A Thief in the Night

The thief stumbled down the steep forest slope, his lamp barely lighting his path. Envelope clutched in hand, he looked back towards the building he’s just escaped. Hearing enraged voices echoing down into the valley, he urged his legs on and headed straight for the river below. Reaching the water’s edge, he leapt into the boat he’d tied off earlier and pushed himself into the South running current. As he dropped his oar into water, he could see thirty-odd guards chasing after him. Little too late they reached the waters edge and the man slowly paddled his way downstream.

Once out of view, he pulled his oar into the boat and lay on his back, letting the current rock him gently onwards. He studied the shapes carved into the rock face that now lined his small vessel’s path; their familiar forms bringing him comfort.

Finally he released the envelope from his tight grip and began to read the contents in his lamp’s warm light. As the moon appeared from behind a cloud, a single tear escaped the thief’s blue eyes and when left to darkness again, the boat continued gently on it’s lonely journey to it’s destination unknown.

Prompt: Thief, envelope, forest, desk, and lamp.

It’s been a while since I’ve uploaded anything, so here’s a quick little piece I wrote up while in class. I have a feeling I’m not finished with it yet, but this is all I’m writing for now. :3
Amber. xx


Diary of Secrets


12th of February.
Dear Diary,
Last night I had the most unusual dream. It felt so real, yet I woke up in the middle of it so I knew it wasn’t. It started off as a blur of images as though I was walking down a corridor of endless moving pictures. I felt the need to stop at one point so I did and then a door appeared beside me. I opened the door and walked into my step-mother’s study; she was talking to one of the guards. They were talking about the kingdom and some changes that she wanted to make to it. I walked over to the window realising that they either couldn’t see me or just didn’t notice me. The flowers were gone from the blossom trees below and the only colour left in the garden were those of the evergreens and step-mother’s personal flower garden that she kept flowering with her magic. I tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear the guard mention me. I looked at my step-mother and startlingly, she looked straight back at me with an icy glare and said, “well deal with her later”. I woke up covered in sweat and couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t know what to think of it – still don’t actually. I just hope I never have a dream like that again.

15th of February.
Dear Diary,
I’ve had that same dream again every night since the first. I don’t know what it means, but it feels so real and it scares me! I keep hearing more and more details of the conversation as each night goes by and I can’t unsee it. Every time I look at my step-mother I just see the hard stare she gives me in the dream. I don’t know what’s going on or what to do. Perhaps I should tell Father?

17th of February.
Dear Diary,
I had that dream again the night before last so I decided to tell Father yesterday. I told him everything I heard and saw in the dream and waited for him to respond. He was quite for a few moments staring off in the distance before he looked at me and asked if I’d told anyone. I said no, and he was adamant that I keep it that way. I especially needed to keep the information away from my step-mother. He said he’d explain why in a couple of days but for now I just needed to keep it to myself.

18th of February.
Dear Diary,
Today my step-mother wanted me to join her for tea. It was a somewhat odd request seeing as she usually didn’t acknowledge me these days more than was necessary. She asked about my studies and Father and then asked a lot about my magic such as: whether I’d been practising, if I’d developed any more gifts and many more questions like that. I remembered Father’s warnings and I didn’t tell her anything about my dreams but I’m so very confused.

19th of February.
Dear Diary,
I talked to Father today about Step-Mother’s little tea party with me and he seemed upset or worried. I assured him that I told her nothing about my dreams which seems to calm him a bit, but not entirely. I pressed him to tell me what was going on and he finally told me something. Only one little detail, but at least it was a start. He said my gifts were expanding and that I’m just coming into a new one. He wouldn’t tell me what it was – instead telling me once again that he’ll let me know soon. And also that I must keep this a secret from my Step-Mother at all costs.

20th of February.
Dear Diary,
Today the trees lost the last of their flowers and the wind turned cold.
Today I found out my Father died.
Today I was kidnapped.
And today I found out that with my new gift, I’d seen my Step-Mother plotting my Father’s death in my dreams days before it happened.

