Create This Book!

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I’d never destroy a book, they are like precious stones to me so when I received a book who’s sole purpose was to be drawn in and have pages abused, I was stunned. How could anyone, let alone me, do what this book was demanding?

Flipping through the almost blank white pages, I read the title on each one and my mind turned of the suggestions that the book was wanting; fold this page, draw dots, create a pet, write a list of things you have lost etc.

‘How can I do this to you?’ I whispered.

‘Because I want it,’ the book answered back, ‘I don’t want to be empty. Fill me with your pens.’

I shut my eyes, took up my pens and made my first marks on the cover. I was expecting to recoil in horror by what I had done but actually, I smiled at my crude drawing of a tree.

It’s okay, I thought, this book was made for this and the pages want me to bring them to life.

 

(Photo belongs to me)

Inspiration

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For the last few months, Yancy had been going around car boots, fairs and similar places. He brought old photographs, postcards and sometimes albums of them if they were cheap enough or he found a picture he liked.

Each morning, he would gather a bunch together and look at them at the desk in his studio. In the afternoon, he would try and draw or paint something inspired by what he had seen.

It was hard going but it was helping to break his block. For months, he’d not been able to bare touching his pencils and paintbrushes but now he was finding it easier each day.

He had yet to move back to canvas though but that would soon come. He tried not to think so much. Best to keep the negative voices down.

That morning, from his pile, Yancy selected a photo of a young child standing in front of a white washed wall. He wondered who the child was and what they were doing. Puling his sketchbook over, he drew the child, ideas turning over his head.

An hour later, he stopped and looked at what he had achieved. He had capture the child’s likeness well. Yancy smiled and decided the time was right, he wanted to paint this on to canvas.

Tree Man (Part 2)

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Poppy pressed her face and hands to the icy cold window and looked outside. There was no sign of anyone. Maybe, the stick man shaped like a Christmas tree had disappeared? Poppy wondered about that for a few moments, but then she saw him.

Tree-man was making his way down the pathway and even though he was tiny, the bright green colour Poppy had given him glowed against the white frost.

Poppy opened her mouth to shout to him to come back but then she thought better of it. Hurrying into her wardrobe, she put on some fleece pants, socks and a jumper. Going to her door, she crept out again. The house was quiet and as she passed her parents’ bedroom door, she thought she heard the turning pages of a book.

Downstairs she crept and in the hallway put on her coat and wellington boots. She reached for the keys next and unlocked the door with a bit of difficulty. Pulling the front door open as quietly as she could, Poppy slipped outside.

A cold wind wrapped around her and her breath misted before her. The frost sparkled on the ground looking like someone had spread sugar on the road.

‘Tree-man?’ Poppy whispered.

‘Yes?’ a distant voice called back.

‘Come back here,’ Poppy said.

‘Why? You are there and I am here now. Let’s go see the lights together,’ Tree-man spoke out.

‘But…’

‘You’ll be safe with me!’ Tree-man shouted.

Poppy looked behind her at the hallway. The light was on as her mum had left it lit for her dad’s return. She could feel the warmth also coming from the house and she felt torn.

Tree-man reached the gate, he stopped and waved at her.

‘Just a few minutes. That’d be okay,’ Poppy said under her breath.

Slipping the key into her pocket, she stepped out and closed the door softly. Poppy hurried down the path and bent down to look at Tree-man.

‘Can you pick me up?’ he asked.

Nodding, Poppy held out her hand and he jumped into her palm.

‘Where do we go?’ she asked.

‘Down the street,’ Tree-man directed.

‘Okay.’

Poppy opened the gate and went though. Even though it seemed the frost would crunch under her boots it didn’t nor was it slippy. Carrying Tree-man loosely, Poppy walked down the street and admired the neighbours Christmas lights.

‘Isn’t this magical?’ Tree-man spoke after a few moments.

‘Yes,’ Poppy replied.

‘Look at that deer and that wreath and that sign,’ Tree-man pointed out.

Poppy did, but she wasn’t as fascinated as he was. She was starting to feel cold and also worried. What if someone saw her and they told her mum?

‘We should go back,’ Poppy spoke up.

‘Just a little more, please! I do so love Christmas and it’s so pretty!’ Tree-man cried.

‘But I could get into trouble…’

‘Look at that!’ Tree-man cut in.

