A Second Chance- Part One

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/Part One/Part Two/

Time slowed, I could see the brass bullet hurtling towards me, it had pounced from the gun like a stalking lion, now it was coming in for the kill. It was too late for me to do anything, the bullet too fast, and me not fast enough. The bullet winked at me in the morning sunlight as it punctured my chest, a blossom of blood marked its success. I could imagine the bullet biting through my flesh, weaving through my ribs and making its home in my heart in a matter of seconds. Pain grasped my chest, twisting me around its finger as I wailed and sunk to the ground in agony. The grass engulfed me, it encased me in my coffin, all I saw before my internal injuries whisked me away to death was my the man who had shot me. His gray features had a tightened sadness in them, my last thought was of happiness, because the man would feel guilt for the rest of his life. What father wouldn’t after they’d murdered their son?


I woke up, which perturbed me, because yesterday I died, I saw the bullet enter my chest, I felt the pain, I had felt a blanket of death drop on me, and I had seen my killers sadness and guilt. How is it possible I’m alive then? Grass no longer keeps me captive and the sun or moon is not looking down on me. In fact, there is nothing around me except an infinity amount of nothingness. A stain of blood on my chest, marks my death, I prod the bullet wound but it doesn’t hurt. What the hell is going on?

“Confused?” A femine voice coo’s behind me, I spin around and face the most beautiful woman ever, her soft, sky blue eyes radiant friendliness but that’s not what settles my trust for her. It’s like she had cast a spell on me, and I know she has, but I tell myself to trust her, that’s all that matters. “Stop gawking, this is not my only form.” She says with an edge of harshness, which is to be accepted, since I’m kind of perving.

“Myra have you told him yet?” An equally beautiful woman asks, appearing beside her, they are identical funnily enough.

“Told me what?” My voice asks, but my brain is distant and I feel like I’m watching the situation.

“You are dead, William, but we can help revive you.” Myra says.

“Why would you want to revive me, and how?” I ask, still feeling distant.

“To be honest, I don’t know why, Jonas never told us.” The other woman answers, she is not as friendly as Myra, and even though their identical, I can see she is not as beautiful. “To revive you, we must rewind time and put you back on Earth to create peace with your killers.”

I’m thoroughly befuddled, maybe this isn’t happening and I’m just drunk off my face, but I don’t have a wrenching headache, or a dry, bile taste in my mouth. So I listen to the two woman as they explain my task and tell me of different consequences.

“Time for my second chance at life then?” I conclude as the two brush up on some finer detail which I’m only half hearing.

“Yes, and it is exactly time now, the spell is at its peak and will only stay so for a minute, good luck William.” Myra says, before the two suddenly vanish like me when modern music plays. All of a sudden I have clear head and the bullet wound is gone, nothing is replaced by the pounding of bass music, the smell of alcohol, sweat and deodorant, and the feeling of people dancing around me. I’m in a dance club, suddenly I remember where I am, groan in annoyance and disappear out the back door because I know what song is coming on next.


Friday Fictioneer’s: Sharp Ends, Part 2


Sharp Ends Series: /Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/Part 4/ Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 /

This week I decided not to name my characters, and I have also attempted a little romance, which I have never done before. Hope you enjoy, constructive criticism is welcome!

Sun seeped through the canopy as the forest began to fall away, ahead she saw the last threads of the forest cut by the farm’s fence line.

A man appeared from behind a tree, frightening her with his dazzling smile. She smiled herself, a glow of love flickering in the embers of her hazel eyes. The man drew close and cradled her in a warming hug, resting his chin on her head adoringly.

“Tell me the truth or you’ll go the same way they did.” He suddenly snarled, pulling out a knife and pointing it in the direction of the fence where a bundle of barbed wire hung. Her throat tightened sickeningly, as she remembered using the barbed wire on her victim.

“How did you find out?” She whispered.

Lest We Forget

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“Lest we forget”, a line from a poem called, “Recessional”, written by Rudyard Kipling for the Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jublilee 1897. The poem is now, also sung as a hyme on Anzac day, a national remembrance day for New Zealand and Australia, originally to remember those who fought at Gallipoli during World War I. It now commerates a broader range, remembering all those who fought in both World War I and II, those who put their lives on a thin line to support their allied countries. 

The reason why I’m giving this history lesson, is because today is Anzac day and I felt I needed to post a tribute type thing,  to remember my ancestors. So here I have posted the entire poem, “Recessional”, by Rudyard Kipling, if you care to read.

God of our fathers, known of old—
Lord of our far-flung battle line—
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies—
The Captains and the Kings depart—
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

Far-called our navies melt away—
On dune and headland sinks the fire—
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard.
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!


Lest We Forget!

Second photo post: Monty!


