Murder / Crime draft – first 576 words so far..thoughts welcome!

Evening  all, I have been feeling a little creative, itching to start writing again and so here it begins. Please see the below and let me know what you think. It will be a crime fictional story. Thoughts / Comments all appreciated. Thank you for your time.

Chapter 1:

It was as though the light in her sky blue eyes had been switched off; her pupils were circular tunnels of blackness, deep and uninviting, they were encrusted with a glasslike reflective shell that protected her against almost everyone, almost.  She did not scan his face or appear remotely connected to the outside world; her golden tangled hair was matted around her face and her features remained spiritless and unchangeable, that was until he spoke.

Dean Pearson, a private detective from S.P.S, Shropshire Private Services slowly removed his hands from his pockets and positioned himself onto the faded, once floral green armchair, opposite Amelia.

“Good Morning Amelia,” said the detective, forcing his voice to sound as friendly and welcoming as humanely possible. “How are you feeling today?” Amelia, the little girl leant over and stared at her feet, transfixed by her shoes she studied these as though they were about to perform a magic act. “I did as I promised Amelia, I’ve been back to see you now for 5 days in a row, would you like to chat about anything?” Dean leant forward and scooted to the edge of his seat. If it were not for the small decorative square table between them their feet would almost touch. Dean felt the little girl’s personal space was important to her; he had worked so hard the last few weeks to gain her trust and did not wish to do anything to jeopardise that. He opened his palms in a peaceful gesture and continued. “I know that you have been very nervous around Eleanor your foster mother, but she only wants to look after you – and the other children, they would love to get to know you.”

Amelia picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of her cotton jumper and nervously darted her eyes around the room, she was like a little frightened mouse and if a pin dropped she would most likely have squeaked in terror and ran into a corner and hid. After five minutes of one sided chit chat, Dean sat back in his chair and relaxed, he had said enough today, encouraged, put at ease, if the girl was to speak she would do so to her own accord. The clock ticked just past 10am, when a small whisper interrupted his silent musings. If it was not for the echo that the large and elaborate room carried, he may have dismissed the sound as distant bird song.

“Is my mummy okay?” She tweeted with an air of innocence that only a child could possess. He did not have the heart to tell her the truth, nor had he been instructed to. Her mother was gone, not just missing but confirmed dead, they had discovered this the previous night and despite Dean’s original misgivings about Joanna’s involvement in the murder case, he now believed she had been innocent.  He had prepared for this moment, practised in the mirror over and over all morning to ensure he told a smooth and convincing lie. He felt guilty and ashamed. He had solely gained the trust of this innocent 6 year old child and yet he was about to lie to her, and fill her with false hope which would later be torn apart. But for now he looked across towards little Amelia, hopes high and tears lining the rim of her eyes.

“Your mother is fine, she is at peace and loves you very much.”


Relinquish your fears – embrace your innermost dreams


Have you ever danced in a rain storm?
Allowed yourself to feel the weight of heavy rain drops soak through your clothes and cling to you like golden syrup and honey sodden between your fingers?

Have you ever laughed so hard you thought you would die? Tears of joy streaming down your face as you kneel on the floor clutching your stomach in glorious agony?

Have you ever rebelled? Decisively not conformed to the people around you and proffered your own beliefs and knowledge with undeniable confidence and bravery?

 Have you ever made a mistake? No matter how large or small, accepted this lapse in judgement and learnt and forgiven yourself?

 Have you ever sat in silence and stared at the stars? Witnessed our world in awe without any distractions or worries?

 Have you ever decided to take a risk? Fighting for your aspirations – made your dreams come true?

 We only get one chance at life, one time to shine, enjoy, love, care, make a difference and above all else – be happy. Make others happy.

 If you are afraid to fail, you are afraid to fall. But to fall is not always to fail.
We all must fall to rethink our strategies, to re-climb and reach higher than you could ever, have imagined. As we fall we may reach other branches that were before hidden and out of reach. Immerse yourself in all that is new and inspiring.

 Remember not to hold on too tight, enjoy the ride that is life, enjoy the ride that is called living.