Poppy did and she saw the house at the end of the street brightly light up in blue and red flashing lights.

‘Closer! closer!’ Tree-man called.

Frowning, Poppy walked on then came to a stop before the house. The bushes that lined the front walls were divided into red or blue lights as were other plants in the garden. Two real looking but fake baby white trees were on either side of the door, decorated with shinny red baubles and white fairy lights. The walls of the house was covered with flashing stars and other Christmas themed lights.

‘Wow,’ Tree-man breathed.

‘I’ve seen it before,’ Poppy commented and then without thinking, she added, ‘there’s a house on the next street that has a family of polar bears in the garden.’

‘Oh, I’d like to see that!’ Tree-man said.

‘No. We must go back now,’ Poppy replied and she turned around.

Tree-man put his hands on the lowest triangle on his body, ‘no!’ he shouted.

‘Then you’ll have to get there yourself,’ Poppy snapped.

‘Fine!’ Tree-man shot back and he jumped from her hand.

Poppy watched him land on the pavement then walk off. Her mind fully made up, Poppy walked back to her house. Reaching the front door, she turned and looked up the street, but she couldn’t see the Tree-man.

Car headlight lit up the road and Poppy gasped. That could be her dad arriving back!

Fumbling in her coat pocket, she took out the keys and unlocked the door. Rushing in, she closed it and kicked off her boots. As she struggled out of her coat, she heard the car pull up. Tossing her coat on the hanger, she hurried upstairs and took off her clothes.

‘Hello?’ her mum’s voice called.

Poppy stopped trying to take the pants off and got quickly into bed. She pulled the duvet up and shut her eyes. She heard her bedroom door open slightly and then the front door also opened.

Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, she heard her mum go downstairs and talk quietly to her dad. Then they both went into the kitchen or the living room.

Poppy let go of the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes. She thought about Tree-man and where he might have gone. Should she have really left him out there alone? But what choice had she had?

Settling back, Poppy listened to her parents coming upstairs and going to bed. She waited a good few minutes, counting in her head then she got out of bed again. Going to the window, she opened the curtains and looked out.

Tree-man wasn’t there and it had started to snow.

Tree-man (Part 1)

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Poppy was just about to wipe away the drawing on her new mini whiteboard when her mum walked into the living room.

‘Time for bed,’ mum said.

Poppy looked up with a frown. She wasn’t feeling tried, even though the fire had made the living room really warm.

‘You’ll get wrinkles if you frown like that. Come on now,’ mum added.

Putting down the whiteboard and pens, Poppy got up and headed out of the room.

‘What was that you were drawing?’ her mum asked as they went upstairs.

‘It was a Christmas tree, but it turned out wrong. So I made it into a tree-man,’ Poppy explained.

‘Oh okay. Go brush you teeth then get your nightie on. I need to check on Oscar.’

Poppy nodded and went into the bathroom whilst mum crept into the baby’s room.

As she brushed her teeth, Poppy thought about the tree-man. He hadn’t turned out how she had wanted either. Maybe tomorrow she’d have another go at drawing a Christmas tree.

Teeth clean, she got changed and into bed. The last of the fire’s warmth left her and Poppy felt cold. Wrapping herself up, she had made a nest when her mum appeared at the door.

‘Would you like a story?’

‘No,’ Poppy said, ‘I’m tried.’

Nodding her mum went to close the door then added, ‘I’ll send your dad up to say goodnight when he gets back.’

‘Okay,’ Poppy muttered.

She settled down and shut her eyes. Poppy lay still for a good few minutes, letting thoughts come and go. Then she threw back the duvet and got out of bed. Slowly, she opened the door and looked out. The light from her parents’ room was on and the door was almost closed.

Poppy sneaked out and went downstairs as quietly as she could. Going into the living room, she found it dark and lit only by the last glow of the fire. Poppy made her away around and found the whiteboard and pens. Picking them up, she took them back to bed with her.

Wrapped up again and with the night light on, Poppy looked at the whiteboard. The tree-man was gone. Frowning, she turned it over, but found the other side empty too. Raising the board above her head, she looked down at the bed. There was a strange green, spiky looking stick figure on the fleece blanket.

Poppy dropped the board on to the floor.

The stick figure let out a small cry and turned around.

