The Views of a Creative

Monday, 21 October 2013

The Snow Killer: Part Three

1260 words, so much is said between the lines. Let's see what Danny does next:

The Snow Killer: Part Three

Danny took a swig of his drink and rushed out to follow her, to find she was already gone. He swore under his breath at the snowflakes that landed on his iced skin, and pulled his hood up over his short dirt-blonde hair.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

It’s only snow. It’s not the same snow. Every snowflake is different. They aren’t the same ones.

Danny searched for a lighter in his jacket, before remembering he’d given in to Diane.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

But they could be. They could have seen it all. They know it was my fault.

He turned the corner, bumping into a man in a leather jacket.

“Sorry, you alright, mate?” The man had a strange look on his face.

He knows.

Pump. Pump. Pump.

They know I killed Emily and Mum. They were there.

Rush. Pump.

It was the snows fault. I couldn’t stop the car.

Rush. Pump. Rush. Pump.

I shouldn’t have been driving.

Rush. Rush. Rush. Rush. Rush. Rush. Rush. Rush. Rush.

I couldn’t drive, Mum knew that.

“You need to practise, Danny, otherwise you’ll never pass, and then I’ll have to keep driving you everywhere.”

“Emily will pass before you do.”

“You should have learned when you were seventeen like all the other kids.”

“No, Mum, don’t let me drive.” Danny stopped abruptly and slammed his back against the outer-wall of the block of flats on Spring Lane. “You shouldn’t have let me drive.” Danny began to sob, but stopped when he heard a voice.

“Oh my god, Jen, there’s some beggar crying. Yeah. It’s a guy. I know right. I feel so bad for him, like, ‘cause it’s snowing and everything. I better go, Joe’s picking me up. Piss off, he’s my brother!”

Danny moved to see where the estranged voice was coming from, and realized it was the girl from the pub on the phone. He watched as she put her phone away and moved towards a lamppost. As she leaned against it, she pulled her thin jacket around her, and looked around.

They were at the edge of a council estate, in the middle of the night, and it was snowing.

Hardly a safe place to wait, stupid cow – doesn’t she know anything about Stranger Danger?

Pump. Pump. Pump.

The girl fidgeted in the cold but kept looking up at the sky, as if wondering where the snow comes from.

If she realises I’m here, she’s gonna go nuts.

Danny tried to stand up, but slipped down the wall and crashed into a bin.

“What the fuck was that?” The girl moved in to the light more, and Danny saw just how young she really was. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen.

Emily is nineteen in March.

Danny caught himself before he could think about her again, but his grip on his own mind was weak.

She was so young. So pretty. Everyone loved her.

He looked at the ditzy girl in front of him, and noticed her hair: it shone in the light of the flickering street lamp. She was fair, but not sickly pale, like Danny. When he was younger, his mother was always telling him to go out in the sun and play with the other kids.

“Who’s there? I’m calling the cops if you don’t come out right now!” Her voice trembled like a crying child. “Now, dammit!” She screeched.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

Danny walked towards her, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Whoa, OK, I’m coming out. I wasn’t watching you I swear, I just-“

Rush. Rush. Rush.

“Oh my days, it’s you: you’re the creepy bloke from the pub. You’re stalking me!” The girl stepped back.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

“No, No, seriously I’m not. I was just walking home, I swear.” He lowered his arms, and stepped towards her again.

This is beginning to look like a tango. Backwards, forwards. Backwards, forwards.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

Shut the fuck up, will you, so I can go home?

“Well then why were you hiding behind a bin? No sane person stalks anyone. You must be some psycho freak. Stalking girls in the snow.” She tried to stand firm, but her legs buckled beneath her and she fell into the quickly forming bed of snow behind her.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

Not the snow. It’s always the snow.

“Will you shut up about the weather? I’m not fucking stalking you.”

Rush. Rush. Rush.

“Yes you are: an attractive woman out on her own. I rejected you. You thought it would be funny to come and scare me. Well I’m not scared, Freak.” She spat the last word at him.

“Shut up” The words of a petulant child with no anger but his own.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

“Freak. Leave me alone.” She scrambled back against a wall, and tried to stand up. Danny got closer and closer.

Stop talking.

“HELP! HELP ME HEL-“Danny covered her mouth with his hand.

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

“Shut the fuck up. What are you trying to pull? Flirting with men and then accusing them of stalking you. I bet you’re not even old enough to be in a fucking pub.” He gripped her mouth with his palm; his nails digging in to her milk skin.

She’s so beautiful.

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

The girl mumbled beneath his hand, and a warm expulsion of breath tickled his skin.

“Stop talking. Do you ever stop talking?”

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

The girl tried to scream, which panicked Danny.

“Please stop talking. You talked about the snow. The snow hates me. Please, make it stop, please.” Danny sobbed hysterically. The girl’s eyes widened, and she tried to scream once more.

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

Danny jolted his hand in panic, smashing her head against the bricks behind her head.

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

She cried out in pain. Every noise she made was mumbled. She couldn’t breathe. There was blood everywhere.

