Happy Halloween!

Hola amigos, and happy Halloween!

Below are some brand new halloween poems for you to enjoy, and a link to listen to the extra spooky episode of Sincerely, Jennifer x

I hope you have a spooky and safe Halloween!

Listen to the Halloween episode of the podcast HERE

Besos,

J x


AreyouAfraid-jenniferjuan


Are You Afraid?

Monsters in office,
on iPods, big and small screens.
Are you afraid, love?
Like and subscribe,
vote for them
and they crawl,
from under the bed,
at the dead of night,
through headphones,
slither into DMs,
and touch,
with teeth,
all over their body,
and ours.

Are they ashamed, love?
Only when we speak,
and a publicist shrieks,
that stocks are dropping,
and sales are shocking.
They’re strong and stable,
changing the world,
oh so capable,
until unmasked.
Suddenly, boys,
not men,
but boys,
who couldn’t help,
slight indiscretions,
but please support them,
while they “get better”.

What are we to do, love?
Like and subscribe,
to lifting the voices,
once afraid of being heard.
Send the truth to the top of the charts,
vote for the one who says “I believe you.”
Settle down,
at the cinema,
to watch those who don’t need to be shamed,
to be better.
My name,
is all of yours,
I approve this message.

-x-

The Presence

I’m crazy for you,
and the way you freeze the room,
to tell me, you’re here.

-x-

Basement

As you hold me,
late at night,
when the world is drained,
and distant,
I begin to wonder,
how many days,
you expect me to stay,
tied up in your basement.

-x-

Motherhood

From the second we were together,
I knew you’d be the death of me.
The dreaded double stripe,
and non connecting number,
given by a man I knew I’d never see again,
paled to the way you clawed at my insides.
Though I held you close,
until the day of your escape and ascension,
every second was hell.

I would scream,
for freedom,
release,
death,
and I could hear you,
gurgling and giggling in my guts,
as you sapped my strength,
and prepared to devour the planet.

-x-

Freddy, My Love

On our first date,
I trembled as you drew closer,
my pearls were ice,
against my neck,
as I traced and cherished each letter of your name.
Freddy,
my love,
you haunt my desires,
my hands, possessed,
wander under your dictation,
until I fill my home,
with the name that aches in my mind,
a masterful migraine,
a rapturous roar.
Freddy,
oh,
Freddy,
my love.

-x-

Cupcakes From Damien

He says he loves me,
and nobody could love me more,
and he has left cupcakes,
by the door,
so I can taste his passion.

He says he has baked
the day he first saw me,
and each sleepless night since,
underneath vanilla icing,
and left them at my door.

He says he longs for me,
and he calls every number I have,
an unrepentant bingo bastard,
until I scream that I won’t play,
and I don’t want his cupcakes.

He feeds his fantasies,
but I won’t let him feed me.

-x-

Are YOUR Children In A Cult?

She’s very “Saint Tropez”,
whatever that means.
A vaporwave vixen,
God’s girlfriend,
sending the good word,
through small screens,
and leading the children off a cliff.

-x-

Haunted

I didn’t watch a tape,
hunt for a haunted house,
or stare into a mirror,
while whispering your name,
into the icy night,
and yet,
every night,
you appear.
I lock my windows,
and doors,
pray that my heart will sleep,
as soon as my head hits the pillow,
so I won’t dream of you.

-x-

Bradley’s Girls

Bradley is my boy,
until he wakes up,
opens his eyes,
and falls in love,
all over again,
with everyone he sees.

A one woman man,
with a short attention span,
and a desire,
to keep us in a collection.
All of Bradley’s girls,
live in his heart,
and are a mangled mess at the back of his wardrobe.

-x-

Babydoll

Baby,
pay attention to me,
or you’ll see what I can do,
when you make me mad,
daddy,
when you make me blue.

You told your phone to forget,
the naughty nights,
away from home,
but Babydoll,
has a memory you don’t control,
and she’s still waiting.

Baby,
you better call me back,
or you’ll see what I can do,
when you make me mad,
daddy,
when you make me blue.

You ask Babydoll “forget”,
she shakes her head.
building a plan,
is Babydoll,
to punish the one who broke her heart.
Soothed by her seething.

Baby,
give me what I want,
or you’ll see what I can do,
when you make me mad,
daddy,
when you make me blue.

