General Creative Writing

Christa's heart sank in to despair. "Not every bloody one of you can be Orin!" she bellowed. Realising the volume of her own voice, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of the slumbering guard. Fortunately, he was still snoring away. As she turned her attention back to the prisoners, she saw that

"Wait for my signal," Jax had whispered into Christa's ear before slipping away into the night, leaving her to ponder the meaning of those words. He was long gone before she realised that she had no idea what ‘the signal’ was. The siblings had always been thieves, ever since they were orphaned and l

When I am feeling down or struggling to sleep, I always reach back into my memories and recall a serene, ideal time in my life. I close my eyes and I am back there, I can feel the soft heat of the sun against my face as I welcome the escape of the gentle breeze. The sound of children laughing and u

Jax landed gracefully on the ground, his feet making a soft crunch as they landed on the shattered remains of what was once a magnificent glass window. He glanced around, half-expecting the guards to come crashing in at any moment, but none came. He could hear a commotion outside, most likely a reac

Stage IV. It always seems so daunting. The final stage. Yet is it so complete? Is it so finite? Stage IV, it’s meant to bring the end. It’s meant to be the end. Yet statistics show more and more people are living with Stage IV cancer. Stage IV becomes a way of life. Taking your medicines, eating h

Warm sand was encrusted around my feet, While the air, moist and fresh, blew through my hair. I looked to the sea, between lines of heat, As they blurred the horizon, once so fair. Waves of sea now crashed against my cold shins, The inviting tide had began to rise. I imagined myself growing bl

Christa stood alone in the midst of a dreary, dimly lit passageway, its icy chill seeping into her bones. She hated the cold. With a deep sense of regret, she gazed back at the fire through gaping hole she had just squeezed through. The heat of the flames was unable to reach her any more. Though she

We rush for weeks for a day that seems gone in an instant. All that remains of it are the memories, photographs and videos. Slaving in the kitchen over joints of meat, panicking at burnt potatoes, catching the overflowing hob of sprouts. It's a hectic time. It was only recently I saw a post online