The New Governor

Widow Sallie owned a plantation,

Harvesting timber and fuel for the nation.

A feast she prepares,

and all will be there,

The Gov’nor received invitation.

A gathering turned into a party,

Poor Gov’nor’s attendance was tardy.

But still he was fed.

Soon after they wed,

She gave birth to Flora and Archie.

Falling ill the Governor died,

Not a virus so Sallie survived.

No funeral was had,

For his corpse was so bad.

But the King insisted for pride.

The statesmen looked in the ground.

But the Governors body not found,

Her children shocked they gasped,

Where is he? they asked.

Sallie faints as if struck or spellbound.

The kings soldiers looked into his absence.

They looked to Sallie for guidance.

But once through her door,

they existed no more;

Their corpses provided sustenance.

After death her daughter uncovered,

The bones and remains of the others.

She discovered too late,

Guv’nor, dad and his mates,

Widow Black had served up for supper.


A mans only wish – Part 1.

The evening was cold, frost lingered in the air of the small harbour in Whitby. People began to form a party as crew and equipment were loaded onto a small vessel. A fair lady in the party was being guided across the gangway by the gentle and supporting hand of the tall timid looking gentleman; neither of them appeared to have any involvement with the crew, passengers travelling in their own world with only eyes for each other. Abraham, the captain for this journey was stood on deck barking orders at the men carrying supplies, preparing to travel for months at a time.

Wilhelmina Murray Harker was stood looking out across the water towards the horizon, brows drawn together with stress as her skirts stirred in the breeze. Her fair hair was dull, having lost all of its shine despite it being the height of summer. Looking closely you could see darker circles under her hazel eyes, once kind but now just distant. Above her collar just below her chin you could see two small scars, an inch apart beginning to fade and turn white from pink. Her hand absently touched them gently as the tall gentleman approached her, making a concerted effort not to startle her with his appearance.

“Are you sure you should be doing this Mina” his tired grey blue eyes searching her face for any hint of regret.

“Jonathan, there is no other way to find him to end this misery. I cannot bear watching this eat away at you, whilst I stand back and he has all of the control” her voice was tender as she turned to face him. Her slim fingers brushed away a stray curl that fell into his eyes.

“I would not be doing this if I did not think myself capable or up to the task at hand. I never lied when I said I love you. I took a vow to love, honour, cherish and protect, forsaking all others
and holding only to you for-evermore, both in sickness and in health. I can use this link to locate and distract him long enough for Abraham and his men to rid the world of this demon forever. Only then can we be truly happy. Let me do this Jonathan, out of love, out of duty and for our future children.” Mina finished, a single tear tracking its way down the hollows of her cheek. She searched his eyes for a trace of understanding, her hand still lingering on his cheek. Taking her hand in both of his, Jonathan kissed it lightly as if she were made of the finest china before tucking it into the crook of his elbow, leading her towards the cabin as dusk crept upon them.


The voyage was long and the Harkers and Abraham Van Helsing remained in their quarters below deck, out of the prying eyes of the crew. Mina’s health seemed to deteriorate the further out to sea they became, appetite decreasing; cheek bones emphasised by her pale complexion.

Abraham’s firm knock echoed in the small corridor, muffled only by the footsteps of the men at work above them. A slender face peered around the door, revealing Jonathan’s slight frame once opened fully. Instead of waiting for an invitation, Van Helsing walked straight into the centre of the room before gazing upon Wilhelmina at the small dressing table to his right.

“How are you feeling Are you losing appetite yet” his deep voice rough and demanding. Without asking for permission he sat on the edge of the bed and took a notebook and pencil from his jacket, turning pages aggressively, as if it were the last thing he wanted to do.

“Mr Van Helsing that is no way to address my wife! I demand you apologise for your abrasiveness at once or you may take your leave.” Jonathan objected, his hand protectively perched on her shoulder. With a sudden jerk as if she were on fire, Mina swiped away his hand.