Thanks to a friend for this character development type prompt! These diary entries are in direct response to an older post of mine – the beginnings of a story that I’ve now decided to work on. In discussions about whether to write a novel or create a tv/web series. Amber. xx

A Pixar Story

Once upon a time there was a princess, or a young girl. Or both.

Every day it was the same routine, it wasnt’ a bad life, but it was hardly interesting and she longed for change, for adventure.

One day, everything did change! Somehow she was taken out of her usual environment, generally thanks to an evil of some kind.

Because of that, the young girl had to adapt to the new atmosphere and her new location at the same time as trying to get back home or rescue someone.

Because of that, the young girl faced challenges to both her mind and her morals and ends up becoming a changed person, always for the better.

Until finally, the day came where the young girl makes her way home, completing a quest or escaping her captors and of course, eradicating whatever the evil was in the story. She may at this point also be in love with a prince or a very handsome and brave man that she met along the way. Not to mention her best friend/s who may or may not be human.

Or perhaps I’ve just watched too many Barbie films with my sisters.. Either way! This is pretty much how I see the basic structure of any animated movie. Hahaha! (Code word for: yes, too many Barbie movies) Sorry this isn’t an actual story, but I couldn’t think of a story that wasn’t already created by either Pixar or Disney. :3

Thanks, as always, to Kellie Elmore for the FWF prompt!

FWF: [Image Prompt] Tell This Story…

I was hard getting to sleep lately, all I could think about was when I’d see my brother again.

About a year ago, I lost both of my parents in a tragic accident which left my older brother to care for me. We got along well and he was able to look after us both until a month ago when he dropped me of at our grandparent’s house and told me there was something he had to do. That he’d be back soon. A month ago today he’d told me that yet still, there was no sign of him. No phone calls, no nothing. His whereabouts plagued my thoughts everyday and here I was now, like every other night since then, trying in vain to fall asleep.

Finally I drifted off…

I was walking through a dense jungle, a stick ablaze in my hand to shed light on my path on such a dark night. I didn’t know where I was going, nor where I’d come from, but I kept walking. After about 10 minutes of mindless walking I started to hear whispers. There were voices coming from somewhere up ahead. At least, I hoped it was in that direction. The jungle plays tricks on ones mind at nighttime.

The voices grew louder the further I walked until I was stopped short by a fence of tall, thick wild grass. I doused my torch in a near by pool, scared of setting fire to the grass, before slowly pushing my way through the dense brush.

It took me a while, but I finally managed to push myself free of the grass to be greeted by a bright light that caused me to wince in pain and force my eyes shut. After a few moments, I reopened my eyes andadjusted to the light cast by the two braziers either side of me. I took a few tentative steps forward for a better view of the scene before me and was both shocked and rather scared by what I saw.

A narrow river that stretched as far left and as far right as I could see, consumed by the jungle on either side, lay a few metres infront of me with a few hippos and some very large and very hungry looking crocodiles. Quickly turning my attention away from them, I noticed the array of animals of the far bank of the river. Monkeys, zebras, rhinos and deer, all staring at me. The trees surrounding this circular sort of oasis were filled with so many different birds and directly opposite me on the other side of the river sat a mighty-looking tiger atop a massive pile of boulders.

“Don’t be afraid, young one,” a beautiful, large tigeress came up beside me. Her eyes seem to smile at me. “Come,” she said. I followed her to the edge of the river where she left me to return to the jungle. It was there that I really got a good look at the animals around me. They were bigger that I’d originally thought they were. Much bigger than they should be. I looked over all the animals, trying to make sense of it before settling my eyes on the tiger infront of me. The tigeress had been large; larger than any tiger I’d seen before, but this tiger, he was even larger than her. He would have to be at least two times, probably more, than the tigers I’d seen at the zoo.

