Aspiring Young Author

Like a patch of the fallen summer sky,
It is as calm as if it is made of glass,
Like an endless expanse of wonder,
The imaginings it creates are so vast!

Stole the words out of my mouth. The way I tell a good book from an average one is when the book has been read long ago, but I still find myself fantasising about the world I once travelled to.

I feel like a ray of sunshine,
Piercing through the clouds,
I feel like no more I am endowed,
To the ties of misery,
That were holding me abound,
Finally, I break through,
And instead of being grey,
Now the sky’s a cerulean blue,
Today will be better than yesterday!

I lay a hand on the steady ocean and felt its thrumming heart beat with life. The morning sun reflected on the calm ocean, adding a shade of rose pink to the vast expanse of blue water. I gasped a breath of air and broke the surface of the glittering blue glass.
The cold water crawled up my arms and legs, sending a familiar shiver down my body. Suddenly, I caught sight of a glittering rose pearl. My mouth curved up into a smile as I dove down to lodge it from the months of sea debris and sand that had it trapped.
As it popped out, a looming dark shadow blocked out the sun above me. I slowly turned acutely aware I was running out of breath. My throat tightened and released a scream as a set of blood-stained teeth a beady black eyes blocked my vision. My throat was aching from lack of air, and black spots were blocking my vision. I kicked my legs furiously, but found myself being wrenched back into darkness. I knew this was the end, but I pushed that thought to the back of my mind. Instead, I replaced it with an image of my son Joseph and wife Dora. “I love you.” I whispered, but it was drowned down by the oceans clutch. Only the shadows heard those last words, never to be uttered to another soul.

Michelle Cooper

For all those other aspiring young authors out there, this website has some great links!

The horizon was beautiful up here. I felt the rush of sea breeze wash over my face as I raised it up to the fading sun. Out of vain I decided to read the letter just once more. I hopped form the dry rock I was standing on; down to a damper one closer to the shore- the sea must’ve washed up further here. I perched like a bird on the edge of the rock and took the wrinkled letter out of my pocket-

‘Rosa, you know who this is from- if this note ever lies in your hands, I will be free once more. I am here in prisoner- you now where and am writing with my own blood. I have to go now the guards have finished their…’

The water had swallowed up the red ‘ink’ there. The precious shadowy scarlet blood that I longed to see on that page so much. Ever since I had found this old note washed up on the beach, I had visited where my eyes first lay on it every day. This note had become a… obsession.

Who is this ‘Rosa’? But more importantly, who sent the letter?…

…I have had numerous adventures in my life, and I have been countless people. I have been a terrified maiden longing for her long-awaited rescuer, or predator that hunts’ its prey lurking in the shadows cast by the moonlight. My favourite has always been the adventurer. Whether the brave hero that risks everything for his humble little village or fearless child that runs away from home so they can keep what’s cherished to them, I have always loved a thrill- even if I can enjoy the sensation in the comfort of my own bed. Although, never are they my own stories, they are tales told on the old parchment written by an author’s hand; not mine…

…I forced myself to keep my voice even and my eyes fixed on hers. I held my head up high and clenched my fists by my sides- At this moment a strange feeling passed over me and even though I had no proof or apparent reason, I knew what it was- power. Malaika watched in horror as a covering as red as the fiery depths of hell arose over my eyes. She backed down and I, confused, watched a mixture of feelings cross her face- bewilderment, shock, and even a touch of amusement. Then I caught glimpse something ineffectively trying to be hidden behind her eyes- fear. She glided across the room and collected what looked like an elegant mirror with a curved perimeter. She inaudibly lifted it up to my face and revealed my obscured identity. Who I saw in my reflection wasn’t me- she had flaming red eyes and a clear emotion of incomprehension fixed across her outlined features. Her midnight black hair had been thrown up as carelessly as it was a piece of rubbish being thrown into a bin and instead of complementing her pale skin, it made her look sick, and her pink lips just made her look younger than she actually was… or that could’ve just been an illusion cast by the terror now showed head to toe- terror and disgust in what she had become. Her eyes now had faded back to a dark emerald colour and Tris, not Darcy, came back and I recognised myself as a scared little girl who is capable of anything- not as a demon sent by the devil himself…