“And how dare you speak for me! Abraham, I do apologise for my husband’s behaviour it is quite brash and unforgivable to speak that way to a friend.” Before Jonathan could object she raised her hand to silence him, her slender fingers looking arthritic and frail with sudden weight loss. Standing, she moved over to gaze out of the window, far way from both men as much as their tiny room could provide.

“I’m not sleeping well and cannot seem to consume food unless it is a light broth.” her voice small, vanishing into the swell of the sea outside. “I worry if we do not arrive soon, we will never catch him”

“Mina, my love, you mustn’t talk this way. It is like you have already given up! You are the reason we are in this confounded predicament in the first place. You are the one that concocted this reckless plan to trek miles across the ocean to kill him and now you are just giving up! I am ashamed yo-”

“Jonathan Harker, leave this room at once. I will not have you talk in such a manner. It is one thing to be rude to a friend but to your wife, neither I nor the Lord himself can condone such behaviour” Abraham dismissed him, his hand pushing Jonathan towards the door by his chest.

“Mina, I do not know what has got into you but you are not the woman I met. It is as if you have lost all ability to love, you have changed. Are you hiding something? Do you regret marrying me” he pleaded from the doorway, the final image he saw was her eyes, an obsidian black glowering at him before the door closed in his face.

“Abraham, how can he not see? How can he not understand that I am doing all of this for him? All I want is the married life that we should be living but instead I am chasing down monsters and living a nightmare. I cannot ta-” Mina collapsed onto the chair tears falling into her cotton gown.

“Wilhelmina I implore you, please relax. If you do not lower your blood pressure you may have an apoplexy-” Van Helsing rushed to her side, trying to get her to look him in the eye.

“-take all of the blame, he was the one that visited that dreadful man’s lai-” Before she could finish her weight toppled forward, falling into Abraham’s arms before hitting the ground. Carrying her to the cot, he lay her gently down before calling for Jonathan. Mina remained in this state for three days without ever stirring from her dream like coma.

Wanted for high crimes and misdemeanors

Note from the Author: the below is loosely based on speculation and fact, in no way does this reflect 

It’s impossible to describe the reaction of a nation once he was removed from his position.

There was outcry. What is the point in a democracy if you could remove the person you voted in? Mourning swept over every community, country and continent. No one could imagine that even someone as narcissistic as him would take it so far as to declare war against every nation.

It started in March of 2016, campaigns were ruthless, long and taxing on both the candidates and the people of the United States of America. He won the election on November 8th and the inauguration of the 45th President took place on January 21st. His words shook many to their cores, the media whipped into fury and demanded some form of retribution for his actions, but it never came. Rumours of illicit deals with corrupt nations, tampered polls, fixed voting results and assault on woman were brought to light, but still he appeared to be infallible. That was both his making and his undoing.

Within the first week of his presidency a campaign for his impeachment had already reached more than 200,000 signatures and supporters. Congress already announced confirmation of the American Sovereignty Restoration Act – the act that led to United States withdrawal from the U.N. Changes had been made that prohibited abortion, all signatures belonging to men. There was a bill of rights made to amend the Freedom of Information Act, allowing the president more control over the media. It quickly became apparent after his appointment, that the erratic behaviour utilised in his campaigning would not cease; even now that he had gained full power over one of the leading countries of the free world. This also rapidly displayed telltale signs of repeating the events of the Watergate scandal in 1973, leading to the call for Nixon’s impeachment before he gracefully resigned from office.

Months passed, with more and more outrage and protest from his own supporters. Promises made in his tireless campaigning to ‘Make America Great Again’ soon fizzled down to more changes to the rights and a step back in time. The once fearlessly patriotic voters challenged his authority when funding was no longer available for education, for medical care and for aid when natural disasters punished the east coast during hurricane seasons. Work to erect the wall dividing the states from Mexico began, their president preparing for civil war. Forces up and down the states banded together to question and remove immigrants, at times they were threatened with internment if they didn’t comply. Rehabilitation was inflicted openly upon anyone that identified as LGBTQ. In some of the southern states cases of partitioning the streets rose, resulting in a rise of hate crimes. Britain, facing their own changes and restoration of independence from the E.U led to negotiations with the States for trade, damaging their already fractured reputation and relations with the angry inhabitants further. Yet still his tyrannical campaign to ‘Make America great again’ reigned on.