“Michael Alexander Morgan. Welcome, at last,” the tiger startled me, how did he know my name? It was then that I realised that animals were talking to me, and I could understand them. Not growling, not hissing, not squawking, talking! Bringing me back to my sense, the tiger spoke again,”we have waited a long time for you. I am Ariki, leader of this council.”

To this my only response was, “Uh, hi.” He already knew my name, so I didn’t know what else to say. This seemed to amuse him because he let forth a throaty laugh as said, ” Do not be afraid you one, we are not here to hurt you. We are here to help you, just as you are here to help us.” I was so confused, and I was still not over how large he was.

“I don’t understand.”

“Not yet perhaps, but soon, you will.” My mind was reeling. “Do not dispair for your brother. Like you, he has a destiny to live out as you must also do soon. You will see him again.”

Still confused, the scene began to drift away from me, as though I was being pulled back from it. As I drifted further away from the animals, the tiger’s voice whispered in my head, “Go, rest, for your time is coming. We will see you soon enough”.

I woke with a start, my body covered in a thin layer of sweat. What a strange dream, I thought. Never before have I had a dream like that. So vivid. And the things the tiger was saying.. about my brother; about me. Strange. It was just a dream, I told myself. It was just a dream.

But I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.. Was it just a dream?

Amber. xx

Another post for a Kellie Elmore prompt. This is a free-write piece written at 3am. So not only is it unedited, it is written on lack of sleep. Haha. ;D

IAWTW: It Had Been Years Since…

You get to fill in the plot and add a few lines to it.  Here is your prompt.  I’ve added some choices for you but you don’t have to use them.  You can take the plot anywhere you want to.  Unleash the creativity of your inner novelist / playwright / artist.  Write as much or as little as you would like.  Get outrageous.  Have fun!

It had been ___ years since I had seen ____________ (name), my best friend in (high school /college / university).  I hadn’t planned on spending all those years apart from each other.  Who would have thought we’d meet by accident like this, in a coffee shop in the middle of (nowhere / bustling city / planet Xandria)?  What were the chances of this happening?  Yet, here we are, strangers, together after all these years.  I still remember the last time we (met / spoke / wrote)….

It had been 12 years since I had seen Amelia, my best friend from birth throughout college. I hadn’t planned on spending all those years apart from each other. In fact, we’d always said nothing would ever tear us apart. But they were, I suppose, childish thoughts. Our careers after college had taken off and Amelia’s took her to far off countries whilst mine took me to the big cities. Who would have though we’d meet by accident like this, in a coffee shop – our coffee shop, in the middle of our old hometown. Really, what were the chances of this happening? Sure, we’d both grown up here, gone to school here and even attended college here, but we had each gone our separate ways and moved to opposite sides of the world. Yet, here we are, strangers, together after all these years.

I still remember the last time we saw each other. The day we said goodbye. It was a week after graduation, and we were both excited, thinking of our future prospects and talking of all the traveling we would get to do. That was until we realised it was the last day we’d see each other because Amelia had been offered a job over in Egypt, her plane leaving the next day.

We kept in contact for a couple of years, but by our fourth year out of college, I didn’t even know what country she was in let alone what she was doing with her life. I continued on with my life, and made new friends, but no one seemed to be able fill that hole left by my estranged best friend. I moved to three different cities before finally marrying, having two beautiful girls and coming back home to settle down with my young family.

Time seemed to freeze when I looked up to see Amelia enter Amara’s Cafe. Her surprise and shock mirrored my own and she made a beeline straight for me. We embraced tightly, and in those few short moments, years of emptiness and longing seemed to disappear and hole in my life healed by it’s creator. We have been here at the coffee shop for upwards of three hours now. Talking and gossiping as though no time had past. Except it had. We talked of our time after college, the sights we had both seen and the families we’d begun.

She had told me she just moved back a week ago, making the move as soon as she found out she was pregnant. And into the same house she grew up in no less. I moved back into my childhood home as well about a year ago, and had learned plenty about our old friends to catch her up on all of the towns latest gossip.