A scream escaped Poppy’s mouth and her bedroom door flew open.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ her mum said loudly.

‘There was a…thing…’ Poppy cried.

She scrambled from the bed and looked through all the blankets. There was no sign of the green spiky stick man.

‘It was just a dream,’ mum said.

Poppy went to argue with her, but thought better about it. She let her mum help her remake the bed, then Poppy got in and lay down again.

‘Goodnight,’ her mum said and left.

‘Night,’ Poppy called after her.

As soon as her mum had gone, Poppy lent out of bed and picked up the whiteboard. It was still empty on both sides.

‘Where are you?’ she whispered.

‘Here!’ a small voice cried.

Poppy grabbed the night light and shone it on the floor. Crawling out from underneath the bed was the tree-man she had drawn. His body was three thin green triangles on top of one another. His legs were long and his feet flat. His arms and hands were the same, but he had long fingers. His head was made of a smaller triangle with large black eyes in the middle and there was a fuzzy green outline all around him.

‘What are you?’ Poppy breathed.

‘Tree-man,’ he replied and he give her a wave.

‘How did you come off the whiteboard?’ Poppy asked.

‘No idea,’ Tree-man replied.

He wandered across the room and stopped at the large teddy bear which guarded the foot of Poppy’s bed. He reached out and poked the bear’s foot pad with a long spiky finger.

‘He’s not alive,’ Poppy said as she slipped out of the bed.

‘He is,’ Tree-man spoke, ‘you just can’t see it.’

With a nod to the bear, he moved on and began climbing the curtains.

‘What are you doing?’ Poppy asked.

‘I want to see the Christmas lights,’ he answered.

Reaching the window sill, he went behind the curtains.

Puzzled, Poppy pulled back the curtains to make a gap of her head. She looked out and saw the house across from her light up by white lights. There was a small deer in the garden and the two small bushes by the door were sparkling with flashing fairy lights.

‘It’s so pretty,’ Tree-man said.

‘Yes,’ Poppy replied.

‘We should go out and see more.’

‘No,’ we can’t! It’s night time and I’m not allow too,’ Poppy explained.

Tree-man looked at her reflection in the window, his expression unreadable because she hadn’t given him a detailed face.

‘I’m going back to bed. It’s cold,’ Poppy announced.

She closed the curtains and went back to bed. Settling down, she ignored the sounds coming from by her window. Then though, she felt a blast of freezing air. Tossing the bedding back, she got up once again and went to the window.

One of the top windows was open and Tree-man was nowhere to be seen…

 

To Be Continued…

Bright Leaves

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The leaves at her feet had been painted, Ashley noticed as she sat down on the tree stump. She picked one up and turned it around in between her fingers. One side showed the skeleton outline of the leaf veins and on the other someone had painted large purple dots onto the orange surface.

Ashley dropped the leaf and looked down. More and more of the leaves had been painted and she could even make out little imagines. She could make out a hedgehog shape on one and a dog on another. Smiling, she wondered who had decided to come out to the small patch of trees and do suit a thing.

Little Black Book (Part 6)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

The train shuddered into Liverpool central station. Kimmy frowned out at the weather before they moved inside.  It was raining heavily with the sky dark and thunderous. She felt Alex easing himself up and turned to watch him stretching his legs. He then had to side step out of the way as a disgruntled older man shot him a look and tried to get passed.

‘Some people,’ Alex muttered under his breath as he sat down again.

Around them, the other travellers were collecting their things and queuing to get off the train. Voices and the clatter of objects vibrated down the carriage. Kimmy watched a group of six girls, partly dressed for a night out, began squeezing by other passengers. Their laughing and loud voices carried above the other noises.

‘Do you want that coffee? Maybe something to eat?’ Alex asked, drawing her attention back.

‘What time is it?’ Kimmy muttered and began searching for her phone.

Alex bet her to it and pulled out his, ‘it’s coming up to one.’

‘I’m meeting a friend, actually,’ she suddenly recalled.

‘Oh, okay…’ he trailed off, his face falling.

‘How long are you staying in Liverpool for?’ Kimmy cut in.

‘Till Sunday night. I’m working on some drawings for a family member.’

‘I’m here till about then too. Maybe we could meet? Shall we swap numbers?’

‘Sure.’

‘I think I left my phone in my bag,’ Kimmy pointed out.

