100 Words: Parent

This story, formed as a letter, is inspired by The Jennifer Pan Story’. A tragic True Crime case that divided opinion. 


Dear Jennifer,

I’ve tried to understand and I think I now do.

Many despise you. They cannot comprehend what you went through that lead to their murder. But the impact your parents had on your life: You never stood a chance.

You tried to get good grades. You tried to come home early. You tried to obey.

You were forbidden to wear makeup. You weren’t allowed any friends. You were only allowed to study. ‘Jennifer’ didn’t matter.

You matter to me. My book will tell the truth and I’ll make people see.

So, hang in there….

….We’re getting you out.



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This 100-word only prompt – Parent – is from Tara R at her blog, Thin Spiral Notebook. Write 100 words exactly – not one word more, and not one less. Check out others take Here on the word prompt ‘Parent’ 🙂



She was bitter. Why? Because she woke up.

Her life was a tragedy. Abused physically, emotionally and sexually. Her life was filled with depression, the earliest memory of feeling so unhappy she could remember, was when she was 6. The children in the playground made her even sadder. She envied them. The laughter, the playing and their freedom. She never knew these things.

And as she grew older she knew she wouldn’t have a good life.

And so it was in her late teens that she realised her life was too painful. Her boyfriend was unsupportive. He didn’t have a job. He was a thief and an addict. But she loved him. Well, she thought she did.

One night she realised this was not the life she wanted. But because of her childhood trauma, she knew there wasn’t a better life she could move on to. It was hopeless. So she decided to end her life.

After 2 weeks of preparation, she now had the cocktail of drugs she needed. Some from the Doctor’s and some she had bought. Her partner was scoring at the time, at someone’s home an hour away from theirs. She made up a lie and left her boyfriend there.

She got home and she swallowed every single pill.

She was in the intensive care unit, unconscious, for a week. Her parents visited daily. Her mum would talk to her non-stop. There was a part of her that could hear because tears would run down her face when her mum told her how much she was loved.

On her release from the mental health unit she was sectioned to, she saw her Psychiatrist the next day. She was angry. “Why the fuck did I wake up?! She yelled.

The biggest regret of her entire life was that she never died.

She came close to it again recently. But something had changed. She didn’t want to kill herself, she wanted a shot at happiness. And since that moment, her life got better.

She needed to and had to come that close again. Because it was in that moment she finally decided one way or the other: live or to die.

She chose to live.


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Today’s prompt is from The Daily Post and is the word ‘Bitter’. You can view the post by clicking here and to check out what everyone else has written using today’s Word Prompt! 🙂


Genre: Psychological, Dark




Am I healing?


What’s taken place, and what has been. What is no more, what no longer is.

What will be – I do not know.

The climb has been steady, with pitfalls and highs along its way.

The trajectory points up and forward, despite it being impossible to see.

The highs get higher, the laughter gets louder. On the flipside though, and there is a big one, the lows are much lower.

It’s no wonder each day I am comatose. I can’t take the stimulation of the highs as much as I’m unable to take the desperation of the lows.

If there is a middle road, I’m yet to walk it.

Pain is there, as I journey through hell. I’m traversing it, on it I’m balancing, and I’m holding my breath. Because at any time, I might fall.


So. Am I healing?


Things could be how they were. When I had no one, when nothing was all I did have. Hard work has made it better, although the lows contradict and tell me otherwise.

But I’m still here, so I carry on. Climbing, breathing and surviving.

One day I may be okay, one day I may heal. And Until that day comes, despite my tortured soul, I’ll hold on and hang on to the what that may well be:

I am free.




DailyPost Prompt – ‘Heal’. Click here to view


There’s Light in Darkness; I Think.

