She sat thereShe sat there quiet and unassuming, waiting watching, observing. She did not know what she was waiting for, but she knew what she would be waiting for when she saw it, or them. The bottle of water on the table in front of her glistened with the heat and the cold from the fridge slipped down the bottle onto the red chequered table cloth. This was her favourite past time people watching, it was why she was hired to do what she did. She was a columnist and wrote about life as she saw it. Her spare time was something different, it was built up around the strange and the unusual, part of something which fuelled her passion for 'people watching'. It allowed her to watch the balance of the worlds, both this and ethereal, the Mythical and the real.
No one would quite believe her if she wrote about what she really saw, but she did not care, she was there for them as they were for her. There was an understan
Alley was darkThe alley was dark and unobtrusive to the naked eye. Nothing would have caught the ordinary person's eye unless you were particularly looking for it. Under one of the stone archways was a twinkling, of lights and stars like dust caught in a sunbeam, or that imagery within a cartoon, where a character has been knocked out. From the top of the alleyway, walked a man in a long evening cape and tall top hat more suited to that of Victorian England than modern day 2012. However his notice and appearance went unnoticed by the passersby on the street above. His cane echoed hollowly off the walls around the alleyway and provided a third step to his gaiety walk. He wandered down to the covered part of the archway where the lights were twinkling
"Ah there you are" He said
"Come down, we need to talk"
The lights twinkled and danced and formed a colourless yellow formation of a girl in front of him. The girl had long hair
The Weather Globes - WIPThe Weather Globes
I sat in the large bay window of our flat, looking out over the rooftops of the other properties and onto the scorched piece of grass, which represented the communal gardens. I idly picked up the Weather Globe from the sill and played around with it in my hands. Looking out over the community I could see the moods of all other tenants; that was the one thing about the Weather Globes they represented the moods of individual and households within the community; whether that is sunshine, mist fog, damp, or thunder. For me a slow dark rumbling cloud hung low over my window as torrential rain threatened. Everyone else seemed to be showing glorious sun shine, or early mists reflected onto dew drops in the clouds. This should have been me too but I struggled to empathise with the good news that we were told yesterday. Something worried me about it and I just could not put my finger on it. Whilst I
Where am I?Where am I?
Where am I? When I look at you
Your gaze transforms forms me into another you
We are not in our flat
We are not by the sea
As far as I can see it is only you and me
And when we are walking side by side
My feet is not there; touching the ground
The are gliding above it cushioned on air
You've taken me over
So I am no longer there
You have possessed me
Do you agree?
The glint in your eyes tell me the love is for real
The curl of your lips
That breaks into a smile
The joy that you bring
Is not known to I
I fear for the future
But am enjoying the present
I look forward to tomorrow
And seeing you there
The Mists of timeThe Mists of Time
The fog hung unusually heavy on the moors this time of year. With visibility being exceptionally poor; going out walking was a dangerous thing to do even for those who knew the moors well. Yet through the fog and mists a dark shadow was cast and as it drew closer one could discern the features of an old man. The man walked with apparent ease despite his stopped and crippled demeanour. His withered hand was wrapped firmly around a beach staff. Upon the staff were drawn unusual symbols and shapes of an age long forgotten and twisted around the body of the staff was that of a carven Asp. As he walked and the staff hit the ground it appeared to be emitting golden shards of light which lit the way and laid a path of safety ahead of the old man.
His boots were well worn and tattered in places but somehow still appeared to be remarkable sturdy despite appearing threadbare. About his shoulders he wor