Introspection

A short extract from the short story I’m currently working on about the journey through the troubled feelings of a young woman fighting against her fears.

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The music had to be louder than the sound of her fears when she was in that mood. She knew that if she gave way to the flow of memories they were going to torment her for the rest of the day. It’s hard to stop your brain from moving when you’re an over thinker. It’s hard to stop painful memories from knocking on your soul if those memories are in your blood and they’re part of who you are. How can you explain to someone who doesn’t know anything about you how a simple word can be enough to take you back in years and make the scars hurt like hell? She thought there was no way to explain it, she had to keep it to herself. Like an awful lot of other things she kept buried deep down her battered heart.

Writing The City

The result of last week’s free writing exercise at Writing to Order seminar with Nuala Casey.

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His steps echoed on the cobbled street, and he knew he was going in the right direction; he clearly remembered that there cobbles only  in the oldest streets of town , leading to St Mary’s Church. He forced himself to stop running, for he knew he was safe now, concealed by the dark in the part of town where he was less expected to be found. He thought that there was only one person who could have guessed where he was going to hide. But he already provided to eliminate the problem earlier on. Know your enemies, was his first rule.