non fiction
"Natalie you are strange, if you have something you would like to tell me because you know I would be completely fine with it"

Again I have been pacing around the sittingroom, complaining about how on one of my introverted, just me days someone, preferably a guy has decided to bother me, with the talk about the weather, compliment my earrings, ask if I live round here bullshit, and heres my mum still trying for the second time to get me to admit to being gay. First thing is first, a medium told my mum that I have a secret that I haven't told her and when I do my up and down moods will stop and I will be the real me. I walk towards the sittingroom door and turn to her, shes waiting for my reply with that mumsy, I accept you as you are grin. I sigh,

"I guess I'm bi you know, I'm just a very loving person you know?" I'm twenty two and still the stroppy, chav talk flutters out of my lips. What next, I'll get a baseball cap, go to zinc and flip my hands up and down to soldier boy, pretending to be a boy, Did it once, never again. I am a girl and hopefully will stay one.
Mum nods, her eyes gaze around, her mouth gawping open. Did she even listen to what I said?

"yeah, oh I used to be abit like that, people thought I was bi when I was younger"

At least she listened to me. Walking back to a messy bedroom which now has a scruffy piece of paper stating 'BEWARE! SHIT MESSY ROOM. DEMOLISH MY SOUL'  stuck outside my bedroom door. I wrote this when I was stressed out that I couldn't find one little black and gold gem bag amongst the paper, clothes and books. I'll take it down when my mum finds it, telling me that its not a very positive thing to do.
I close my door and sit on my unmade bed, thinking about writing a singletons essay. Why its best and you are a stronger human being if you stay single. But then I just wonder if I'm being dramatic and perhaps in denial over my parents divorce. Yes I understand that love can be the greatest feeling in the world, but then it can also be the worst.
I scroll down my contacts on my phone and find the name Dean. Dean? Now who is Dean? I think about it for a while, and then remember. It was three weeks ago. I had woke up feeling a tad glum. I thought before I left for work I don't want to talk to anyone. So I grabbed the last Harry Potter book (I was half way through reading it) and left with a heavy heart. Basically my enthusiasm for writing had hit a new low and I was thinking maybe it was time to just quit, and finally accept myself as the butterfly, which my nan branded me one night at my cousins party, when I butterflied all around the guests to ABBA songs. 

Unfortunately Dean noticed me sitting down Kenneth road on the wall by the bus stop, slouched over, with my thick yellow and brown stripy reading glasses perched on my cold nose. Harry, Ron and Hermonie had just escaped from Gringotts on a white dragon. It sounds exciting, but I just read, for the sake of reading, helps get my mind away from my own self sabotaging thoughts.

"The bus is taking long"

I glance up. Dean is wearing a navy baseball cap, dry pouted lips and dresses abit like a football hooligan. I smile timidly, and then look back down. Today I don't feel like talking. I do enough of that.

"Do you smoke?"

I glare up, tilting my head back to get a look at his face.


"good, good"

He looks old. Better just smile again and look down, pretend to read. Its hard to continue reading when someone is watching you. Now I know how guys can't pee when someone watches.

"I know I'm bothering you but is it okay if I smoke"

"No, sure go ahead."

Bit of creative writing

 It came from out of space and grabbed you by the throat. The black robed being ordered you to tell him why the black Jewel had been disturbed from its hiding place. Your body struggled for breath, and your eyes weeped from the bladed nails that tightened around your throat. You croaked,
"I don't...I"
A hiss creeped out of the creatures lips and then let you go. Sucking the air for breath, wearily you gazed up into the castles shadow and tried to witness anything in the black mist. But it had gone, leaving you helpless and confused. The crazed elderly man had warned you that the black being of the night would come for you and a dark adventure would begin without you even knowing it had started.

I'm new on here, a piece I did on the bus today. Teenage fiction

I want to write a novel, I'm trying to get my storyline though. I have three main characters, but just messing around with new ideas and trying to figure out my story. Enjoy or don't, its not much but I'll try and put more on here, or continue it thanks. xx Its a first draft some of the sentences might be a bit wrong, words etc.

Would he remember me if I walked past casually? Would he feel a rush of feelings that he lacked before? Does he still have the tiny

scar on his upper lip? I have fought so much this past year that I give up on wondering. So, confidently, without no procrastination, I

approached him.


His eyes glanced my way but then back to continue to straighten a pack of chocolate hobnobs on the shelf. I tried again,


I felt a cold grip clench my heart as his face turned, peering up at me. His eyes wide.

"Hi" I whispered, the confidence drained out of me. I glanced down and bit my bottom lip. The silence was not good, but well

needed, in this silence I reflected on our times together and the whole hungry love epic that burned out just as it began to flourish. I

thought about our friendship and vows we made to each other, and then felt the guilt and the realisation that I missed him, more then I

missed my own life.

He stood up, crouched to peer into the next aisle and then he was leaning from side to side to look out of the window beyond the tillpoints.

Charles, he was looking for Charles.

"His not here"

Scott looked back at me, his eyes narrow. He charged towards me and I felt a different kind of fear. I did not fear a fight or another dark

creature, or even death these last couple of months. But the feeling that Scott might never forgive me would be death to me.

He gripped my arm tight, and growled into my face,

"What are you doing here? What do you want?"

The anger in his eyes was so agonising that I couldn't stand to look at him, I mumbled to the ground,

"Charles is gone, his not coming back"

I staggered to the side as he shook me to look at him, I left my eyes to study the grip of his hand getting tighter around my arm.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

I blinked up and found the scar resting on his pouted lips, and then gazed into them hard wet eyes.

"His gone scott, were right, and...I just wanted to were right"

He gulped and looked nervously around, but at six at night no customers seemed to disturb us.

"and?" he asked.

Loosening his grip, I said,

"and thats it" I nodded, and pulled myself out of his grip, So he did not feel me tremble with need. I stared down at his black shoes and nodded again, raising my hands to fiddle with my hair, and sneakily disguise the sadness in my face.

"See you Scott"

I turned around and sniffed.

"Tas" I felt him move closer behind me.

But then something happened which was for the best for both of us, the small rough voice croaked out,

"excuse me? Do you work here? I want some pork sausages, do you do pork sausages?"

Scott stammered,

"oh...uuumm yes, yes we do"

"You see I need them for tomorrow..."

I walked down the aisle, my head held up high, and kept my lips firmly perched together. Sobbing, crying that was for humans, not me.


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