Tag Archives: Experiment

My Youth In Years | A preview of my new project

As I’m trying to ‘get back’ into my writing, I thought I would experiment by using autobiographical snippets of my childhood. Format wise, I opted out of the normal chronological order and instead flip backwards, then forwards and so on. Please read the beginning of this project below; I’d appreciate any feedback on style, format, language, flow, content. I’m really open to advice from a fresh perspective. Please feel free to leave comments at the end of this ‘preview’.

Thank You.

1986

Casting my mind back to the long hot summer months of the mid-eighties always fills my heart with warmth and fond memories. Big burning golden afternoons followed by pink sunset skies as the unforgivable heat gave way to a relieving cool breeze which seemed to drape over our bare arms and shoulders. I replay those thoughts in my head and it’s like a viewing of an old VHS tape or Camcorder video, the images are ever so slightly tainted and distorted, but the colours and sounds as vivid as ever. I can still hear the laughter and joyful screams of child’s play, while the smell of the trees we used to climb and the warmth of the grass we used to lay on are as clear as yesterday.

1979

It was the 28th of November and apparently a cold and late winter’s evening. The North of England, a small industrial town set some miles outside of Manchester, was where I was to be born. Amongst the backdrop of run-down cotton mills, factories and the large bleak barren moors, my Mother was preparing to give birth to her second child. A boy. The labour was long and drawn out and not without its complications. So much so, that immediately after my dramatic arrival, my Mother was in a critical condition and there was a very real risk that Death was to all too quickly follow Life. The irony was certainly not lost when I discovered that day was a Wednesday.

1994

During my early to mid teenage years, divorce was somewhat of a rarity amongst those that I knew and associated with. It just seemed to be that all my friends had a Mum and a Dad and they were together and happy. My childish naivety allowed me to continue through my high school years believing that my own parents were immune to this curse. Our family was solid as a rock and although as the months went by and things started to feel a little strained at home, I was at least comforted by the fact that I had my Mum, and I had my Dad, my big Sister was there and we were all together. It was one early morning before school, as I was getting ready that I had noticed while walking past the living-room doorway, an alarm clock set on the floor. With an obvious curiosity and unassuming approach I proceeded to ask my Mum why it was there. In no more than a sentence, I had learnt that my Dad had slept on the settee the previous night. Within a couple of weeks, he had moved out.

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Reflection | Random Experimental Poetry & Fiction

Standing at the top of the mountain I can see far beyond the horizon, I can see my past and future, all across infinity, the paths I chose, the paths I left behind and the paths I have yet to walk.

The cool softness of the wind, spirals up and seduces my skin, reminding me of my existence and bringing me back to now. I am here. Looking out to the East I see the Sun rising slowly and effortlessly up through the vast pale blue sky.

My memories are out there, thousands of miles into the distance, hidden amongst the mountains and streams and even the clouds above. Resonating. Everything around me in this moment, is me. I am in the moment.

Holding out my hand, I offer my heart. I can feel the pull of the energy forming, creating. In a burst of sunlight through the clouds, my heart is gone. Taken by the past. Out there, in the great beyond, amongst the shadows and the dark my heart starts its work.

Closing my eyes, I slow my breath. Void of feeling I clear my mind. And I am given sight of something new. The Sun is now hidden, my face is cool, and now wet as delicate rain drops spit spatter onto my forehead and cheeks. Refreshing and revitalizing. I am being reborn through nature.

I am being given a new heart. I feel the beat within me, the knowledge that I am once again alive.

Opening my eyes, the rain stops. I look out to the horizon, now covered in haze. The past now concealed. I turn away and start my journey back down the mountain. I am ready to start again. I am free.

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Weekly Writing Challenge: Backward | Dead Again

This week’s Weekly Writing Challenge asked us this: Sure — logical, clean order has its virtues. So does a bit of chaos, though (every once in a while). Instead of starting at your story’s Big Bang, drop us off right at the End of Time: the final line of a conversation, the last, dramatic moment of a journey, the messy aftermath of a wild night out. Then, devote the rest of your post to showing us how you got there.

As the bullet entered her chest, she knew. The world around her turned and faded, every ounce of colour draining before her eyes….until darkness fell. Until…nothing.

Una was trapped. Contained. There was no escape. They had finally caught up with her after almost 24 hours of running and hiding. She was tired, spent and had no fight left in her anymore…dropping the bag at her feet Una turned away from the wall to face her demons. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes….

The voices grew louder as Una ducked behind the refuse bin, one hand against the cold steel to steady herself and the other gripped firmly around the small bag. It’s contents unknown, but it wasn’t Una’s job to know. Just to deliver. If only she could make it around the next corner….

Moving through the crowd, she could feel her chest tighten, her pulse race. Una knew she was being followed and not just by one person, two, maybe three even. Trying to keep her composure she glanced momentarily back down the street. Eyes focused right ahead Una spotted her chance. A break in the traffic across the street. If she could quickly manoeuvre through it as the traffic slowed she may be able to gain more distance between her pursuers. Just as Una picked up her pace she heard a deep voice shouting from maybe 50 metres away…”Oi, guys! There she is the little Bitch!”

This post is in response to:

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/09/writing-challenge-backward/

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