Monthly Editorial: Oscar Season and March’s Content


Wonder what drama will take place tonight? Get us that popcorn!

Hey Inkblotters!

Welcome to the monthly editorial for March, where we’ve put aside our tea and biscuits this Sunday for an extravagant night of glitz and glamour with the Oscars Ceremony. As a film fanatic, I can’t help but watch with bated breath as to who will win the Academy Award for Best Picture, Best Actor and Best Actress, as well as all the others. But, as with every year, there’s some serious competition. As much as I’d like to see Leonardo DiCaprio awarded for his tremendously talented and comical performance in The Wolf of Wall Street, the Academy will most probably opt for the big-hitting transformational performances from Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years A Slave) or Matthew McConaughey (Dallas Buyers Club). Maybe the Academy will surprise us this year, though?

So in honour of the biggest bash in Hollywood, we’ve selected this month’s content under the theme: Transformations and Despair. Powerful transformations don’t just happen on-screen, they happen on paper too, and it’s not just physical transformations we’re looking at, it’s also the emotional transformation of the mind. To kick off our content on the 5th, we’ve got Rae-Chan’s “An Ode to Low Self-Esteem” from last month’s HHC – it’s a cracking poem, and one which many of us can relate to. Next up is new contributor Lockmaker and her Dear Mister Nice Guy satirical poem on the 8th and, mid-way through March, Magnificent Mayhem’s “I & You” brings a taste of the sinister and sweet in her short poem. And of course, there’s so much more!

This month’s Half Hour Challenge theme is Servant – a delightful and different theme chosen by my co-editor Lilith. If you’ve got an itching to send us through a HHC, remember to check out our submission page for all the details.

And last but not least, between January and February Inkblots hit the 500 reader mark! Thanks to all our followers, whether you’ve just joined us in the last couple of months, or have been here since the beginning, you guys are awesome! 🙂

– Silver, Inkblots Editor


Written by Fantasy Girl


Don’t suffer in silence. For more information on Domestic Abuse please see
Image Courtesy of

“I can’t deal with this anymore. You’ve sat by and watched this happen for years and you’ve never done a thing about it! How can you live with yourself?” 
“I tell him not to, I swear! I can’t stop him though!”
“It’s not good enough anymore! I hate it here! I hate you for letting him do it! I hate him for everything he’s done! I hate my life!”

She woke with tears in her eyes, quickly wiping them away. “Ouch,” she mumbled, feeling the tightness in her joints as she walked to the mirror to inspect herself. The bruises that mottled her skin had almost disappeared, but the ache was still there.

Just a few pale yellow patches left.

She shook her head in disgust. She pulled on some leggings, a vest and a light cardigan to cover them up, ran a comb through her hair and quietly left her room.

She could hear her mother and father talking in the kitchen as she stood at the top of the staircase. Continue reading →

Short Poetry Spotlight – Mattress and Graffiti

Written by Avantgardian


How about a kip on the bed?
Image Courtesy of Inkblots


battle arena for baby brothers
dance floor for sister’s dolls
keeper of coins yet to be counted
carrier of clothing spread and novels read

cover for cash and valuable deeds
habitat for spiders home to silverfish
a pillow harvest a stuffed bear preserve
snack bar washboard trampoline

lounging place for naked bodies
groping thrashing flailing sleeping
unseated table (topped in tasteless sheets)
that stirs a cerebral discussion

what stimulant of discordant dreams
what altar of opposite function.


Adversary of civilized men
petrified in dry cement
like an acorn thrown in reverie
these words the seed of artistry.

New contributor Avantgardian submitted a selection of  short poetry to Inkblots Magazine; our editorial team has chosen the two we thought explored such a simple object or theme in an intriguing light, offering new or a change of perception. Through his own style, Avantgardian has produced two top-notch poems, and we’re excited to see what else he creates. 

Angela’s Touch

Written by Rob


“I’d always felt Jenny had kept a part of herself in reserve.”
Image Courtesy of

I wasn’t even aware that Jenny kept a diary, until I found it lying in the hallway. I guessed it must have fallen from her bag. I recognised immediately what it was, even though it wasn’t written on a pre-printed, pre-dated book, but rather in an ad hoc collection of thoughts, scribbled into a well-thumbed, hard-backed book. I felt guilty about reading it; I knew I shouldn’t. She’d be mortified if she knew. Although we’d been married eight years, and we’d always promised each other “no secrets”, I’d always felt Jenny had kept a part of herself in reserve. It was as though there was a locked room inside her, that she’d lost the key to. I did not doubt she loved me, but I’d never felt that she’d trusted me with her inner sanctum, the core of her, the bit that made her tick. This memoire was too good an opportunity to pass over and so I sat on the “telephone chair” and read.

The early pages were mostly taken over with worries about the children: Derek’s first day at school, Linda’s poor spelling, Derek’s cut knee, and so forth. I didn’t seem to get much of a mention until I found “Kevin is a pompous arsehole!” in thick black letters, double underlined, following a passage describing our row about the Florida trip we couldn’t afford. That made me smile. I knew Jenny had come to my way of thinking about our budget a week or so later and, sure enough, there was the grudging, “I suppose he has a point,” two pages later. Continue reading →

The Locked Room

Written by Bobartles


The grand double doors of the Oviatt Building in Los Angeles, California. These majestic works of art could very well reside with Gabe and Lucifer’s dad.
Image Courtesy of

Peter took the steps three at a time, bounding towards the top floor at a speed a good deal greater than his wizened frame and long brown robes would seem to allow. He pushed through a small choir of residents on the landing, sending at least one priceless lyre crashing to the ground and knocking a small cherub over the banister, where it vanished into the gloom with a muffled curse.

“Sorry!” he called back, without stopping or turning to meet the indignant glares of the residents. Sandals slipping on the polished marble tiles, he turned the last corner and saw his quarry pacing back and forth outside a pair of very bright, very intricate and very heavy-looking golden doors.

“Gabe. What’s wrong?”

The man by the doorway winced a little and turned to face him. At nearly seven feet tall, he loomed over Peter like a strikingly blonde and particularly well-dressed oak. As he turned, his hand fell away from the slight bulge in his immaculate white suit jacket; the only indication of the concealed holster Peter knew lay beneath.

“Peter,” the man’s voice was deep and calm, but trembled slightly with hidden concern, “We’ve got a problem. He’s locked himself in again.”

“Again?” Peter glanced up at the ominous double doors. He raised an eyebrow and turned to his friend.

“Before you ask, I’ve tried knocking,” the white-clad man murmured, “I’ve called through, too. Hell,” he winced again, “I’ve even tried leaving him a message the old-fashioned way. That’s why I called you. It didn’t work. Not from me, and not from anyone else.”

“You mean…” Peter’s voice trailed off as he saw the panicked expression on the suited man’s face.

“Your kind were always his preferred children,” Gabe whispered, “Above us, above any others. He once said he’d do anything for you. And now he’s ignoring them.”

Peter muttered something foul under his breath. Gabe twitched.

“How long?” he asked. The man in white shrugged.

“I don’t come up here very often anymore. Nobody does. Could be hours, could be decades. But you just have to look down to see that something’s wrong. He’s lost interest.”

“Well…” Peter looked up at the doors, “Have you tried forcing your way in? Surely he’d understand that you were worried…” His voice trailed off as he saw the look on Gabe’s face.

“No. The last time that happened…” he closed his eyes and grimaced for a moment, before his expression changed suddenly to one of hope. “Wait. We can’t open it; trust me, you don’t want to know what he’s like when he’s angry. But…” he glanced up at the doors, to a slight bend in the upper right corner, “… there’s someone who’s done it before.”

Gabe flipped a slim mobile phone from his pocket; opened it with a snick of steel.

“John. It’s Gabriel. Get me the Morningstar.”


Continue reading →

Sheffield Steel

Written by Elanor Rose


The sun set, flame red, there was no delay.

We met on the day that the world would end
and clasped fingers in the dark, unafraid.
As the steel sheets of Sheffield tumbled down,
fell beneath our feet, fell into pierced ground,
we stepped amidst the debris side by side.

As the red brick of Birmingham crumbled
we fumbled to find something lasting and new.
We remembered the cities that forged us,
now gone – and struggled to salvage the dust
unnoticed by the ruins around us.

And when then the rain came, we were ready.
The sun set, flame red, there was no delay.
We watched it sear through the thunder-clap clouds,
no longer humbled, no longer content
to allow our origin to be lost,
to admit our time together was spent.

Sheffield Steel marks Elanor Rose’s first poem published in Inkblots. Her inspiration was based on a challenge she set herself: to write romantic poetry without referring to the traditional romance tropes found in poems, such as flowers, forever afters and fairy tales. 

Friday Frenzy – “The Orient”

The Orient is a spectacular and fascinating topic just waiting to be explored! Image Courtesy of

Look at that Inkblotters, it’s our fourth Friday Frenzy! The monthly challenge has taken off with tremendous success and it’s all thanks to our writers that participate each month. We love reading your submissions and oh boy, do you make it hard for us to separate you all to choose a winner. So keep your entries coming in – details of how you can enter can be found here, or at the end of this post.

So, what’s in store this month?

Friday Frenzy Theme – The Orient

 April’s theme is considerably different to the ones we’ve had before (and even our half hour challenges). The Orient is something that I, in particular, find fascinating and I’ve never seen it fully explored within any of The Inkwell’s members’ writing. The East is exotic, intoxicating and completely foreign to our Western Culture. Continue reading →