Try It Yourself

I fell in love with writing as a child, probably because I read so many books.  Words have been my escape all my life. 

 Writing can be time travel, a space adventure or perhaps like Alice, falling down a hole.  Are you afraid of the dark?

You can walk in someone else's shoes or eat their gruel.  How does it taste?

You can step through a mirror or fall through a trap door and find yourself somewhere new.  How does it smell?

You can be an alien queen or an insect prince.  Do you have wings?  What sound would they make?

Your skin could be green and your paws can have claws.  Are your scales rough?

Your imagination is the only limit.

I think everyone should give it a try; otherwise how would you ever know how much fun it can be?

So I have written a few paragraphs to get you started in case you need ideas and I have added some photos which might lead you somewhere else.


'You can't send me away!' Maya bit her lip.
The car ground to a halt on the gravel by the wall, headlights off.  The driver jumped out, a moonlit shadow, popped the boot.  An owl hooted in the sighing silence. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a pair of rustling, shiny gloves, forced in fat fingers.  He reached into the boot, tugging on a large, wrapped bundle.  It rolled out, landing with a dull thud in a puff of dust.  Grunting with effort, he heaved the lump along, wrestled it over the wall.  It dropped to the other side with a sickening crunch.  Whining, puffing audibly, he pulled out a large spade, disappearing into the gloom...

'No choice, Maya, you've done it now.' Her stepfather bent towards her, filling her nose with his familiar fresh wood scent . His calloused hands shook her shoulders. 'You let 'em see you.'
'But it was only little Tommy! I didn't know he was hiding there!' Maya began to shiver.
'He'll tell. You know kids can't keep secrets.'
'I'll go there, ask him...' Maya jumped up.
'Don't be stoopid! Then they'll all see you. We'd both have to run then!'
'Why can't we both go then?' Maya stamped her foot, scowling.
'I've 'ad enough o' running. I got a good job 'ere. I'm staying. You're old enough fer better things now. I'm sendin' ye to yer aunt in Freetown. She'll see yer right...'

He forced his numb fingers into a crack, heart pounding.  For a moment, his leg swung in space, jeans flapping in the wind.  Muscles screaming, he slammed himself against the stone. 

His foot found the ledge.

Above, the building loomed silver in the moonlight.

Below there was nothing but darkness.  Through a cracked window high above, he heard that voice, growling through the glass. 

It was enough. Biting down on terror, he took another step to freedom...

I take hold of the snarling knocker, drop it down. The bang echoes around me like thunder.

Glancing round, I see a giant cat, fastidiously poking the ends of black feathers into his mouth. It’s not a lion, more of a mammoth marmalade.

I edge closer to the door, wondering which way to run.

The cat’s bright, yellow eyes narrow on my face. I scrabble at the ancient bolts. There has to be a way in.

The cat hunkers down, wriggling his shoulders, as if I’m the mouse. I certainly feel like one, heart pattering, legs shaking. I can hear its rumble from here, like the Home’s clapped out maintenance van, idling...