Rain

Written by Dizzle Dazzle

An image all too familiar to the British…

Rain in the morning
I can hear it from my bed
Walking along the roof with nimble feet
Reminding me of sadness

Rain at midday
Where the sun should be
I’m watching T.V, and the curtains are up
Outside the puddles are forming on the dark road

Rain in the evening
Those grey clouds covering the sunset
Peaceful and quiet
Painting streaks of water on the window
The sun shines and it seems beautiful

Rain at night
When everybody’s sleeping
Except me
Watching the car headlight beams on my ceiling
As I drift off
The rain talks to me in my dreams

While still a young writer, Dizzy has already developed her own style and a beautiful way of putting things. If you want to read more of her lovely wordsmithing, why not take a look at her poem “The Humanitarian”, also published on Inkblots.

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Rain Men

Written by Lilith

They come through the rain…

“They came through the rain”, the saying went, but in truth it was no ordinary rain that heralded their arrival. The clouds would roll in, the heavens would open, and the downpour would not stop for weeks on end. The villagers kept to their homes, packing sandbags around their doorsteps for when the banks of the river inevitably burst, and nobody dared trying to travel in or out of Kettlebridge. The shrine, a circular stone building in the centre of town, became a safe haven for those whose homes were damaged by the ongoing storms, the old priestesses offering soup and blankets to those in need. And then at last, when the people could take no more of the onslaught from the sky, when fires guttered in their hearths and they could no longer remember what warmth felt like… Then the creatures came.

They looked human. An old man, stooped and withered, skeletal fingers wrapped tight around the silver top of his walking stick; a young woman barely any more than a child, crouching in the mud; and a boy with wide grey eyes who smiled at everything. All the villagers knew what they looked like. They’d seen the creatures from afar, peering through gaps in shutters or flimsy curtains, watching as they walked into the centre of town… but nobody who got close to them ever told the tale.

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Here Where The Sea Stands

Written by Arwa

sea_waves

The crash of sea waves at La Jolla Cove in California.
Image Courtesy of dreamlajolla.com

Here where the sea stands,
alone,
calmly.
I wish there was a wind,
a heated wind,
to crash the silence.

This wind,
a life savior,
will turn this sea to a raging monster
to defeat every living
with its infinite might.
It will change the course of being,
the seasons of love,
and the roles of passion.

This sea,
when it moves
It will demolish the islands,
and bring a new millennium,
a new society,
and a new age.

Yet,
the sea is still calm
and alone.

‘Here Where The Sea Stands’ is Arwa’s first poem published in Inkblots. As the English language is not Arwa’s mother-tongue, she was inspired to write poetry as a way of understanding our language, and also feels more comfortable expressing herself with it. We love the simplicity depicted throughout the poem, and hope to see many more poems from Arwa in the future.

Heartbreak

Written by Fantasy Girl 

the_yellow_wallpaper

A woman’s descent into madness reflected in Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper.
Image Courtesy of thedailyshift.com

You know how it feels, don’t you, to be living life but it’s like a dream. A simple, serene picture can turn into the waking nightmare. Well, that’s what it’s like for me anyway, I don’t know about you.

The vines – woven through the complex trellis designs – no longer create an escape from reality, but a barrier, stopping me from running. And when I finally get through, the roots claw at my feet, the vines grip my throat and I struggle to breathe. I begin to panic, I’m alone and no one will rescue me.

But then I’m back in my living room and I still can’t breathe. The raging fire in the hearth on the same wall doesn’t thaw the ice that’s lodged itself in my soul. And the constant cheery chirp of the red-breasted robin, as it sits on the frosted branch, no longer makes me smile.

I’m lost, trapped in a sea of twisted vines.

No one will save me.

No one cares.

I will stay here, forever wishing the drooping branches of the willows would brush my cheeks again, like the kiss of an angel, but they only tangle themselves in my hair and refuse to let go. They wrap themselves around my wrists and stop me from moving – are they trying to calm me down, maybe? Trying to make me think rational thoughts? I scream.

But then I’m back in my living room, still screaming. The fire in the hearth doesn’t warm the chills that run down my spine. And the constant cheery chirp of the red-breasted robin, as it sits on the frosted branch, just makes me angry.

I’m lost, trapped in a world of fear.

I don’t want to be saved.

I don’t want anyone to care.

Heartbreak was written on behalf of a challenge set by Fantasy Girl’s college English tutor. The challenge was to write about heartbreak through language, structure, and form, without alerting the reader to the reasons for a character’s broken heart. Fantasy Girl chose to focus on one simple image of vines twisting in on itself in wallpaper – presumably, this challenge was set in response to The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Like Fantasy Girl’s writing? Make sure you check out Commune and Black Mirror.