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

Danny pulled his hand away from her mouth and frantically tried to bring her back. He pounded his clenched hands against her silvery top.

“Breathe you bitch, fucking breathe.”

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

“BREATHE” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her furiously; her head hitting the wall. Slam. Slam. Slam. More blood.

So much blood from such a tiny person.

“Please stop.”

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

Danny dropped the girl’s body, and looked around for her bag. He pulled out a pink purse and a silver flip-phone. He fished out her I.D, looking for a name. He found a provisional driver’s licence.

Fuck. She’s sixteen. Oh my god, she’s fucking sixteen.

Tears escaped his eyes, burning as the cold and the wet hit his cheeks.

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

“Lily Addams.” He looked from the I.D to the girl. I.D to the girl. I.D to the girl. I.D to the girl.

RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum. RUSH. Da. Dum.

Danny dropped the I.D card in the snow.

She looks just like Emily.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

Danny put everything back in the purse, and lay it next to the girl. He placed her blue hands on top of her stomach, and left her to sleep in the snow.

"Snow Killer" current word count: 2,355 / 40,000 (est finished count)

Sunday, 20 October 2013

The Snow Killer - Part Two

We left our two main characters in a bar, lets see where they go.

Didn't read Part One? http://melissaholden94.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/the-snow-killer-first-installment.html

The Snow Killer, Part Two

"There you go, Diane. Enough ice for you?"

Hopefully it'll help her cool off of me a little.

"Yeah, it's fine, sweetheart. Now come cosy up down here next to me." Diane patted the space next to her with her left hand, and picked up the drink with her right.

Or not...

"I'm fine over here." As he spoke, he pulled out the wooden chair, placed his drink on the table, and sat down.

She's not that bad looking from this angle...

"So, kiddo, who was the broad?"

Pump. Pump. Pump.

"No one. Just some bitch I met earlier."

Rush. Rush. Rush.

"Ah, I geddit. She reject-"

Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush. "She didn't reject me!" Danny slammed his palm down onto the beer-covered table between them.

Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush.

"Hey - don't lose it with me, or I'll lose it with you, got it sweetheart?" Diane became cold and stern. Like his mother.

Pump. Pump. Pump.
Danny looked down at the table, and stared for a moment at the shot glasses in front of him. After a brief silence, he handed Diane one of the tequila shots and simply said: "Cheers?"

"OK kid, cheers". They clinked glasses and swallowed the amber liquid.
The burn. That's what did it for him, not the taste, but the feeling of fire running down his throat. The fire calmed him when it should have enticed him. But Danny had always been made aggressive by much simpler things than alcohol.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Diane suddenly pointed at the window to the left of her, "Hey, look: it's snowing".

Da. Dum. Da. Dum. Da. Dum.

She sounded young; as if it was her first snow. Her face glowed in the dark pub. Danny saw (for the first time in the moments they had known each other) what kind of woman she really was: not a stubborn, angry old woman, but a scared girl in need of a friend.
Why else do you ask a stranger to go to the pub, if not to avoid going home?

Da. Dum. Da. Dum. Da. Dum.
Da. Dum. Da. Dum. Da. Dum.
Da. Dum. Da. Dum. Da. Dum.

"I need to go," Danny watched Diane's face darken as he spoke. Feeling guilty, he said, "Ya'know, just because of the snow. I'll walk you back if you like?"

Da. Dum. Da. Dum. Da. Dum.

She shot him a weak smile, finished her drink and stood up. "It's alright kid, I'm getting a cab." She smile again, and grabbed Danny's hand. Diane pulled a pen from her pocket and scrawled her phone number into the palm of his hand. "Gimme a call sometime. Everyone needs a bit of company, and I get the feeling you need it more than most". And with that, she walked out.

Pump. Pump. Pump.

Danny was left sat at the table feeling frustrated.

Pump. Pump. Pump.

She doesn't know anything about me.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

He took a mouthful from his drink.

Da. Dum. Da. Dum. Da. Dum.

I should have walked her home. Cabs aren't that safe.

Well that's PART TWO finished with, I can't wait for you all to read PART THREE!

- Mel

Thursday, 17 October 2013

The Dragon Statues

Stemming from my "Kent Connections" lecture this evening (it finished at 7:00 pm), I have written a short Dickens-based description piece about the dragon statues that feature in two of the photos( see "Home").
These dragons were purchased by me for my step-dad for his birthday (or Christmas, I can't quite remember) last year. It explores the idea of mystical beings and dragon-lore, whilst attempting to include extended (sort of) metaphors and just general description. This was written in three minutes, and minus some type-up, has not been edited.

The fire-breathers, as they once were: a tall and proud mystical creature; stood side-by-side-by-side upon the dust. Bright young colours dimming their natural beauty - black stones where emeralds should shine.

They have no princess to guard, only dust.

They are regarded as a proud creature, but how could one be proud if made of stone and the stroke of a machines mechanical brush?

