Red. Scarlet Red.
Like the colour of their blood.
A horror, lies in Flanders Fields,
between the rows of us.
We ask not for mercy,
just to remember what befell,
and through the sea of ruby red,
a story we must tell.
We are a mark,
a reminder,
a memory,
telling tales of courage
and men who paid their debt.
And beneath the days of golden rays,
we vow: “lest we forget.”
Tag Archives: Creative Writing
Writing Challenge: Forbidding the letter “A”
I love writing challenges. They’re a great way to stimulate your imagination, practice your skills, and encourage creative thinking. For me, I find them especially useful if I hit writer’s block, as although they impose restrictions in one aspect, I can write freely in others–and usually what I end up producing is something unexpected, but often useful.
Recently, I challenged one of my best friends, Isaac, to write a short story without using the letter “A”, and wanting to exercise my own writing muscles, I decided that it was only fair that I, too, take on the challenge. Here are a few things I learnt:
- We use more words containing the letter “A” than we realise. I would estimate that 90% of our daily language consists of sentences with words including this letter–from conjunctions and nouns, to verbs and adjectives. And trying not to use any words with this letter is a complete and utter mission. Forbidden words include: ‘a’, ‘an’, ‘am’, ‘as’, ‘at’, ‘are’, ‘was’, ‘also’, ‘can’, ‘what’, ‘had’, ‘have’, ‘said’, ‘any’, ‘say’, ‘that’, ‘than’, ‘all’, ‘again’, ‘back’, ‘because’, ‘about’, ‘make’, ‘take’, ‘way’, ‘want’, and ‘after’.
- Trying to construct a complete, concise sentence without using the letter ‘A” is hard. There are so many things that you want to say, that you want to say in a specific way, but you just can’t.
- You have to be clever. So, I can’t use ‘I have’, but I can use ‘I’ve’. I can’t use ‘and’ but I can end sentences and begin new ones. I can’t use ‘a’ but I can use ‘the’. You have to be extremely selective with the words you use and how you use them.
Here is what I managed to come up with:
The lights in the house flickered one by one,
the silence creeping in through every sliver.
Somewhere beyond the river, the trees,
owls cooed, wolves howled,
wind whistled in the breeze.
The boy knelt, keeled over, wheezing,
the glistening pools of liquid ice, quickly freezing
below his feet.
The chill enveloped him, like piercing knives deep into his spine,
the whine, the whine of piercing cries, echoing.
‘I come in kindness,’ the voice whispered.
‘Lies,’ the boy replied. ‘You do not seek good.’
The boy hiccoughed, sobbing into his shirt,
sodden with dirt.
‘My mother is gone. My sister too. You took them from me.’
‘They left willingly.’
‘More lies,’ the boy replied. ‘You took them in the night. Destroyed their minds. Twisting, turning their thoughts into fictions where they felt they could not go on. You left me on my own.’
‘Their choice.’
‘More lies. You do not know freedom. You simply collect souls until your collection is complete.’
‘My boy… it is not my choice. I follow orders. My list of souls… it differs every week. Some slither into the ether, where I struggle to find them. Others seek me out like I seek them.’
‘But…’
‘Hush, boy. Do not worry. It is not your soul I’ve come to collect.’
‘If not me… then who?’
The voice did not reply. The owls cooed; the wind whistled; the wolves howled. Silence surrounded the boy once more. From the house, the lights flickered out of control–more quickly with every second ticking by, before stopping swiftly.
Then, he felt it deep within his bones: the blood-curdling cry… the sound of the voice collecting his next victim.
What do you think?
In my opinion, it’s not bad. It’s not great, but considering the multitude of words I couldn’t use, I’m quite happy with it! I may have to have another go at some point in the future, perhaps writing something a bit more upbeat because this took an awfully dark tone which was unexpected… but then, I guess that’s the beauty of these challenges because you never know what kinds of things you’re going to end up creating!
Why don’t you have a go at this challenge and see what you can come up with? (And if you do, please tag me in your posts, because I’d love to see them!)
Learning
I am learning,
slowly
to be okay with the things
that I am not okay with,
loose endings
broken friendships
with no reparation in sight.
I am learning to let go
and not hold on so tight,
to let memories be
instead of thinking of them
tainted.
What’s done is done.
What’s past is past.
There is no use in looking back
for it will do nothing to help you move on,
when yesterday us gone.
The only direction is forward.
