Friday, 30 May 2014

EXTRACT FROM Jelena's Silent World 'The Show Will Go On'


Jelena has been through this before, but each incident has been fraught with emotions that can only be best described as frightening. Tossing and turning in an unfamiliar bed that feels as hard as nails, the bedroom sparse in its décor with the bed placed against a wall that was papered in a luminous hue of blue, scratched, dented with the possible knocks and bangs of the beds headboard up against it and  looked like it had seen better days; a tall wooden pine wardrobe seemed to be the only updated piece of furniture in the room, the décor on the remaining walls were a dank, dark brown, whoever chose this colour must have had a real weird sense of colour sense for a bedroom, definitely not a calming colour in her view. Jelena bashing at the lumpy uncomfortable pillows in sheer frustration that sleep is evading her again! The hands of the clock beside her on the bedside cabinet barely moving, just the ticking sounds echoing in the eerie silence of the room. Yet again! Jelena is feeling those jittering nerves, never knowing what will happen next,  but all  she can do is to try to hold it all together as much as is possible and not let this arse hole of a jerk get to her, yet wondering who the hell is it and why?. Her mind now in the present and what holds for her. 

Sunday, 25 May 2014

Extracts from 'The Show Will Go On'


The morning song birds have sung their songs. The dawn choruses are all ready for their day’s busy lives. Flying here and there, catching the first moth, bug or butterfly for their own breakfasts. Stretching their wings whether they are short or long whilst flying high on the lightest of breeze in the skies first light. This very new day’s morning’s colours so wondrous, red, orange, yellow, with the glint of the skies blue hues. Nothing breaks their silent world, except for the chirping to each other. This  is their time where the other world is silent and still, no hazards, no perils, except for the felines that are still out and about, waiting for their last prey before going home and sleeping the day away, ready and waiting for the next prowl at midnight.

Meanwhile, in a quiet sleepy suburban, out-of-town village, stirrings and wakening’s slowly happening. Thousands of twilight workers coming home from their night-shifts. The rail maintenance workers finishing after a long night work replacing the old for new track.  Exhausted, and ready for a good days sleep. The milkman making his deliveries for their morning cups of tea or coffee and breakfasts cereals, the glass bottles clinking and clanking on doorsteps. Nestled and secluded in the corner of the cul-de-sac, sheltered all around with leafy bushes and trees, where there are no deliveries and the bushes and trees are silent not a sound the birds had left long ago at dawn.