You beg back home, “forgive”,
maybe she will,
maybe she won’t,
but Babydoll,
isn’t in that mood, she wants to play.
Are you playing?

Baby,
I told you we’re not through.
now you’ll see what I can do,
when you make me mad,
daddy,
when you make me blue.

-x-

Heart

I went to New Orleans,
with you,
in my mind.
I had never felt such desire,
as when my eyes,
desperately draped themselves all over you,
and I knew,
you had my heart.

I drank your hair,
my blood,
and the light of the moon,
as the voices of the universe,
shook the ground,
until it pushed us together,
and I knew,
you had my heart.

You couldn’t resist dark, desperate passion,
that had been given wings,
and teeth, by a woman who warned me away.
My love circled your head,
and pecked until I could sit inside,
and I knew,
I had your heart.

When I was through,
crawling from your brain,
to do the walk of shame,
you clung to me,
and offered me a reason to stay.
Your lungs,
leaked through a hole,
in your chest,
but I couldn’t say yes,
though I knew,
I had your heart.

-x-

April Jane, And The Curious Case Of The Disappearing Dad

Screams at night,
that I first suspected,
came from the dolls,
at the end of my bed.

Fearless,
I scolded them.
“Don’t wake the neighbours.”
Back to sleep, I went.

Until more screams,
the dolls shrugged and wept,
as I rose from my bed,
and placed my ear to the door.

“HOW MANY?”
“I DON’T KNOW.”
“I’M CALLING THE POLICE.”
“I CAN’T LET YOU GO.”

A thud,
more weeping from the dolls,
and mother too,
I go back to sleep.

The next day,
dad went away,
to join Mum’s other friends.
I left flowers for him.

-x-

Dining At The End Of The World

We were so sweet,
hands clasped,
as we strolled
to the end of the world.

To run felt futile,
when I was happy,
to fade from life’s sky,
for the girl,
with a smile that all the stars envied.

You didn’t need to say a word,
I saw, before, when we ran,
the way the madness clamped it’s jaw,
around your dainty ankle,
and roared “No more.”

We strolled,
you hobbled,
to the end of the world,
where the madness took you,
and then, me,
ever so willingly.

We were so sweet,
when we ate each other whole,
dining at the end of the world,
with candles by our side,
and each other’s calves,
between our teeth.


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Are You Afraid?
Ladylike
Summer Of Love

RECENT BLOGS
Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review
How I wrote “Depression Is Not Real?” from Home Wrecker
It’s Time To Talk About EVE (Because Many People In The Wrestling Industry Won’t).

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen
Facebook
Patreon
Tumblr
Amazon
Podcast
Spotify

Advertisements

Are You Afraid?

Hola amigos,

I hope you’ve been doing well.

The latest episode of my podcast is now available, and you can find links here, as well as the new episode guide, which will allow you to go directly to the poetry and stories in the podcasts, if you would like to read them again.

I will also be recording a special Halloween edition of my podcast, which will be available on Tuesday evening, just in time for Halloween, along with uploading a brand new poetry collection, themed around horror and fear. I can’t wait for you to see them!

Besos,

J x


Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Ladylike
Summer Of Love
Baby Steps


RECENT BLOGS
How I wrote “Depression Is Not Real?” from Home Wrecker
It’s Time To Talk About EVE (Because Many People In The Wrestling Industry Won’t).
The Best And Worst Of Horror On UK Netflix

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen
Facebook
Patreon
Tumblr
Amazon
Podcast
Spotify

Thought Provoking stories in your horror movies? It’s more likely than you’d think!

I know, I know. I’m late with my Get Out thinkpiece, but to be fair, it was released later here in the UK, and also this isn’t so much a Get Out thinkpiece, as a plea for the real world to stop treating horror movies as the annoying little sibling who doesn’t deserve to sit at the grown up table. Let us begin.

I thought Get Out was phenomenal (please don’t ask me how many times I had to type that word to get rid of the dreaded red line, I am not the best speller..), and one of the best horror movies I’ve seen in 2017 so far. Daniel Kaluuya has always been an actor I’ve enjoyed watching, since I first saw him on BBC’s eclectic horror comedy series, Psychoville. He continued to impress over the years, and really gave a stellar showing in Get Out, as the hero, Chris. The writing was clever and engaging, and the entire film was a blood soaked joy to watch, which is exactly what I want in a horror film.

la-et-hc-get-out-horror-peele-20161004-snap

Daniel Kaluuya, star of Jordan Peele’s Get Out.

