In celebration of America's move in the right direction, some quotes on equality

"Women's rights is not only an abstraction, a cause; it is also a personal affair. It is not only about us; it is also about me and you. Just the two of us." – Toni Morrison

"Here are the values that I stand for: honesty, equality, kindness, compassion, treating people the way you want to be treated and helping those in need. To me, those are traditional values." – Ellen DeGeneres

"I'm not going to give up campaigning for equality until I get equality." – Louis de Bernieres

“I do not think, sir, you have any right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience.”  - Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

“Equality is not a concept. It's not something we should be striving for. It's a necessity. Equality is like gravity. We need it to stand on this earth” – Joss Whedon

“If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?” – The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare

“Love is love” – Britney Spears

The Field Over the Road

The sun fell down upon him in heavy thuds, like a rain of stones. He held a flattened hand over his brow, futilely attempting to protect himself from the heat. Removing his jacket and swinging it over his shoulder, he let out a shaky but calming sigh.
     The building behind him rose from the ground like a grave. He dared not turn back to see it. He'd had enough of hospitals now. Instead, he watched the field on the other side of the road. A young couple lay together on an old picnic blanket, the girl clutching her lover's forearm and nuzzling her face in his chest. Their smiles were brighter than the sunlight.
     It was then that he remembered the doctor's words; her damning statistics, and he laughed quietly. A small boy ran squealing down the field towards the screeching road; his mother jogging after him shouting for him to stop. She grabbed his arm and pointed a finger to his face, no doubt warning him of the dangers that life can bring.
     But there were no dangers now. No threats or warnings. There were no dark, mysterious possibilities of death.
     A weight had been lifted. He was lighter than air. Empty.
     The lovers laughed, for they were full of life.

Wide Eyed

The moment the sun rises
We rip off our disguises
And what we realize is something utterly unexpected

When the eyes finally open
And words are not spoken
You'll see you are not broken but infected

It will take time
To open eyes
To the notion of other lives

Emily's Worst Day

I push off from the front step. It takes me a couple of seconds to find my balance, but then I’m whizzing down the road. I ring the bell on the handle bars. Ring ring, ring ring. Everybody looks at me as I fly past them and I laugh at how fast I’m going. The pink pom-poms on the handles tickle my knuckles, which are white from the cold but I don’t care. Mam said I should make the most of the sun shining for the first time this year.

            I ride past loads of people on the way down our street.

            ‘’Morning, Mrs. Anderson!’

            ‘Ee, morning, Emily. Don’t go too fast, mind.’

            ‘I won’t,’ I say as I speed up. Old people are so boring and annoying.

            I ride past Mr. McGuvvin and Miss. Berry, and a big man in a long coat and leather gloves. He’s the only one I don’t say good morning to. I turn round the bend at the bottom of the road. My light-up trainers come out of the pedals and I let the bike take me down the hill. I scream with excitement as I get faster and faster and faster. I can feel my hair blowing behind my head and I feel like a lion.

            A woman on the other side of the road answers her phone. The ringing sound is exactly the same as Mam’s. It reminds me of yesterday. The phone rang while me and Mam were in the kitchen. She was making me soup because I was poorly and couldn’t go to school, even though I was faking a little bit. It was the same kind of soup Dad used to make when he was here. Her face went funny when she looked at the phone.

            ‘Hello?’ she asked, and then she went really white. She looked at me with massive eyes and then walked out of the room. She shut the door behind her, but didn’t realise that I could still hear.

            ‘What d’you want?’ There was a pause. ‘No, I don’t have it yet... Tomorrow? No, I- I can’t ... I’m aware of that ... Aye, it was very kind of you ... I just cannit pull together that kind of money so quickly. How about Friday? ... Thursday? That’s the earliest I can- ... Thank you. Geez, thanks so much ... Meet me after work on Thursday, I’ll have it by then.’

            Mam came back into the room. Her face was all sweaty. Then she got really angry at me.

            ‘Emily, what have I told you about dippin’ your chips in your drink? It’s disgustin’. That’s it, I’m taking that 3DS off you. I’ll send it back.’

            ‘No, Mam. That’s not fair!’

            ‘I’m sorry but I’ve told you hundreds of times. What else have you got that you don’t need, hmm? That ice-cream maker, you never use that, like. And that dollhouse, a ten year old doesn’t need a dollhouse anymore. And what about your bike?’

            ‘No, not me bike!’

