Monthly Archives: November 2014


Ok so I don’t usually like telling people it’s my birthday but (apart from DragonSpark and Kai) you have no way of knowing so I’ll make an exception.
Most of you won’t know this because I don’t like giving my age, I feel like if you know it then you won’t take me as seriously as you do, but I’m only just an adult. Seriously I’m 18 today! But then I suppose that’s only theoretical. I don’t suppose I’ll be an adult for a while yet…
I guess it feel weird, because 18 is such a big number that everyone waits for and idolises but when it comes it’s just like nothing happens. And I feel like shit because I’m not doing anything really special for my birthday and tonight I’ll go to bed and think “being 18 sucks”. Growing up sucks in a way I guess but it just feels like nothing happened, I celebrated yesterday with my family and today only a few people wished me a happy birthday and it doesn’t feel special enough.

But 18 is milestone and so I need to set things straight, in a way my childhood is gone and I have to look forward and ask myself: “What do I want to do with my life?”
I’ve given this more or less thought during the past years, who am I, what/who do I want to be? Who and what do I want to hold onto? These are questions that I think we should all think through at different moments in our life, take a step back and say, where am I? Is this where I wanted to be? Is it where I want to be now? What do I want to do? (whether this is to change the world or buy a new pair of shoes). Who is around me? Who do I want around me? Stay close to those you love and if you miss someone give them a call, send them a message and if you don’t know what to say, just “Hi” already says a lot.
This year I have to make some choices that might very well define the course of my life to a huge extent. I’m not quite sure of what I want to do, if only discovering the world were still a job! For lack of better choices I have decided that I would like to be an engineer in information technology and if that doesn’t work out I’ll do the same thing without the actual word “engineer” in the description because this year I’ve learned a little computer coding and programming and found out that it was really fun!
I also want to spend my first few years out of school (if I can) doing humanitarian work overseas, my experience with scouts this year and next year is a good preparation for that too because next year with my team of 6 amazing people we’re going to do a humanitarian project that we will have funded all year plus the leftover money from this year that we’ll be trying to save up. I’d like to do a lot of humanitarian work if I can.

Then people, because people are always important. I don’t have a lot of friends but that just means that the ones I do have tend to be closer to me. For the moment I have three best friends that I hope I will never lose: DragonSpark, Kai and Gollum and many others I hope to keep in contact with wherever I am (well “many”, that might mean like 10 for me).

Hobbies are also important so I hope I can always find the time and inspiration to keep writing and reading. Music in a way is also a big part of my life and I hope I get to keep playing or at least singing or just listening to it. For some reason my parents have always struggled to understand I love “doing absolutely nothing”. Not procrastinating but daydreaming or sometimes just keeping still and thinking of everything or nothing, I guess that’s meditation.

How do I see myself in the future? Well I can make many wild guesses of what I’d like to do or what might become of me but in the end, I just want to be happy and enjoy life, and if possible I want my life to mean something. So I’ll end with this: someone said that your life is not measured in years but in the number of lives you have touched; I want to touch many lives, through writing but also through action. Even the little things help, for example there’s a homeless guy who always sits at the same spot and I cross him every morning when I go to school, when I pass by he says something like “Bonne journée mademoiselle” and he smiles at me so I reply “Bonjour monsieur” with a smile and I think it brightens up both of our days for a while and it doesn’t cost a thing.

And now that I’ve done this, being 18 actually does mean something because I’ve redefined my life by thinking back on everything that’s happened so far and especially looking forward to who and what I want to be.

If you’ve read this far you can award yourselves the Smeagol Badge of Patience by the way because that was a very long monologue!

This is a rough sketch of how I saw myself two years ago (and I’ve already changed since). The finished painted one looked much better but I’m afraid it must’ve gotten eaten by a Monster Forgott in the art building…


Posted by on 28 November 2014 in Banzaï


Better Not Forgotten

This new generation,
Which I only just escaped it seems,
At the turn of the century,
Decided to forget.