As a child of an interracial relationship, and a participant in a few (well, considering I’m literally a mixture of two races, I think, biologically speaking, any relationship I have will be interracial, but I’m being pedantic), I am well aware of not only how great they can be, but also the sobering difficulties that interracial couples can face, outside of their own loved up bubble. It isn’t just obvious prejudice, but subtle “well meaning” issues. Of course, someone threatening to burn your house down, or kill you for being in a relationship outside of your race is noticeable, but there are acts of prejudice that will sometimes fly under the radar, and this film expertly and fearlessly exposes racist microagressions and opens up discussion of the full scope of racism, including the well meaning allies who still, however accidental play a part in racism, and of course, the “I’m not racist, but…” crowd.

It achieves this without being patronising to those who may want to help break down barriers and use their privilege to help people, in a way that The Green Inferno, Eli Roth’s cannibal holocaust edge lord, try hard rip off tribute attempted to do, but didn’t quite manage. The message was much clearer, didn’t sound condescending, and the conspiracy theories were at least well explained, related to the topic at hand and not just yelled out by a caged hipster. That makes a lot more sense if you’ve seen The Green Inferno, and if you have a few hours to spare, it’s on amazon prime, and while a bit crap, it’s kind of a laugh, even if it’s just for how seriously it takes itself.

Get Out is by no means the first horror movie to confront real world issues, but it’s massive success has opened up potential new viewers to all the great things horror as a genre has to offer, including but not limited to “woke” horror (and by that I don’t mean Nightmare On Elm Street), and sent a clear message to the bigger studios that not only is horror worth investing in outside of October releases, but that mindless horror isn’t the only profitable option.

Horror is, in my opinion a great genre to explore and discuss the harsh realities of life, because is there really any more realistic a picture of humanity than one of humanity in peril? The truth of who we are and why we are that way is easily exposed under the threat of death, whether it’s from zombies, ghosts, cannibals, or your unfriendly neighbourhood racist.

Zombie movies, as overexposed as they might have been in recent years are a great example of privilege in action. Working class people are normally the first victims in the apocalypse, because, well, they’re at work, surrounded by people, some of which may be zombies, and they don’t have helicopters, huge cars or boats to get away from the carnage. I can tell you right now, the second Z Day comes, I will be one of the first to go. I don’t drive, I don’t have a cool method of escape, and it takes me at least two hours of commuting on public transport to get home of an evening. I’ll be eaten before I make it past Bluewater. Meanwhile, those richer than me will have better means of escaping. Whether they’ll be anything left to escape to at the end of the day is anyone’s guess, but they’ll have a better chance than me. Is this fair? No. Is it the way life currently is for me? Yes.

MV5BYWMzMzgwMjItMGI1ZC00MGY0LTgwY2MtMWQ0NzQ2MDZiMDE0XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjExMDIwNzA@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,717,1000_AL_

The Rezort, one of the most recent Zombie movies to shine a light on the true price of not being able to afford safety in a disaster.

This is of course reminiscent of real life natural disasters, in which money can go a long way to preserving your safety, while the underprivileged don’t have the resources to have safeguards in place, or any way to help themselves when disaster strikes. While zombies might be a fantasy, the fact that in a crisis, large parts of the world’s population will be fucked over because they are from a lower economical standing and don’t have access to things that will help them is not.

The recent debate over women’s rights to their own bodies has also been covered numerous times in horror. Classic film Rosemary’s Baby is a harrowing look at the lack of autonomy women hold over their bodies. Not only is Rosemary sexually assaulted by a demon, her husband casually lies and states that he had sex with her when she was unconscious, to cover the fact that she was sexually assaulted by a demonic presence. During her pregnancy, her concerns are silenced and she is eventually forced to mother the Antichrist.

picture-of-rosemarys-baby-photo.jpg

One of the most iconic Mother’s in cinema history was the most unwilling.

While I’m not aware of cases of women being raped by demons, or forced to carry the Antichrist to full term, I am aware of cases of women being raped in the real world, and having their fears and concerns silenced, I am aware of women in the real world who are denied a choice on carrying a child to full term, and the fact that these realities are not just playing out on a screen, and are, in some sense real, should terrify us, but like many of the characters in Rosemary’s Baby, people will find ways to justify women being treated this way, or will just ignore it.