Smiling, Alex slide out of the seat and grabbed her rucksack. Whilst she searched through it, he picked up his own bag and put it on. Finding her phone, they swapped numbers and got off the train together. Avoiding the tail end group of passengers, they walked off the platform into the station.

The rain rattled on the metal roof above them and the air was filled with train fumes, warm food, coffee and a tang of cigarette smoke wafting in as the glass doors opened. Kimmy clocked a coffee shop and was half tempted to change her mind about waiting. She heard her name being called and whipped her head back.

Two girls, standing at an advertising board were waving at her. They both had black hair, nose and ear piercings, heavy dark makeup and were wearing similar matching black clothes. To the fleeting eye they looked like twins, but up close they were completely different and easy to tell apart.

‘I have to go,’ Kimmy pointed out.

Alex nodded.

‘I’ll text you or you can text me. I’d really like that coffee and to see you again,’ she babbled.

‘Me too,’ he replied softly.

Kimmy smiled then trying not to look back at him, hurried over to her friends.

 

***

The weekend didn’t fly by as Kimmy had hoped it would. The idea of seeing Alex again hung around her neck like The One Ring. That Friday night, she had settled down on her friend’s lumpy student sofa and watched her mobile phone screen glowing in the dark. His number and name were on the screen and the empty white box below was waiting for her words.

She hadn’t been able to type or more to the point, she didn’t know what to say. Sighing, she had put the phone down and looked up at the dark ceiling. The thoughts and questions kept her up all night. Franticly, she wanted to see him again, but what if he didn’t want to? What if it had all been a spur of the moment thing? Perhaps, they’d never see each other again. Anything could happen in the space of a few days, hours or minutes.

In the morning, she felt and looked sick. Having gotten up early, put on makeup, eaten and plastered a smile on her face, her friends didn’t notice when they joined her. The day though, dragged on and she felt more on autopilot then at the wheel. Liverpool was crowned with payday shoppers fighting over the last of the reduced Christmas stock and making faces at the up and coming Valentine’s Day cards and gifts that had been slipped onto the shelves.

Kimmy lost herself in a bookshop whilst her friends where in a clothes shop next door. Her fingers scanned along the book spines before randomly pulling one out. Her thoughts were far from the words and images in front of her though. She was glad for lunch and coffee followed by a break in a small park at the back of the town hall.

After they, visited one of Kimmy’s favourite places; Quiggins. An old cinema and orchestra hall turned into a small shopping outlet for indie and alternative fashion. Looking through all the amazing gothic style dresses at the back of one of the shops, Kimmy decided she just couldn’t take it anymore and took out her phone.

She texted Alex and asked how he was.

What if he doesn’t reply? What if it’s a wrong number? What if…? She shook her fears away and put the phone back in her jean’s pocket. As her friends drift over to a Steampunk display, Kimmy heard the ping of a text message. She scrambled for her phone, causing the woman owner of the shop to look up in concern. Kimmy’s eyes darted across the screen and she took in his reply.

Am fine. At work. Can I call you tomorrow morning?

Smiling like the happiest person on Earth, she texted back yes and felt her chest swelling. When she caught up with her friends and they questioned her, she refused to tell and brushed everything off. The rest of the afternoon raced by and they ended with a night out circling the bars and clubs, drinking and dancing till they had to go home.

 

***

Kimmy felt like her head had been crushed. Rolling over and pressing her face into a pillow, she half suffocated before having to turn back again. The living room danced before her as if it had taken on the motion of a ship at sea. Her stomach rolled with it and she felt sick.

Struggling up, she bolted for the bathroom, but tripped on the stairs and had to scramble up on all fours. Bursting through the door, she threw up and couldn’t seem to stop till bile had burnt her throat raw.

She washed her mouth, brushed her teeth, showered and dressed, somehow. Getting a cup of tea and glass of water, she sat on the living room floor and pawed through her handbag. She found her phone at the bottom.

Alex had tried ringing her twice and had sent three text messages.

Moaning softly, she text back, feeling guilty, but stating they could still meet.

If he hasn’t changed his mind! The voice in her head cried.

Curling up on the sofa again, she slept off most of her hangover before her friends woke her up to go out to eat. After, she wasn’t in the mood to stay any longer, so she packed up and left. She wandered around Liverpool by herself, enjoying the cold air and old buildings.

