Author / Colette

by Colette

Messages

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Do we sometimes like posts that aren’t even worth liking any more? Image // K.Sayer

Written by Elanor Rose

 

We love through likes

furtive dawn messages

hidden in plain sight

like graffiti on London Bridge

or gum stuck under the seat

you say hello and though

there are no discussions of code

I have learnt to decipher

this open invitation

and most graciously I accept.

 

Perhaps if we knew God

we’d sing the same hymns

we’d walk the same pace

and we’d always shoot

arrows from the same place

but instead we’re content

to see names side by side

in passing and by chance

letters embraced by

the thrill of the chase.

 

Elanor Rose’s ‘Messages’ is an interesting poem questioning our daily routines on social networks. You may check your smart phone every morning when you wake and scroll through the latest news on Facebook, Twitter, or the recent photographs of your best friend’s flowers on Instagram. You may like someone’s status, or add them as a friend/follow them on social networks, but do you stop and say hi when walking along the same street? Too often are we like passing ships in the night in stark daylight. But on the flip side, we’re now closer than ever. And Elanor’s poem really hits this nail on the head – and we love it. If you liked Elanor’s poetry, check out some of her others too, such as ‘Sheffield Steel‘ and ‘Video‘. Also, Happy Birthday, Elanor! Have a great day. 

by Colette

The Servant

Written by Terrestris Veritas

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The Idle Servant by Nicolaes Maes Image // vispix.com

You were always better than me – more elegant, more sophisticated. You would say that I looked ‘dashing’ in my dark Italian suit, ‘sleek’ in my shiny black shoes and ‘ready for war’ in my white servant’s gloves. I remember how you gave me my orders, never harsh, always calm and sincere. You were always more polite than all the others, thanking me for my deeds, summoning me with a soft call, rather than a harsh snap of your fingers. You were concerned for me, always tending to my wounds, regardless of whether I deserved it or not. I remember how you once stayed behind for me, fearing not for your life but for mine.

My fellows always scorned how you cared, how I was your favourite. Often, they spoke out against you, but ceased their protests once they saw my power. They were always jealous of how I was never beaten, never punished. They didn’t understand my motives, telling me that I forgot myself and lost my purpose. But they were the ones who lost themselves.

My freedom mattered to you and that was your downfall. You always left me to myself if you foresaw no reason for me to be near. Because of my power, I was your only servant, your only protector and your only friend. Or so you thought.

I heard your call, felt your terror. My response was swift and instantaneous, as was the norm. But as quick as it was, I was still too late to help. Your body lay limp by the fireside, your killer strode away, expecting no challenge. I didn’t simply challenge him, I slew him where he stood. You deserved vengeance, you deserved peace and you deserved the fate you got.

Everyone said I had gone soft, fallen for a primitive human. You were a gracious person, but unlike the others, unlike those incompetents, I never lost sight of my goal. I never let hate cloud my judgement. For when you died, I was truly free. And dead you are: as it should be.

Written on behalf of the Half Hour Challenge’s theme Servant earlier this year, Terrestris’s piece certainly gives us the chills. Maybe it’s just that last line, or the strange voice of the narrator, but it feels eerie. The servant finally has his freedom, though it may not be how he ever expected to attain it. If you liked Terra’s work, feel free to check out ‘Lost in Transit‘ and ‘Umbra‘.

by Colette

The Laurel

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These laurel flowers are bitter-sweet for the tale below. Image // Love to Know Corp.

Written by Miss Smiley

We met beneath the laurel tree
Where once I flew my kite
Oh, we met beneath the laurel tree
Our love grew out of sight
Oh, you sent me reeling through the sky
With kisses wild, but oh,
My love, my love, my darling love,
It’s time for you to go.
Yes, my love, my love, my darling love,
It’s time for you to go.

Oh, changes come. Yes, changes go.
Oh, changes touch us all.
I’ll not forget your smiling face
Beneath the branches of the laurel
Oh, beneath the branches of the laurel.
Oh, beneath the branches of the laurel.
The laurel.

We met beneath the laurel tree
Where once I flew my kite
Oh, you sleep there now, upon those roots,
Your body hid from sight
I often come to visit you
When all the sky turns red
I’m haunted by your memory
And of that day we wed.
Oh, I’m haunted by your memory
And of that day we wed.

Oh, changes come. Yes, changes go.
And changes touch us all.
I’ll not forget your warm, sweet lips
Beneath the flowers of the laurel.
Oh, time will pass and time will flow
And time will slip away.
But I’ll not forget your warm, sweet lips,
Beneath the flowers of the laurel.
Oh, beneath the flowers of the laurel.
Oh, beneath the flowers of the laurel.
The laurel.

