Create with ME 1st Place winner: Coffee, with Preoccupations

Coffee, with Preoccupations

I walked through the city, where there was much noise and distraction, but still the selfishness consumed me, of time lost, hours spent reading, writing, simply nothing. Of what might have occurred. Today there is always something to do, and soon there will be even more. There will be no time for thought or rationality on things, and the truth is I don’t know how I feel about this, other than like a man come to the end of something.

A few days prior, I had thought it a good idea to travel to an isolated island off the north eastern coast, and not only did the travel take up much time of our short break away, it also transplanted us to a very quiet place and the quiet did not make the thoughts so easy to ignore. We returned to the city after two nights.

I was to meet Marianne at a small pasticceria close to the hotel, for coffee and pastry filled with sweet ricotta cheese, the sweet ricotta so lovely that you want to climb right into it. She had not been feeling well but had wanted to get out.

I walked past buildings, old and faded and dirty, and falling to pieces, broken render revealing the anatomy beneath, and tagged red, blue, yellow, green, black. Through the shadowed alleys and streets, and sometimes on the balconies there would be a toothless resident, like some ancient consul watching with bored indifference. Walking these narrow streets, always a car or motorcycle, having to step aside to allow the vehicle to pass, and in time I spewed out into the arena of the piazza.

Marianne sat at a table, under the shade of a lemon tree. The light shone through the foliage with biblical gravity and a feeling of overwhelming sadness washed over me. I wanted to pull her close to me.

She saw me and waved.

How fickle we are! The old life, how things have changed these last few years, have you forgotten the bleak loneliness? They say it is better than dying and going to heaven, but I could not accept it without resistance.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Better, thanks. How was your walk?”

“Great, thanks. I’ve been all over. I feel like a salmon!”

I showed her the images on my phone.

From the piazza, the mountains were visible all about, surrounding the city. The cloud lingered about them, like two hands touching, not wanting to let go or be away.

“You’re mute again.”

“Yes”, I said. I didn’t have the guts to admit it to her. I was so god damned scared, the most frightened I had ever been. We drank our coffee; absently listened to the song coming faintly from the café.

“...face like an angel, she could be anything...”

“Have you thought of any names yet?”

I listened, thought about it.

“Yes, I have.”

Marianne looked down and placed her hands on the bump growing beneath her dress, smiled.

Jonathan Wallen

Create with ME 2nd Place winner:The Curse of the Stolen Book.

The Curse of the Stolen Book.

After stealing the book, strange things started happening. I needed to take it back, where it all began…

Chapter 1

I walked down the country lane there was a heavy fog blanketing the landscape, the air cold and the frost harsh. Trees loomed out of the distance like troubled spirits, sprouting from the ground and reaching overhead to cast shadowy fingers that could break through thick ice. Trees would just appear as if in a pop-up book, every so often they would materialize as I walked. Big dark objects that suffocated my rational thinking, making me certain they were more than they made themselves out to be. I saw a branch that made me believe it was following me, trying its hardest to reach down with those icy fingers and grab me. I felt the force of the wind like a hand placed flat against my back, pushing me down towards the house. Looking down I saw leaves lifting and chasing my feet and as I reached the house the fear grew in my chest as the door slowly started to open.

Chapter 2

I ran my hand along the door pushing it open even more peering into the hallway. The light crept in shining onto a dusty mirror, I saw my scruffy red hair and pale freckled cheeks. I headed to the bedroom where I had first taken the book, after I had heard it’s whispers in the dead of night. I found the bookcase, an empty slot glaring at me. I felt the book in my pocket and noticed a cold wind behind me. I fumbled in my pocket for the book, my breathing quick and fearful. I placed the book into its slot and I felt a cold breath upon my neck and an icy, heavy hand upon mine. Holding my breath I closed my eyes, willing myself to put the book back and not run away.
BANG!!!!!!!
Suddenly the whole book case went up in flames and a inferno of pages went swirling around me, it was then I saw it lurking behind the bookcase, glaring and snarling at me. All I could do was stand there, too scared to scream. It moved toward the towering block of burning books and pushed it over, squashing me and making it hard to breath. I closed my eyes...

Chapter 3

I slowly opened one eye and peaked at the world around me, I was not in the house with the book. Looking down I saw I had fallen asleep reading ‘The Curse of the DreamCatcher’. I swung my feet out of bed and sat upright, stretching my arms. Looking out of the window I could see a black figure in my garden, I ran to have a closer look and a sudden rush of spiky leaves caught in a viscous wind darted towards me and then the figure was gone. Closing my curtains behind me I looked down at the book on my bed and said to myself, I must give this book back.

Hannah Phillips

Create with ME 3rd Place winner: Moor or Less

Moor or Less

The dicey van barrelled down the B3629, kicking up explosions of dirt and rubble as it fired across the desolate moorland. A labyrinth of violent twists and turns, it would be the last named road on which they would travel; beyond lied nothing but open moorland, light years from the prying eyes of the big city. The derelict wasteland was a reflection of the morning sky, which, with each passing minute, grew darker and duskier as it concealed itself in thick layers of fog. Perfect conditions - for this.

Lyndon Young was a man of his late thirties, though he looked not a day over twenty-eight, aged only by an accomplished wisdom that marked his eyes. He stood tall with a robust look about him, well aware of his impending fate - yet absent minded. His steady composure, combined with the fact he had made no attempt of escape, gave the impression that he had accepted his fate.

Cal awoke to a firm nudging against his shoulder.

‘We’re almost there,’ he heard.

‘Consiegnetti said he had it done a few yards east of the Belliver oak trees - you’ve got your job, I’ve got mine.’

