Loves writing short stories and poems - learning punctuation and Grammar.ADHD
Eyes through the window.
I looked at the broken mirror and it wasn’t my reflection I saw but that of a boy trapped inside a cell. I looked through the opening of the slit in the door and there lay a boy crying and curled up in a featal position. I tried to communicate and ask why was he crying and in so much distress but my voice echoed through the room along the corridors of the prisoners who couldn’t hear my voice.
I looked at the broken mirror and the reflection was not of my own,I saw looking back in the conservatory, it was a vine that looked like a snake had twisted and entwined itself around about us. It seemed as though the room was filling with steam, so I opened the windows at the top of the wrought iron staircase and instantly could feel the air and oxygen coming through. It was a hot summers day with the Sun out in full force glaring at the pained glass, showing every scratch from the cleaning of the windows over the years. The blinding refractions coming from all around the conservatory,the tiny droplets of water I had sprayed on the Elderflower. Hated the damn white flowers to give birth to the poisonous berries,the whole damn thing was irritatingingly devious,white petal flowers like whiter than white to show off virginity and then the red blood stained berries that represented the earth women of periods,these bleeds where your stomach would bloat and cramp like you had eaten the bloody berries causing severe stomach trauma.Then childbirth if you were cursed with such an infliction without a wedding ring.
Rub twice for something nice.
I remember laying on my back rubbing my toes in the damp sand, that sort that stuck beneath your crack in your back , then annoyingly in between your toes; I have to keep this rythm going. I felt something protrude out of the sand and it glistened gold, what could it be, it was a lamp to rub, like a genie you see.
Hi my name is Peach I’m a bit of a catch. I work in this disused dairy , amongst the cobwebs and the clutter, I help finish the milk left out for the cats. In the stables., where the horses munch softly on fodder I saw Miss Molly and Mr Ma sit amongst the fodder and discuss the worldly matters, not for my earns as I’m the peachy Jack Russel that just runs about the Diary and natters.
Girl without her mother.
Every night the purple clouds would come out to dance with white clouds, I lay on the freshly cut grass and layed in a position of an Angel, I thought of my mum up in the sky floating by, dancing from side to side. Hoping through the clouds spreading the purple all around to make it look like an oil painting.