That laurel tree is fallen now
Felled by fiery storm
Now I sleep with you where its memory sobs
Wrapped safe in ground so warm.
Though our walls keep our bodies far, my love,
In Heaven shall we meet
Oh, beneath that fine old laurel tree
We’ll kiss our love new-sweet.
Yes, oh, beneath that fine old laurel tree
We’ll kiss our love new-sweet.

Oh, changes come. Yes, changes go.
Oh, changes touch us all.
I’ll feel your honey-sweet embrace again
Beneath the boughs of the laurel.
Oh, time will pass and time will come
When I hold you once again,
I’ll feel your sweet caress again,
Beneath the boughs of the laurel.
Yes, beneath the boughs of the laurel.
Oh, God speed you to that laurel.
The laurel.

Miss Smiley’s song lyrics for ‘The Laurel’ were inspired on behalf of an older Half Hour Challenge. We thought it was such a gorgeous lyrical ensemble but we never found the right moment to use it in our themed content. However, it’s here now and it gives us goosebumps thinking about the bitter-sweet days of love and loss. Miss Smiley also recorded the song too, and you can listen to it at the link here. If you enjoyed Miss Smiley’s work, be sure to check out ‘Rosebed‘. 

by Colette

One Day At A Time

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And then let nature take its course. Image // Aaron Gustafson

Written by Ashcloud

A single seed,
One idea, one aim.
One place to go,
One of a Saint’s name.

The seed surfaced,
Gilt in colour,
Green with promise,
Though sick in pallor.

One day it seems
Every leaf has appeared.
Solitary wisps,
Shivering, scared.

Together they grow.
Together they climb.
They bring life to the tree.
And they cherish their time.

Each bud has blossomed
To the chime of their clock.
Now a niggling sound rings,
in the ear of the flock.

The fruit is gone.
A new seed sown.
Never again,
To be on your own.

We are the leaves.
We must say goodbye.
We must leave the tree,
But if we all try,
Just like the leaves,
We’ll meet again.

And just like the leaves,
We’ll still be friends.

New contributor Ashcloud’s “One Day At A Time” really captures the essence of nature, and how a plant cannot survive without its core body. In a similar vein, Ashcloud’s inspiration for the poem came from finishing secondary school and knowing that life will change. But without all those friendly seeds on her journey, she may have survived, but it wouldn’t have given her the experience she will remember. The poem was also chosen to be read out at her school’s graduation, so congratulations are certainly in order! 

by Colette

Wings

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Some birds fly solo, other like to stick with family. Image // US Fish and Wildlife Service

Written by Rae-Chan

When I was a child I wanted wings like an angel.
I wanted to fly through the sky like a bird.
Wings grant freedom, something I’d craved for so long.
When I was a child, I wanted wings.
I wanted to fly away from my problems and fears.
I wanted to fly so high into the air that nothing could ever reach me.
I wanted to escape into the clouds where I wouldn’t have to be afraid.
I heard stories about beautiful angels that would watch over and protect me.
But none ever seemed to be there.
I couldn’t wait for my guardian angel to notice me.
I had to make my own wings.
I had to be my own angel.
When I was a child, I wanted wings like an angel.
Now that I’m not, I’ve realized I never needed wings.
I just needed the strength to take the first jump into the sky.
I don’t need wings to fly.I don’t need wings to fly.

I don’t need wings to fly.

What we love about Rae-Chan’s “Wings” is how freedom is represented so wonderfully. While many of us have freedom, children are often trapped by their parents rules, while adults are trapped by society’s rules. We long for the day those wings will be rewarded to us. Yet what we don’t realise is exactly Rae-Chan’s end message; we can fly high without them. If you loved “Wings”, make sure you check out Rae-Chan’s poem, “An Ode to Low Self-Esteem“. 

by Colette

Monthly Editorial: Festival Season Kicks Off In Style With June’s Content

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Rainforest World Music Festival, Borneo Image // rwmf.net

Hey Inkblotters!

Here in the UK, we’re well-known for our rainy days, nights, weekends and months. Many, if not all, of you will have heard of April’s Showers, but what about Monsoon June? About four or five years ago, many parts of the UK were hit with torrential downpours, resulting in flooded homes and a lot of disgruntled and upset home-owners during this month. It was devastating for the people involved, plus it created a substantial headache for the government. Flood guards were put in place and erected over the course of time, but it wasn’t enough to deter the rain in early January. While North America were plagued with sub-zero temperatures, the UK was hit with more flood warnings than we could count. As always, it looks like we’re in for more rain this June, but hopefully we’ll get some of the sizzling hot sunshine too.