Finally it was time.

Alex had suggested they met at a chain coffee shop in the centre. As Kimmy walked over to it, he was all ready there. His head was down and he was checking his phone. A group of people stepped in front of him, but as they went passed, he looked directly up at her.

Kimmy waved and came to his side.

‘Hi,’ he said softly.

‘Hey. I’m so sorry about this morning. I don’t normally get so drunk!’ Kimmy declared.

‘It’s fine. You had a good time?’

She nodded, ‘I did. How did the art, drawing thingy go?

Alex shrugged, ‘okay. Going to need longer though…do you want to hear about it?’

‘I don’t mind. I really need a coffee though. This hangover is still lingering.’

Laughing, Alex swung open the door for her and she stepped inside with him close behind.

Little Black Book (Part 5)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

 

Kimmy closed the notebook and tried to tuck it away. Suddenly she felt over protective of it. Fixing a hard look on her face, she shook her head slightly and felt baby loose strands of hair brushing against her forehead.

‘Maybe, I made a mistake…’ he said and rubbed his hands on his knees.

They both looked away. Him around the carriage and her the window. Kimmy manged to slip the notebook into her pocket. She steadied her breathing and played with her hair. In the reflection from the window, she watched him turn and look at her. Swallowing, she nervously twisted around. The noise of the train rumbling into a tunnel echoed loudly in their ears mixing with the similar music still coming out of their headphones. The inside lights flickered for a few seconds, before casting everything in an ugly orange shade.

‘Why did you say that?’ she asked.

‘Because I lost a notebook full of drawings like that,’ he stated.

‘Weeks ago?’ she whispered, dropping her head and peering shyly back at him.

He nodded, ‘it must have slipped out of my bag. I didn’t know till hours later. I thought…I’d never get it back…’ he shrugged, ‘I won’t…’

Kimmy touched the notebook through her pocket before pulling it out again. She handed it to him. He paused then took it from her. She watched him flip through the pages and listened to the paper zinging together. He came to a stop, glanced at her then looked down again.

‘I picked it up and I did mean to hand it in, but when I got off the train there was a storm and I guess I just forgot. I’m sorry,’ Kimmy gushed, ‘then I wasn’t going to look at it, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t important and try to find out who it belonged too. It’s yours isn’t it?’

‘Yes, he breathed.

Kimmy nodded and unable to take it anymore, she fixed her face to the window.

The darkness came to an end as the train blasted out of the tunnel. Rain hit the window, trailing clear beads down the glass. A mix of green and brown colours went passed like a smeared painting. The scene blurred before her and she felt tears prickling her eyes. Confused at her mixed emotions, she wiped her eyes and went to pull up her headphones.

There was a brush of warm air and fingers on her back as she moved. Kimmy glanced over her shoulder.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked softly.

‘It’s Kimmy. What’s yours?’

‘Alex. It’s nice to meet you.’

‘You too,’ Kimmy answered and let her hands fall into her lap.

Alex opened the notebook, having held a page with his fingers. He showed it to her and Kimmy saw the sketch of herself concentrating. She pulled a face which was quickly replaced with a small smile.

‘I hope you don’t mind…I couldn’t help but notice you a few times,’ he spoke.

‘It’s amazing. As are your other drawings,’ Kimmy answered.

‘Thanks. And thanks for giving this back to me. It means a lot.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Here, you should have this…’

Kimmy grabbed Alex’s hand as he went to rip the page out.

‘How about you do a proper portrait of me instead?’

He stopped and Kimmy cursed herself.

Did I just say that? What? Why? She thought, there’s no way he’d want to even…and now he’s looking at me like I’m crazy. Great. Way to go!

‘Seriously?’ Alex asked.

‘Only if you want too…I mean….I don’t know if I can pay you and everything…’

He nodded then thoughtfully said, ‘why don’t we start with a coffee first?’

‘Yes. I’d like that,’ Kimmy replied, the growing smile lighting up her face.  

 

To Be Continued…   

Little Black Book (Part 4)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

Kimmy’s breath caught in her throat. It’s not really me, she thought. Lifting the notebook up, she inspected the drawing, her heart pounding loudly. However, there was no deigning her single plaited hair, large headphones and button nose. There was also that look of concentration on her face which she really hated because it made her look like she was pulling a funny face.