            ‘You never ride it.’

            ‘I do, I will! You’re so unfair.’

            ‘Right, well. We’ll see. I’m poppin’ out to the shops, Jamie’s upstairs. Be good.’

            Then she grabbed a handful of all the knives and forks that she saves for special occasions and put them in her bag. It was really weird, but she didn’t take my bike away so I didn’t ask her about it again. I’m going to ride it every day now.

            I have to stop at the bottom of the street because there’s a group of girls standing around laughing. They see me coming. It’s Freya and all her friends. I want to turn around and ride right back up the hill, but she’s already seen me.

            ‘Emily, what you up to?’

            ‘Just ridin’ me bike.’

            She laughs and all the other girls start too. ‘A bike? Bit old for a bike, aren’t you?’         ‘No. I can do what I want.’

            ‘You’re such a baby, Emily.’ She opens her little satchel bag and pulls out a bright pink lipstick. ‘D’you even look in the mirror before you leave the house?’

            ‘She obviously doesn’t, look at that outfit,’ says one of the other girls. They all start laughing.

            ‘I can wear what I want, too,’ I say.

            ‘Well, you’ll never get a boyfriend looking like that.’

            ‘I don’t want a boyfriend.’

            ‘You can’t go into high school without a boyfriend, Emily.’ Freya’s in Year Seven so she’s at the Grammar. She shouts to a boy across the road. It’s Mike from my year. ‘Hey, you. D’you want’a go out with Emily?’ She points at me.

            The boy scrunches up his face. ‘No.’

            All the girls start screaming with laughter. I feel myself getting redder and redder. I turn around and start cycling up the hill as fast as I can. This is the worst day of my whole entire life. I don’t say hello to anyone on my way back. I can’t stop crying. This is it. I’ll never get a boyfriend, or friends, or anything. I’ll be laughed at all the way through high school. I don’t even know how to put on lipstick or anything. I don’t have one of those side bags. This is the worst day ever, ever, ever!

            I turn the corner to our road. There’s police all around our house. The door is open and someone’s put yellow tape over it. A policeman sees me and asks me if it’s my house. I say yes. He tells me he has bad news.

            I can hear Mrs. Anderson talking to one of the other policemen. She blows her nose loudly on a tissue and wipes her eyes.

            ‘She was so young,’ she says. ‘And the poor bairn! Oh God, I saw him. I saw the man- long coat and gloves. I saw him, and I didn’t do anything about it!’

I Could Love You

I could love you, you know,
If you asked me today,
There's a darkness in me,
That needs to be tamed,
But if you're willing to tame it,
Then I'm willing to stay,
Freedom could still be cultivated,
If neither of us stray

Goodbye

A hush begins to settle over the train station as each traveller quietly whispers goodbye. The crowd starts to thin as daughters say goodbye to mothers, friends to other friends, husbands to wives. A man in a crisp silver suit kisses his small son on the head as he leaves for a week-long business trip. The walls of the cavernous white space are filled with silent expressions of love and sadness.

            And in amongst them he watches her go. The long brown hairs sways hypnotically as she pulls the red suitcase further into the distance. As bodies swim around him, she vanishes.

‘Saying goodbye is fucking hard, man. Let me tell you,’ he takes a long drag from the cigarette. It ignites with orange light and then falls in clumps of grey ash on the dark carpet. ‘One minute they’re there with you, and you see their every movement, every expression. The shifting of their eyes, their smile – everything - and then suddenly they’re gone. You know they’re still out there, somewhere, but their existence is now a fucking mystery to you.’

            He stares at the ceiling, resting on the floor around piles of his dirty clothes. He takes another puff of his cigarette, and smoke billows out in great swirls as he continues. ‘And you let them go. That’s what really fucking gets me. I let her go. I should’ve grabbed her, twirled her round, got down on my knees and fucking begged. But I didn't, I just...’ He readjusts his glasses and scratches his chin. ‘I just watched her go.’

            Jim lifts himself up into the sitting position behind him, taking a long drag on the fat joint in his hand. His belly folds over as he sits, engulfing any hint of a waistline. ‘Dude, you need to fucking chill, alright.’ He gestures around the grotty bedroom. ‘Goodbyes are part of nature. It’s the way of the fucking world, man!’ He rubs the corner of a bloodshot eye, portraying a distinct loss of interest in the subject. ‘Besides, all that shit with her was weeks ago. You need to move on.’