Perspective is all we gain from hindsight,
watching the road in the rearview mirror,
seeing how far we’ve come
and of how things might
look different
be different
if we had made different choices
and taken different roads,
said ‘no’ instead of ‘yes’,
and ‘yes’ instead of no,
knowing when to keeps our mouths
closed.
Loose lips sink ships
and I have sunk a few,
accidentally with excitement
and wanting people to talk to.
I did not think of the consequences,
and was blind to the unforseen circumstances,
until the rose-coloured glasses
shattered upon my eyes,
and I saw things for how they are,
not how I wished them to be.
I am learning
to be okay with refusal of apologies,
for my actions
though I have tried to apologise
but perhaps I am already
the villain in some people’s eyes,
more than I realise.
I am learning to be kay
with the silence.
Silence is serenity,
sometimes necessary,
and often tells you everything you need to know.
Perhaps the things that bother me now
will not matter in a year, or so
and they will be just memories of their own.
I am learning every day,
how to be better and kinder,
to know what not to say
and to say to whom,
to sit with these feelings that feel overwhelming
and feel them,
in the hope that someday soon
they will shrink and dissolve
and disappear into the ether.
Who am I to know?
I am learning
that things change
and so do people,
and sometimes the greatest thing you can do for people
is change yourself
when you have become someone that is not authentic
and you are not the person you know you are,
when you hate the human being you’ve become.
I am learning that learning is constant
a constant, ongoing, evolutionary process.
To learn is to progress.
Mistakes are a part of learning too,
and to learn from them and start anew
is to bloom,
from bud to flower,
phoenix from the ashes,
all over again.
Long Roads
The road is long
and sometimes
hard to follow
and disappears among the fog
or lost beneath a blanket of snow.
The winding bends
and dead ends
seem unnecessary
and pointless
and more hassle than the journey is worth.
But every turn
leads to the straight and narrow,
the wisps of fog clear,
and sunbeams melt the snow,
leaving behind
a brighter and clearer tomorrow.
The Devil (Drives A Red Corvette)
I should have listened when they said,
“he will only get in your head,
and make you think that you’re the problem,
while he takes another girl to bed”
but I just wanted to believe,
all the things he said to me.
He doesn’t talk much,
though his talk is sweet.
No,
it’s not sadness –
just regret
from ignoring all the flags,
though they were waving in the wind,
bright and burning red.
I look back
at my naivety,
feeling stupid for letting him in,
but they say the devil drives a hard bargain.
How were I to know
it came in the shape
of a red corvette?
We are the stars
Trust in the power of the universe,
for we are all made of the cosmos.
We are made of matter.
Though we feel inextricably small
in the scale of things,
we matter.
Wildfire
Dangerous
deadly
hazardous to the environment
a simple carless spark, spreading
a perfect solitary paradise
engulfed in flames
thick clouds of charcoal smoke against the azure sky
as it burns for days, weeks, months on end
merely a shadow of what it was
of everything it used to be
blackened
broken
barren
burned beyond recognition
the debris of ash and dust
a mark of devastation
destoryed by wildfire,
lost forever.
Eclipse
Two halves
dark and light
finally equal
for the first time.
Do Not Tell Me
Do not tell me how to be a woman
to stop biting my lip because it turns you on
to stop playing with my hair
because it’s one of the things you like
to stop being articulate
because you find intelligent women sexy
or to stop wearing my favourite dress
because it reveals my legs
just enough to keep you interested.
Do not tell me how to think
how to act
how to dress
or what to do
while you have a faithful girlfriend
waiting for you
at home.
Do not tell me how to be,
just because you never really got over me.
Abyss
You’re surrounded
covered by darkness
like a blanket
but it is not warm
or comforting.
It is cold,
like shards of rice ripping through your skin
deeper and deeper into your soul
drawing you in
until the light fades
and is replaced
with the nothingness,
the abyss.
Untitled: 3
I saw you drive by my house this morning
and I felt that familiar feeling
that knot in my stomach
that elevated heartbeat
that I used to get
when I knew you were coming to see me.
I think about you all the time,
in the most uninteresting moments,
because my mind wanders and I wonder
are you thinking of me too?
Do you tell stories about me
of the things we used to do together?
No, of course not…
but, do you?
I thought about dialling your number
but I decided against it.
Sometimes, the past is meant to be left behind.
Untitled: 2
He was lightning
and she was the thing
he was about to strike
leaving irreversible damage
on her body forever.
