As a freelance content writer, fantasy author, and reluctant minion of darkness, I spend my days devouring words and teaching my cats boundaries (which is relentless, unforgiving work...)
Escapism is life. Find me on Insta: @j.l.nicholls 😊
I’m a plane riddled with bullets, and so are most survivors
***Trigger warning: I talk about abuse and trauma in this blog.*** There’s a type of rage only people who’ve been abused understand. It’s both dissociative and full of ancestral fury; silent but always present. Sometimes it lays dormant like winter in our veins, and sometimes it rips through us like a match struck against our scars.
The Secret Chronicles
Thank you for reading! I started writing this fantasy series when I was sixteen, and it's a story I've nurtured for years. So, to honour my teenage self, I'm going to release a chapter every week for you to enjoy. If you like what you read, please follow me for the latest updates!
How anger both protects and poisons you
It’s 3 am and a nightmare has jolted me awake. White-hot rage stabs at my chest as the injustices of someone I called a friend roil in my belly. Their face is smug and self-satisfied as they bully me into submission, standing over me as I try to form words that die in my throat. There’s no use trying; I gave them everything they needed to hurt me. I trusted them with my greatest fears, my trauma, and my truth. But I didn’t know then how friends made the worst enemies. I didn’t know how vindictive some people were capable of being.
The Bees and the Pear Trees
[Trigger warning: Implied abuse]. The Bees and the Pear Trees I woke to the sound of screaming. As I transitioned from sleep to wakefulness, the fog of my dreams lingered for a second, then vanished with the pierce of another wail.
‘There’s nowhere like it in the world.’ That’s what they’d told me. I’d wanted to see it with my own eyes, to witness the colour-strewn horizon that dipped beneath a green washed landscape. I’d wanted to see the plump clumps of smoke that loitered between sky and earth, the air rich with oxygen and nitrogen. And I’d wanted to see them.
The Thought Designers
The thought designers Do you remember the first time you hallucinated? The first time words on a page painted pictures in your mind? The first time someone’s ability to control your thoughts forced you to experience a phenomenon called imagination?
The Locksmith The sound of gunfire faded as I pressed my back to the steel brace door. Darkness enveloped me, the blanket of night keeping me safe… for now. The uprising had started quickly and rapidly grown out of control, as was our aim. Yet, I knew it wouldn’t be long until they found me. They always found us eventually.