The United Nations agreed they needed to intervene if an order for impeachment couldn’t be met. Russia, who once supported the new President, agreed with the efforts of the U.N and other nations that he needed to be removed. However once that information became public and the media exaggerated the information provided (as it often does), the White House became a very real target for war.

With the people of his nation scared to leave their houses, terrified of their own government saying the wrong thing, he publicly declared at a press conference that “any nation that stood against him was not a nation strong enough to lead their people, he will restore their greater good by all means necessary”. Panic spread like wild fire through the entire world. He had foolishly declared war whilst under investigation for high crimes and misdemeanour’s. However the Vice President calmly stepped up to the podium, ushering the President away and called for silence.

“The congress and I have spoken; under the 25th Amendment of Article 4, ‘the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office’ and shall be removed from his position with immediate effect. As Vice President it is my duty to step up in these drastic times to restore peace, hope and fulfil the ideals of our Nation. The previous declaration of war has been retracted. I request the understanding and forgiveness of our other world leaders and hope we can restore our fractured relations”

The room before him remained still, not even a breath could be heard. Calmly he dipped his head in a nervous nod before exiting the podium.

A year later, having been stripped of all power, fortune and respect, his remarks still made headlines. Speculation in the media rose; would he change now that he was no longer drunk with power? Unfortunately I cannot report that this happened. He didn’t apologise for the burden on the nation he caused like Clinton had done after he was acquitted in 1999, he hadn’t even the sense to step down like Nixon when everything began to unravel and impeachment was a reality in 1974. Instead he remained true to his narrow minded and damaging opinions, boasting to anyone that would listen about his affairs and dirty secrets about his now ex-wife. Following his removal, all investigations from the FBI confirmed that he had fixed the voting system rather than his opponent like he accused, he also withheld his full financial status owing millions in unpaid taxes. The Courts found him guilty of various incidents of sexual assault, racism and money laundering. He was an extremely disliked man when he went to jail, requiring for his safety to be relocated to solitary confinement. It is with the heaviest of hearts that I report that they never found him mentally unstable, but it is easy to believe that his lawyers could have paid off the medic that tested him.

It is true when they say a “drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts” in this case.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

The events in the story below are for entertainment only and are not in fact true. Enjoy!

There were 8 people summoned in total to meet – representing the entirety of the city and its surrounding market towns. Women and Gentleman from all backgrounds all coming together anonymously to tackle the issue at hand – the pride of their city.

The first to enter the dimly lit snug attached to the main bar was a middle aged rotund character, clearly having little regard for their appearance or lacking in a mirror for the stubbly hairs creeping out of her nose gave the impression of an overfed and ill kept cat. Dragging behind her a dressing partition from what appeared to be worn down antiques shop, she placed it standing in front of the windows that lined one half of the room. Once satisfied that no one could see inside, she plonked down onto the sofa and wasn’t sure if she would ever get up again, retrieving the notes from her handbag before settling in for the night. Two men that looked like father and son entered with a pint of ale each and took their places on the arm chairs to her left. Changing the tone of the room a little, a very glamorous slender woman in her early 50’s arrived wearing a cape, handbag matching her shoes and driving gloves draped over her arm.

“Hello, hi how are you, so sorry I’m late you know how it is you see someone in the street and you just lose track of the time as you catch up.” she exclaimed as she pulled up a chair to form a semi-circle with the others. “Charlie you look frozen, are you sure you shouldn’t be sat next to the space heater” fussing over the younger of the two men as he went to take a sip of his drink. Shrugging he took a gulp and carried on staring intently at the coffee table in front of them.