            Tim sits up now as well. ‘Easier said than fucking done, Jim. What d’you think I've been trying to do for the past month and a half?’ He faces away from him, looking towards the drawn curtains. ‘You have no idea what it feels like.’

            Jim holds up his hands. ‘Whoa, whoa man, come on. Don’t get pissy. We’re Tim and Jim, remember? The gruesome twosome! All I’m saying is it’s time to move on. Find some fresh pussy to follow.’ Tim grimaces. Jim continues obliviously. ‘And yeah, maybe I don’t know what it feels like to get all lovey-dovey over someone. But I know what pot feels like, and it feels pretty fucking good.’ He holds out the stubby skin. ‘Here, have a puff. It’ll calm you down.’

            ‘No thanks,’ says Tim. They lie back down simultaneously, staring silently upwards for several minutes. The grey light of the day which had fought its way through the gaps in the curtains dulls to the deep blue of evening.  She had been the one. Putting all the shit, all the unnecessary crap that comes with a relationship, to one side, he really had loved her. Still did. He sighs. Always would.

            ‘You take it for granted, you know,’ he begins, piercing the sleepy quiet. ‘You take it for granted that a person is there. That you can hold them, touch them, see them, speak to them, kiss them. You don’t even think about it. Just part of daily life. And then suddenly they’re gone, and all of that is stripped away. You can’t just be with them anymore.’ He speaks quietly now. ‘And I never will be again’

            Tim sighs, closing his eyes. ‘I wonder what she’s doing right now.’

Some mid-week inspiration

To get us all through the long toils of the working week, I thought I'd write some of my favourite literary quotes. Feel free to add your own in the comments!

"I will show you fear in a handful of dust" - T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

"I am happiest now when most away,

I can tear my soul from its mould of clay,

On a windy night when the moon is bright,
And my eye can wander through worlds of light
When I am not nor none besdies,
Nor earth, nor sea, not cloudless sky,
But only spirit wandering wide through infinite immensity" - Emily Bronte, Unpublished Poem

'If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.' - Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

"Love was not something to be loaned and taken back again, or proffered in the hope of reward. It was a gift - a part of one's heart, freely bestowed, and with it as a matter of course went loyalty; the two were indivisible" - M.M. Kaye, The Far Pavilions

'The greatest ideas are the simplest' - William Golding, Lord of the Flies

'In the end there were only the birds'- Pat Barker, Union Street

'It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be' - J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

I'll be submitting more creative pieces very soon. And remember everyone, the weekend is just around the corner!

Spring Cleaning

Blood on my dress,
How tragic it is for couture,
When someone pays so very much,
And cannot wear it anymore.
The room’s a mess,
But that was to be expected,
One cannot kill in their own home,
Without curtains being affected.

I drop the gun,
It leaves dents in my hardwood floor,
I just paid for that yesterday,
Well, that’s just one more bloody chore.
He tried to run,
But he never did join that gym,
He never did a lot of things,
Never fixed the shelf, did you Tim?

He looks so smug,
The mirror doesn’t look like me,
Her hair is far too out of place,
Red lipstick smudged across her cheek.
Blood on my rug,
Tim always was a rude husband,
Designer fur, nine-hundred pounds,
He never was one to understand.

The mug is cracked,
He always was a slow drinker,
He had six sugars in his tea,
Not a sign of a great thinker.
I just attacked,
He probably didn’t see why,
It must have seemed out of the blue,
He didn’t have time to reply.

Oh dear, prison,
Now that is a horrible thought,
I’ll just tidy, I’m good at that,
Then I certainly won’t be caught.
One omission;
This kind of thing rarely ends well,
Yes I shot my husband’s face,
But that needn’t lead to a cell.

Specs: Gucci rimmed,
That should hide all of the bruises,
Tim never noticed my glasses,
Even for a man, he was useless.
I might miss him.
His laugh was quite infectious,
He smelt of peppermint and beer,
And he always called me precious.

I’m the villain,
Oh wow, now that is bloody rich,
As rich as my new countertops,
Chocolate brown; two thousand quid.
I’m the victim,
Of one more domestic abuse,
And now I’ll be punished for it,
Locked away from my Jimmy Choos.

Blood on my dress,
It was fresh on just this morning,
And it’s purple, cut at the knee;
Perfect for something like mourning.
The smell gets me,
I give the room some apple spray,
I suppose I best start cleaning,
He never helped me anyway.