With the beginning of June, a whole host of festivals kick-start their “feel-good welly” campaigns. Whether it’s music at Leeds and Glastonbury that rocks your world or the bluesy tunes in Wales, there’s something for everyone. But though music festivals are a big part of the summer, there’s also the folk festivals with ceilidh dancing, as well as the arts and crafts shows to wander around. So, in aid of the festival season, content for June will be under the theme “Free Spirit”.

Due for publication on the 5th is Rae-Chan’s Half Hour Challenge, “Wings” – a simple yet elegant poem on the theme of flight, absolutely gorgeous. Following on from Rae-Chan’s work, we’ve got new poetry from returning contributor Ashcloud on the 8th, with “One Day at a Time”, along with “Messages” from Elanor Rose on the 20th, which I’ve heard is due for publication just before her birthday – fabulously timed! And as always, there are lyrics, short fiction and even more poetry to come this month.

Our theme for the Half Hour Challenge this month comes from our wonderful forum admin Lilith (as per usual) and is titled: Summer Haze. Make sure you check out submissions page in the header above for all the rules and guidelines concerning HHC submissions.

And finally, I just want to thank all our followers for all your likes/comments on our content – our contributors really appreciate it. We recently hit the 600 mark and I, personally, just can’t thank you enough for the support.

Have a great June!

– Silver, Inkblots Editor

 

by Colette

I’m A Slug, Get Over It

Written by Fantasy Girl

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Seems like this guy survived from The NeverEnding Story – well, at least in this tale. Image // Warner Bros.

Psst, came a sound from the doorway of the house on the corner of the street. Psst, James. It came again.

“Who goes there?” James paused. “My god, who actually says that any more?” He added in spoken thought as he reached the place where the sound emerged from.

He looked around the corner but there was no one there.

I’m right next to you, you dimwit. Turn around!

He span around to where the voice came from, the only thing there was a slug, which was sat at eye level on the wall to his left.

That’s right, I’m a slug, get over it. Now, I have some important news for you.

“What the…” The slug’s head turned towards him, and a smile came to its lips. “You’re smiling at me, am I asleep or something? This isn’t happening.”

Get over it. But seriously, I have some news you may be interested in.

“You’re a slug! Slug’s don’t have ‘news’!”

And you’re an ignorant human, one who believes they are the only species that has breaking news.. But guess what? I’m over it, so you should be too, so shut up and listen to me!

“I… I’m sorry?” 

I said shut up and listen to me! 

James noticed for the first time that the slug’s lips were moving while he was talking. A shudder ran through his body.

“You’re creepy.”

And you’re human. Do you want to hear this news or not?

“Yes…?”

I’m going to hand you a piece of paper, and on that piece of paper there is a word. If you say this word, or this word is said directly to you, the world will end.

“…What?”

You heard me.

“I’m not sure I did… you’re going to hand me a piece of paper? You’re a-“

Yeah, I’m a slug, we’ve gathered that fact. Typical bloody human. You’re more worried that a slug is going to hand you a piece of paper than you are about the world ending!

Continue reading →

by Colette

Lost In Transit

Written by Terrestris Veritas 

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Solitary and in limbo. Image // sharioon.deviantart.com

A purple haze loomed in front of me. From the centre a waterfall of brains cascaded downwards. Somehow they saw me. Somehow, they spoke.

“Every time you fall asleep you die. When you die, someone else wakes up. When that person falls asleep and dies, you wake up then. Everything in your life is connected to that person. Déjà vu is a re-occurrence of what that person experienced.”

Bent double with agony, I could barely speak. “What are you?”

The brains seemed to snigger. “Right now? I am an informer. But once, I was like you, alive but dead. Undead, if you will. Now, I stay in this transit; in limbo.”

I tried to look at the brains but my eyes wouldn’t focus. “Am I… dead?”

“Dead again, you mean?” I could imagine the seemingly endless pattern of brains raising their eyebrows – well, if they had any. “Yes and no. You were dead before, and alive again while your double was dead. But now you have jumped forward, into a place with no dead or alive status, and thus, you stay here until your double passes on.”

“He won’t wake?”

“She, actually. And no, to wake up, one must fall asleep and die. But to fall asleep and die, one doesn’t have to wake up. But to experience, one must be awake. But to dream, one must be asleep and dead. You are neither experiencing nor dreaming. You are in transit with me.”

“But why?” I tried to shout but it came out as a croak.