Lately, I’ve noticed I only have one post in my photography category, and decided I need more. So here’s my second photography post, obviously you’ll noticed I’m not a very good photography, but I enjoy photography and creating captions for my work.

You may, (or may not) have read my poem about my dog, Monty. If you’ve read it you might think it’s a bit (ok maybe a lot) cheesy, and I suppose it is. To follow-up on the poem, I’ve decided to post some of my favourite photos of Monty, (excluding the one’s with me in the photo, sorry, you can’t see my beautiful face.)

So here’s the star of the show.

Taking a Dip

Some say he looks a cross between a dog and a sheep, I think he’s a cross between a dog and an otter, because he loves to swim.

Guard Duty, or King of The Couch?

This was his favourite couch before it disappeared, I can’t actually remember what happened to it. Anyway, the photo would look better without the shoes and helmet, oh well.

Once Upon A Time…..

Hard to believe he was so small…… And fluffy! Wasn’t he just the cutest puppy? *Sniffle*
So that about does it, if you want you can make a story out of these photos, I can read them to Monty as bedtime stories. No one probably will, but oh well, good to give things a shot, what’s the worst that could happen?

Friday Fictioneer’s- Hide and Seek


Madison Wood’s Friday Fictioneer’s Prompt


“We should be safe here,” Leggle croaked, gasping for breathe as she peered out from under the rock which was blanketed in thick, brown moss. Beads of moisture dripped from the ceiling of their hiding place, disappearing beneath the water leaving wakes of tiny ripples behind.

“I hope so, I don’t want to run into that thing again.” Spoticus too, was gasping for breathe after their near death experience. If frogs could shiver, then Spoticus did, as the memory of their escape and Fedi’s gruesome death, played in his mind like a film.

“What was it?” Leggle asked, her sunset yellow eyes darting about alertly, adreneline still pumping around her body like water down a hydroslide.

“I don’t know, but whatever it was, it killed Fedi and it’s after us now.”


Haiku Bombers: Sensitivity



 Flavours burst colour

Full of awesome energy.

Sweet, sour, bitter, fresh.


Curling wisps of scent.

Without this lustre in life

What would life be like?


 Whispers of legends,

harmonies of life itself,

We live to hear these.


 Talking brings us close,

Contact even closer still.

Emotions felt more.


History is made,

From what we see around us.

A life will seek sight.



Thanks to everyone who’s commented, liked, or just viewed my blog on saturday, got a new record of views in one day; 76. Next subject now, for homework over the holidays I have to write a maximum of 200 words, story, the theme is connections. I’ve written 2, and I’d like to see what you guys think is the better one, so here they are.


1.) The chain between them had snapped, Nickel found himself falling into a pit of despair, no safety rope to save him this time. Darkness engulfed Nickel, pulling his breath out of him, strangling him like a python, squeezing every millilitre of life out of him. Tears blinded him, but it didn’t matter, there was nothing to see, nothing but a world filled with melancholy. Nickel felt numb as he fell into depression, nothing mattered anymore, because of that he felt no emotion. Charlie’s line no longer dragged him along, for it was no longer there.

 After the accident, Nickel had been brought back to Earth, there had been a ceremony for him, a great celebration, but he’d been too drunk on depression to go. Now he lay alone in his old room, he ate and drunk, but mostly he slept under a concoction of anti-depressants.

 For once Nickel was awake, he watched dully as the door slid open to reveal a man; Jon.

I have something to show you, Nickel.” Jon whispered, his eyes shining with hope as he stepped aside to make way for another visitor. An emotion flickered inside Nickel, a spark of happiness.



2.) Lambs frolicked mirthfully in lush seas of green, birds chirped harmonies reflecting the beautiful morning. Past the fence, in the young forest, Zia waited, cascades of morning sunlight streaming through the trees. Inside Zia had a turmoil of emotions washing about like a witch’s concoction in a cauldron. Where was Zane? They were supposed to meet here after they’d lit their pyre’s.

 Suddenly the mental link Zia shared with her brother was torn, it had snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight. An accumulation of fear inside her broke free, tumbling through her, Zia’s breath came in short snatches as panic strangled her. The foliage near her rustled tremendously, Zia feared the worst but suddenly Zane crashed through the undergrowth, a mixture of sweat and blood dribbling down his smiling face. Zia ran to her brother’s aid, relief and worry infecting her.

 “I did it sis, but they cut our connection.” Zane whispered painfully, as Zia stroked away the blood, “Am I going to die, Zia?”

 “No little brother, I’ll fix you up.” Zia answered, forcing a trembling smile and pecking Zane delicately on his forehead as he was whisked into unconsciousness.


If you’ve read them both, then comment and say what one you like best, I’d really appreciate it, also constructive criticism is great.

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