stories and poems

my cousin has a thing for writing... its quite serious...

Super Human

My heart is made of steel

My skins as though as  leather

My nails are sharpened claws

My eyes are tiny webcams

Through my veins runs acid

My bones are made of iron

My knuckles studded gold

My breathing's barely audible

My feet are metal hooves

My legs are made of fiberglass

My brain is a computer chip

My teeth are sharp and deadly

I never miss a shot

i am the terminator

The reason you are hunted

Start running

Sport

My hands

Once pale and soft

Are bleeding and white with blisters

I don't care

My legs

Burning, muscles torn

Searing pain shoots though my calves

I don't care

My back

Failing to support me

Seized and paralyzed from endless work

I don't care

My feet

Swollen and crying

For mercy from running on harsh, cobbled ground

I don't care

My arms

Hang loosely and pathetically

by my stitch-ridden sides

I don't care

I sweat

I suffer

I don't surrender

I don't care

I play on

Notes from Matt and me

"Do you want tea?" I asked with a sigh, and turned to Matt,  awaiting his response, it had been a long day and we were both exhausted. "Oooh, that would be nice" he replied, running his fingers through my hair, I purred, happily. Peeling myself off his warm chest I slunk off to the kitchen, half dazed with fatigue, I turned on the light and started to fill the kettle, the cold water creating the gushing, crashing sound as it filled the empty chasm of the kettle. I looked out into the black night and thought a while, I thought of how long me and Matt had been going out, how we met that lazy summer afternoon,  watching the sun go down over the rolling hills and distant trees of the undisturbed countryside. I remember how we celebrated our graduation from university, how he lifted me in the air and how we had kissed like no-one else was there, like it was just us, and time had slowed down... I smiled in blissful memory, forgetting I was filling the kettle due to my daydreaming, I remember time with him in such detail and clarity it is as if I am actually there, in his arms, as we kiss, and everything happens around us, while we remain blissfully oblivious. I put the kettle on to boil, my finger nails flick the switch with such an agile elegance. As I wait I recall more memories, the time when we went ice skating and I kept falling over while he would skate backwards, perform pirouettes and show off around me, as I strode around giggling. I sneak a look back into the living room, he shifts uncomfortably as he tries to compensate for the warm patch I had created on his chest. I should go sit with him again, I can see he wants me to, he cant sit still. He gets like that when he misses me, I smile,  and stay in the kitchen. I have work to do. I take a small knife from the knife block, I do so quietly so he does not hear, and as the kettle starts to bubble, hiss and splutter I take my moment of opportunity and make a small nick beside the nail of my thumb, I make a little high pitch gasp as I the knife bites through he surface of my skin, I wince and recoil as the flesh stings and howls as it is exposed to the open air. I look back at Matt, he hasn't noticed, that's good. The kettle starts shaking with excitement and gives its satisfying click as it announces the end to its commotion, I shoot a look at it as I massage my thumb. I take the kettle by its worn handle and pour the steaming liquid into two waiting cups, I keep massaging my thumb until, at last, a tiny bead of blood raises its crimson head, I sigh with relief and use the knife to flick the drop from my thumb into Matt's mug. Without saying anything I wonder back into the living room, placing the cups onto the coffee table,  and snuggle back down at Matt's side. He wraps his arms around me, and plants a kiss on top of my head. I close my eyes in pleasure, and wait. After some time, Matt raised his nose and sniffed the air, after some thought, He asked me if I had bought any new flowers recently, I pointed to the worn out daffodils on the coffee table, but he shook his head. "No, its not those, its a really sweet smell" he went on to say, I shrugged and pretend to go back to sleep. In my head, thoughts started to stir, had he smelt it? Already? Does he know what it is? But i remain silent, with my eyes half closed and my breathing shallow. Matt was still sniffing the air, pondering what this amazingly sweet smell could be, trying to find the source of which it was radiated. After some time, he nudged me so that I sat upright,  my hair a mess from sleep, but he took his tea and raised it to his lips, and froze. His eyes widened, his nostrils flickered with the scent of the beverage,  he looked down at it in disbelief. And dared to take the first sip, I watched him intently, from the other side of the sofa. As soon as the liquid hit his tongue, he did not stop drinking, gulping, slurping, never once pausing for breath. He finished the cup in a matter of seconds, and licked the inside out as to get the last drops of this wondrous brew. When it had all gone, he looked to me and asked if there was any more, I said no, and he then asked if I had put anything new in it,  "it was just tea!" I giggled, trying to sound all innocent. He looked at his empty and unblemished cup in disappointment. My experiment had proved a success, it all made sense now.  When we went ice skating,  everyone was wearing at least three layers of clothing, hats, scarves and gloves, yet he was going around in jeans and a short sleeve t-shirt, and he showed no sign of being the least bit cold. He would never eat a lot, yet he was all ways the perfect bill of health, strong and tall, full of energy. He said this was down to his 'multivitamin' tablets he would take every now and again. But he never kept his tablets in their original container, just a small plastic box. When he smiled, you could see that his teeth were that little bit whiter than everyone else's, and sharper. His eyes were a vivid orange, not just hazelnut,  but bright sunset orange with flecks of gold and black. His skin was all ways cold, even on the hottest of days. And when we kissed at the end of university, I was the first to pull away, because I had cut my tongue.  I look at him now, and realised I would never see him in the same way again. I know it has to be me, but I wont do it now, not yet...


