, it poured for months. This – the first dry day we’ve experienced – and we see the destruction of its aftermath.

The whole valley was now beneath water; a sea of wastage. Good people losing their homes; neighbours providing board.

But, this on such a large-scale, we know only too well it won’t be long before we are all submerged and have to move outward.

They knew about the problem 30 years ago and acted too late, if acted at all.

We don’t know if this dry spell will last.

But what we do know, is that not before long, drowned, is how Britain will die.

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Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle. Photo prompt source here





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