They read forgetting books and poems,
Hear forgetting songs:
With words repeated over and over
And nothing’s going on.

How can you remember
When everything around you
Is all not making sense
And all telling to forget?

Generations before me
Are the rememberers,
We are the dead
Next come the forgetters.
They forget they should remember,
They forget they too are part
Of us the dead who still remember
Which we did not live
But are condemned to remember
For fear that we should get a chance
To feel what it was like.
We have to remember
Because they would forget,
Fall into meaningless oblivion
Which is why
We are the dead
But in a way,
They might be worse off.

For what do you think happens
When the world
will not
Never to forget
That should rather be remembered?

A wise man once said that
What a man does not remember,
He is then doomed to repeat
The very thing he did forget

And some things can never be forgiven.

Please tell the forgetters
That war is never won,
That genocide is wrong,
That they should not follow blindly,
Please tell those who forget:
All the soldiers that did die
All the soldiers that went mad
All the soldiers that endured
Wish that war
Will never need to be.
And tell them how those men
Sing songs, write poems
And write books
To remember
What is Better


Posted by on 23 November 2014 in Banzaï




The old castle ruins were desert, three of the four towers had crumbled at least partially so only one remained intact. Outwardly at least. One tall rectangle. The great hall reeked of foul and mouldy cheese and I had no doubt there were more that a few rats about. I had been summoned here. We all had. It was The Day. That Day. Again.

The dog was guarding the entrance, it had once been a rabid killer dog, put down at last with a syringe but taking three down with him that night. On full moons he sometimes hid in a bush and howled, reminding the townsfolk of all the trouble he had caused. Now he was merely the shadow of what he used to be… a ghost of sorts.
Tinkler was a more material man, or what’s left of a man, the stories go that he changed himself into a machine bit by bit until it no man was left and now he goes around with chainsaws trying to get it back. But he had long lost the ability to put things together again, now all he could do was tear them apart.
Merry was a tortured little girl, she got her head stuck in a pumpkin and screamed in vain while it burned. She was wearing a simple white dress. Now all that is left of her is the ghost of her body and the flaming pumpkin. She wants the world to know how it feels like to burn with no-one to save you.
Romeo committed suicide when he found the love of his life dead on an altar. He was too rash and when Juliet woke up from her deep sleep and found her lover dead by her side she took the poison from his lips and died in his arms. Romeo never forgave himself and lamentingly moans for his sweet Juliet who died through his fault and all who are near him are enticed by his sickly sweet scent and they eagerly come to their deaths by the poison he cannot reverse.
Godfrey is the madman with guns who none ever see but the dead and the very lucky.
Jumping Jack when he was alive had his legs sawed off and accordions put in their place. Now when he walks comes a terrible sound and his head is way up ten feet high.
Many others were gathered to celebrate a new hallows’ eve.
And me? I am the reaper, the taker, the creeper, the one-with-the-eyes-that-couldn’t-be-deeper, the cheater, the beater, the couldn’t-be-meaner, but really, I’m the only one who’s still alive. You could say I’m “running with the hare and hunting with the hounds”, either way it’s the best way to stay alive… Until it’s not. I’m best keeping my cards close to my chest. And I don’t kill. Much.

This is a story I wrote with a friend, we both had to include the words “dog, cheese, rectangle”. I waited for her to set her blog up properly before posting this so it’s a bit late ^^’
You should check out her blog at, don’t be alarmed by the look of it she doesn’t mean to be rude. She’s a rather carefree girl and my good friend 🙂
You’ll see her Halloween story on her blog, she doesn’t have much yet. ^^


Posted by on 22 November 2014 in Banzaï



The sun is warm
I’m flying free
I see birds, beautiful and graceful.
I have a clear mind
And a light heart
I can go higher!
It’s all downhill from here.
My heart is heavy
And my thoughts are clouded
The birds all fled here long ago.
I’m falling
And my feet are cold


How do you see this?
I see it as a soldier that’s just been blown away by a bomb or some kind of projectile and for a moment he’s free and flying until he starts to fall… But I’d be interested to know if you thought of anything different (or nothing at all).


