Oct 27, 2012


I have faced many trials these past years.

I saw everything I had disappear, I watched my life split in two distorted pieces.

I had to step up and become a pillar of false courage and strength, to prevent what was left from crumbling.

There were many tears.  I was surrounded by hurt and confusion.

I remained strong.

I became angry.

It seemed like the only way to combat all the hypocrisy and judgements being cast upon me and those I loved.

It turned many away, and poisoned my spirit.

Years later the rebellion surrendered, it seemed the waters could be calmed.

But the turmoil is never far beneath the surface, and it still rises, threatening to pull me under.

They have all forgotten, yet won't let me forget.

They do not remember the comfort I provided, the burden to protect those from the truth, or the childhood I was forced to forsake.

Everyone sees but they don't know.

I just want those calm waters.

And to leave the broken pieces inside.

from sjp.

Oct 23, 2012


Visual Dare #26

The discordant footfalls of scurrying pedestrians hummed impatiently below.  Interspersed by hostile apologies as shuffling coats occasionally collided, daring jeers by pickpockets darting across the pavement, and the overbearing moans from the sidelines of faded taxis.

The flash of a copper arrested his attention from the continuous writhing of the streets.  Quiet eyes fixed to the twitching wires of a moustache, waiting as the man declared the destination he sought with an air of importance.

"O'er there 'cross the overpass two slabs t'ya left"

Grinning with pride he caught the copper in his palm, watching the man blur into the rush of bodies, searching for the next disorientated stranger to approach his signpost.

word count: 110

keep hold of your pride,
Jaq xx

Oct 12, 2012


Visual Dare #26

Emilie trod softly through the pearly frost, shivering as the chill air stung her cheeks and hoping it disguised the unease trembling within.  She maintained a vigil of her footsteps lest she lose the courage thundering in her heart, concentrating on the icy vapours of her lungs where they shifted in the breeze.  Pausing beneath the looming silhouette of an ancient oak she fought the need to run, tightly gripping her cargo in reassurance.

Although she anticipated it, Emilie could not suppress the light gasp that escaped as an erratic wind encircled her, carrying a melodious whisper of tantalising allure.  She closed her eyes, knowing her soul would swoon in the face of such radiance, and lifted the antique mirror.

A piercing scream tore through still air, the harsh sound unbearable, jarring her senses until she was forced to look upon the struggling creature.  The capricious sprite had become a contorted nightmare, glowering her venom at the betrayal.

With a strength born of fear Emilie kept hold of her burden, ignoring the tears that fell against the snow.

"I am not yours anymore"

a word counts nemesis,
Jaq xx

Oct 4, 2012


Visual Dare #25

The sky was slow to alight with the wintry dawn, as though it were unwilling to confront the devastation in the harsh reality of day.  Cramped in the warped frame of an old truck, Madison watched the sallow sun rise against the ashen expanse, sure it promised death.  Coils of melancholy wrought her insides, her sight blind amidst the onslaught of images haunting her thoughts.  She waited in stillness, terrified to move the hands pressed tightly over her ears for fear that the bellow of erupting shells would still echo across the hills.

She barely stifled a scream when rough hands pulled at her, tears overflowing as she fell into his arms.

“Don’t ever-“ she began, overcome with distress over his absence.  Searching his face she pushed out of his firm hold, seeing the grief he was fighting to hide.  “No, Channer.  No-” choking back sobs Madison fell to her knees, the dried grass prickling her legs.

“I’m so sorry” he whispered, biting his lip as she cried out her anguish.

Word count: 161

heed your omens,
Jaq xx

Oct 3, 2012



I started this earlier as I always find my insecurities have burrowed back into hiding beyond some level of bliss by the time that fateful Wednesday appears.

But I am starting to wonder if I have been... I would not say limiting but something along those lines.

I hunger desperately for prompts, for the right prompts, to fully flesh out the ideas being neglected in my mind, its hard to remember the last time I wrote flash without the intention of fulfilling a prompt or submitting a linky.

Its like having that requirement, knowing it will be viewed in the light of some goal, makes it more valid?  I can write, and feel elated by my accomplishment, that I succeeded satisfactorily.

If I just write any old thing what standard will I measure it by?  What guidelines will I follow?  (I mean not that I am all that great at adhering entirely by the rules, but its nice to know they are there...)

How will I know it is the best flash I am capable of if there is no motivation to prove my ability?

I know this sounds superficial, but its the deeper fear of how will I salvage an idea if I write it terribly the first time...

In more recent news I still cannot comprehend the generous following growing alongside, even with my lacklustre schedule, but want to thank all for their consideration of my little place, and am stubbornly determined to publish something- tomorrow!

incapable of editing,
from sjp.
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