Relinquish your fears – embrace your innermost dreams.


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Memories from my childhood – My Nan & The Figurines.

When I was a little, curious girl,

My nanny had a collection of treasured figurines sat upon her mantle.

These were lined up in a row, three animals, a well-dressed lady with a bucket in tow.


Further to the left there was a large white well, with several small stone steps and a hanging rope,

When I was a child I’d often glance over and question why, the figures sometimes, seemed to change positions overnight,

My nanny would look at me in her usual mischievous way,  “They’re queuing for water from the well today.”


Another day I’d look once more, with hopeful eyes and a keen eagerness to know more,

“But Nan today they’re all facing the wrong way?”

She looked to me and simply said, “There is no more water at the well today. They will have to go home and come back again.”


As years went by there would remain, those same three figurines sat upon her living room mantle piece.

When she passed on I remember sitting in her chair and looking up at the memory, that we used to share,

“Nan, They’ve reached the well today,” I said, so very quietly so no one else would hear. It was such a sad day, as we visited to help empty what had been her home, but this small set of figures, that had not moved since her demise,  brought tears to my eyes but a smile to my face.


– I wrote the above piece, in memory of my Nan Doris Rolls. I was sat at home recently and this memory came flooding back to me out of nowhere, the impact hit me hard emotionally. How could I forget one of the many memories I had as a child with my Nan? I vowed never to forget this again, however insignificant and small this may seem to others, I hold it close to my heart. I do not know what happened to all of the figures, but from memory there were three. One sits on a shelf at my parents home. My Nan used to spend hours telling me stories, and I will always be thankful for the time that we shared.

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My Old Friend, Mr Anxiety.

Dear Old Friend, we’ve known each other throughout my entire existence, almost everyday you greet me as I leave my home, my sanctuary, the only place you rarely enter.

Dear Old Friend, you have accompanied me through every chapter of my life, your guidance has helped me to overcome my burdens, grief and self doubt. Your strenuous efforts to warn me of any dangers ahead have protected me and kept me safe.

Dear Old Friend, I sometimes feel as helpful as you can be, I cannot keep you within my control. It does not feel normal to shake and feel nauseous when sometimes you visit, however you say to accept your guidance with open arms, I feel lost and utterly confused.

Dear Old Friend, tonight we dined in a restaurant full of co-workers and friends. You came along for the journey and chatted away until we reached the table. I felt you squeeze the energy from my body, the breath from my lungs, why oh why did you do that?

Dear Old Friend, you’re squeezing me too tight and I can scarcely breathe, my voice is just a whisper. That nauseous feeling has greeted me once again and it was too late, I was sick at the table.

Dear Old Friend, as terrified as I am to face you with your darkened veil, your persistent presence is no longer welcome and I demand that you leave! I feel you smoother me as I try to tip toe from my home. I feel your unearthly control dominating me, strangling me, as my attempts to overcome you repeatedly fail in catastrophic ways. My body is shaking uncontrollably. Please leave and never return.

Dear Old Friend, why do you continue to pursue your relentless campaign to revoke any and all social outings I am invited to? Why must your selfish lingering spoil any chance I have of overcoming my hellish nightmares and infuriating fears.

Dear Old Friend, it pains me to admit that I once looked to you as a source of great comfort and release, when times were so difficult and things were tragically getting worse.I turned to you when I was engulfed in a deep pit of tangled anguish and despair, but you betrayed me in the most conniving and unsuspecting way.

Dear Old Friend, every corner I now turn is full of dead ends and darkened rooms. Padlocked doors greet me as I try to regain control, I find myself avoiding the things I once enjoyed. My shackles feel too overwhelming to fight you today. My heart is pounding and my peripheral vision sees shadows where monsters lurk. I envy your sickening confidence, your determination and devotion to my suffering.

Dear Anxiety, I’m going to face you someday, I am gradually but surely going to regain my control over you.

I’ll remove your veil and stare into your dark and hollow eyes. I’ll remove my chains and walk into where the shadows hide.

I’d take pleasure in your welcome demise, however you may stick around, for in time I may require use of you once again. But never again will you use me.