“Amanda, what was the first rule of this meeting?” the rotund lady barked, glaring wildly at the scenario in front of her. Before even waiting for a response she continued “ no names. I don’t care if you know Tom, Dick and Harry, if they are in this room they are to remain nameless. Do I need to remind you again how serious this matter is?” with a sigh she returned to her notes in hand.

Within 20 minutes 3 more had arrived, taking their places around the coffee table facing the lady in charge. Tapping their feet, glancing at watches and tutting they each awaited the entrance of the final member. A portly chap entered the room wearing tracksuit bottoms with a farmer style jacket over a hoodie with boots, an eclectic fashion for a 30 year old. Shuffling awkwardly around the chairs, he approached the back of the room to grab a chair. Amanda had started shooing the others around to make room for him to pull up.

“Barry darling, why are you so late is it the bloody football again? I’m glad they won and are famous now, it’s wonderful for the status of the city but dear lord is it a bugger to get in and out of town” Amanda asked, ushering him and his chair to the rough oval shape the group had formed.

“Charnwood, I have warned you already about using first names, if you do it once more I will force you to leave.” Her bun lolling from side to side as her head moved like an angry pigeon. Amanda’s laugh transformed from an amused chuckle into a loud and slightly unbearable cackle. With one final flick of her hair behind her ear, Amanda silenced herself to a trill “ready”. A murmur of laughter and amusement passed from member to member in the group.

“You have been called to this very important meeting to discuss a matter of grave damage to the city’s reputation.” The leader of the meeting looked around the room and met with very sombre faces and nods of agreement. “The city council have brought shame upon us by presenting a rather abysmal attempt at decorating the tree this year. Now, we can all agree it is normally a cause for embarrassment, but with our new found popularity and fame brought to us by our beloved boys success in the premier league we all assumed that they would have made more of an effort. However 10 baubles and one string of tinsel at the top of a 20ft tree is disgraceful” Punctuating the last sentence with her fist on the coffee table. The women in the room looked horrified and flinched with each bash, Amanda once again trying to stifle her tittering but the volume increased with every thud.

An elderly gentleman rose up slowly from his chair and the room instantly fell silent.

“Harborough representative. I just want to say it’s a right chuffing mess. I was embarrassed to bring my grandchildren into town. Their faces were so sad when they saw it, I didn’t want our Jessica to cry so I told them that the council were just having a break”

The leader muttering under her breath retorted “Semper Eadem; Always the same. Reliable and dependable my arse” but it went by unnoticed. One by one everyone gave their thoughts on the tree, ending on a young girl in her later teens sporting a football scarf draped across her oversized pea coat.

“Blaby. I’ll be honest, I don’t care much about the current state of the tree but I would quite like the decorations to be only white, silver and blue. We should still be showing pride in our city and at least they’re pretty colours – like ice, so it’s fitting”

The meeting resembled that of AA rather than a protest and plotting an upraising against the government. The air in the room was electric with rage and excitement. The leader, the north west Leicestershire representative, talked them through various scenarios ranging from egging the town hall and putting baubles in the foundation at the town square to placing adverts and flyers in every shop to call for the immediate removal of Peter Soulsby as mayor. Barry, who had remained completely silent up to this point raised his hand.

“Leicester city, you have the floor.” the leader exclaimed, gesturing for everyone to hush.

“I think we can maybe embarrass the council in a similar way to the gunpowder plot?” Barry mumbled, hands fidgeting with the fabric of his jacket. There was a collective gasp around the room as they each believed he meant blowing it up. “Oh! No! No, I don’t mean that. But maybe we could cut the power to the city centre for the Christmas lights switch on?” He rambled as he frantically tried to clarify what he meant. The air was still, everyone held their breath unsure how to react.

“Barr- Leicester love, I don’t know how you plan on doing that there isn’t a cable that’s just clearly marked on a map with an arrow saying “cut here” Bless, you didn’t really think that once through did you?” Finally Amanda spoke up, patting his arm as she cackled out the final blow to his ego.