Free Spirit
She was the kind of friend
that would have you
dancing on tables
and taking shots of Tequila
at 3am
reminding you how it feels
to be a free spirit again.
Enchanted
I am enchanted by his magic smile
that turned me weak at the knees
his slicked back hair
and his gravelly morning voice
and the way he walked
with his hands
in the front pockets of his jeans.
I am enchanted by his corny jokes
and his childish banter,
his love of black and white movies,
and his captivating charm
that reminded me of James Dean.
I am enchanted by the look in his eyes
every time he looks at me
and the way my name
rolls off his tongue.
In a world of unfaithful, adulterous men,
he is
a gentleman.
Halls
These halls have changed so much
since I have been away,
that I barely recognise the place.
It doesn’t feel the same.
These walls do not understand me
in the same way,
they do not understand
who I am
or where I have been
or share the memories
that we built in them.
The tiles on the floors
do not remember my footsteps,
and these are not the same corridors
that I have walked a thousand times.
They do not remember the way I would laugh
with my friends
over an inside joke
or the hard work I put in,
or the the small moments in between
that I worry I have forgotten.
They do not remember the times I cried,
or the stories that have been told
behind a beaten old locker
before it was time to go home.
They do not remember the kisses and breakups
the making up
between friends
the queues in silence before exams
or two not quite lovers holding hands.
There used to be a photo of me
upon the wall,
but now there is a blank space
no memory of me at all.
Everything has been replaced
with new people and new things
and I find myself there,
staring.
I thought that it would feel
like returning to sacred ground
overwhelmed with emotion
the band playing out
like the end of a movie,
reminiscing.
But it doesn’t.
I am a stranger
that these halls let in.
And it will never be the same again.
Poison Apple
He is sweet
like American Pie
drawing you in
with the promise
of being everything you’ve ever wanted
the man of your dreams
saying he will give you
everything you need
and love you like you’re his only Queen.
But make no mistake,
he is not a knight in shining armour
and he does not ride around on a white horse.
He will not come and save you.
He breaks his promises
and he’s good at his disguise,
because behind his charming smile
and innocent eyes
are perfectly rehearsed lies.
So don’t believe everything he tells you,
for he is his father’s son,
and after all, as you may know
even the sweetest apple
can be laced with poison.
Overgrown
She cared for him
like a precious garden
with flowers bursting from the ground
a majestic masterpiece of exotic colour,
lavender, bluebells, marigolds, roses,
poppies, daisies, sunflowers, and petunias
carefully planted and pruned
the kind of garden that wins a prize
but then he broke her heart, and now
the garden is so overgrown
with weeds and insects
running wild
trying to break free.
16 Unrequited
I looked at him,
the first boy who ever loved me,
the first boy I never loved back,
and realised that not loving him
was the wisest decision I ever made,
as he could never be everything I need
for I am a grown woman
yet he is a grown man,
stuck at sixteen.
Dragons
She didn’t need a white knight
to save her.
She was a warrior
and ready to fight the dragons
as an army of strong and able women
stood behind her
vowing to fight them too.
All In
We’re scared,
terrified,
terrified that this may not work,
terrified that it’s the biggest mistake of our lives
that this will end in heartbreak
leaving us a lost cause
and broken beyond repair.
We have never had anything like this.
From the moment I met you,
I knew you were the one,
between flirtatious banter
and stolen glances
my heart fell in love with yours.
It might be wrong,
and dangerous,
like comets colliding
but I want to be bold.
I want to be bold with you.
No more cat and mouse games.
No more pining away.
I want to go all in.
Tonight.
Tomorrow.
Forever.
Carousel
There’s a carousel,
like the ones you see at a fairground,
in vibrant red and vibrant yellow,
with intricate designs carved into every curve,
with bright lights constantly beaming,
where the horses jump from floor to ceiling,
bound by the metal ropes,
that hold them to the floor.
They can only go so far.
You ride the carousel,
spinning faster and faster and faster and faster,
your knuckles white as you hold on desperately,
gripping for dear life,
but you never slow down.
You never stop.
Because the carousel never stops turning.
81 Days
It’s been 81 days since you left
and I still wait
with bated breath
for someone to exclaim
that it is all a dream
and what I know
isn’t really happening.
It’s been 81 days
since you last smiled
a cheshire cat grin –
the kind that makes you feel something,
everything.
It’s been 81 days
since you last spoke
some words
any words
but being five thousand miles away
I will never know what they were.
