It's in those moments that you know that the world is never going to be the same again. Those scant few seconds whereupon the world seems to tilt and you know, just, know that you're going to have to run.
That's what happened to me. Sat up here on a high ledge above the city, looking down from the disused church that i hide in, i write, and hope. Hope i don't have to run again.
The creatures came in the middle of the night, screaming, howling beings with no faces. None of us knew what to do. Some fought, some ran. I'm ashamed to say i'm one of the ones that ran. I had my little sister with me. I couldn't let her get hurt while i fought. I had to run, though i'm not proud of it, by any means.
It was almost ethereal. Running full pelt through the forsets outside the manor, my aching arms full of a wailing three year old, the howling pitch of noise following us deeper and deeper into the blackness. I thought it would never end. My sister, poor child, had no idea what was going on, screaming for mother. For Father. That was a hopeless wish. I considered hiding her, and coming back ot collect her, but i knew that as soon as i left her, she would scream, and cry, and be caught. The machines, for that is what they seemed to be, were catching up. Why they had targeted an orphanage, i don't know. What could children ever do to them. We needed to get away, but where to? Pain was starting to seize my overworked limbs, breath catching horribly in my throat. If i didn't keep going, we'd be caught.
Stumbling forwards, through a thick bush, i tumbled out into a clearing. A clearing with no exit. A sheer cliff face reached up into the skies, a huge expanse of rock. I would never make it with my sister in tow. So i did the only thing that i thought would work at the time. I knocked her out. Lying her still body under a thick pile of fallen branches, i leapt for the cliff face, clawing my way up the hard rock, hgoping against hope she would still be there when i came back for her.

I'm alone up here, you know. No one up here with me. The city sounds drift up. Bawdy shouting, the shrieks of women, holwing of animals, the rattle of horse-drawn carriages. And a disused church with a girl on top. A girl with naught but a pen, a notebook, and memories.

I dream of escaping,
of mountains capped in white
and sea's darkened maw
Plains that seem
endless in their void

I dream not in sleep,
but in the day,
whiling away the hours with
fanciful ideas
Travel, and leaving

I dream. Tell me what you dream.

Fountains Abbey


I'm sure i've seen this place
The mighty pillars
This place of worship
Sad and empty in the poignancy of decay.

The imposing tower
Stretches like the forever
See this way
through to eternity

The underground,
dripping with lost sounds
The melody of long forgotten voices
In my mind, in my soul.

Long forgotten,
But not lost,
The seeing crystals spin
In blurred confusion

I know this place,
Am i home?
In this...otherworldly chapel
It is not my place.

Not for who i am,
Not for what i am,
For how can a witch dwell
In the Abbey of Fountains?

In this heart
In this mind
I can see,
No way behind
I lose myself
In tattered blinds,
The petals fall
Decay reminds
Me of the day
You went away.
You went away.

Smile

Big grin,
wolf like in it's poignancy
Laughter ringing
out into the world

Sunlight streaming
Around the green tipped
Leaves as spring breaks
out into the winter remains

The brightness is the key
The fitting metal
to the lock of inefficency.
Smile, please.

What Am I To You?

You do not walk in this world
You are destruction
Absolute
You sleep on a bed of bones


And so i wait for you
Here at home
I wait to hug you,
To make you smile once again

Am i your salvation?
I don't know,
You tell me,
But all i know?

You're not alone.

The desolated church stood abandoned and forlorn amidst the leaves of the forest. I felt tears welling behind my eyes, inexplicably saddned by this morose sight. Moonlight spilled like silver glass onto the building, moss and mould clinging to the holy, cracked and broken stones in a fit of devilish hatred. The building seemed medieval, built in gothic repose, proud and adament in it's ageing decay, refusing to submit to the creeper vines that wound around it's arches, the skeletal remains of the roof poking through as a corpse to the battered light would strive. I leant heavily on the young rowan tree beside me, a blessing on my lips. I should not be here. Me, with my own idea of faith, me, myself, and my thoughts. Sliding the heavy backpack from my aching shoulders, i slunk, almost fearfully, towards the doorway. This in itself was an ugly duckling. The beautiful carved arch almost hidden under ivy, the wooden doors rotting, strong, and stinking. Silently, i mouthed an apology to the Christian God, hoping i wasn't offending what he stood for. The beauty of the decaying, destroyed church took away my breath, leaving my still form in the doorway, terror slowly sinking into my bones, the knowledge that i shouldn't be here, that i should leave and pretend i had never found this sacred place eating away at my concience.
There were only six rows of pews, the delicate wood eaten away in some parts. The floor, for the most part was still clear of debris and creepers, the wood of the roof long having been either pillaged for firewood, or disintegrated into dust.
There, carved like an everlasting reminder of the faith, celtic cross. This was no Christian Church. Calm streamed over me, white light edging my vision as i felt power surge in a dizzying rush through me. I was safe.


A soft smile graced my mouth, as i thought to my deities.
Turning, i left the chapel, walking out into the blackness, unafraid, and brazen.

Dawn begins to creep over my sea. My land, my stability. My fingers run through the sand, reassuring, like the fall of time, and the passing of things. I am not alone, i realise, a slow, delighted smile creeping over my mouth. I can be stronger. Contentment flows over me, the cold evaporating as a warmth blasts through my blood in a hot rush. i am not alone.

Tears dry on my face, and the harsh, harsh bite of the cold sea breeze stings my cheeks. Why don't they understand? For some reason, no one understands that no matter how hard i try, no matter how hard they want me to change, to understand them, i can't. Sighing, i wrap my arms around my knees, which were drawn up to my chest to glean some warmth. I may as well not have bothered. My insides had become ice. Staring out at the sea, the sparkling, grey abyss of nothingness that seems to stretch out to infinity, my thoughts shift to the hurt i had cried over not long before. He hurt me so much. If felt like i could cry for ever, sat here in my refuge, the hidden beach quiet and secluded. Leaning back on my arms, my rough hands discovered a pebble. Anger welled up inside me again. I wish...i wish i was a rock. Lurching suddenly to my feet, ignoring the pain in my dead legs, i hurled the stone, watching in morbid satisfaction as it smashed against the huge rock in the middle of the small cove, shards flying everywhere.
The moon had risen, i looked up, feeling the cold light bathe my pale face. I wanted to be like the moon, pure, beautiful. My toes wriggled in my shoes, and, looking down, i spotted a bottle, washed up from the popular beach around the corner. It's sharp, dirty edges glinted menacingly. That was me. Sharp edges, dirty, and alone.

you know when you're so frustrated that you want to cry? That how i feel at the moment. You spend so much time trying to set the record straight, when the scratch on the vinyl starts to jump, you don't know whether to smash the record or persevere. I'll never smash the record. I can't. But i just feel like however much i try to help, it's never enough.