Not loving; not adoring; not even fully aware of the presence of such magnificence: are the dragon owners, but rather: consciously observant of two-inch tall "cute" dragon statues on a forgotten mantelpiece, out of reach to anyone with the imagination to love them.

Home

Home, a set on Flickr.

This is a project I did for my Kent Connections lecture @ Canterbury Christ Church University. It had to be images of our home, and what made it home for us. A little background info for you: my mother and her partner run a pub in Dartford, and that is where I consider my home to be. It is a lovely pub that I have ten years of memories of.

Tuesday, 15 October 2013

Have you tried Wordle?

I made a Wordle of this fabulous blog! it's a great site to use, especially if you are stuck for ideas, or just really love words!

Make your own Wordle by going to www.wordle.net

The link to my own Wordle:

<a href="http://www.wordle.net/show/wrdl/7175146/Melissa_Holden%27s_Blog" 
          title="Wordle: Melissa Holden&#39;s Blog"><img
          src="http://www.wordle.net/thumb/wrdl/7175146/Melissa_Holden%27s_Blog"
          alt="Wordle: Melissa Holden&#39;s Blog"

style="padding:4px;border:1px solid #ddd"></a>

The Snow Killer - Part One

Hello faithful blogger.com readers (or random people on the internet),

I am bored, and freezing, so I am going to write a story right here, right now, about a Snow Killer. Who knows what that means? Me neither, let's find out together....

The Snow Killer

"No tah, sweetheart, my, er, boyfriend will be here soon. Keep the drink, and leave me alone, will you? ". The brunette swivelled back around on the bar stool, and giggled with her friend. Pissed, Danny walked out of the bar, zipped up his hoodie, and turned the corner.

Stupid cow, who does she think she is? I'm a great guy. I don't need her. I could get any bitch I wanted. She's not even that nice looking, I prefer blondes anyway. Fucking bitch. Stuck up: that's what she is...

He could feel the anger consuming his body. It started, as always, in his eyes: they blurred with rage, and the world became an abstract painting through a pane of wet glass. His head started to burn beneath the skin, and his breath was the cloud of smoke escaped from a overheated microwave meal for one.

He shoved his icicles into his pockets, crossed the road, and hid under the bus shelter.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

The blood in his veins raced around his body.
Pump. Pump. Pump.

Just breathe. For fuck sake, I'm fine.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

"Do you have a light, babe?" A platinum and orange mess in a leopard print coat smiled at him, a fag hanging from the left side of her mouth.
The icicles handed her a lighter, and returned to the pocket.

She curved her hand around the end of the cigarette, and lit the nicotine-filled stick. She went to hand the lighter back, but Danny shook his head; "I've quit. Effective immediately." He studied his shoelaces, black, shiny things, ragged at the ends from never being off the ground.

Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush.

"Each to their own, sweetheart". She smiled, and shifted slightly, as to face him more. "Ya'know, yer not that bad to look at, fer a kid, like. Aye, in my younger days, I might 'ave."

Gratitude escaped from his lips. Fuck, what do I care, she's just some old chavvy bird anyway. Who gives a fuck what she thinks?

"Listen, kid. I'm feeling good today. what d'ya say te a drink in that pub o'er there?"

"No, thanks, lady. I just left there. It's shit."

"Aye, but at least it's warm" She smiled at him again, and then held out her hand. "Diane Warner"

"Danny Fores"

"Well, alright then Danny-boy, let's go get smashed, eh?" She laughed, took his arm, and dragged him across the road.

She's friendly at least. I'll give her that. Bit common though...

As they entered the pub, Danny noticed the brunette was still perched prettily on her stool. He excused himself, and approached her.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

Keep it cool, no need to freak out.

"Hi"
"Oh, it's you again. My boyfriend-"
"No he isn't. I don't care. I just wanted to say, you should really watch how you treat people. That, and you're not even that fit."
"How dare you!" She slapped Danny across the face, then stormed off.

Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush.

Diane came sprinting over, and shook him by the shoulders.
"What happened?"

Pump. Pump. Pump.

"Nothing, it's fine. Let's just get a drink." He pulled out his wallet, ordered two tequilas and a beer, and a gin and tonic for Diane. He carried the drinks over to the table she'd picked.

Great, a corner table. Now I'm alone with the old cow. But, she didn't freak out and leave...

Well. There is the first 574 words of the story. What do you think?

- Mel

Thursday, 3 October 2013

The Canterbury Derive

A dérive: "is an unplanned journey through a landscape, usually urban, on which the subtle aesthetic contours of the surrounding architecture and geographysubconsciously direct the travellers, with the ultimate goal of encountering an entirely new and authentic experience."

I was asked to complete a dérive through notes, recordings and images. I've decided to share my findings with you, and: the result of my "unplanned journey" of Canterbury Christ Church University.

www.canterbury.ac.uk/support/fitness-centre/docs/CampusMap.pdf

Directed by tweets by @Heidi_Colthup, my lecturer at CCCU; I left Ramsey, and headed out from the building towards Touchdown, but was halted by Hannah, who "needed a fag". And so, I photographed by surroundings: