Little wonder we stumble in life.

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Twisted Nightmare

She was closed in doors, closed in by trees. Her feet echoed off the empty hallway, creeping in at her. She felt alone, but she knew she wasn’t. She could sense someone there. 

He came towards her at the corner of the hallway like a gasping breath, knocking her into the wall and attacking her mouth. Not content at that, Alex began to touch her body, grabbing her as if he owned her. He pressed hard into her, frontal against her, ready to rape her —

Then his face changed, and she was staring back at her father, older, lighter, white scar under his left eye, wicked grin full of teeth —

Dawn woke up.

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Character Sketch #6 – Dawn


There had been noble sentiments in her once. But in the fight of protection against survival, survival always won. Pride was supposed to be the only way to stay sane.

Only, even that wasn’t enough. And there were always those to preach what was supposedly right, but even if she did sacrifice herself or even just her dreams for everyone else, it didn’t matter.

Looking at herself, she could barely recognise her reflection. Everyone’s helpless, in the end. Helpless, and hopeless.

Melody’s eyes begged at her. She’d have knelt to Dawn’s mercy if she’d asked, but Dawn had never been interested in that kind of power. Justice was all she cared about, and with hair like that, almost blonde…

She reminded her of Belinda. That’s all Dawn really cared about in the end. That’s what it all had been for.


She understood now. Dawn had been selfish, and full of pride.

And Melody was just the opposite to that. Her somehow saviour.

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Character Sketch #4 – Andrea

She knocked on the bathroom door. “Seth? Can you let me in?”

She thought she heard him banging around in there. “Please, I want to see you.”

He opened the door, looking agitated. He looked her in the eye demandingly, then looked around desperately, the fear of getting caught clear in his eyes. His fly was undone.

“Oh, just come in.” And he stood aside for her, twisting and closing the door behind her as soon as she was in.

“What do you want?”

“I want to see you,” she repeated, this time her meaning clear. His eyes dropped immediately down to his exposed waistband and scrotum, and he zipped hastily up, blushing uncharacteristically.

“I knew it. You’re a liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do like me.”

“Look, I’ve had fantasies before. You just weren’t in any of them.”


“Don’t bullshit me!” he said, self-consciously doing his button up on his black slacks.

“Yeah, right,” she rolled her eyes. “Fantasies, huh? Don’t you ever just wanna make it reality? What they ever involve?”

Caressing. Touching. A little more, but he wasn’t ever gonna tell her. He had enough experience avoiding the media to avoid that. He was too smart for it.

Still, her smirk grew. “Right. Just, why didn’t you ever wanna tell me?”

“I can’t afford to,” he said, by no means making a confession, only a point, whether or not she chose to see it that way. “I would’ve been a creeper. Even though I never did anything, that would be the perception. I didn’t want violate you. Even having those kinds of thoughts are violations. If you could just picture it, you’d understand…

“Or maybe you wouldn’t. You’re the type of person who never would, anyway, so desperate to be accepting, rather than face rejection. Desperation makes you rather weak, Andrea. I can see right through you.”

“That rough, was it?”

“Don’t celebrate rape, Andrea.”

“I wasn’t. And anyway, I’m not weak. Desperation is truth, not weakness. I can already guess what truth you’re afraid of.”

“You are wrong,” he said. “No matter what you think.”

“No matter what anybody else thinks, you can’t let it rule you.”

“Like you have a say in it. People talk. It isn’t about them, it’s about their power. I simply can’t afford it.”

“But all of this, it’s a confession –”

“No. All people talk. Even you, apparently.”

He glared at her with a look of loathing, and finally she saw who he really was now. Just a broken, bitter man, resenting a judgemental world.

She could tell it was time to go. She had been in his headspace before, and she knew the only solution was solitude, temporary though it was.

Wordlessly, she left out the door, with barely an aided gesture from him.


SOCS — Just Write #2

This is it, free writing. It reminds me of an episode of NCIS when McGee was freewriting, and DiNozzo acted all, “ooh, freewriting” as though he hadn’t heard of it. Which he obviously hadn’t, but it makes you wonder.

I often think people should automatically know certain things, and when they don’t, it’s a big shock. You wonder how a person can go around not knowing something you consider so fundamental.

But not everyone sees the world the same way as you do. And that’s an important thing for a writer to remember, because if you write a character as though they know something that in truth they wouldn’t, no matter how fundamental you think that knowledge, maybe it’s a bit off-putting.

Maybe its wrong.

And I take great pride in characterisation over plot. It what defines everything, isn’t it? Characters are what make plots.