It’s been 81 days since
I last saw your face
on my screen
as a human being
alive
pulse
beating.
81 days later
and it has yet to sink in
that you’re not coming back
that you will not laugh
sing
cry
joke
breathe
or be
again.
Double Standards
They tell you to be yourself
but what good is it
when they mock your health
and your wealth?
‘Stand out from the crowd!’ they scream
‘Do your own thing!’
But how do you do your own thing
when the thing you want to do
is be like everyone else?
‘Stand up,’ they say, ‘even if you’re standing alone’
but how can you,
when they are quick to break your bones
and shatter your spirit,
your dreams?
‘We must do what is right,’ they’ll say;
that it is our responsibility to speak for those who are marginalised
underrepresented
undervalued
unnoticed.
But those saying such words are the first to criticise us for not being authentic,
for being too white for black,
too straight for gay,
too rich for poor,
too young for old,
too uneducated to question what we’re told,
to not take things at face value,
because faces can mask the truth.
We are imposed with double standards
but what if double did not exist
and standards were simply
to stand
and fight for what is right
and what is true
without anybody
humiliating,
mocking,
condescending
or scolding you.
My Writing Playlists
Imagine – you’re sitting on your sofa watching your favourite television show. Something really intense has happened. Maybe it’s good. Maybe it’s bad. But, as the episode is drawing to a close and your favourite characters are making emotional, thought-provoking speeches, you hear the familiar sounds of the piano as a beautiful, intense ballad begins to play. You reach for a tissue as a tear slips down your cheek…
If you’ve ever seen Grey’s Anatomy or nearly any other TV drama or film in existence then you’ll know what I’m talking about.
You know the feeling… the feeling when you hear a particular song on your Spotify, in a shop, or even on another show, and you know exactly where it would fit. Whether it’s in a hook-up scene, a breakup, or a goodbye scene… you just know.
Often when I’m writing, I have those exact moments. I’m sure we all do it. We see our stories like a movie in our head, and we know exactly what songs would play in the background of each scene.
Though, I know when it comes to film writers are not the sole decision-makers on what music appears where, I do feel that it helps us to write those scenes; and we are as emotionally attached to our own characters as we are to those that others have created that we have watched week after week for years.
That is why I decided to create ‘Ultimate Writing Playlists’, so if I am stuck, or there is a particular feeling that I want to evoke during a scene but I just can’t get it right, then I can press play or shuffle and hope that inspiration will strike! It has become an extremely useful tool, and just allows me to visualise the scene more clearly while letting the ideas flow.
If you haven’t got writing playlists of your own, then I highly recommend doing so. Of course, you don’t have to have separate playlists for different moods – you could have all of your ‘writing’ songs in one playlist, but I prefer having everything separately because I hate having to scroll through a long list to find the particular song with the specific vibe that I am after. I also find it far more organised, and I can see exactly what songs I have and the recommendations that Spotify gives are more tailored and accurate than if all the songs from all the playlists were just bundled together.
‘Okay,’ you’re thinking, ‘but where do I begin?’
Well, my friends… allow me to introduce you to my six writing playlists. Whether you want to follow them and use them for your writing, or simply find inspiration to create your own lists, I have linked all of them below for you to scroll through and listen to your heart’s content – each with a brief description above, noting the kind of songs in each and the sort of scenes I imagine them in.
Playlists:
Intros: Songs that I envision in opening scenes to a film/show that set the tone for the show – e.g, when the camera pans over the city. These could also serve as transition songs between scenes.
Badass Moments: When the character is about to be/being a badass. Goes hand in hand with some badass dialogue.
Powerful: Coupled with Badass Moments, but are a little less ‘badassy’ in their vibe and instead a little more ‘I’m strong and powerful’
Hot & Steamy: I think this is self-explanatory…
Emotional: The songs for the deep conversations, where the character loses somebody they love, where they’re reunited with someone for the first time in decades, where they’re contemplating their futures, someone proposes and scenes end on a happy note… a.k.a all the ballads, and songs that will make you cry both tears of sadness and tears of joy. (Could also title this: every single song that would work in Grey’s Anatomy.)
Miscellanous: Songs that don’t have any definitive category – they could fit in multiple places but I’m not yet sure which exact playlist to designate them to.
I hope that you find these helpful – I know I do. And of course, if you end up making your own writing playlists or there are songs you’ve heard that you think I might like to add to these, then please drop me a comment as you can never have too much inspiration to draw from!
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