“No, but I do in fact work for the National Grid in Enderby so I could just switch it off at six thirty next Thursday?” Barry responded in a chirpy matter of fact tone.

“That. That is a good idea. No in fact that the PERFECT revenge!” The leader exclaimed as everyone around the room applauded.


Twas the night of the switch on, when all through the grid

Not a creature was stirring, not even arachnids.

The people were streaming to the centre that night,

In hopes of much more Christmassy sight.

The children were nestled all snug in their coats,

Whilst the mayors on stage all lit up as he boasts

“We’ve got lots of partying to do as a city,

so let us switch on so its sparkly and pretty.”

When out in the crowd a young girl shouts “freedom”

Then a rotund lady cried “Semper Eadem!”

The cathedral bells tolled for half past the hour

Leicester’s sky’s were clear, all eyes on the clock tower.

The city counts down from ten to one

When over walkie talkie, Barry cries “it’s done”

The city centre is plunged into pitch black,

There are gasps and screams “we’re under attack!”

A bang and a spark lit the tree up,it’s true

When out of the darkness flames grew and grew!

Semper Eadem was cried out again

“what does that mean?” “it’s always the same”

“For Leicester! For Charnwood! For Oadby and Wigston!

For Blaby! For Harborough! For Hinkley and Bosworth!

For Melton! For North West Leicester you see,

It looks like a unicorn vommed on the tree!”

My father had a profound influence on me, he was a lunatic – Spike Milligan

It’s easy to discuss fear when it’s regarding spiders, heights,small spaces etc. but it isn’t always as easy when it comes down to affairs of the heart and mind. If I were to discuss every fear I had, it would exceed the word limit and frankly either be really boring or totally depressing. I have two main fears after the typical phobia’s; not being able to be a parent/being a parent and the invalidity of my thoughts and feelings. Now I’ll start with this latter one because it makes me sound very self obsessed and I want to clarify what I mean.

Invalidity is unfortunately a reality for many people that suffer from mental health issues. For me, anxiety not only causes the feelings of being invalid but allows other people to excuse or ignore my feelings. It is horrific to constantly be at war with your own mind and constantly self access whether you’re overreacting or if it’s justified. However when someone you trust, someone who cares for you, regularly asks “but is that because of your anxiety? Are you sure it’s not just your brain playing tricks on you? You’re thinking yourself into a bad mood”; it is telling that person that their thoughts, feelings and reactions are invalid. Now, I want to clarify that the above examples are not one specific person, but is in fact multiple people I have encountered including medical professionals. This brings me nicely to my main point. I dread going to the doctors out of fear of my own illnesses/ problems being invalidated by one 10 minute conversation. I fear telling someone they’ve hurt my feelings or pissed me off in fear of being told I’m over-reacting or “it’s OK she suffers from anxiety” I am terrified of asking for help because of that label applied to me and people not understanding. I fear my own anxiety because at times it takes away everything I am and replaces me with this giant ball of fear and fuzzy noises, blurred vision and a whirlpool of emotions but in the eyes of some, that’s not real. They aren’t real and I’m just seeking attention, so I’ve learnt to fear my own fear which in turn causes more of the above.

That, probably on a psychological front probably contributes to my fear of never being a parent and being a parent. To cut a very awkward and over personalized story short, my dad left when I was 4/5 and we’ve never had much of a relationship. There are a lot of bottled up and ignored emotions ranging all the way from love to full blow rage. This scenario has lent itself to two very very real fears; never being able to be a parent and/or being as “good” a parent as my father. I would never want a child to feel as invalid or irrelevant as my father made me feel, so from that point of view the thought of being a parent scares me. However in the reverse of that. The thought of never being able to bear my own child terrifies me as well. I’d love to be a mum and show dad parenting done right, but when a nurse once told me I may have difficulties conceiving and then raising a child, (because my anxiety may affect my health), my world shattered. I don’t want kids, at 24 I don’t feel like I can look after myself let alone a child as well but never being able to have one makes me incredibly sad and frankly terrified that I’ve failed as a human being – so it once again comes back to that fear of being invalid again.