Posted by on 20 November 2014 in Banzaï



“God forgot his paintbrushes all week today!”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well look! He forgot to paint the sky it’s all white!”

“oh you’re right!”

“And he forgot to make the sun shine…”

“… Maybe the sun just wasn’t meant to shine…”

“When I forget my paintbrushes I get told off and my paper is all white… Do you think God gets told off?”

“Who do you think would scold God?”

“His Mummy of course!”

“And what do you think God’s Mummy would do?”

“She would look at him in a not-very-nice way and say “naughty God! You forgot your paintbrushes again!” ”

“And what would God say?”

“He would say “sorry Mummy!” and then his Mummy would say “it’s alright, just try to remember them next time”. ”

“God has been forgetting his paintbrushes for a long time now, especially in winter. Do you think he’ll ever learn?”

“I don’t know… Maybe he’s just little for a long time? Maybe he’ll get older and stop forgetting…”

Or maybe he’ll stop painting…

“Mummy! I love painting!”

“And I hope you never stop doing what you love! Come on we’re almost home.”


Posted by on 19 November 2014 in Banzaï


Imaginary Philosophising

The world was not always as it was, self managed and alone in a vast expanse of lifelessness; aeons ago there had been many worlds with zealous gods looking after them, marvelling at the beauty of each different world, willing them to be always more beautiful, wonderful, exceptional…
The worlds grew in beauty and grace according to each god. There was Muspelheim, Niflheim and Helheim, Nidavellir, Svartalfheim, Jotunheim, Midgard, Alfheim, Vanaheim, and Asgard; each magnificent worlds in their own ways. But then time went on, and the worlds seemed to be less attractive than they had once been and the gods started spending less time doting on their creations. Little by little the gods drew away and the worlds were left to themselves to be destroyed, self-destruct, fall apart… Until only a few were left. The place you call Earth is one of those, a tiny flicker of the life Midgard had once been abundant of. And the god you call God or your other gods, they have existed and do exist, but they are a long way away and your prayers are but to the void where they were and left. The world is dark and lonely. But I don’t believe it is all that sad; I believe… we are not alone. 


A small thing I wrote for a friend who’s word was zealous.
Hope you like it 🙂


Posted by on 13 November 2014 in Banzaï, Friendly Prompts


The Devil Loans Backbone

“You can’t do it!” “Scaredy-cat scaredy-cat sitting on a doormat what are you looking at!” “I dare you!” “You’re a baby! Baby!” “You’re just a girl!”
I wake up in cold sweat. I am Alex, ten-and-a-half years-old and I’m not a scaredy-cat. I just didn’t want to eat the spider, it just wanted to be left alone. I could’ve done it. I just didn’t want to. 

• • •

“Come on man!” “You can do it!” “Just don’t look down!” “Put some backbone into it!” “Jump!”

I waited the minimum amount of time
It felt like ages

My parachute wasn’t opening

I kept tugging but it wouldn’t open

I started to panic

I couldn’t breathe
It opened. 
I crashed into a huge pile of hay. 

I woke up in hospital. 

I was alone. 

• • •

Now I have no job and I spent the last of my money on a leather jacket that says “Daredevil” on the back with little red horns on the D. 

“You’re neither dare nor devil ‘f y’ask me” moaned a voice behind me. 
I was so creeped out if I could have I would’ve jumped out of my skin but my skin seemed intent on staying on so I just jumped a little. 
“You’re neither dare nor devil,” crawled the voice again and I saw where it came from this time “but if you give me some o’ your time I could tell you which I am”. 
The teller was small and his crooked, dishonest smile sent shivers down my spine. “Who are you?” I asked,
To which he answered “who would you like me to be?”