Calvert O’connor, known by his friends as Cal, was a young man. Calvert had a misleading feel about him; his pale white skin was outshone only by the blinding light of his bright blue eyes. An air of innocence surrounded him with each passing step and so, naturally, you would place him anywhere but the passenger seat of that van. Nonetheless, there he was.

‘Don’t make eye contact. It’s better that way’ A croaky voice spoke, perhaps noticing Calvert’s disconcertion. The voice belonged to Stanley Frost, a man of weathered tempests. He had rough skin and a square face that brandished a firm, rigid jaw. His face was hale and steeled with eyes that burned with a sort of composure only attainable through years of involvement in this line of work. Although Cal seemed accompanied by a stench of naivety, he was no fool. He knew why he was there. Calvert O’connor was going to kill a man.

The van anchored to a halt. Moments later the rust-tainted doors creaked open, revealing a battered Lyndon. Frost took the lead, seizing him by the scruff of his coat and aggressively ushering his prey out of the van. The open moorland hit Lyndon like a needle to the brain. He noticed his grave, pre-dug and running deep into the earth, almost calling his name. As Lyndon was lowered into the grave, a stark foreboding set in as he realised he was stood at ground zero.

Suddenly, with the passionless look of an insect, Stanley raised his Ruger LCR22 revolver and directed it firmly towards his victim. Without a second of hesitation, he planted four rounds straight into Lyndon’s chest, watching gleefully as he descended into the grave. ‘Well get to it then, bury the man,’ barked Frost as he turned to Calvert, who wore a strange smile. 

Then, with a bitter-sweet grin, Cal drew a weapon of his own.

‘Conseignetti’s orders’ he said in an accentuating superiority.

‘No loose ends.’

William Painter

Create with ME entry: No Barriers for Love

No Barriers for Love

Elizabeth Schnee was born in a rich environment. Everything was given to her on a silver platter, the best teachers, the best clothes and the best jewellery. But there was one thing no money could fix. She was bored.
Elizabeth walked down the streets of Orlando desperately hoping that no one recognised her, until she spotted a figure outside the local mall.
“Hey Antony, ready to go?” she greeted the figure with a beaming smile on her face.
The figure was a tall boy that stood a head taller than she did. The boy’s name was Antony Potter, he had several tattoos and piercings, giving him a menacing appearance. Unlike her, his family barely survived in the city. His mother ran away when he was five, while his father drank his sorrows away and seemed to be unaware that Antony even existed.
Normally the two would never meet because they were of two worlds, the rich girl and the delinquent boy who fell in with the wrong crowd.

She could still remember the day they met, when during one of her secret walkabouts some thugs snatched her off the streets and tried to take her jewellery with a knife at her throat. She remembered how the cold grip of death almost touched her. Suddenly the two were out cold and Antony was standing over them, like a fallen Knight. At first his appearance scared her but when he brought her to a nearby arcade, she found something, something she was missing. She had fun.
Speaking of arcades, that was where now Elizabeth was currently playing a crane game. She watched the claw come down and started to pull up a toy rabbit, but when it neared the chute, it slipped and was stuck on the side. Elizabeth huffed in annoyance and crossed her arms however hearing Antony try and fail to stop chuckling made her face turn red and her annoyance became embarrassment.
“Here let me,” Antony said, stepping in front of her.
“Wait, I can’t let you spend your money on something like that,” she said, to stop him.
He just smirked and after looking around, to her confusion, he violently kicked the machine which rattled and made a loud thud. The rabbit fell in and Antony handed the doll to her. Her blush grew in redness and she gratefully took it.
“Hey, what’s going on back there?” a worked yelled out. Antony grabbed Elizabeth and ran out, with the irate worker yelling after them.
The two finally stopped next to the park, the clear blue sky slowly turning grey. The two laughing long and hard until they were blue in the face.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Elizabeth gasped out, while he was grinning from ear to ear.
“But it was fun,” he countered.
She giggled before saying, “Yes, but maybe next time let’s not damage something.” She started to walk home before looking down at her prize and ran back and gave Antony a small kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered before leaving, a bright smile on both their faces.
People of two worlds can be as different as the sun and moon but find one thing in common and you’ll find that they are more similar than you think.

Ruan Baldwin

Create with ME entry: The Vermin Invader

The Vermin Invader

“Just another sunny day” Ami thought, as she was cleaning her apartment as usual. On hot days like this, it was exhausting. Her long blonde hair was frazzled, her floral patterned clothes were mucky and her face was all blushed. She finally decided to open her window, popped her head out and took a deep breath.

“That’s better, just got a little bit more to do before Frankie turns up.” she sighed, wiping her forehead with her handkerchief. “I hope she at least remembers where I live. She always gets lost around this area.” As she leapt from the window top to the kitchen with radiating energy, she felt like the day was hers to conquer.

While wandering into the kitchen, a black dot flashed past the worktop and under the table. Her eyes darted across to see what it was, as she bent down and saw that it was a big cockroach. Ami was frozen with shock, her apartment was always clean, and how did it get in? Are there any more around?

She regained her thoughts quickly and tried to catch the fat, ugly creature. But it flew past her face and landed on the worktop. She opened the cupboard and pulled out an empty jam jar.

“I’ll just catch it in here and release it outside, I don’t want to kill it,” she thought.

Throughout the day she tried to capture the creature, but each attempt was one Failure after another. It refused to go in the jar she left on the floor, flew past the plastic bag she waved around, and even crawled out of her hands when she caught it. Finally, she was about to give up when suddenly there was a knock on the door. She walked towards the door, adjusted her glasses and looked through the little peephole to see who it was.

