Morning,
I've just done a quick video for those few book-fans I have.
It just talk a little bit about the book and why it is the way it is...
Hope you like it! Please share and comment
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJrSwSo4Kn8
Enjoy and have a great day!
Keep posting,
Mel
Hi Blogger followers!
I've not been idle:
between daily pages, blogger, promotion for The Snow Killer and well, life; I've started a Word Press blog!
http://melissaholden.wordpress.com
Come say hi and give me a follow!
I'm currently doing a series about a Doctor Who-loving duck who think she is married to the Doctor (Yeah, I'm not sure where that's going either), and I'm posting daily about my life and any golden-writing I might come up with.
Don't worry, I haven't abandoned you Blogger. I'm just, testing the water.
Goodnight,
Always keeping you posted:
Mel
Be excited my blogger-lovelies,
I am currently in the midst of Chapter Nine of "The Snow Killer", the thriller/mystery/murder/romance fictional book I have been writing.
Parts One to Five were published on my blogger page, and are available until New Years, or whenever I decide you've had enough of a sneak peak.
I will be printing said book at the beginning of November 2013, so please feel free to buy a copy. "The Snow Killer" is on sale for £8.99 in paperback. Please Tweet me @melissaholden94 for a copy, or email me @ melissah183@googlemail.com
- Mel.
Books give us
something
for which we crave
They journey from lust
to love,
and from cradle
to grave.
Books drag
us
into worlds unknown.
The sky,
the sea
and the fields we
sew.
Books show us
what we
need.
They help us to grow,
to learn:
and to finally
be free.
Bound
to each other
begging for a look
these inked white pages
are far more,
than a book.
(written after reading Part One of Perks of being a Wallflower)
Idle by,
you and me
forever observing,
who we're supposed to be.
Laughing out loud.
Them at us -
Forever learning
who we cannot trust.
Struggling,
side by side.
Secreting the tears,
we know we must hide.
Don't you worry,
because one day,
I will wipe your tears away.
She may look sweet -
she might even be kind.
But her life's aim,
is to break your mind.
When a Siren Calls:
it's the sweetest thing.
It's what sailors lust for,
the wenches that sing.
Her lullaby calls,
and it's his undoing.
"Her love I know!"
He cries as she will sing.
Bewitched at sea,
his grave will say,
death after lusting,
When the Siren called that day.
The sunlight shadowed her as she sat quietly at the desk of her tiny office. One door. One window. One chair. One desk. Hundreds of document files, papers, notebooks: crammed into that box that she called an office.
Hand on her head, and the other grasping the black-ink roller ball: she waited.
The words would come, they always did. Sometimes it took seconds, sometimes it took days, but they always came to her rescue in the end.
But today, the words hid from her. Nib never touching Page. The ink not soaking itself into the blankness of the page, nor glorying itself into the strength of the written word.
The writer breathed in and out, in and out, in and out. and sighed. She needed the words today - of all days. The day she met him, she thought nothing of it - the man with a spare room and an office for her. A man with eyes so dark she lost her mind every time she looked at him. A man standing in the doorway, watching her every move.
Today, her life depended on the one thing she thought she would never lose: her words. And today, she was going to die.
Morning, 
