- Uncategorized
- 30 Apr 18
Vicky Burke is seventeen years-old. “Although I often behave as if I were seven,” she adds. Her hobbies include drinking tea, continually blasting the entire soundtrack of Hamilton and caring for my two guinea pigs as if they were her children. She'd probably read anything handed to her but her favourite novelists include George Orwell and Vladimir Nabokov. Her dream is to be an author, but she’d also love to run her own animal sanctuary some day.
And now for Vicky’s WRITE HERE, WRITE NOW entry ...
Little Bluebird
Little bluebird chirping, come and follow me.
Feathers ruffled, chirps are muffled, sitting on a tree.
Barefoot on the pavement, walking down the street.
Bird in sight, the dead of night, I can hear him tweet.
Ignoring my surroundings, could this be a trap?
Coming quick, a sudden hit, I’m taken with a slap.
The taste of blood is sour, dripping from my skin.
Legs have crumbled, voices mumble, bluebird, tonight you win.
The Silence
The train station was seldom busy during the hour nearing midnight, although tonight had seemed an exception. If it weren’t for the cluster of faces, illuminated by the scant glow of light which highlighted their dead eyes and gaping mouths, Grace would have presumed the platform to be completely desolate. A bundle of letters bound in twine were stuffed tightly into her backpack, which now slumped on the seat beside her. Each letter unveiled her mothers name, scrawled across the front in the hopes that she would find them.
Grace thought about how she would wake her up each morning with a kiss on her forehead, singing a bird-like melody and how the soft wrinkles flowed from her mouth and eyes like waves in the ocean. A sign of happiness, she had often told her while cackling. Rubbing the skin of her own face as she sat with her back flush against the cold tiles, Grace couldn’t detect a single indent. A harsh and echoing sound shattered the silence as she tore her orange train ticket in half, in quarters, in eights and then released them from her hand like doves watching as the stirring wind carried each sliver of paper into the distance. She glanced at the mannequin-like figures standing around her and with sudden trembling hands, she knelt to the floor and undid the laces of her tattered shoes, kicking them off by the heel. She walked barefoot on the dank tiles to the edge of the platform, tapping her left foot in time with her own pulsating heartbeat. She could already smell the thick smoke which enveloped the platform. She choked and spluttered as loudly as one could project, and still, Grace couldn’t seem to sense a single pair of eyes.
A wave of nausea washed over her stiff shoulders as the distant train whined and clacked. Two lights suddenly coming into vision, glowing intensely, expanding in size with every second as it got louder, closer, faster. She held her breath as if she were preparing to dive underwater. Somebody had to be looking, somebody would have to see her, run to her and pull her far, far away from the edge of the platform. A sudden gust of bitter air ran through the muscles in her body as if plucking the thin strings of a harp, pushing her weak body backward. She bent her feeble knees in resistance and seized her eyes shut, suddenly taking off like an injured bird in flight. Her limbs awkwardly spread. She was trapped in midair, everything seemed to move in the slowest of motions. The ear-piercing shriek of the train caught everyone’s attention. She heard gasps and camera shutters, but nobody ran towards her. They stood motionless, capturing the slap of the train against her ribs, her bones exploding into a shards of glass. The silence lingered so intensely that you could hear the sound of her skull hitting metal like the crack of a bell.
Nothing To Fear
Somebody said we're in the middle of a crisis,
that the person right beside you is a member of isis.
The hate that we are spewing is a product of greed,
tending not to care unless its present on our feed.
Somebody said that we’ll face a deathly plague,
recounting symptom after symptom seeming all too vague.
We have grown quite exhausted with death and disease,
that is unless presented on the latest t.v. series.
Somebody said that Medusa’s been awakened,
if she thinks she will succeed then she is sorrily mistaken.
To look her in the eyes will turn you instantly to stone,
but now we view the world using the vessel of our phone.
Somebody said that the end of the world is near,
don’t worry everybody you have nothing new to fear.
If this does not align with your political views,
you can instantly dismiss and label it as fake news.
Readers’ Choice Award
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