Hello! Um, I think I need to issue a warning on this piece. It is very dark. Suicide, death and dying is in it yet has some hope thrown in too. So, It’s entirely up to you if you want to go ahead and read it 🙂

This photo prompt is provided by FFFAW and you can find the weekly prompt challenge here 🙂


Genres: Dark/Disturbing, Tragedy & Psychological



The darkness and desolation mirror my soul: hopeless, fearful and alone. But, a light keeps moving me forward even though I wish it would dim. I truly want to die but I also want to live. The ambivalence drives me insane. Why can’t I decide once and for all one way or the other? My friend says to me “don’t do it” and I think great, I chose death and now he’s stolen the moment: I hate it when he says something to stop me. Why can’t I just go?

But, however dark I feel, how void of hope I am, that light always remains, illuminating a small spot within me. In the end, I hope I’ll find meaning from my pain and the struggles I’ve had. And If I do and if I can do good, then my life will have been worth it and I’ll have finally found my peace – that’s the plan, anyway.


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Beyond Repair?.. Not

123 09 September 27th 2015


Beyond Repair?.. Not

Over the past year: situations, illness’ and marred relationships had piled up – just like a pile-up on a motor track that fully ends a race. Finally, she pulled away from it all and placed it in the past, viewing it as a series of unfortunate happenings.

Starting over isn’t easy, especially if it involves a multitude of aspects in a persons life: social, health, work, spirit, beliefs, faith. If someone is to move on and start afresh, these things need to be restored and some, even reworked.

Everything that has been held dear, what once was believed in and trusted, gone.

Is the heart and soul beyond repair?

…Like the battered racing cars, they will either be crushed or fixed: the dents knocked out, the wheels replaced, the foundation that is the chassis, mended. Patience, hard work and loving dedication, until all that needs to be repaired, is.

I wish I’d of listened to my own counsel and not to the direction of others. But now I do listen to me. And through all the adversity I have suffered, the one thing that I forgot was there came fighting through…

…That which never left:

My strength.


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Piccy prompt from ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’. Find others’ stories if you Click Here






‘Daddy, Please Don’t’

(folks, this may be a trigger for some. read wisely)

Genre: Tragedy, Psychological, Dark.



photo source

‘Daddy, Please Don’t’


Every day I see mommy crying. ‘Don’t cry mommy, please don’t cry’, and she wipes her tears while she is holding me close to her.

Daddy comes home and mommy always tells me, really quietly, to ‘be a good boy now, Daddy’s home and I need you to go to your room and stay there okay? go, go on’.

Daddy is shouting at mommy again. I see through my opened door my mommy on the floor crying: She has a bloody face again.

Daddy see’s me and yells, ‘get over here you little bastard. see? see what you made me do? you little shit’. mommy is begging him to stop, but it’s too late. Daddy hits me across my face and it hurts. But I won’t cry.

Daddy hits me again. Then he leaves, slamming the front door.

I crawl over to my mommy and we both sit huddled, and cry.

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VisDare 108: Voice. Visit Angela’s site here for weekly story prompts.


The Still Wait

Genre: Tragedy, Psychological


Photo source

The Still Wait


Alone. I love breathing this air. I feel at peace.

I’m gonna walk down that grass dip to the lake, and no-one will even have an idea why I am here, and then I’ll be still.

No more worries, no more cares, just me, me on my own. No more friends, No more parents, No more fellow survivors. No-one anymore. Nobody. Just me.

The sun rising is beautiful.

As I breathe in the air, my mind free’s.

Ahhh, the fresh air. The peace.

I won’t look behind me. Nor will I retreat.

Damn, this lager is strong; now I know why alckies drink the stuff. Urgh, but it’s done its dues and I am woozy.

I’ll start to get going. Down the grassy hill.



Standing at the lake’s edge, I peer down and see my reflection rippled by the waters natural movement, I swallow the last handful of tranq’s: How well they work with alcohol.

For a while, at least.

I step one foot then another into the cold lake. I’m warm.

I can feel myself beginning to unsteady. Thoughts are hard. I barely notice my breaths as my body starts to will itself to fall. Must go in further. Each step is lifting lead.

I am fully affected by the drugs and drink now. I’m weak. I’m tired. Things are blackening around me. I carry on; well I think I do.

Then I think my final thought before I eventually fall:

‘God, Why? – Why?’


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