It was Frankie.

“Oh! She’s here, maybe she can help out!”

She opened the door and put on her happiest face with enthusiasm.

“Hi, Frankie! So good to see you! Come on in!” She cheered, hugging her tightly around her waist.

“Nice to see you too.” Frankie squeaked as she struggled to breathe.

As they went inside, Ami explained to Frankie that she needed help to capture the bug. Frankie took a look around and saw the cockroach land in front of her and without warning forcefully squashed it with her boots.

Ami stood there stunned. Frankie then looked back and said, “Is it ok if I have a smoke by the window?” she calmly questioned.

Ami nodded, still silent at what she just saw. As she opened the window for a smoke, suddenly a few black bugs flashed past her face and on the worktop. They both looked confused and decided to look outside. It turns out that the bins below were left open and it was swarming with them.

Both looked at each other, nodded and both slammed the windows shut, locking it from within.

Emma Townsend

Create with ME entry: Inside

Inside

Being locked in a room is one thing, being locked inside your own head is something entirely different, and I need to find a way out before it’s too late!

In reality it had only been 6 months since I was admitted to hospital for reasons I’m still not sure of? But in my own personal cell it had felt like 10 years, and inside this prison there was no sleep, no rest, only time, it was just a matter of how much time was left?

The first week inside my “brain cell” as I had come to call it were not pleasant, it consisted of me screaming and calling for help, but no one could hear my crystal, not from inside here. There was nothing but darkness apart from two oval windows which showed the outside world that of which was the hospital room.

After that low point I pulled myself together and started to piece together the puzzle to figure out how I had got myself into this nightmare. It was hard as my memory was vague and it was a struggle to concentrate with the persistent beeping that surrounded me, yet with determination I pushed through and came to the point just before my lack of knowledge.

It was evening and my wife and I were having a disagreement, it was a pretty dispute over money and not for the first time. I grabbed my keys and storm out slamming the door behind me without another word. I jumped in my car and heart still beating with anger, I pull away accelerating recklessly. Gaining speed I pull out of a junction narrowly missing a car on the other side of the road, my phone beeps, it’s a text from my wife, and that’s where it all goes blank.

Realisation hits me of how stupid I had been, I never imagined I would drive with such anger and stupidity. Maybe I deserved to be stuck in this hell, but I needed to see my wife to say that there are much more important things then money.

And then I heard her voice, but it sounded sad, she was crying. It’s ok I shouted, even though she couldn’t hear me, it’s ok I’m here.

The room was quiet now, even the beeping was getting quieter, it was peaceful, it was............

John Jones

Create with ME entry: First Day as a Mature Student

First Day as a Mature Student

I headed out the door into a waiting taxi. The whole journey I kept thinking, what if I'm the oldest there ? oh no! What if it's a bunch of annoyingly loud teenagers ? The taxi pulled up outside the college entrance. There I stood in front of a huge building with young people standing in groups or going in or out of the building. I thought right, just walk in and wait where we had previously been told, but the door , it's a funny circle thing, what if i get stuck?. Shut up! I told myself , before people noticed I was standing there like a lemon.

Standing at the meeting place my stomach was doing somersaults, i began to feel sick. It wasn't long before other students arrived along with the teacher. Everyone was talking to each other introducing themselves, laughing and chattering away. I stand there silently watching, thinking to myself, why can't i be like that ? Why can't I talk to strangers and introduce myself? The teacher leads us all to the room we will be learning in, they're all chatting away to each other while I'm slightly lagging behind as my little legs couldn't keep up with them . When we arrived at the classroom, I chose a seat nearest the door so I could make a quick exit if need be.. I'm glad but my stomach was still in knots. I take a few deep breaths but a late comer bursts through the door, looks around for a place to sit. My heart starts beating faster, i thinking don't sit next to me ! don't sit next to me ! The lady pulls up a chair and sits right next to me, i smile and turn to focus on the teacher, hoping the person sitting next to me couldn't see my hands shaking or my face going redder and redder.

I try to block out everyone in the room to listen to the teacher, she tells us all to write our names on a piece of paper, fold it so it stands up so she could see who we were. Great, I thought, we don't have to stand up and introduce ourselves. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief didn't last long. Our next task was to talk to the person next to you and find out two interesting facts about them, then ! tell the rest of the class. My worst nightmare, I couldn't talk about myself, certainly didn't have any interesting facts and definitely wasn't going to be able to talk in front of the class. I felt like a breeze block had hit my chest, I couldn't speak, I could feel myself welling up and I tried to fight back the tears. The lady next to me realised and tried to help me out, but the nicer she was to me the more I cried. i felt stupid , i just couldn't stop myself. needless to say i left rather quickly .

Sarah Tavener

Create with ME entry: The Pet Bubble

The Pet Bubble

Lily is a child like many other. She is small but full of fun, life and character. Her confidence is to be admired and her carefree approach in life is the envy of many. Despite the current state of affairs, the distance among people and the fear of a virus Lily is a breath of fresh air. Her mother told her to never lose her carefree breeze, it’s an amazing thing she has and despite initial hesitation Lily decided to share this with others.
She woke up early on a fresh summer day and blew a soapy, slippery, sud bubble full of her personality. She firmly grasped it in her hands, pleaded with it not to pop and took it for a walk. As she strutted through the park, a bounce in her step and a smile on her cheek everyone couldn’t take their eyes off her bubble.
She loved it like family, cared for it like a pet and looked after it with much care. People would stop to stare and ask her questions but nothing fazed Lily. She just carried on loving and walking her pet bubble, allowing it to be itself, to stay strong, have no fear of judgement and always feel the love.

