Friday Night/Saturday Morning

On Friday night I saw you,

I saw you for something I thought you were,

I saw you in the mirror as an illusion,

A face I used to predict as my match,

The face I see in myself when my eyes are blurred from whiskey.


I pull these funny faces in joyful, tipsy splendour only to see your face reflected as a dark memory of what could have been.


On Friday night I see a lost memory,

A time when I was hopeful,

A time when I believed that this could have worked,

A time when I believed that I was yours and you were mine and that he did not exist.


On Friday night I had a relapse and thought of you,

And on Saturday morning I realised how stupid I really was for thinking of you in such a way.


On Saturday morning I realised that I was better,

That I deserved better,

And on Saturday morning I contemplated how I would treat you if I saw you,

And I still haven’t made up my mind.


I’m unsure of whether I would breakdown at the mere glimpse of you at the bar,

Or whether I would simply smile and say nothing at all and that would be that.


On Saturday morning I made a vow,

That no matter what Friday night says to me,

When I am intoxicated with whiskey and rum,

Thinking back to the time when you were in my life,

And the way you would make me laugh,

And the way you would make me smile when I laid on your chest,

And the way you would make me feel empty when you weren’t there,

That I will never forgive you for choosing him over me,

And I will never forgive you for the pain you put me through every drunken night when I see your face in mine.



At midnight my thoughts come together. On the nights where my body struggles to find the position to let my mind fall into a peaceful slumber, your voice replays over and over again. I see the days where we would sit in silence, my head laying on your chest in naïve bliss, whilst your eyes remained glued to your phone. I remember the conversations that would fall to pieces as the man on the other side of the phone would distract you would a constant stream of messages. I remember how you brushed it off, told me he was your best friend, and I, blinded by my infatuation, accepted it as truth.

At midnight my thoughts come together. Conversations and arguments play around in my head as I repeat time after time the perfect sentence that would prove you wrong. But it never plays out that way. You always win. You never say the words to set me up, you never allow me to get the upper hand, and I always come crawling back.

At midnight my thoughts come together, and in the morning they fade away as I read the good morning text, and think that this time, this time you will be mine.

Subway (idea)

I haven’t posted anything for a while, so I thought I would post a little piece of a new supernatural story i’ve been working on…


“This is a service announcement, all trains are running on good service this morning with no delays, so remember to keep your eyes down and we hope you have a safe journey”

The tracks are quiet this morning; that isn’t unusual but it always puts you on edge. At the station it’s okay to look, to observe the ones around you but once you’re in the train it’s a different story; everyone keeps their eyes down. Some close them or hide behind the safety of their hands in the fear of accidentally seeing something out of the corner of their eyes. Some have requested trains without windows so that they may ride in comfort, without fear. One train was made like that, but on its first day it didn’t get past a single station; so the windows stayed.

Some people take to walking now, but the streets are far too busy, and the miles it takes to get to work  means drastically less time to rest. Eventually, when people save enough money they move closer, sacrificing some luxuries at the expense of never testing the subway again. I cannot afford that. I know that I have got the control to not look up during the journey so I do not mind the subway; but the airiness of the quiet tracks always gets to me.


Anna’s Diary – Days Thirty Five, Thirty Seven and Forty

Day Thirty Five

Dear Diary,

It has been three days since mother locked me down in the emergency bunker, and there still has been no sign of her return. I know that the submarines are not that far away, it took us maybe an hour to reach them walking slowly so she should have been back by now. I do hope nothing has happened to her.

This morning I packed my bag with everything that I thought would be necessary for our escape, and some extra food and water for when we reach the surface. Mother’s rations have been placed in a small side compartment of the bag so I can give them to her as soon as she arrives. I shall not leave until night time tomorrow, by then I know that she will return. Hopefully the others upstairs will move away by then. I have heard them smash their way through the house, and around midday there seemed to be a fight that ended in such awful noises and screams. I had to hold my hands over my ears to try and block out the noises but it didn’t work. I bit down on a small towel to stop from crying; I couldn’t let them hear me. I think they are sleeping now, I haven’t heard much noise from above for a while but I hear them move about in their slumber. Maybe they have been having nightmares too?

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Anna’s Diary – Days Twenty Seven, Thirty and Thirty Two

Day Twenty Seven

Dear Diary,

Things are getting so much worse down here now. Today, as I walked back from school I heard someone scream behind me and when I turned around I saw an old woman dragging a child away. I ran as fast as I could away from them, thinking that she would surely take me as well, but it wasn’t long before I heard the shouts of the guards. I tried to watch what happened from a distance, but when they started striking her with the batons I couldn’t take it anymore.

I ran home as fast as I could and cried in my mother’s lap. When I explained what happened she moved me away and locked all the doors and drew the curtains. Tonight she told me that I’m never going back to school.

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Anna’s Diary – Days Nineteen, Twenty One and Twenty five

Day Nineteen

Dear Diary,

Mother is starting to look worried now. Every day I find her looking out of the windows onto the streets as if she expects something. I’m not sure if she is waiting for the delivery to come, or the police to question her on why she broke into the old man’s house. Either way I have tried everything to comfort her but it is of no use. She has told me to stay away from strangers and to never speak to anyone on my way to and from school. Not that anybody talks anymore; everyone has been quiet since the delivery never showed up. I think everyone has started to lose hope.

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Anna’s Diary – Days Ten, Twelve and Sixteen

Day Ten


Dear Diary,

Tomorrow was not a better day. I waited at home all day for the food delivery whilst my mother was at work, but not once did I hear a knock at the door. I thought I had maybe missed it, that my blackouts may have made me forget; but when I told mother that they did not come she did not seem surprised. She just stroked my hair and told me to get some sleep.

I went to her bed again, I sleep easier there. In the night she wakes me up when the nightmares come, and I comfort her when she starts to cry. I hope she stops crying soon.

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