The Last Days Of Summer
(short story competition)

This part of the city buzzed with activity 24 hours a day, but now it felt like the loneliest place in the world. My life seemed at an end, nothing seemed to matter anymore, my heart felt empty and cold, I didn't know what to do with myself, and life didn't feel worth living anymore, not now that I had lost her. Cathey was the highlight of my day, the brightness in the darkest of moments; we were always together, laughing, running, climbing trees, going on treasure hunts and just generally enjoying each other’s company. She was always there for me; she was the best thing that ever happened to me, she brightened up my world of dark gloom with adventures and games. We had a tree house, in our own bit of the wood, it was a secret place, where we could invent the wildest of stories together, and we made it ourselves in the mid-summer, 2 years ago, nobody knew about it and nobody does to this day. Sometimes when life feels as if could not possibly get any worse, I go to the tree house, I look at the drawings on the walls, the empty tin of biscuits, and just sit there, doing nothing, quietly, sometimes for hours, I find it really hard to leave the tree house.  when we went to high school we started to explore more of the city, eating in chip shops, playing games, running around. Sometimes we would race home, I only slowly drag myself home, I can’t bear to run home, even if I am late, I feel I do not belong in this world any more. No one could ever possibly replace Cathey, she was an angel from heaven above, and on Valentine’s Day I would always give her a single white rose, they were her favorite. I remember her thankful face when she had a cold on Valentine’s Day, and I gave her the single rose, it added colour to her pale, smiling face. She was very sporty and outgoing, she enjoyed tennis, for her birthday, she had booked a huge tennis court for herself, two other friends and me. She really wiped the floor with me, but she taught me a bit and I must say I have improved in most sports; she was always energetic and had a wild imagination. For Christmas I bought her a tennis racket and some tennis balls, I spent ages in the sport shop just trying to find the right one, she was so pleased that I had, she got me a set of books, I must have given her a funny look because she told me “don’t worry, their really good, trust me” and when she used say ‘trust me’ I knew she would be right. I have been reading those books ever since, I had waited for what seemed like years for the next book to come out.  Every year for the first 3 years, my school held a cross country run, and there was about 250 of us doing it, on the last run the girls ran first, so I waited to see Cathey at the finish line, out of about 125 girls running, she came 15^th, I was so proud of her, she jumped into my open arms, still screaming in pride, I didn't care that she was soaked to the skin in sweat or that she had crazy hair, I was just so happy for her, I guess that won’t happen again now, not any more.

 A few months ago some people started to protest about something, I can’t remember what, but they were causing total havoc, I remember the scene as if it happened yesterday, sirens were wailing, people were shouting, people were screaming, protesters ran to get at the police, innocent people were fleeing the scene as petrol bombs and hand grenades rained down on us. I couldn't run away to safety though, Cathey had gone to see a friend and was coming back on to the tube, and the tube station was right in the middle of the crowd of uncontrollable maniacs. I was pushing and shoving my way towards the station, I had to get to Cathey, suddenly a huge blast of heat and black smoke erupted from the entrance along with a horrific bang. I shouted out for Cathey, and a mass of horribly injured people stumbled out of the station, among them there was a half limping, half crawling Cathey, I ran to her. She was blackened to the bone and looked very weak, I swung her arm over my shoulder to support her weight, blood was trickling down her face and she looked at me in such a way that I still remember it to this day. “it will be alright” I told her, “everything will be fine, we’ll get you to a hospital and the doctors will make you better” she looked at the floor, she was losing hope, “Cathey” I said, she lifted her soot covered, blood drenched face and looked into my eyes, “please, trust me” my words still echo in my head like a trapped bird. We were out of the thick of the mob and were heading towards the ambulance, the doctors were already loading other patients in to the ambulances, “come on Cathey, not much longer now” a paramedic came over to help, but before she could do so, there was the sound of gunshot, the paramedic cried “get down!” I let go of Cathey and ran a few meters, the protester fired another shot, then a policeman instantly floored him and disarmed him. I didn't see where the bullet hit at first, the paramedic shouted “any casualties?” I checked my self over, no blood, just bruises from rubble; I shouted back “I’m fine! Cathey, are you alright? Cathey?”. I turned to look, and my stomach turned to ice. She was bent over double and clutching her stomach, she fell forwards; I caught her before she hit the ground, she lay in my arms gasping for breath, her chest heaved and crimson blood flowed from a deep hole in her stomach. She tried to speak to me but her voice was so faint and blocked out by her heavy breathing I couldn't understand her. She held my hand so tightly I wouldn't have been surprised if it turned blue and dropped off. Her sparkling blue eyes looked in to mine; she started to breathe faster and deeper “Cathey please don’t leave me!” I shouted. She put her arm around my neck and pulled my head down so she could whisper in my ear, I made out the words exactly and I will remember them forever. Then she sighed, a heavy sigh of pain, love and of her last breath, she slumped in my arms seeming to be so much more heavier, and her head rolled back, and just like that she was gone. The paramedic came running over, she frantically looked at me and Cathey and cried “oh god, we’ll need the ambulance over here, erm…” “You won’t need an ambulance” I cut in, she looked at me and frowned, “what do you mean? She could-oh, oh I see…sorry” we sat there for a long time, in awkward silence. Then the paramedic asked “is there anything I can do for you?” I looked at her and whispered “can you take us somewhere safe?”.

I will never forget Cathey, she was so special to me, and every Valentine’s Day, I visit her grave and place a single white rose at the foot of her tomb stone. As I do so, every year, I think of the last words she said to me, the most important things I remember her by,

“Death is just the beginning, I will see you again, trust me”




do you have a passion for writing? do you have any good ideas for a story?
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