Soon enough Lily was the talk of the town, people would wave at her walking by and she would smile back a big smile. The unusual sight brought joy to others in a time of despair, their mind was no longer full of gloom and sad news. They all knew of a girl who had a pet bubble and things looked a little more positive.
With her nurturing personality Lily showed the world that what is deemed impossible can be achieved with hope and self belief.
Sometimes you have to take what you have and proudly show it to the world, it may seem strange at first and people may look but one thing that is guaranteed is that this life is too short. So blow your own bubble, walk it proudly and nurture it with love.

Gio Silvestre

Create with ME entry: Legacy Aground

Legacy Aground

Casper's life had been breached by a run of bad luck recently, and there it was clear – he was without; without friends, without family, without fame, without glory – he was without. He believed himself to be prestigious, and he believed strongly in the morality he'd chosen. Any intrinsic belief that he had was one of which festered and died years prior. The war was on, and Sweden had stumbled into the view of the mechanical jackal that Germany had become; it's own Titanic, setting sail not across the sea but across the peoples of Europe. Casper watched as the iron mines fell victim to the bureaucratic box ticking which had conceded the ore to Germany's war machine, large trucks stealing the ore away to the ports. Feeling dreadful conflict over his government's concessions, Casper doubled over in sickness, clinging to his dining table and retching disgustingly. He scorned at the papers. 'Neutrality,' he thought, 'never a more dishonest word.'
His wife Edith was tired of his melancholy, eventually demanding that the man move on; if the Allies would win, Sweden would be free, and if they would not – Sweden would be rich. She came across as heartless to Casper, and his pride could not hold back any admittance that he was holding back tears. “Hubris,” the man caught his breath, his stomach still clenched, “anyone caught between this war, regardless of uniform, will face hubris.” Casper despaired, climbing through the heaviness of the air to lay down in bed. “Hubris...” he repeated to himself. His body ached and his insides were turbulent. There, he sobbed.
Unable to bring anything up, not even bile, he mumbled self-pity, eventually feeling his skull pop against the cruelty; “Hubris!” he yelled, “Hubris!” he called out once more. The clarity of it all was mesmerising, and yet no-one seemed to understand. Casper knew that regardless of the victory, Sweden would be forever crippled by it's neutrality. In the times where men and women act with a union of bravery and selflessness – Casper felt the perils of the trade. His family were cut between iron workers and iron miners, and it was not the lost profit that he'd sobbed for, but the legacy. How would he look at those mines ever again? As a boy he'd see family pride, a conscientious effort, and a sturdy working-class legacy. In these terrible times? Casper, upon even a glance towards those old reflections, was adrift in anger. He retched again, feeling the pressure stabbing throughout his veins; an industry's legacy, no longer the prideful and dutiful workers – nothing but slaves to the Third Reich and it's very own Titanic. The women work the Allied factories abroad, supplying a war effort; how had it come to this? 'Hubris,' drowned Casper, 'we shall never be the same again.'. Day by day, he watched the Germans harvest his nation, and day by day, he fell sick – lost at sea, aboard a fascist dreadnought. Edith sighed, 'Hubris...'

Damien Mark Giles

Create with ME entry: Moonlight Message

Moonlight Message

It was the middle of the night, yet I couldn’t sleep. I'd been awoken to a pulsating small light.
At first notice, I quickly sat up and grabbed my dagger from under the pillow, only to set it down on the nightstand as I realised what this light was. It was a holographic button buzzing in front of me.

“A notification.” I thought.

Weakly and with little hesitation, I reached up pressing the glowing icon suspended before me.
A small light enveloped the button, lighting up the room and dancing on the blades set down by the end of the beds, awaiting use. Once the light subsided, a little diamond shaped device fell from where the button had been. I caught it in my hands, looking closer.

“A message?” I wondered.

I stood up from the bed, barely enough energy to keep me stable, and made my way through the thick darkness of the room to the seat by the window. It was colder, but the little amount of light offered would help to see the message. I sat at the small table, under the window and placed the object down.
It emitted a small whirring noise, like a watch, before it stood up and hovered, just a centimeter above the table. A much smaller button appeared on the device, urging me to press it. I tapped the new smaller icon, causing the diamond to split open at its centre and begin... speaking?

“Hey bud. We hope this gets to you before Christmas Day, neither of us have ever had to use one of these before.” The voice said, chuckling at the end.

I recognised that voice.

“A… Adam?” I asked, almost expecting a reply.

“We’ll figure it out! I’m smart so we’ll be fine.” Came a more feminine voice. That smug know-it-all tone could have only been Charlotte's.

My hands clenched into fists as I choked back the urge to cry out.

“Right. Anyway we wanna wish you a merry Christmas dude. It’s been a crazy few months, but we’re glad we got through it.” Adams prerecorded voice continued.

“And a happy New Year if it turns out we did this wrong!” Charlotte chimed in.

Tears welled in my eyes.

“We have that recorded, proof she doesn’t know everything!” Adam teased.

“Oh shut it, you dumb…” Charlotte began, but the message cut out.

“No…” I said, to nothing. I didn’t want them gone so quickly.

My hands started to shake as I choked down even more tears.

The shaking spread up to my arms, enveloping me, every cell in my body just wishing to cry.
The diamond shut and floated down, setting itself on the table in front of me. My head fell next to it, my hands reaching up and resting in my hair as I sobbed into the cold wooden surface. The moon finally came out from behind the clouds, illuminating the room. Behind me sat three beds.