The Archaeologist and the Historian together again. Like no time had past.

The latest IAWTW Challenge from Chris Donner! I think I rambled for a bit too long, but that’s okay! Hope you’ve enjoyed this weeks challenge response! 🙂

Amber. xx

FWF: And The Cow Says…

I’ll always remember the day the two-legged girl with lots of hair first came to see me. She bought a few leaves of a crunchy, tasty goodness. She bought me a fresh leaf everyday she visited my home keeping her distance at first but coming a little closer every time.

When she would come, she would stay for a while, often singing a beautiful tune or just talking to me even though she knows I cannot respond and thinks that I cannot understand. But I can.

One day the girl came to me bearing lots of the tasty leaves and after singing to me told me her name was Amber. She then decided to give me a name also and from then on I was known by her and even the two other two-legged people as Ella.

After many, many days of listening to her songs, hearing her fantastical stories and eating the leaves she bought me, she begun to come less often. She still came to visit me every day she visited my home. A farm I think they called it. But she came to the farm a lot less often.

Eventually she just stopped coming. And eventually I moved. I was moved into a new home with new two-legged people. I didn’t get any tasty leaves, just the usual grass. I didn’t get any songs, just the birds and the bees. I didn’t get any stories, just my own thoughts. And I didn’t get another name.

But I was happy. I was Ella the Heifer and I had been fortunate to meet and spend time with Amber, the hairy, two-legged girl.

Amber. xx

Okay, I was crying by the end of this. ): Haha, aw.
This story has been created from another prompt, although the content itself is mostly true.

Credits for the prompt, And The Cow Says… (Week 47), belong to Kellie Elmore with her prompts page Free Write Friday . A page that I think I shall be writing from on Friday from now on! (:

The Girl Who Danced With Fire

There once was a girl
who danced with Fire.
To dance with her Dad
was her greatest desire.

A day then came when
her dear Dad was killed.
And with dark revenge
her sweet heart was filled.

The killers had fire
their flames a deep red.
Whilst her flames she danced with
were bright gold instead.

This young girl would dance
with her flames no more.
She would fight with the fire
to this she now swore.

She would hunt them all down
her Dad’s killer’s four.
Until they were dead
all dead to their core.

The first poetry I’ve ever written. It’s not great or anything, but I just quickly wrote it for a page in my visual arts diary for class and I decided to put it up here as a result. 🙂 It is also a poem to go with the first snippet of writing as well.

Amber. xx

My Gypsy Queen.

The moonlight broke through the clouds illuminating each step I took as I strode towards my beloved. We met at the same place what felt like every night but was truly once a week. I came here more often during the day to see her though we can barely share a few words before she must get back to work and attend to the curious children and their skeptical parents.

The lights of the main tent light up the sky as I close in on the circus. Just as I begin to see the lights of the smaller tents and caravans, my love comes into view. Standing in the middle of the bridge and looking out over the moat as usual. The circular moat surrounding the circus looks like an amazing coincidence to most, but once you get to know the circus folk and study the waters carefully, you’ll know it’s not just a coincidence. After all, the circus has been in this very spot for longer than anyone realises.

Hearing my footfalls as I stepped on the bridge, my love spoke to me softly; her words carried to me by the gentle breeze.

“Things are changing, my love. I fear the circus may not survive here much longer.”

Startled by her words, I quickly replied,” whatever do you mean Esmeralda? The circus has been here for centuries!”

She turned to face me, her words as gentle as the last. “That is has, but things are changing. They sky is darkening and it would not do us well to remain here as we are.”

“What do you mean? Where will you go if not here? Will you take me with you?”

My love drew closer and cupped my face in her hands. Titling her head upward to meet my eyes, she gave me a warm but strained smile. “You know I could not take you with me wherever it is we go. I do not even know if we will leave this place; our home of so many years. But, my love, if I must leave, we will be no more.”

