Wordpress blog

If anyone is interested I have a portfolio/blog of weekly opinion pieces and features and a bit of news writing I do for an online mag. Would really appreciate feedback if anyone has time! Thanks :) http://karenoconnordesmond.wordpress.com/

Blood Ties

Hi guys :)
This is the idea I was telling ye about expanded a bit. Much easier to out it up on here than read it out in class haha! Please don't be kind, if anything needs work etc I've love some of that "positive criticism"!

A tree stood silently grieving, its bare, brittle branches clawing at the sombre grey sky, each awkward, jagged twist begging for mercy. Wind whistled furiously bas it swept through the surrounding trees, resembling the murmurs of frantic whispers. On the ground beneath them, leaves rustled quietly, fleeing in chaotic patterns. Apart from these hollow noises and soulless movements, the woods remained stagnant. The sky darkened above, thick black clouds rolling across the greying sky ominously. The first drop fell quietly, rushing through the air, eager to meet its end. Its fellow crusaders followed swiftly, exploding into dozens of fragile fragments on impact. This was the first thing she noticed just before her head collided with the ground; those tiny, almost reflective beads staring up at her. She dragged a wheezy breath into her lungs, trying frantically to feel that familiar rise and fall of her chest – that movement that danced so delicately between life and death. As she felt her head jerk suddenly backwards, she clawed at the soggy earth beneath her.

“No,” she wailed, “please don’t do this. You don’t have to do this. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” She clung to the ground, digging her nails in until she could feel the skin on her hands peeling back, could feel the blood rise to the surface and slowly spill over into the earth she knew she was about to join. He yanked on her hair harder, feeling delicate silken strands surrender to the force of his hands and fall free from her scalp. He bent down so close to her that she could smell the morning coffee on his breath, smell the stale sweat of a man intent on completing his task.

“It’s okay,” she whispered against her ear, “she’s going to be happy with you.” The girl whimpered helplessly.

“Please,” she choked out, “please…”

“Shhh now,” he purred, “It’s time.” He dragged her to her feet, his grip so tight that she could feel the blood rushing toward the surface of her skin to form a bruise already. He pushed her forward, her bare feet succumbing to the painful jabs of wood penetrating skin. They travelled a couple of meters further into the woods before he stopped abruptly and swung her around to face him.

“We’re here,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his thin lips. She glanced up at the naked trees and saw the expectant eyes watching, hungry for what was about to come next. Her body gave a violent shudder as each pair of eyes took on a singular black form. The ugly birds cawed impatiently, unable to wait any longer. He turned her back around and pointed to a spot on the ground.

“She’s waiting,” he said. He shoved her to her knees and took out a length of rope from inside his worn, navy jacket. She wept quietly as he bound her hands and feet. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes moments later that she saw what now lay before her. Buried beneath the earth and bark which he had brushed carefully to the sides was a skull. Rotted flesh clung delicately to parts of the corpse’s face, white bone poking intrusively through it at various points. A patch of long, brown hair was still attached to the skull; limp and lifeless.

“Hi honey,” he said gently, resting a hand affectionately on the side of the remains’ face. “I missed you,” he whispered longingly. “And I brought you something.” The girl collapsed forward onto the ground, sobs wracking hysterically through her body.

 

                               *****************************************

 

Amelia Rose stood still and stoic in front of the dusty, worn mirror. Just like the image staring back at her, she felt dusty and worn herself. At sixty-two, her un-pigmented hair grazed her gaunt cheeks limply. Her skin wrinkled and creased; a life’s worth of trauma and turmoil etched into her flesh. Finally she reached her eyes. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. If that is the case, then Amelia Rose’s soul is empty, grey and cold. She raised her right hand shakily to the eyes reflecting off the mirror and gazed at the blue veins so thick and bulbous they threatened to crawl right out from under her skin. These hands, she thought, these hands are the true window to my soul; a lifetime of blood, ripped apart flesh and sinful ends.