Biting her lip, she turned the page back as her IPod decided to play a Bullet For My Valentine song. There she was again! This time though her expression was distant and thoughtful as she was looking far too the right. The page slipped from her sweating fingers and her eyes unfocused for a few seconds. Lowering the notebook, she took a deep breath and turned to the window. The train was pulling into a station.

There was a movement of people and faint voices. She kept her head turned, ignoring everyone. A blast of cold air tickled her then rolled around her legs before the doors shut once more. The train shuttled off, the PA pinging on to announce the destination and stations on the way. The window view changed to outer edge city, with rows of houses, towers of apartments and storage buildings framed by a darkening sky.

Kimmy felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned. There was a good looking man about her age standing there. He had longish black hair falling over his clean shaven face, brown eyes and a slightly desperate expression. A large pair of padded headphones was wrapped around his neck. He was wearing a long black leather jacket, heavy metal band t-shirt, black jeans with looping, dangling chains and large multi bucked boots.

Kimmy slipped one headphone off her ear.

‘I’m sorry, but there’s nowhere else to sit,’ he said.

She glanced at her backpack on the chair next to her then back to him.

‘I’ll put in the luggage rack for you,’ he added.

Nodding, Kimmy put the notebook between her legs and passed over the bag. He took it off her and slotted on the bottom shelf. He put his own next to it then sat down as she shuffled over.

‘Thanks.’

‘It’s fine,’ Kimmy muttered to her knees.

She slipped back her headphone, kept her eyes down for a few moments then picked up the notebook again. Turning away as much as she comfortably could, she opened the pages randomly. A raven glared up at her with a single beady eye. The feathers were wonderfully drawn and coloured in deep black. A string of red hung from a sharp looking beck and there was an eyeball at the raven’s clawed feet.

Over the page, another raven with its beck open in a scream sat on a skull who’s empty eye sockets stared haunting up at her.

Kimmy felt the man shifting. The back of her neck prickled as it seemed he was watching her. She glanced. He was. She stole a few more peeks and saw the look of puzzlement on his face. He also appeared to be leaning further over as if trying to see the notebook better. Kimmy thought about closing it or turning more away, but it was the growing look of recognition on his face that kept her frozen.

Finally, she slipped her headphones off and turned to him. Shock spread across his face then vanished as he turned away. He took off his own headphones then turned back to her. Kimmy closed the notebook.

‘I’m sorry. It’s just that…I think that’s mine…’ he trailed off.

 

To Be Continued…

Little Black Book (Part 3)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

Kimmy was packing her rucksack for a return weekend to Liverpool when her mind made a chain of connections whilst she was folding clothes. Stuffing a jumper into her bag, she went to the bedside drawer and found the black notebook where it had laid forgotten for two weeks. She stroked the fake worn leather and recalled how she had shoved the notebook away as her mum had launched into ranting mode.

Opening the pages, she looked at the drawings she remembered from last time. Reaching a new page, she stopped and looked at a half finished sketch of a woman’s head with amazing plaited hair. The pencil marks were so fine that induvial strands of shaded black hair could be made out. Marvelling, Kimmy turned to the next page and saw the attempts at drawing a long, medieval style dress.

A voice called her name and she looked up at her open bedroom door. Sunny was standing there, wrapping the brown ends of her tied back hair around her fingers. She was wearing a blue low cut top, a pair of old jeans and slippers. Kimmy clocked the slight puzzlement on her face as Sunny waited for a response.

‘Yeah?’

‘When are you leaving?’ Sunny asked.

Kimmy glanced at her watch and saw it was getting later then she had thought, ‘in the next few minutes. Why?’

‘I couldn’t remember,’ Sunny answered, ‘Logan just asked if I’d meet him in the pub in an hour or so.’

‘Oh, well, I just need to pack and then I’m gone,’ Kimmy explained, closing the notebook and slotted it into her rucksack.

Sunny nodded and slipped away, pulling the door to.

Hurriedly putting everything else in, Kimmy changed her clothes, putting on a pair of dark blue jeans, a long black laced up sleeves top and black boots. She called out a goodbye as she threw on her duffle coat and dimly heard Sunny’s bye. Leaving the apartment, she quickly walked to the train station and to the ticket machines. Joining the back of a queue of four people, she looked at the timetable board and sort her train. It was due in ten minutes.