Only one was occupied.

Harry Cheetham

Create with ME entry:Alyssa and the Fire

Alyssa and the Fire

Chapter 1

My eyes blur from focus; my mind overwhelmed. my heart beating out my chest; taking in the scenery around me. There's a certain aura about fires that entices me; dancing like angry ballerinas. flickering ashes that burn from the wood, the warmth that it brings against the cold, dark air. The trees sway in the wind; Am I dreaming? I hear dogs barking in the distance, the cars humming by on the roadside. Sirens in the background drawing nearer. A gathering of people, talking amongst themselves, some shouting.
"Alyssa?" I hear somebody's voice say my name, I feel someone's presence behind me, followed by a touch on my shoulder. My mind snaps back to reality, I peer at my shoulder, someone I don't know, in police uniform. "Y-yes?" I managed to croak out, trying to gulp away the knot in my throat. "We believe that you were the person who called us about the fire? Can you take a minute to answer some questions for us?" he asks, now accompanied by his fellow woman police officer companion. "I...I...just got here" I blurted out, hoping that they would leave. "We had reports to believe that you've been at the property before the fire, we need to ask you what you were doing at the house" the policeman continued as the woman drew out a notepad and pen.
My mind began to doze, a quick image came to mind; blood, seeping down the walls in a small room and a woman's scream. Snapping me back to reality. I grabbed my head with both hands "make it stop!" I begged; my voice panicking, feeling tears drip from my watering eyes. Closing my eyes tightly as possible; trying to escape. By this time, I didn't hear any peoples voices, I didn't hear the dogs bark either. I sniffled, wiping my tears away, I looked over my shoulder again. Everyone stopped helping with the fire, and this time. They were looking at me, with no expression on their faces, everything was still, the fire still flickering and dancing in the dark, lighting up the street and sky amongst the smoke and stars.
I felt the police officers touch again, but this time they were pulling me up forcefully. "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence when in question, something you may rely on in court" the policeman sternly stated before putting me into the police vehicle.
Days merged into weeks, my lack of comments, lack of movements, refusing to eat. Many psychological tests were done and the authorities were worried about my mental health. They want answers to the fire. And I was trying my best to block them out. The blood on the walls and the scream still haunts my dreams, I wake up sweating, chills and tears still fall down my face. Court date is approaching; they are trying to charge me with first-degree murder. But they don't know what I know.

Emma Manley

Create with ME entry: Hope

Hope

The seasons were changing fast. Autumn, Winter had past in a blur of bad news and rainy days. It was now Spring.
Tess had longed for the sunshine on her face now for than ever. Her father had died only six weeks ago and yet it felt like a lifetime already. Tess' father was a City Banker, a man always full of life and fun. He enjoyed the finer things; exquisite dining and easy women. Her mother was quite ordinary, a shy, quiet lady who loved her home. Whilst Tess' father had worked and played hard he'd caught the dreaded Virus that had swept throughout the World and sadly wiped him out along with millions of others.

The weather was glorious, the sparrows making their nest and the bees heavy with nectar wait patiently to fly again.
The Government insisted everyone stayed inside to avoid catching the Virus as no surgeons could treat it and they had to wait for a vaccine. Schools and Businesses all closed. Even the local Church. Tess missed the evening bells at six.
Tess and her mother were the only people at her fathers funeral, it was forbidden for others to leave their homes unless it was necessary. She was sure if her father could see the sparse attendance he'd have turned in his grave.He was a popular man in their village, always happy to tip his hat and shake a hand. Tess knew of her father's antics well and her heart went out to her mother today and although they both wept tears, Tess was unsure if hers were real.

Vera, Tess' mother had been quite strict when it came to her only daughters studies, her mothering instinct knew Tess was destined for big things.This year was like no other and Tess would be given a grade based on her attitude to learning and her coursework due to the closure of her School.
Spring turned into summer and the skies were bright as Tess pulled open her curtains; the morning of her big day was finally here. Her laptop pinged as if on cue and her heart started racing. She needed three A* to be accepted into Cambridge University, her dream to be a BioMedical Scientist. Tess had lost three grandparents to Cancer and she was determined to be the person to find a cure to stop this terrible disease. Opening up the email, she could not believe her cornflower blue eyes; in front of her were three A*, and in that moment she knew her father was watching down on her. She immediately got up and ran down the stairs two at her time to tell her grieving mother the fantastic news.

As Summer changed to Autumn, the lockdown was lifted, the Church bells rung, the streets were filled with parties and love, Tess stepped off the train at Cambridge Station. Smells from a different City danced in her nostrils and while pulling her luggage towards the beautiful wooden doors, she decided she would begin this new journey full throttle, full of anticipation and she would give it her everything.

Erin-Jayne Porter

Journey of Wind and Water

Journey of Wind and Water

Iliea gasped and steadied her trusty bow. Her lengthy travels had led her to a broad, expansive spring established upon a huge hill overlooking settlements below for miles upon miles. The wind jostled her hurriedly pulled together braid as well as the nearby hanging grove of trees, and warned that she wasn't alone.

A cumbersome brute of a creature known as the Sciath burst from the grove, with an unholy growling noise that would make even the goddesses quake. Its eyes were gloomy and piercing as it dragged extensive, birdlike appendages behind it as it advanced. It appeared to be studying the area for something, and she sincerely hoped it hadn't heard her approaching.