I studied my darling Esmeralda as her words settle in. Her deep green eyes staring at me so lovingly, yet if trouble befell the circus she would be lost to me forever. Drinking her in for what felt like the last time, I noted her dark skin set off by the array of colours that clothed her body. She was wearing her favourite ‘gypsy costume’ a full skirt of several different layers and materials of various shades of greens, blues, pinks and purples complementing a corset style top with green and yellow ribbons creating a criss-cross pattern across her chest and pieces of black lace draped haphazardly over her arms.

My love was beautiful. But I was going to lose her! To whatever it is that is threatening the circus.

“Let me leave with you, my love! Or at least let me fight whatever it is that’s coming so you can stay. I could not live if we were to part ways!” I pleaded.

With a slight laugh, she replied, “ah, my dear. Ever so brave and willing to fight for me. But I’m afraid that if something comes, you will be no match for it. Which is why we, the circus, would be leaving.” Esmeralda paused. “I love you dear Alfie, but it is time for me to retire to my bed. Goodnight, my love. We will speak again.”

The last words she said to me before she retreated back into the circus encampment.

I went to visit her the next day, to see her smile; a smile that could light up the room. I reached the bridge to find the circus was gone. And with it, my love. My Gypsy Queen.

Amber. xx

Thanks to my friend Harriet for the prompts: colourful, gypsy and bridge.
This one was finished after my usual bedtime so the writing got so much worse as it went. And rather obviously too, I must say! : P

My Mother Always Told Me Not To Play With Fire…

… but that’s a little difficult when you’ve inherited your father’s passion and talent for fire-dancing. Fire-dancing. Using that term makes it sound like a circus trick and to most people, that’s probably all they think when I perform on the street. But to me it’s so much more, runs so much deeper. To me, it’s more magical than anything else.

When I was younger, I’d always wished I was a fairy or a princess, or something that I knew I’d never be. When I was eight I finally got my wish. Well.. sort of.

Just after my seventh birthday, my Father began to take me with him to his street performances. He used to ask me to help him with props and the like. He could do with a ball of fire what no other could do with a small flame and I was in awe. After a few months he began explaining to me how he created such stunning displays of flaming art. And on my eighth birthday, he began to teach me how.

After a month or so, I was creating fire from nothing. Not a candle, not a match nor a speck of ember.

“It’s magic!” I exclaimed to my father the first time I achieved this incredible feat.

“That it is, my child.” He replied.

For months we practised together, him teaching me all he new, and me with my wild, young imagination creating pictures and dances the likes of which he’d never seen. Then one day it all stopped.

Mother told me my Father was killed by fire whilst practising his dancing out in the field. Which was, in part, true.

Though my Mother knows not, I was there that day and I know exactly what happened. My Father wasn’t killed by his own fire, nor was he killed out in the field where he was found. No, he was killed in a warehouse down by the docks and the deed was done by two cloaked men and a cloaked woman. They were fire-dancers also; at least, that’s what I thought at first. But their fire was not the bright warm colours my Dad and I danced with, they were a deeper, darker shade of red and muddy brown and were tinged with a rich purple. They could not create fire themselves either, they had small viles hanging from their necks containing a small flame of the same threatening colour.

These were not friends to my Father nor I. They murdered my Father, and for that they will pay.

After my Father had passed, I took to the streets performing on my own to help my mother keep a roof over our heads and food on our table. It was then that she first began telling me that I should not to play with fire anymore; scared I would suffer the same fate as my Father.

I did not heed her advice, not for many months. Until today. While my Mother and I were out of town visiting her sister, our house was burned down and many of the townsfolk were harassed with questions about our whereabouts to which no one could answer.

They were looking for me. The three people in cloaks. Looking for me to finish the job they failed to do when they killed my Father seven months ago.

Today, I’m finally taking Mother’s advice. There will be no more playing with fire, no dancing with my dear friend.

From today, I fight with fire.

Amber. xx

Thanks to Writer’s Digest for the prompt.