The temple wasn’t in an inhabited part of the world. I stood there thinking about what it must have been like back then, but was no more. There were no giant gold statues, once worshipped and adored. There were no offerings for any of the gods, who had been so loved and honoured.

The torch would never be lit. The shadows from its flame would never dance with the ethereal quality that had given devotees such a feeling of calm reassurance. Incense would never waft along the passageways that could no longer be seen. They lay somewhere amongst the ruins now, observed by the trained eye alone.

In fact, there was nothing much left here. No sound could even be heard so far inland. There was no plush vegetation and the lake had long since dried up. There was nothing to entice the wildlife. Not even birds flew over this place any more.

Yet it was not dead! There was an atmosphere that betrayed the bare desolation. I wondered if it was only alive to those observant enough. As I touched its stone pillars, I felt its energy ripple through me and I knew its heart had not stopped beating.

She wasn’t the sort of woman who shouted to get her point across. She wasn’t bold in any way. She wasn’t eccentric or extroverted. She didn’t wear outlandish clothes or have brightly coloured hair.

Her house wasn’t modern or decorated in anything other than pastels. She wasn’t someone who would hang a distasteful picture or, indeed, own anything that wasn’t traditional.

Her tea cups were never stained and nothing was ever out of place. She didn’t have a pet due to the possibility of disruption or disharmony the hairs would bring.

She did not live in town because she did not like unpredictability of someone visiting without telling her first. She was never spontaneous. If someone invited her somewhere, she would never automatically accept the invitation only to decline it later. No. There was never any different reply from “We’ll see”, and she never committed to it until the day before the event.

“I don’t know what you were thinking!” gasped my mother.

I wasn’t even eighteen and I had made a terrible, terrible mistake. Tragic, in fact. I lay with the covers over my head, tears streaming down my face, listening to Madonna’s Papa Don’t Preach.

It had all started when I went to Wembley with my brother and some friends. It was the Blonde Ambition tour. I met Joe there. He was a huge fan. I just wanted to impress him.  I just wanted him to be my boyfriend.  I thought that was the way, so I went along with it, much to my regret now. He said all the girls my age were doing it, so I bowed to peer pressure and did it too.

Now my mother was ashamed of me and, as I looked in the mirror, I was ashamed of myself. Ashamed and embarrassed. What had I been thinking? The luminous orange colour of my hair was cringe-worthy! I wished I could turn the clock back. I’d never had bought that bottle of peroxide…

The kitten jumped high in the air, paws pouncing down on its find. He grasped the object in both teeth, tossing it up into the air. A swipe brought it back down again before it could even land, or run away and escape him.

He held it tight within his clutches, head bowed low, growling fiercely at his big brother who walked passed without a second glance or care for whatever the kitten had found. It tried to get away from him. He let it. For a little while. He toyed with it, chasing it to the end of the room and back. It would never get away from him. It was his.

Fangs protruded from beneath the kitten’s upper lips, biting down ferociously. He shook his prey from side to side, crunching down on its hard exterior. The red liquid oozed across the carpet.

“Kizmet!” came a shriek, as his human looked on in horror, hurrying frantically to retrieve the ruined red pen from the clutches of her feline companion.

FIRE

Fire. The eternal passion. It burns throughout the universe, never dying. Existing everywhere, without which all meaning would completely cease. Its universal capacity to ignite life in each corner of the cosmos, from the largest sun to the smallest atom. Look up to the stars, so far away, and feel them reflect their dance within your own soul, their heat kindling and stirring your own energies. Feel the warmth in your heart, mind, entire being.

As above, so below.

Creative writing class exercise.

I sat sipping a pinot noir in the wine bar at the end of Ashton Lane.  I used to go here when I  was a student.  In those days I knocked back cider and could drink anyone under the table.  Nowadays , I was a little more demure and sophisticated.

“Can I get you another?”  I looked up, distracted from my memories.  The waiter’s eyes twinkled back at me, almost like he knew what I was remembering.  He’d probably seen this look of reminiscence from a thousand customers.  I was about to answer, but my words caught at the back of my throat.  Astonished, I dropped my glass to the floor and vaguely heard it crash.

At the other end of the bar was someone I had not seen in a very long time.  My heart swelled.  Then it sank almost as quickly.  He would never talk to me, even if he did recognise me.  My eyes stung a little.  If only he knew the truth, he would forgive me.

I took a deep breath and got up from my seat.  The walk to his table seemed to take forever.  In fact, it had taken forever.  It had taken fourteen years and a chance encounter to tell this man the truth.  Every single one of those days was etched into my memory.  The loneliness, the solitude, the heart break; suffering a jail sentence for a crime I never committed.  But would he believe me?  The moment I had feared my entire life was happening right now.  I almost walked out the door, but kept going.

Mark Twain said “Do the thing you fear most and the death of fear is certain”.  Now at least one fear is gone.  One truth has been told.  I’m half-way to Paradise.

Started a writing course today!  Here is our first creative writing exercise using automatic writing (not the spooky kind!).  We were given the first sentence (in italics) and had to write for seven minutes without stopping.  This is what I came up with.

* * *

The books in the library were opened at page three, but Suzanna could not think of work today.  Her head was filled with thoughts of all that had happened the night before.

Who would believe the daylight would change everything?  Who would believe the events that had unfolded?  She closed her eyes, both wanting to remember it all so vividly and, at the same time, trying to forget so her tutor wouldn’t wonder why she was not reading like everyone else.

But she wasn’t like everyone else in the room.  She never would be again.  The memories crashed in around her and she excused herself, making a hasty exit to the toilets where she bolted the door securely and threw herself on top of the rim.

Once she had stopped being violently sick and the waves of nausea had disappeared, Suzanna picked herself slowly up off the floor.  Back outside, she made her excuses to her tutor.  He nodded, with a worried expression.  It was clear to everyone in the room she was very ill.  Little did they know why, and it was best for them all that they never found out.