So rather than continuing my rambling I want to finish with a couple of quotes that I found and appreciated.

How often in your life have you been criticized for having the feelings you do? Did this make you feel invalidated? How often do you simply stuff your feelings and agree with others, saying yes, when you really mean no – Catherine Cardinal

Do not deny another’s perception. Do not argue with his experience. Do not disown his feelings. Specifically do not try to convince him that what he sees or hears or feels or senses is not so, – Haim Ginott

And finally most importantly:

It’s a gift and a curse. You get the pain much worse than anybody else, but you see sunrise much more beautiful than anybody else! – Spike Milligan.

The trip doesn’t end when you get home.

I am alone with no home, friends or family, my only companion is the bottle next to me. Not the bottle itself, but the transparent liquor inside. Its dulls my senses numbing the pain.What is the point in these stupid, mindless and cruel games? What is it achieving among the people other than a wider gap between the wealthy and the starving. A world that breeds more elitism and crime with every passing minute. Why couldn’t I have just died rather than year after year being paraded around to be mocked and ridiculed.

I am nothing without her. I would’ve jumped off of that cliff there and then. But she pulled me away from the edge, despite having to compete, despite being in that arena. That is a debt I will never be able to repay, a burden I will always have to bear. Maybe if I told her to stay with me, it would be different, the media might paint our home, our people in a better light.

Twenty-three years I’ve had to play this charade, coaching, guiding kids to survive. Twenty-three years of boys and girls, being too weak, too beaten down to even bother training them into killers, victors. What’s the point when they barely have the energy to find food at home and the others are trained from birth? Each year I pretend it’ll be different, I’ll have someone strong, someone worthy of my time but every year I get lumbered with another target, another statistic against this dive, this barren land.

That ridiculous woman keeps appearing at my house – I’d call it home but I lost that the moment I ducked from what should have been a killing blow to my head. My family huddled around the small screen broadcasting the whole affair, were punished and what was it all for? Because I showed up the president, I made a mockery of him the moment I ducked. Another reminder that our people are just meant to go in to be hunted and killed by the soldier-like elite born. When I returned from the arena, I wasn’t greeted as a survivor or a victor. Instead, families and friends were at the front of the crowd crying, pointing to smoke in the distance. Barging past them, I stumbled down the town hall steps, running all the way to my home where the acrid smell of burning flesh hit the back of my throat. There were people rushing around with buckets of water, victims being pulled out of the remnants of surrounding houses but it was no use, there was nothing but fire and ashes left. From there I found myself in the victors village, in front of the house that my family and Rose should have been living in. I’d planned to propose to her when I returned from the Capitol. I couldn’t help but think about her when I lay there in the dark, hearing the beep of the machines that helped me regain my full strength and health. She had a soft wave to her hair that day before I was called up. The sun shone behind her as I looked out over the crowd, searching for her face. She had tears in her eyes, holding onto my brother, it was as if she had already lost me. But then a smile spread across her face, eyes looking right into mine and the light behind her increasing so much I could barely look. Blinking from the brightness I shielded my eyes and it was no longer a crowd surrounding her but a light grey dust falling around her, embers under her head. That was the image I’d remember them by now, the fire that took them from me had burnt the image into my memory and dreams.

That irritating woman wore pink today. Escorted by troopers, she carried a bucket of water with her when she entered the house, throwing it everywhere to rouse me. She’s lucky she brought those men in shining white armor with her or I’d have slit her throat like I did to those careers in the arena. She clearly hadn’t gotten any sensitivity training either or she would’ve worn a different bloody color. The flurry of fabric as she ran away from me squealing resembled the wings of those birds from the games. Images of swirling feathers and razor sharp beaks broke through my haze; flashes of red mixing with cerise, merged with her screams as the memory appeared before me like a vision. Poor Maysilee, no one deserved a death like that, not even the careers.