 

                                *****************************************

 

Daniel Walters sat in the driver’s seat of his car which was parked immaculately on the kerb outside the beige stone house where he had once lived. Every time he came here he was tortured by feelings of loneliness and despair, emotions so raw that it took only a glance up at his childhood home to fall victim to them. Opening the car door and stepping out onto the pavement, his eyes swept over the long, untamed lawn. Weeds battled with daisies and buttercups, one trying to suffocate the other in a bid to survive. He strode towards the decaying waist-high wooden fence that ran the length of the garden, stopping abruptly as it collided with the brick of the house. The splintering gate creaked open, rust crumbling clumsily to the ground. As he turned to close it, he noticed how polished the rest of the neighbourhood houses were. Hers was the only one that was rotting slowly in keeping with its owner. Sighing, he walked briskly to the stone porch steps, his hand frantically groping one of the thick wooden pillars that stood on either side of them when he stumbled and lost his footing. After releasing a string of muttered profanities, he knocked three times on the dull wooden front door. He listened intently and finally heard someone scuffing their feet as they marched purposely towards him.

“Who is it?” asked a stern voice.

“Daniel,” he replied. He rubbed his chin nervously with his right hand, watching as the round brass handle slowly turned and the door grated across the carpeted hall stiffly.

“Well,” she said, “It’s been a while Daniel. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He grunted and stepped inside the damp, old house, flinching as a hunting spider scurried past him. He heard the loud bang of the front door behind him but he stood still, his back facing the woman.

“Don’t just stand there boy,” she snapped. “You’ve been in this house enough times to know where to go.” Without saying another word, she brushed past him. For a minute he didn’t move, his gaze fixed on a non-existent spot on the crimson carpet.

“What are you waiting for?” the woman shrieked from a nearby room. Daniel snapped out of his daze and glanced loathingly at the bare faded white walls of the hall. He forced himself to move forward and walked to an open doorway at the end of it. The woman was sitting at the dark mahogany table, hands clasped together. He stared at her as her gaze bore into him. “Have you forgotten how to walk now Daniel?” she said coldly. He felt his face take on its familiar expression; emotionless, unreadable.

“I see you haven’t changed a bit,” he replied calmly. The edges of the woman’s thin lips turned up into a tight smile.

“I could say the same for you,” she said, an unnaturally almost good natured tone in her voice, like two friends exchanging meaningless insults in fondness. “Besides,” she continued, “what did you expect? Haven’t you heard you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

Daniel stood unmoving, wondering if he should just leave right now.

“I don’t bite you know,” she said sarcastically. Sighing heavily, Daniel went and sat down on a chair opposite her. He folded his hands on his lap uncomfortably, not knowing what else to do. “Good,” she said. “Now why are you here?”

Daniel gazed at her for a moment, taking in her impeccable posture and harsh body language.

“I’m not going to sit here all day Daniel,” she said shrewdly. “Why are you here?”

“I..I don’t know,” he stammered, desperate to have her approval, her attention for just a few minutes.

“Enough,” she stated primly. “I will not have this kind of nonsense in my house. There is always a reason for what we do Daniel. So stop wasting my time and tell me why you’re here.”

Daniel gulped, begging himself not to let the stinging in his eyes rise any further, pleading with himself not to choke on his next words. “I miss her,” he whispered.

The woman looked at him blankly for a few seconds before laughing quietly. “Oh Daniel,” she said, “Forget about her. She’s gone and you need to move on. Be a man about it for goodness sake.”

Daniel raised his previously lowered gaze to look into the face of this woman he wanted so desperately to comfort him. “She’s my wife,” he murmured. “I’ll never move on. It’ll never be the same. I love her. She’s my world.”

The woman clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Now you see boy, that’s your problem. You’re talking about her as if she’s still alive. She’s not. She’s dead.”

As Daniel stared at the table he felt his body tense with a fury he’d never felt before. “Stop,” he said. The woman cocked her head and stayed looking at the thick brown hair on the crown of his head.

“She’s dead,” she stated again.

“Stop it,” Daniel answered angrily.

“She is dead,” the woman said matter-of-factly.

“No! Stop it!” Daniel cried, slamming clenched fists onto the table as he stood up furiously, the chair clattering to the tiled ground beneath them. Hot tears spilled down his face in steady trickles, his neck and face tinted red with rage.

“She’s dead Daniel and so is your baby. It’s time to move on. I came to the funeral, I accepted you were a blubbering mess for a few weeks but really, now it’s just ridiculous.” said the woman, voice riddled with boredom. Daniel glared at her, every fiber of his being succumbing to the intenseness of his anger.

“I hate you!” he bellowed, slamming his fist against the wall beside him. “Do you hear me?” he screeched, “I hate you!”

Amelia Rose simply put her head back and laughed, relishing in the pain of her son.