365 Day Writing Challenge 46: Dirty

365 Day Writing Challenge

46. Dirty: Write a poem about getting covered in mud.

I loved

jumping in

and feeling the squelch under my wellies

I would find the muddiest, dirtiest part

and dig my feet in, over and over, and feel the earth move beneath me

every step was a joy

just to feel



365 Day Writing Challenge 44: Insult

365 Day Writing Challenge

44. Insult: Write about being insulted.

The worst part is when you can feel your face going red, and you’re begging internally for it to go away, for it to cool down, but the burning just continues to grow and grow. You try to screw yourself up into a tiny ball, so that no one can see you, to stare at your screen and revert into yourself. But it’s no good, all the laughter keeps hitting you like a hundred baseballs, small and hard.

I’ve been trying hard to be more positive, to hate people less, but this makes me feel like I was right to begin with, that I should retreat back into my castle and bring up the drawbridge.

365 Day Writing Challenge 43: The Sound of Silence

365 Day Writing Challenge

43. The Sound of Silence: Write about staying quiet when you feel like shouting.

This is about a number of different people. Not really a poem or anything, just an elongated shout really.

Stop trying to squash me

Stop trying to make me fit in your narrow definition of who I am

Stop trying to initiate me into your cult of fucked up views

Stop making me feel different!

Stop making me feel weird and out of place and awkward

I am a valid human being too.

With valid opinions and valid feelings!

Stop thinking it’s OK to talk to me like that

because you know that I’m paid not to say anything back.

Stop being disgusting.

Learn to eat quietly!

Learn to admit that you are wrong!

Learn some fucking manners!

I’m sick of all of you.

I want to find people who are intelligent and understanding and not full of crap.

They seem to be very hard to find.

{Featured image from ISORepublic)

365 Day Writing Challenge 42: Warehouse

365 Day Writing Challenge

42. Warehouse: Write about being inside an old abandoned warehouse.

She stole through the black dust and the silver moonlight. She knew her lover would meet her here soon. She knew he would find her, knew his dark arms would reach out and pull her to him, and she would feel his heartbeat underneath the firmness of his torso. She would run her hands through his black, black hair, and he would tell his love to her in whispers as she unbuttoned his shirt and her hands ran, pale and slender, all over his bare chest.

Her breath caught and she stopped, reminding herself that soon this would really be happening, she would be his and he would be hers once again. She found a black, dusty corner to wait in. Only her eyes glittered palely in the darkness.

365 Day Writing Challenge 41: What You Don’t Know

365 Day Writing Challenge

41. What You Don’t Know: Write about a secret you’ve kept from someone else or how you feel when you know someone is keeping a secret from you.

It’s like a black shadow
sat in your stomach,
long creepers
pulling you down
from your core
making you heavy
churning your stomach,
rolling you between its long long
reaching into your throat,
stoppering your mouth,
finding your teeth and making them grind, grind against each other,
your stomach is a knot now,
you try to regain your body in this battle,
but you feel yourself sinking,
your heart is fluttering
like a bird trapped in its cage
only too aware of the cat outside,
sharpening its claws.

365 Day Writing Challenge 40: Car Keys

365 Day Writing Challenge

40. Car Keys: Write about someone getting their driver’s license for the first time.

He pressed the key into his hand so hard it left an imprint in his palm. He looked down at the angry red mark, it expanding and detracting as he flexed his hand.


He looked up to see the car owner, smiling at him cautiously.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll take it.”

Her face split into a huge smile. She started babbling happily, about how hard it had been to sell, and how she didn’t understand why, because she’d only done 20000 miles in it, which is absolutely nothing, so there was just the matter of payment, he’d said cash but…

“I have it here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wad of dollars. Her eyes widened. “I get paid in cash,” he said, by way of explanation. The money had been sitting under his mattress for months. He had carefully added to the pile every week, counting them again even though he had already worked out the new amount in his head. He counted them again now, carefully, methodically. “There you are.” He handed the wad over to her, and she took it, just as carefully.