“I’ll loan something to you” he continued, “whatever you’ve always wanted. But one day, you’ll have to pay me back.”
God give me strength I thought. 
“God don’t give a damn. I do. I coulda given you the strength ya wanted long ago if you’da let me. All I ask” he licked his lips, “is for something in return.”
There was something weird about the way he talked, the way he moved, the way he sounded way too confident than he should have been. 
“Whaddayawant?!” I snap because it’s better than whimpering. 
“Well, one day, you’re going to die” he started, twisting his fingers, “there’s really not much you can do about that, but when it does happen I want your soul.”
I had to agree that there wasn’t really anything I could do about dying and I really didn’t want to spend my life like this. 
“Please sign here…”


This was prompted by


Posted by on 5 November 2014 in Banzaï, Friendly Prompts


Finding Beauty

This evening (well it was afternoon but the because it’s winter the sun sets early) I was walking home listening to music, almost singing along not quite looking other than to know where I was stepping. And then I realised the sun hadn’t set yet so I looked up to see if I could get a glimpse of the slow sunset. I stepped out of myself and all I did was look up and there was a cloud in a very nice shade of pink (and I don’t usually like pink) and the sky was such a beautiful blue that I just had to stop and stare, and then I realised that I had almost missed something beautiful. And every morning, especially when the sun is rising I look around me at the people walking by (and there aren’t many) and there half asleep, staring at their feet and barely seeing them and I think “look up! Just look up!” Because I do. I look up. And I see a beautiful sky that everyone else is missing and I think that sometimes there are moments when you just need to stop what you’re doing, and look up. And then you’d notice that no two sunsets are the same. You’d see that there is a difference between sunsets and sunrises. You’d stop staring at your shoes and be glad you woke up for work or whatever you’re doing. Because if you hadn’t, you would have missed that one moment of ephemeral beauty. And maybe, wherever you are, if you just look up, you might find beauty. Maybe you’ll find that the world is not as terrible or as ugly as you had once thought it was. Maybe if we all watched sunrises and sunsets, the world would be a happier place. Would it hurt? To just look up every once in a while?


I had many photos (ok I had 5) that could have been nice with this post but they kind of seemed too nice, they looked as if I live in a magical beautiful place but I really don’t (I just have a knack for taking pictures) and this was the only one which looked “ordinary” enough. If you look around you can find beauty in many unexpected places. Trees for example. 🙂

This is a nice song to go with it: U2 – California


Posted by on 4 November 2014 in Banzaï


DS- Sand, Dust, and Blood

The night was plagued by the orange glow of the sodium vapour lamps. The spots of light illuminated a street contained between two compounds. The rammed earth walls seemed brittle. Garbage was piled up in a corner. The cloudy sky concealed the stars. A thin layer of sand and dust coated the dirt street, making his footsteps silent. The young man wandering through the dark alleyway seemed out of place. He was a young European man wearing an expensive Italian suit, walking quietly in one of Morocco’s poorest neighbourhoods.

If it was brighter, or if he stepped directly under a lamppost, which he purposefully avoided, one could have seen the anger concealed beneath his tense features, and the hard, piercing look of his eye. This was the face of a man whom had been betrayed for one too many time. He was sick and tired of the false promises, the worthless vows of protection, and the hypocritical speeches that, in the end, turned out to be driven by self-interest. Since childhood, he’d been chased by the shadows. Everywhere he had sought protection, those he met either used him as a tool for their own agenda, or tried to turn him in to those who wanted him in their hands.

He was sick of being seen for what he was and not who he was.

He was interrupted in his inner ranting by whispers from behind. He turned around quickly, only to find five dark figures lined up in the dark street. Some were carrying led pipes and one had a baseball bat. “Petty thugs”, he spat. The five men were nervously chatting amongst themselves. He recognised the word “money” and “stranger” amongst the muffled voices. They were going to mug him.