“Eyes bright, chin up, smile on! The day is here and we don’t want to be late! Get up, best clothes on and smile as everyone will be watching.” Her fake smile plastered on her face. Taking a small sigh she continued “ I’ve got a good feeling about today, I can just feel it.” Taking a deep breath in, grimacing from my apparent odor “well spit spot, we haven’t got all day!” she claps her hands before exiting.

I hate that woman. She is worse than the escort for the tributes when I was a kid and she really liked green and had a pox marked neck that not even the chiffon she wore could hide.

Making my way through the crowds, swaying a little from the liquor, I take my seat and get ready for the “spectacle” of the draw. Drinking deeply from the bottle in my hand, the whole affair passes by without so much of a blink that I couldn’t even tell you their bloody names.

The train however was a different story. The boy, some skin and bones brat, dares to ask when we start training before I even have a drink in my hand. Just woken up from some hellish “nap” and he already wants to start. I barely manage to pass on my sarcastic “congratulations” before he jumps down my neck. So instead of the advice he is looking for I merely tell him to “embrace the probability of his imminent death” and know that in his heart that there is nothing I can do to save him. It was worth it to see his face, looking back at me as if I shot his mummy. But it is about time these kids learnt what it is going to be like. They need to get used to the idea that they won’t survive, they will just be a number and everyone will forget he existed by next year. However unlike the other kids, the little bastard dares to take a swipe at me,shouting about me being a mentor and that is what I’m supposed to do. I may be a drunk, I may be grey but I am no less of a killer than I was when I was his age. Pinning him back with my foot I spilled whiskey on my new pants, to say I’m pissed off is an understatement. I storm out to the sleeping quarter angry at even coming to meet them. It should be her here instead, not me. Maysilee had the brains and personal skills to have made a good mentor. Hell, she even got me to like her. She had knowledge of poisons and the agility of a cat but in the end not even that could save her from the mutts. Instead I have to pass on the knowledge she should be, but I just want to forget and live my days out with my knife under my pillow and the only thing that helps me sleep through all of the terrors.

After changing, I sit down with him over breakfast – he’s stuffing his face with cream puff pies and all of the fruit he could wish for as all the tributes before him have done too. The girl, wandering in interrupts my advice to the boy who has the fighting spirit, she’s nagging me, asking me about finding shelter and food, I’ve not even had a bite of my toast. I politely, for me anyway, ask for the jam she has next to her but she keeps badgering on about the bloody shelter.

“Give me a chance to wake up sweetheart, this mentoring is very taxing stuff.” I explain as I fill the goblet in front of me from the hip flask that the rainbow lady didn’t manage to confiscate from me. However as I reach for it to take a sip, like a cobra she swipes the butter knife from the table and drives it home between my two fingers, nestling in the table.

I resist the urge to laugh as the escort cries out “that is mahogany!” and instead simply retort

“look at you, you just killed a place mat” but inside I’m smiling because for the first time in 23 years, I think we have found a tribute worth mentoring and she goes by the name of Katniss Everdeen.

Leanne of House Pearce


I only joined yesterday…

I’m the crazy kid that’s allowing themselves 10 days for challenge number 1 but it’s ok because that’s just part of the fun right?

I’m Jade but prefer Leanne (most people ignore this fact so I’ll answer to anything including it and oi). I have dabbled in writing stories, fan fiction, poetry and songs since I was about 11/12 – I would like to add that this doesn’t mean I am good at it.

I guess my main writing style is probably going to either be really fantasy and sci-fi based or thriller with a bit of romance thrown in. I am an avid reader, I like books and take pride in the fact i can get through 2 books a week when I’ve got the reading bug. So yeah in short, expect the unexpected and yet completely the expected too because I’m cute like that.

Ciao for now!