“Well – ” she seemed at a loss for something to say, wanting a sale of something as big and important as a car to be more official, more complicated somehow.

“Anything else you want from me?” he asked evenly, hands back in the pockets of his old denim jacket.

“Um…” she said, flustered, “Well, no, I think that’s it! Uh, well – enjoy it!” And she offered him a nervous, but earnest grin.

“I will,” he said.

He watched her get into her car and drive away. He watched until he was sure she was not even a speck in the distance. It was important for him to watch her go, to make sure she was completely gone, because she was the very last part of his old life. And now she, like it, was gone.

He leant backwards and breathed in the clean early evening air. The sun was just, just beginning to set, layers of deep orange beginning to tease the pale blue sky. He looked at the car. It wasn’t half bad. Wasn’t half bad for years and years of working dead-end jobs, flitting from one to the other when he was offered 50 cents more an hour. Wasn’t half bad for all the time he revised for his theory test in his room, shoving the books under the pillows if he thought he heard his mother or her boyfriend stumble past. Wasn’t half bad for all the times he had slipped into his mother’s boyfriend’s car in the dead of night, his heart pounding, praying that they had both drunk themselves into the deepest sleep. Wasn’t half bad for all the sideways he had got at the DMV when he turned up and announced he was ready for his driver’s test.

He was in the car now, feeling the steering wheel in his hands. The car had a faintly flowery, comforting smell. He rolled his window down and let the car smell intermingle with the deep, dark, woody smell of the pines that lined the road. He thought of how it would feel to race away, to feel the rush of the engine beneath him, to see the pines become a green blur, to feel miles slip past him as he put more and more distance between himself and the town that tried to crush him and squash him to make it fit its own small, narrow ways.

He breathed in, fully experiencing, fully feeling the air fill his lungs.

He put the key in the ignition.

365 Day Writing Challenge 39: Coffee & Tea

365 Day Writing Challenge

39. Coffee & Tea: Surely you drink one or the other or know someone who does- write about it!

I associate tea with my mum – bowl like cups filled with grey milky tea, the smell making me gag. Walking steadily up the stairs, trying not to breathe in the smell, watching it slop in the cup and praying it won’t spill. Getting her to open her bedroom door, and setting it down carefully. Her slurping away, hair unwashed, no bra.

I don’t like tea.

I associate coffee with my dad – a clean functional drink in a clean functional blue cup. Precise and easy instructions: a teaspoon and a half of coffee, a teaspoon and a half of sugar. And only, thank God, a tiny splash of milk.

365 Day Writing Challenge 38: Fire-starters

365 Day Writing Challenge

38. Fire-starters: Write about building a fire.

I honestly can’t decide if this one is good or shit, let me know what you think!

He had decided to build something with words.

He propped his words together in a pyramid, and walked around them, frowning, examining them, moving them slightly –

One fell, and the rest tumbled with it.

He too fell to the ground, head in his hands, a silent scream of frustration.

After a while he got up again, and slowly, slowly began placing them back together, more carefully this time, placing them over so gently in the pyramid –

This time when they fell he did not move for a very long time.

But, a hair, a leg twitched, and he was up again, walking away from his words in a tumble on the floor.

He returned with an axe, its blade glinting with hunger.

He chopped at the words, he chopped and there was no sound except the axe’s swish through the air.

He let all of his anger and fear and despair fall through his axe and into the words.

He lay in the grass, exhausted.

Time passed.

He awoke to a strange sound, a crackling, spitting sound.

He turned and saw a strange light flickering amongst the trees.

His words, broken and messy and hurt as they were, had become a fire, and it’s red flame soared higher and higher into the night.


365 Day Writing Challenge 37: Puzzle

365 Day Writing Challenge

37. Puzzle: Write about putting together the pieces of puzzles.

I decided to rewrite the scene in the Snow Queen where Kay has to rearrange pieces of ice to spell out the word “eternity”. I always loved this story when I was young (even though it scared me) and this scene really stuck in my head. I hope you enjoy it!