The young man sighed.  The thugs were surrounding him, and proceeded to take off his jacket. He wasn’t planning on handing it over, though.

He threw the suit jacket towards the wall on one side of the street. He immediately stretched his palm out towards the jacket. A metallic sound was heard, and the jacket was instantly pegged to the wall by a dark, crystal-like shape.

Unaware of what had just happened, one of the man holding a led pipe charged him, yelling. The young man spun around and thrust his hand into his assailant’s stomach. Instead of a muffled thud, the distinct sound of metal cutting through flesh arose from the man’s stomach. The man’s arms went limp, and the led pipe fell with a thud. The young man pulled his arm out. Where his hand was, there was now an oblong, xiphoid shape, a prolongation of his arm, orange light running down it with a deadly metallic wetness.

The man fell to the floor, dead, a dark pool of liquid spreading around the corpse. The four remaining thugs were momentarily perplexed, and the man used that to his advantage. The pent-up rage within him needed a blood-bath. The expensive leather in his shoes cracked as huge metallic talons pierced them, immediately digging into the ground, giving the man leverage. He burst onto one of the remaining assailants, burrowing his sword arm into his chest, pegging him against the wall opposite to his jacket. The hunter had become the prey.

He jumped from the wall and flew across the street, turning his other arm into a deadly tool identical to the first, and spread his lethal limbs like wings as his trajectory brought him between two of the remaining thugs.

Having just witnessed his four friends get cut down, the last of the muggers turned tail, dropped his led pipe, and ran away from the European man, his legs powered by terror and adrenaline. After a few moments, his curiosity got the better of him. He looked over his shoulder. The last thing he saw was the blurry outline of a metallic shard whistling straight towards him at subsonic speed, before it brutally vaporised his skull.


Hey guys! I don’t post often any more, and this one is too long for the Speakeasy (Is it even called that now?) so I hope the few of you that catch it enjoy it. This is another vignette into a plot line I’m working on for my own enjoyment, but its place is up here with the great majority of my other pieces. There is already a vignette from this storyline on this blog right up here, which is chronologically later than this one in the overall storyline. Comments appreciated!


Posted by on 3 November 2014 in Dragonspark


Tags: ,

Dark sounds

It feels like my head is screaming. Not all the time, but most of it. It feels like I’m cornered in a human-sized box with wall on all four sides that I can’t get out of because I can’t even see it. I know it’s there, I feel it and it’s suffocating me. My mind is screaming, but I can’t let it out, I can never let it show because this is what the box is made of: one wall is society’s expectations of me, who ever heard of a girl who started screaming for no reason, saying that her brain was screaming but the doctors found nothing wrong with her? The next wall is my family’s expectations, when they expect me to be sane and reasonable by their standards. Another wall is all the limitations in life, you can’t just say: “I want to do this” and do it anymore, because life doesn’t work like that. Not any more. The last wall is everything else, all those other little things building a wall like a puzzle. If I let it out, there goes my future.

So my mind is screaming and I can’t do anything about it. Sometimes I think I might go mad one day. It’s a scary thought so I push it away, I won’t go mad. The only way to make it go away is through singing: loud and clear, or through my hands when I try to draw something, or when I escape into those worlds deep into my mind away from the screaming and when I translate and transform those words on metaphorical paper. When I do things I love I can forget about the screaming. When I’m with people I love and feel safe with, the screaming hides for a bit. But what if you took away those things? These precious things which don’t seem like much to you, they mean the world to me. Each is a small fragment of love, peace, happiness and sometimes they mean so much more than you would think. You think I’m throwing my future away but I’m not, I’m trying to save it.




(please ignore the kaleidoscope it’s very distracting, unless of course you want to get hypnotised and watch the video all day in which case by all means do stare at it)


Posted by on 1 November 2014 in Banzaï