Don’t Turn Out The Light

Well…  Poetry has always been something I have read and admired from afar, but not something I often turn my hand to.

Todays Free Form exercise however, inspired I think from a news story I read where a young lady was repeatedly beaten and made to suffer numerous indecent acts upon her person; an assault which lasted years before he (the assailant) was eventually jailed.

… Anyway I just started to write, please excuse any glaring errors, the words are exactly as they appeared in my mind, as for me that is what free form is all about.

As usual any comments or suggestions are always welcome. x

Don’t Turn Out The Light

Don’t turn out the light
I promise not to look

As the night blankets the sun
And the rain weeps into the vast baron oceans of my mind.
I’ll stand here
Waiting.

As the soft gentle beat of my heart
Signals that there’s someone, something innocent left behind
I’ll stand here
Waiting.

As the drum of distant footsteps
Marches with renewed anger till there’s nothing left to find
I’ll stand here
Waiting.

As a ticking clock with no concept of the day or time
I’ll stand here, waiting, waiting.
Just don’t turn out the light.

Little Ruthy

Hello all…

My book (The Trouble With Time Travel) is still going well and ever closer to the finish line.

Whilst writing, as a wee warm-up exercise i tend to do a little free form to drum up ideas for future projects and I think I’ve hit on something here.

Its not complete (Just an idea at this stage) and i am interested to see if this turns into a novel or a short story.

See what you you think, hope you like it ….

As always all comments and thoughts welcome x

 

Little Ruthy

“Drink, but slowly. It’ll feel a little strange as it goes down but…” He stopped to consider his choice of words before continuing. “That’s what you paid for,” he finally muttered under his breath before turning away from his dormant expressionless face in the mirror and downing the blue liquid contents in his cup.

It only took a few seconds for the paralysis to kick in, one hand grasping to the sink, the other clawing at his chest, instinctively trying to stop his blood from freezing over. The time had long since passed for second thoughts.

The last image his eyes were to capture, as his lay on the bathroom floor gasping out his last, was the little girl in the red dress. Stepping forward out of the shadows, she smiled sweetly before blowing him a kiss and walking out of the room.

Daddy was her first.

Father Mcdaniel mopped his brow, with a handkerchief that looked as though it had serviced his nose several times before tending to his sweaty head, refilled his tumbler and drained the contents in one smooth movement. He may have lost his faith many years ago but as an alcoholic he had a real future.

The dreams had not stopped, and this one troubled him more than most. He looked at the telephone on his desk waiting patiently for it to ring.

‘Riiiinnngggg’

To his ears the sound was piercing, like several broken finger nails skating circles on a blackboard. He slowly picked the receiver and placed it to his ear, knowing with absolute certainty Mrs Jennifer Collins would be hanging on the other end still trying to comprehend the apparent suicide of her loving husband. “Hello Jennifer dear, are you alright? Slow down dear… Have you called for an ambulance?”