“You cannot fall asleep and die here. You have jumped forward, which means sacrificing certain aspects of your life to abide by the law. You must wait until your double passes on. And after that, you shall lose yourself. You will see no colours, feel no touch, and sense no emotions. Until you and your double are together, you will experience nothing.”

The brains seemed to recede into the haze. “No!” I shouted. “Come back!”

“Your double has passed on. I must leave you now. While your mind dissolves, believe that you should have done more. For yourself, if nothing else. You are nothing now. All of it was for nothing.”

The brains disappeared, and I lay slumped on the ground, running what I had learned through my mind, as I slowly lost myself.

Lost in Transit was written by Terrestris Veritas as part of a Half Hour Challenge earlier this year. It was praised by Inkblots contributors due to its creepy nature, and many of us were left wondering what Terra would be able to do without a time limit. We don’t know about you, but the idea of talking to a number of decomposing brains inside a waterfall is just a little bit disturbing. If you enjoyed his work, make sure you check out Terra’s two-part fantasy drama, The Bunyip. 

by Colette

Star Talk ii

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Who can resist? Image // sunsetastronomicalsociety.com

Written by Lost in a Dream

Vacant was I and
vague was the stage.
The canvas of night
smudgy with inky hues,
a natural masterpiece of
Violets, indigos and blues.
The perfume of summer was still
lazing in the air.

The crescent moon
cut through the void above me 
and the stars began to blossom and bloom.

I felt the moon’s ancient gaze
as she painted the old lake silver
and illuminated the birches.
The omniscient stars hung in the sky,
Their smiles, as always, never failing to
enchant the romantic or enthuse the astronomer.

Carried by the whispering wind, 
the stars’ words echo through nature.
Though locked in an obsolete language,
Their fragile, archaic song
offers solace to
the hurt, the misused
the broken and
the confused.

‘Star Talk ii’ is one of Lost in a Dream’s older pieces of poetry, which has since been updated. We thought it was a great piece of poetry and couldn’t wait to share it in our sci-fi special this month. Though we’re not entirely sure where Star Talk i is, or if it even exists, we’re definitely intrigued by the title and the imagery within the piece. If you liked Lost in a Dream’s poetry, make sure you check out some of her other work too, including ‘Masquerade‘ and ‘Parnassus Park‘. 

by Colette

Neon

Written by Nonexistent Rose

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Beauty in the simplest of forms. Image // fanpop.com

I couldn’t remember the past twelve hours but I guessed that meant the drugs had worked. I’m sure it would have been much worse if they hadn’t. I felt light fingers touch the gauze around my eyes.

“I’m jealous,” Rosie spoke softly.

“Of what? Having your eyes ripped out because they aren’t good enough?” I felt my left arm tingle when she drew close, the hairs standing on end from the slight draft.

“Are you really upset about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You got new eyes, Charlie. They’re beautiful, they fit right, and they work much better than your old ones; I even heard your parents paid extra to get the eyes of an expert pilot.”

“My mother couldn’t stand to see her child walking around wearing glasses, like I’m one of those, you know, slum kids. So she bought me a pair of used eyes. Big whoop.”

Rosie sighed. I was being unreasonable, clearly. But she still leaned on me, choosing to ignore my petty attitude. I almost wish I could say that I was the jealous one because Rosie still had her own eyes, but I couldn’t because she hated her eyes. She would give up both of them just for one new one. They were such a dull blue they looked grey and their vision wasn’t perfect, but her family couldn’t afford to buy her new ones. I wished my family couldn’t afford to buy me new ones. I wished our money was directed at more important things than appearances, though my mother would throw yet another unnecessary tantrum. 

But normal people didn’t wish to not be rich so I kept my mouth shut. Rosie touched the gauze on my face again. 

“I wonder what they look like.”

“Why don’t you peel off the tape and find out?”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to take off the gauze yet.”

“I don’t care.” I didn’t care if I went blind or ruined my vision back to its previous blurred state. I just didn’t care.

“I’ll be gentle.” Rosie whispered and I felt her stand up. Her touch was always delicate, as if everything she laid her hands on was as fragile as a butterfly wing. And true to her word, she was gentle with the gauze as she peeled it off. I was rough and impatient and my foot fidgeted until I nearly reached up and peeled it off for her.

I felt the air dance over my closed eyelids once she finally shed the final layer. I was scared to open them, to let these new eyes see the world. Would it look the same through someone else’s eyes? Would Rosie look like she always did, with her plain brown hair and dull grey eyes? 

“Open your eyes, Charlie,” she murmured like a mother waking her child.

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