She'd been warned about these remarkable creatures, and she'd heard countless tales of other mage-folk getting too close. Some of her class had even told her frightful tales of their eyes being pecked out! Still, Iliea needed a handful of those feathers to awaken her sister, and she was willing to face the danger. Rumours had fuelled most of her knowledge, still, so she was clueless as to what awaited. Her drawn arrow glimmered in the light peeking through the trees, and she murmured a charm practised by her ancestors, watching the arrowhead fade into a mysterious, tranquilising violet.

She drew in a long-drawn, soundless breath and let her arrow glide through the wind, attracting the attention of the Sciath in the trees. She darts expertly through the trees but the creature is fast, even withheld by her sorcery. She stumbles and nearly trips over a tree root, and the sound of waves breaking almost makes her stumble anew.

Behind her, from the spring, a water nymph descends freezing water upon the Sciath, and it slows, letting out another deep growl before turning towards the spring. "Need some help? I'm always looking for an excuse to stretch my water-bending wings!"

In the time it took for the nymph to speak, Iliea had scaled the nearest tree and readied another arrow, but she didn't have the strength to enchant this one. Still, her aim was trained and impeccable. The arrow burrowed itself deep into the shoulder of the beast, green blood running into its feathers.

"I just need to stun it for a few moments," she says, gasping from the effort as she speaks, "Can you help with that?"

"With ease!" Her hands weaved and led the water along gracefully, and Iliea focused all of her spirit into weaving the sleeping spell into the powerful stream of water before her. The combined energy of witchcraft and the endurance of water bested the foul creature, and they watched as it fell with a tumultuous crash.

Wasting no time, she plucked her desired, darker feathers from the gigantic beast for her sister's aid. Still, her journey wasn't over yet, she had to return homeward. Turning towards the spring, her eyes darted towards the nymph, a question behind her eyes.

"How would you like to go on an adventure?"

Mia May

Create with ME entry: The Chicken Who Looked Out for his Wolf

The Chicken Who Looked Out for his Wolf

There are many stories of fairy tales about mythical creatures, transformations and yes, witches. What you're about to witness is no lie or exaggeration, the poor unfortunate events of the chicken who looked out for his wolf. There were many whispers that titled around the wood as if they were of great importance but of course they were absurd, how could they be true, or were they?

One afternoon as a lonely farmer was collecting the eggs from the chicken hut he thought to himself

“Oh how easy it would be to be a chicken, i could sit in one place all day. I wouldn't have to milk the cows, shear the sheep and all that would be asked of me”. Continued the farmer,

“Would be too lay at least one egg for my owner”.

The farmer stood transfixed in a dream like state almost as if something lurking nearby were to make this possible.

Meanwhile Daisy the cow was on a daring escape mission when a mythical light whizzed, crackled and popped passed Daisy causing her to flee reluctantly but terrified, all the way to her field. Daisy did not feel the same.

That night magic was at hand and Daisy was drawn to the woods where she was to transform into a mythical beast. The farmer was on his way to bed when he saw Daisy leave her field.

“oh that silly cow, now i need to go and fetch her” clucked the farmer

In shock he dismissed what he had just done and ran after Daisy where he found her mid transformation, he could not believe his eyes as Daisy was now a wolf. Alakazam the farmer was also a chicken. Lost in the woods terrified, he had no clue what to do.

“I only tried to save my cow… no wolf from the deep dark woods” thought the new found chicken expressing himself in cluck .

Petrified and confused the flapping chicken and the whimpering wolf set off frantically in hunt of a solution of some kind. They came across a monstrosity of a witch, stupidly they followed the witch in hopes she would undo her wicked deeds, the mislead brilliant misfits were astonished to learn the boiling water was not for a homely cuppa but was in fact intended for the pair themselves.

“Eeeheheehe finger licking, chicken likin and a wolf side” cackled the witch.

They were now in a cage terrifyed but blinding the chicken was a light, quite beautiful. unknown to the witch who was preparing the wolf. A fairy queen was to rescue him, she turned the cage into a racing car, where the chicken knocked the witch off her balance straight into the boiling hot water releasing all her magic allowing the chicken to transform back to his original self and the wolf back to silly old daisy.

“Thank you, my queen” said the farmer.

And with that the farmer was never bothered again.

Chloe Morris

Create with ME entry: The Overture

The Overture

A police car with wailing sirens flew down the road, harshly wafting air into Ry and Amie’s faces.

“D’you think -” Ry begins nervously.

Amie scoffs. “Please. You expect them to care?” When Ry sighs, Amie stops to put a hand on Ry’s shoulder. “They won’t look us in the eye anymore - now we don’t have to look into theirs, either.”

They walked for a little while longer, until the silent air was broken by the sudden sound of sirens again. A second police car came whizzing down the road.

Another, moments later.

“The hell?” Amie murmured, eyes following the vehicles. “Isn’t that the third one to go past now?” She looked at Ry. “You think something bad happened, in town or something?”

Ry sighed tiredly. “So long as they’re not looking for us, I don’t care.” She said, kicking a stone to punctuate her mood. It scuttered a few centimetres and stopped pointedly.

“...Okay.” Amie said, her eyes fastening on the optimally kickable rock. “How far do you think I can punt it?”

Before Ry could answer her, Amie had jogged up to this rock and kicked it what she thought was a fair distance into the wooded area beside them. The closeby thump of the rock hitting the tree and then the floor showed Amie hadn’t actually kicked it too far.

Amie looked to her feet. “It’s these naff shoes.” She kept walking, and Ry picked up her pace. There were rustles from where Amie had sent the rock.

“I think you hit somebody.” Ry stopped. “I can hear them moving.”

“Probably a hobo sleeping or something.” Amie muttered. “C’mon, let’s keep going.”

“We can’t just go,” Ry whispered.

