Why this Blog?

I hope that this blog will become a place to look after my writing ideas and that, over time, I can use it to archive all my favourite creative sites on the web. Maybe others will enjoy it too.

Friday, 1 November 2013


So, here I am again to the party(?) that is NaNoWriMo and this time everything is different. I have done no preparation, I have planned nothing and I have no real idea where I am going. Even this blog has been fallow for a very long time after moving house sort of ate my life over the summer holidays and a new job (very nice by the by) ate my time since. I actually only managed to move less than a month ago and so the last few weeks have been punctuated with unpacking boxes and attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to get my lovely new home in order.

Anyway, this abomination just spewed forth from my brain, only 1,193 words so far and it's taken about half an hour. Read, if you dare, after the page break. It's pretty awful and based loosely on the Eurovision song by Margaret Berger Feed you my love. You'll find that after the line break too.

It was you that told me, all that time ago. It was you. "For cowards there's no rewards," you said, voice cold against the heat of the moment, and then you struck, do you remember that? I do. I know that I did not strike and that I did not fight back. A simple knife, I think it was, held in the small of my back, urging me onward and to face the attackers as we were. Funny that, being naked in a fire fight, unarmed with you at my back snarling about cowardice. But that was all a long time ago and so I expect that you've forgotten.

You haven't? Oh, well, that's just damnably sweet of you to remember. I'm sure you've had plenty of other things on your mind these past years what with being all important and high powered and all. Little old me? Well, I'm glad you didn't ask, it's been frightfully boring. That strike, with the knife, the one you made when I was the shield between you and those lovely people that just burst through the window? Well, it's a funny thing now that I mention it, oh do be a dear and shut your trap for a moment, won't you? I do so hate it when people gibber rather than using perfectly viable and useful language. Yes, thank you, that was kind. Where was I? Oh, no, don't say anything, I've got it. That knife you had, the one you pressed into my back, that knife was awful sharp, wasn't it? A wicked blade with such an edge to it. I'm surprised you were able to hide it, truth be told. Hardly the best place to equip yourself with an edged weapon, in a hotel room, is it? I mean, of all the things that I could think of to carry with me for personal protection I'm not at all certain that a knife would be all that useful. No, I think I would have chosen something that had range, something that one could point and laugh at danger with, but I get the impression you had some strange idea about personality or somesuch.

Not that it matters, of course, the fact is that with such a weapon mistakes happen. Oh, don't look so white as that, darling, I know you didn't mean to use it the way you did. There's no way you would have gone to all that trouble just to silence me, I'm sure that if that were the case you would have simply made the usual offer of money and a gagging clause. I've met plenty of people who took that little inducement and, believe me, they were living the high life on what you gave them. I'm sure that if you had wanted me to simply be quiet about everything you would have made that offer. It's almost a shame really, because I imagine that I would have taken it.

So, things have been frightfully boring since then. You were waving your knife about, taking you sweet time and hoping you could make the door, oh don't think I didn't notice your oh-so-clever little plan, and hissing words to them. And then you slipped or something. Yes, you ended up using that knife in a way that was surely unintentional, and burying that ever-so-sharp blade all the way through me. Pierced my lungs I think, at least, I remember that I coughed up an awful lot of blood and, unless I miss my guess, that can only really happen if there's too much blood in the lungs in the first place. Then there was the internal bleeding around that wound and I think you severed my intestines. If the blood loss didn't do for me then I was going to be badly poisoned by that little snicket wasn't I? In fact, I don't think you could have done better if you had been aiming all the long.

Oh, this little thing? I did say I would not have chosen something like a knife. No, this is just a little something I picked up to look menacing and dangerous. It's actually a cigarette lighter, see? Oh, how funny, did you really shit yourself when you saw me toting what looked like a pistol? Oh, that's just precious, it really is. Oh dear, it doesn't smell too nice though. No, no, don't get up, there's a dear. I think you said something about a lack of rewards for cowards? I rather believe that you were right about that, because now that I have plenty of time to think about it I realise that you did me a fearsome favour that night.

What? Oh, you killed me. Yes, I'm dead. No, I'm not going to explain. I really don't think you'd be able to understand anyway, if I'm brutally honest, you go around playing your little political games and running the press the way you do. Honestly, if that were a real measure of intelligence then perhaps we wouldn't be in this little pickle in the first place, because someone would have won the labyrinthine games that you like to set in motion up there in your hallowed corridors of power or whatever little reference you wish to make to the seats of power, whoops there's another one, this week.

Simple fact, ha, simple! Sorry, that was cruel. But no less true for it, I'm afraid, because you are rather. Are you really reaching for the telephone? Honestly, I come in here and remind you of a wonderful evening that was rudely interrupted, reveal the fact that I'm dead and taunting you with a look-a-like gun that is actually a cigarette lighter, make reference to the fact that I have spoken to each and every person you offered a gagging clause and money to and you think that you can simply have me carted away by some burly secret service types? You'd think I'd gone to no trouble at all. Go ahead, go on, use that phone. Tell them whatever you like, I can wait, I have all the time in the world if I want it.

Aw, diddums, is the line dead? No signal? Aw, poor lickle baby, is your smartphone almost as intelligent as you are you? Little diddums, sitting and festering in his own shit as he scrambles for the door. Whatever makes you think you're ever going to reach it? It's like you're deliberately trying to make this all about you! Typical. You did that when you were with me and I see that nothing has changed in the years that have followed. I was rather hoping that I would see something new from you this evening, on Hallowe'en of all dates, you know how much I loved a special occasion.

Now I can see, darling, the whole world is mine and you can't really touch that little feeling any more than you can capture smoke and carve it into a sculpture. I have the future, especially yours, on my tongue. You said "for cowards there's no reward," give me a kiss and I'll feed you my love!

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