I dreamt of a balloon that flew me up. The balloon was red, the sky blue and I was a black dot to the people below. Higher and higher, passed shocked birds and stuffed clouds, to the land of make belief where life is complete.
He liked nature so much he decided living amongst it was his second calling. He became a monk hermit, famed for his curing herb mixtures and blessed water. People travelled from afar to his shelter to exchanged food and tools for his remedies. He never took money and stayed true to God.
The temptation was too real and I couldn’t help myself. The ice cream melted on my tongue, sending me to a frozen heaven and a land of pleasure. One spoonful wasn’t enough, I needed more, more! Half a tub was gone before I realised.
I was a mild winter and leaves were still clinging to the branches. People had been acting like it was spring but too long I had been sleeping. Now, I reached out frosty fingers and touched the living till they froze and they died until my warmer sister arrived.
They had spent the night telling scary stories and laughing at their fears. Little did they know as the fire died and the forest settled into complete blackness, something was stirring through the undergrowth.
The blade of an axe, a glint of light and spots of blood hit the floor.
The writing won’t come today. I have words and ideas enough in my head but they won’t come out onto paper. My headaches with trying, my hands shake with holding the pen tightly. I shut my eyes, try to relax, to clear my head then focus but the paper stays blank.
Winter was my favourite season. There was something so satisfying about crunching over snow and leaving footprints behind. I spent as much time outside as possible, I loved visiting woods and the countryside. I liked to photograph the snow draped scenery and the cobweb lines of frost on rocks.