“Sure we can.” The rustling continued, sounding like someone was moving through the sloped brush toward them. “C’mon, Ry. We need to make distance before they realise we’re gone.”

“We’ve gotta apologise.”

“Please. You think this is the worst thing to happen to a -”

Metres away from the two, the figure had begun to emerge from the slope at the side of the road, still partially shrouded by foliage and shadow. The figure stood on the edge of the road, aimless, like it was waiting for direction.

“Ry?” Her name caught in Amie’s throat. “Can we go?”

The figure sharply cocked its head towards them.

Ry couldn’t look away. She was stuck still. Her owlish eyes were unblinking, heart dangerously pausing.

The figure started moving. Towards them. Its feet dragged harshly against the gritty tarmac road. It sounded familiarly like shoes being scuffed - but when Amie looked at its feet, she didn’t see shoes…

She saw skin tearing.

“Ry,” Amie desperately grabbed her arm. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Arms stretched out, it grew menacingly closer.

“Come on!” Amie urgently pulled on Ry. When she did, the thing surged forward, falling.

Ry gasped as her thundering heart caught up. The thing looked up at them, hands looking to clutch. The thing almost had her in its gnarled fingers.

It snarled.

Jonah Zalick

Create with ME entry: A Glimpse in Time

A Glimpse in Time

The 6th technological revolution was jump-started with the invention or discovery, depending on the scientific point of view, of time-travel. It was unprecedented, to say the least. Not only on a macro level but also on the micro-level it changed everything. This brand new branch of technology was tied to genetics. And as humankind started diving deeper and deeper into the mystery of the DNA and started to better understand itself, a clear path was shown to a select few, who possessed the vision and foresight, a pattern emerged. They began focusing on certain bloodlines and tracking a specific gene - SK6. This was present in all humans, without a fault, but it was unique to a family. It was a brand new way of tracking your lineage.

The biggest leap was made by Steve Matterson, who was both a brilliant geneticist and theoretical physicist and who in 2165 combined the concepts of quantum mechanics with the practical experiments done on SK6. He realized that the gene could be used as a sort of bungee cord - to travel to a fixed point n time and return to your own time, in what was perceived seconds by the human consciousness. You could use your ancestors as beacons, a way of honing in on a specific date, and your connection with them would allow you to experience a bit their lives and struggles.

However, there were a lot of rules to time travel that popped up, once humans actually started to try to make the journey. It turned out, that even though you would use a relative from the distant past to give you an entry point into the “time” that you wanted to visit, it was impossible to have two separate consciousnesses inhabiting the same space. And if the traveller from the future wanted to “share” the mind of his ancestor, it came at a great cost, to both parties involved. The person in the past, would most likely develop a debilitating mental disease, and in the future, that would translate, in a gene malformation, and you would not return to the same person that you were before making the jump into the Void of time and space. There were only 2 experiments ever recorded in the history of mankind, and both were disastrous, almost altering the current history of the planet, so scientist knew that they had to come up with another idea.

They decided to use the SK6 gene as a locating gene still but to transfer the consciousness not to the bearer of the same gene, but to the nearest non-human entity. This also lead to a few mishaps, this time with funnier and less disastrous effects. For example, a scientist experimenting with the method in Russia got stuck inside a house plant for a couple of days, but that alone seemed like millennia to him, so the best course of action was to focus on mammals, he concluded. His conclusion was mirrored by many researchers throughout the world.

But of course, this happened way before our time. Nowadays in 2255, time travel is a popular birthday gift. So when, Peter Jenkins, received a present from his work colleagues to one of the top establishments in town, dealing in these type of luxury delights, it came as a wonderful and exciting surprise. He got his coupon and on the designated date, he showed up punctual, to his appointment. After being tested and when the necessary settings were made to the fancy machines, he was plugged in and sent back in time. He wanted to visit the time of the Great Lockdown as it became known in history, the year of 2020. No specific date, he knew that didn't matter, he just wanted to get a feel of it. He had discovered years ago that one of his great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmothers, had kept a thorough diary of the time, and published it with moderate monetary success during her lifetime. But as it turned out it ended up becoming one of the cornerstones books to be referenced by later historians and was now a hallmark of the study of the 21st-century society. So when Peter opened his eyes in the year 2020, he saw everything was gigantic and he couldn’t really understand what was going on or comprehend what was being said. However, once he saw his author relative, he tried to get closer and make some sort of contact with her. As he drew nearer to her, all he heard was a loud shriek and he was able to finally understand a word:” MOOOOUSE!”.

And as the realization sank into his still dazed consciousness, he realized that he should better run and hide if he wanted to ever return to his own body.

Roxana Rosculet

Create with ME entry: Will I Ever Find a Decent Man?

Will I Ever Find a Decent Man? 

Brought up in care from the age of eight, I never felt much love or support in my life. Kicked out after my sixteenth birthday I was thrown head first into the big wide world: I was terrified! I had a job, so I had money, I found support from my social worker; she was lovely. She found me supported living, placements and eventually my first flat.

I worked hard to become a police officer at the age of eighteen. Then stupidly at the age of twenty-one I fell for a guy, he was like my prince charming taking me away from the rubbish that came before. He introduced me to a family where at last I felt secure. Being immature and foolish we were married far too young, then soon after my daughter came along.

It all changed after that my husband didn’t want me going back to the police in case I left my daughter without a mum.

I started working as a care assistant, my husband worked at a factory, my daughter went to nursery; life went on. As the months went by my husband's drinking became more and more out of control, he started getting verbally abusive. He snapped at my daughter and made her cry: that was the last straw! I said goodbye.