A Boy Who Fell In Love

Written by Rivers of Tarmac

the_boy_and_the_moon

Debuting at the Giffoni Film Festival in Italy two years ago, The Boy and the Moon is a short animation describing his love for the moon.
Image Courtesy of the giffonifilmfestival.it/en/ Film Archives

This is a story about a boy who fell in love. An ordinary boy, at first glance, and he lived an ordinary life. But he was entrusted with a great secret: there is only so much happiness in the world. This boy was the only child who knew this – and at first, that was fine, because with the secret came a responsibility; he could hand out this happiness as he chose. He tried with all his might to keep the happiness fair for everyone. Sometimes, however, he neglected somebody. When this happened, he had to give them something special. Something wonderful. But to hand out something wonderful would mean a big change in the happiness levels somebody would have to lose (edit). And when this happened, whatever it was they lost – if it was their lover, their money, or their pride – he would take it and cast it into the sky, where it would shine brilliantly to remind us that we all must pay the price, but that life can still be beautiful. And while they where there, they could be company for the moon.

The moon had been lonely; lonely for years. Each night, when the boy was finished his tiring work, he would go and watch her. Her dazzling beauty, her kindly generosity, her contained splendour. And as he watched, he felt his heart grow and swell; when he cast friends into the sky for her, however, he felt a cold burn in his chest that he had never known: jealousy. For the boy had come to love the moon as he watched her shining defiantly in the murky, cloudy sky. This innocent young boy with a terrible gift had never felt jealousy – how could you be jealous of anyone when you knew their happiness was another’s pain? And so, as he watched the moon’s stars, the boy felt for the first time in his short life, the stomach twisting envy of another. Continue reading →

It’s the Magic Number

chemistry_meme

Classic chem lab chat.
Image Courtesy of sciencememes.tumblr.com

Written by Doishy

If not believing you will see,
We reached 100% efficiency.
Impossible by science but not by me,
Read on and take notes carefully.

In goes thing one; a smelly old gas,
It reacts with thing two
and they have a good laugh.
This makes three things,
of which but one we need,
What we do we the others here you shall see.

Thing three we need, four and five we don’t,
So we send them away to add to something that floats.
They get quite hot and with this heat we burn,
The reaction that causes crank one to turn.

Crank one turns the bowl that holds things three and seven,
Together they merge to form thing eleven.
‘But what about things six to ten?’ you may ask,
They party together in a rather large flask.

This flask forms some heat and some pressure,
Which helps boil some water and make tea for my pleasure.
The product formed from this flask full of stuff,
Is used to make something rather rough.

This rough stuff is placed in the bowl,
After seven has gone eleven taken its toll.
So stuff and eleven finally make,
The reason for this reactions sake.

So what have we made no one quite cares,
Some would say we are mad as march hares.
But the thing we achieved barring making some tea,
Is to reach the impossible 100% efficiency.

Doishy’s piece was inspired by the work he does as a student of science. Mixing chemicals with rhythm and rhyme, Doishy has created a playful, light-hearted poem about the laws of thermodynamics, and how it is completely impossible to reach 100% efficiency. There are lots of elements at play here for sure, period. Hey, don’t blame us for that charming pun! Want to read more of Doishy’s work? Check out Skies and Avolet

Inkblots New Year Special: Festive Fiction (Part 2)

Image Courtesy of fimfiction-static.net

The sun rises on a new year, and we’ve got some spectacular HHC entries to kick it off in style!
Image Courtesy of fimfiction-static.net

Welcome to our New Year Special – the second and final part of our festive fiction bonanza. Both entries published below have been picked for their startling creativity given the half hour time limit. Doishy’s piece is of particular interest, having taken inspiration from the ingenious and innovative HHC entries we’ve had over the year. The second HHC from Dice – featured after the read more tag – we just couldn’t resist in posting up! It’s another of his Alexander shorts, so we hope you enjoy! 

– Silver, Inkblots Editor

tinkerbell_fairy_wings

We believe in fairies, we do, we do!
Screen taken from Disney’s Secret of the Wings

Door 7 – Fairies

This is Jeremy:
(o.o)

How are you feeling today, J?
(o.o)b

Pretty good then?
d(o.o)b

And why is that?
(O.o)- <3_______________________(*o.o*)

You’ve met a nice girl? That’s wonderful! What’s her name?
-(o.o)-

You don’t know? Why not talk to her?
(@.@)

Ah, nerves. Tell you what… why don’t I talk to her for you?
(o.o)b

Awesome. Excuse me….miss?
(*o.o*) ?

Hi, my name’s Narrator and I was wondering if you would like to go talk to my friend over there, Jeremy.
(<.<) ___________________________(*o.O*)

He is a pretty cool guy, if sometimes a little out of it.
(*o.o*)b

You will talk to him! Awesome. I will let you be then.
(o.o) _____________________________(*o.o*)

(o.o) _________________(*o.o*)

(o.o)_________(*o.o*)

(O.o)_____(*o.O*)

(O.o) <3__(*o.O*)

(O.o) <3__(*o.o*)

(O.o) <3__(*O.o*)

(O.o) <\3_____________(*O.o*)

Well that didn’t go so well did it, J?
(O.O) <\3_______________________________________ (*O.o*)

Faeries aye, am I right?
(¬.¬)

Ah well. Shall we go get drunk instead?
(¬.¬)b

Good lad!
*A few hours later*

f(=.o)- u(o.O) <Riiight……
< And I’m telling you, there was this voice talking to me and a magic girl and it’…it wa’s assuM!

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