Tickets got, she battled through the steady flow of people and onto the platform with a good few minutes to go. Standing in a huddled group of fellow travels, her thoughts wandered back to the notebook. She hadn’t meant to put it in her bag, but she hadn’t wanted Sunny to ask about it either. Deciding that it would give her something else to do on the train, her mind turned and she daydreamed about the person it belonged too.

Kimmy pictured a goth like herself, but with a nerdy side. Or maybe the person was all nerd? Perhaps, they just had an interest in medieval times and the drawings where not fantasy ones at all. Was the person a real artist or someone who did it as a hobby? Where they missing the notebook right now and cursing themselves for losing it?

The train pulled into the station, bring her back from a downward spiral of unanswerable questions. Kimmy watched the doors open and an influx of people trying to get off and onto the platform. She was pushed back and the teenage boy in front of her stepped on her boot tops. Shuffling out of the way and chasing down a half thought to kick the teenager in his ankle, Kimmy waited like a trapped sheep stuck with all the others.

Finally, she was able to step onto the train and find a seat. Heading towards the back of the carriage, she sat opposite a luggage rack with her bag on the seat next to her. Ignoring everyone else still looking, she got her headphones, IPod and the notebook out. The voices around her faded into loud screaming music and she got comfy.

Opening the book, she flipped the pages trying to not to look till she reached the last one. None of the drawings had been dated, but there must be clues to the owner and their travels, maybe? She reached a blank page towards the end of the notebook and had to flip back again. The last sketch appeared and she took in what shockingly seemed to a drawing of herself.

 

To Be Continued…

Little Black Book (Part 2)

Book, Open, Pages, Literature, Textbook, School

By the time the train pulled into Manchester Piccadilly, The rain had turned heavier and become a mixture of hailstone and sleet. Kimmy gathered her rucksack as the PA pinged the arrival and the train came to a stop. She let the stamped of people pass her before getting up and stepping onto the platform.

Cold air wrapped around her, sending chills through her coat and prickling her skin. Kimmy tucked loose strands of her bright multi-colored hair back and joined the flow of people heading to the exits. The smell of oil, coffee and sweat mingled together and she felt desperate for some fresh air.

Once outside, the weather quickly changed her mind and Kimmy half-dashed to her apartment. Twenty minutes later, she was dripping wet and felt frozen to the bone. Letting herself in and catching the elevator, she went up to the place she currently called home. Unlocking the door, she found the lights off and remembered with a mixture of loneliness and thankfulness that her housemates, Sunny and her boyfriend Logan had gone on holiday on the weekend Kimmy had been away for.

Kimmy went into her bedroom, dumped her stuff and hurried into the shower. The hot water eased away the cold and aches from the cramped train seat. Getting out, dry and dressed and opened her rucksack. Emptying and sorting everything out, she spotted the black leather notebook and paused.

‘I forgot all about this,’ she said picking it up.

The silver writing glowed it’s warning at her, but unlike before when the notebook had been strange to her, Kimmy felt an odd connection to it. Setting it aside, she finished sorting out her things then climbed into the middle of her bed and slowly opened the notebook.

There was a soft creak of the binding and written a upon the first light yellow page was Sketches. The words ran diagonal with a slant and were surrounded by thin slashing lines. Kimmy turned the page. A baby dragon just hatching from a egg peeked up at her. Bold and thin pencil lines created shading in all the right areas, making the drawing look three dimensional. She looked closer and could make out some tiny spikes on the dragon’s head and the tips of the wings.

Kimmy peeled the paper and saw the next sketch to be a castle tower. On the next few pages were body parts of a horse then the horse itself, followed by parts of a medieval style knight then the knight himself till finally both images were put together. She paused over that sketch for awhile. Trying to take in all the intricate details of the knight’s armour and the muscles of the horse.

How could anyone not want to show these off? Kimmy’s mind raced, They are so good.  

Her fingertips slide along the corner of the page, but just as she was about to flip it, her mobile rang. Sighing deeply, she abandoned the notebook that had been warming in her hands and grabbed her phone. The caller ID flashed up it was her mother. Hitting answer, Kimmy mumbled an ‘Hello,’ into the phone and prayed her mum wasn’t about to rant about everything under the sun.

 

To Be Continued….