I was a single mum supporting my daughter all alone. After a while I got a job offer in London, so we moved. A new start, I thought. The job was great. One night I was invited by a friend to a party at a pub ran by her parents and managed by her brother.

Can you see where this is going? So, I don’t usually drink but I had a babysitter sorted for the night so I thought, ‘what the hell, let your hair down girl’. I caught the eye of my friend’s brother straight away.

It is rather clichéd ; he was tall dark and handsome. We started dating and decided that we would move back to Devon, where we were both from.

This time it was two and a half years before we got married and a year later in July we had my son. I was in my thirties now and married; so what could go wrong?

Then reality set in, the outgoing husband, turned into a lazy slob, happy doing a mediocre part-time job whilst I did a fifty-hour week, just to make ends meet: Then came the verbal abuse, threats and insults. I really tried this time to make things work; I talked to him, suggested marriage counselling but nothing worked, so as with the first husband, I kicked him to the kerb.

Here I am at thirty-five, with two failed marriages and two awesome children. Working part time, a single mum again.

Will I ever find a decent man? Who knows? Ever the eternal optimist I live in hope that one day my knight in shining armour will whisk me off into the sunset.

Charley Quigley.

Create with ME entry: The Station

The Station 

It had been an oppressively hot summer, which made the young man having to pick his brother up from the train station even more troublesome. Needless to mention that usually at this early hour on a Sunday he would normally be found deep in a depressive torpor. The station was a rural stop. Nothing more than a small office next to a concrete platform under a tin roof occupied with spiders.

The young man was sitting slouched against a pillar. He was in his early 20’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans and grey canvas shoes with holes in the sides where his toes bent against the floor. He had the trademark pallid skin of a man with a serious deficiency of vitamin D. His short dark hair had little in way of style of poise. He was intensely focused at his phone scrolling through train timetables seeing if there had been any updates on his brother's arrival but the information remained unchanged reading due 06:45. The time now was 06:48.

Despite the heat, the sky was deeply overcast. The air had an electric feel. A thunderstorm was approaching. The last time he had seen his brother was over 2 years ago at their father's funeral, and even though it was neither siblings fault they had nevertheless lost touch. Now with the death of their mother, the young man felt a great desire for connection with the only real family he had left.

This realisation that he was close to spending life alone was something the young man could well have done without. He had always felt like he could look after himself in most situations but now looking out into a life without another soul for support frightened him, and he knew that this was his best chance of reforming the close bond he had with his brother growing up.

The train running late was worrying him now. As was the weather. He wondered if the train was travelling through the storm now, causing the lateness. He suddenly realised that he had no knowledge of how this specific meteorological phenomenon affected train times. Was it just wise to go slower, more cautiously through these conditions? Or would a thunderstrike warp the tracks causing a derailment? The young man could feel a tightness in his chest. Quickly he typed ‘Hey, you going to be long?’ into his phone to calm himself. It had not been received.

Oh god! Is this it? How long will I have to wait here until they tell me there's been an accident? I'm sure it's fine! But what if it’s not? Will I have to identify him? Will I have to call his wife? God my chest is tight! Am I sweating more than normal? Things aren't going to be the same from now on. I'll have to live with this. I should have offered to pick him up. What do I do?

06:51. A train hisses to a stop.

Gary Vincent Mead

Create with ME entry: Being Dead

Being Dead

People change, and they can change more than you think when a zombie apocalypse breaks out. Now I know that may sound rash but it's true! Think of it this way; one day you're in your garden talking with your neighbour and the next… BOOM! They're the ones trying to kill you!

That was me. I woke up dead one morning. I didn't know what was happening or who I was. All I knew was that I was 90% sure I was no longer living, and I was very hungry. Now, I know what you're thinking zombie brains ...GRRR… but in fact this isn't the case, and if you have the decency to ask any other zombie in the world they will surely agree that brains are the worst part of the body. However, I’d be careful who you ask as some of them may eat you first.

Now where was I?...

Ah yes!

It was very early in the morning, and I couldn't feel anything, my whole body numb. Was this death? Where was I? What was happening to me? Why am I so HUNGRY!!

I rushed outside to see people, or creatures, running around the streets chasing other people, and one got close enough that they ripped them to shreds with their teeth! Oh god, what were they doing? Had the world gone mad?

“Marinette, what are you doing? Get inside and lock your doors” A woman called from the window.

I looked up, ‘Does she know who I am? Was that my name; Marinette?’

Her eyes widened with fear and her breathing quickened. How was I able to pick up on this? “Urg, gaar, rra” Why couldn't I speak? I just wanted to ask her if she knew who I was!

I looked at my reflection in the widow. Did I always look like this? My eye left was missing and half of my jaw too. There was suddenly a delicious smell of some kind of meal from my childhood, and it was coming from the lady's house. I had to get in and try some of that delicious food!

I jumped over the fence and kicked down the door. Wow! I didn't know I was that strong! I sprinted forward, following that amazing smell, but I was suddenly hit across the head by the lady. Why was she doing this? Did I do something wrong? I quickly got to my feet and took a sniff in the air, the scent that I had smelled…

…it was her.

I took a few steps back. Why was I so drawn to this woman, and why did I want to eat her so bad? She ran at me, impaling me with her shovel, but I didn’t feel anything. This was the moment I realised 100% I was among the living dead. I was a zombie...

I admit, what I did next I’m not proud of, but I walked slowly towards her and...

Alice Orme-Luff

Create with ME Creative Writing Competition 2020

"Create with ME" Creative Writing Competition 2020

Scroll down to enjoy the fantastic stories written by City College Plymouth students