While many see Saw as a yearly money raising exercise for Lionsgate, the Saw series did contain a hard dose of reality along with it’s gore. There are people who think like John Kramer, and believe they have a right to play God because they are unhappy with people’s attitudes, there are corrupt police officers like Mark Hoffman who will use the power entrusted to them by their communities to commit crimes, and they’ll try and justify them too. There are people like Amanda Young, who are vulnerable, and can form great bonds with those that abuse them, whether it’s the one who enabled her drug habit, or the one who stuck a bear trap on her head and forced her to disembowel a man. These people may never see themselves as abusers, they may see themselves as saving their victim, but the reality is, Amanda Young was a victim of abuse, those that abused her, especially John Kramer insisted that it was her own fault. He insisted that he “fixed” her, he brainwashed her until she believed it. In the real world, this is called victim blaming, and while John suffered for it, many in the real world do not.

Shawneesmithjigsawtrap

Amanda Young, one of the many abuse victims who was blamed by her abuser for her own trauma.

I could go on about the horrific but quite realistic aspects of the long and winding Saw saga, but I don’t have all the time in the world, and the fact is, it may have handled some of them in a clumsy manner, but the series confronts many of the world’s injustices, and tells the story of many oppressed people through it’s long and bloody journey.

I’ve barely scratched the surface, and horror is a genre full of excellent commentary on the state of humanity, and what complacency to the issues of your fellow man can bring you, and while it is unfortunate that a lot of it is written off due to the storytelling devices used, it is my hope that in the future, horror will be taken as seriously as other genres, and the messages it contains will be given as much attention as other genres.

Besos,

J x



RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Darling, Desperate, Dismal Girl
Amor, Amor

Always The Mistress, Never The Mrs


RECENT UPCOMING COLLECTION PREVIEWS
“The Two I’s” from Baby Steps
“Baby Back There” from Ours

“Window Shop” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours

RECENT BLOGS
Get To Know Me 🙂
Things About Rings

My 2017 Goals

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen
Facebook
Patreon
Tumblr

Boo, bitch..

Hola!

I have written a little something (and a little something more) for Halloween, so I hope you enjoy my spooky stories, and the rest of your Halloween!

I hope your night is as sweet and wonderful as you… and a little bit weird, of course, as all the best nights are!

Besos,

J x


-x-


I love you, bye.

“I love you. Byeeeeeee.”

Lewis mouthed the final word along with Rose, her sweet smile fading to black as the video ended. His daughter sat transfixed beside him, her hand feeling blindly for the mouse to select the next video. She, like every other young girl was obsessed with Rose and her videos. An entire generation of young women was transfixed, and while many parents couldn’t understand why, they did their best to accommodate their children’s love for the star. Lewis was prepared to go the extra mile, for his only child, Hannah.

“No more.” He muttered, patting her head gently and ignoring the small moan of disappointment from Hannah. “We’ll see plenty of her later.”

“Special meet up! Special meet up!” He smiled, watching his daughter bounce in the chair beside him, in sync with her chants of excitement. The day had finally arrived when his daughter would meet her idol. It had been months in the making, and many hours of careful planning and hard work for Lewis, but it didn’t bother him. How could it? He wanted only happiness for his daughter, and he knew Rose could understand that.

“That’s right.” He stood from his chair, extending his hand to her. “And why do you get a special meet up?” He asked as she jumped down from the computer chair.

“Because I’m her favourite.” He nodded, leading her towards the basement, and unable to suppress a smile as he looked down at her bright eyes, sparkling with excitement.

He opened the door and could feel his daughter pulling at his sleeve, silently pleading for him to take her downstairs. He had teased her for weeks, warning that going to the basement would ruin her special surprise. Rose had replaced Santa in ensuring good behaviour from his child, but he had seen her, sneaking a look down the stairs of the basement, hoping to catch a glimpse of her idol, but just like Santa, Rose would only appear on one very special day, before vanishing from sight, and being nothing more than a dream.

As they slowly descended the staircase, a small whimper could be heard, and while any normal child would be frightened, Hannah didn’t seem concerned.

As they reached the floor of the dimly lit basement, an upturned water bowl at the foot of the stairs was the only thing visible, until Lewis reached up and switched on the light, and Rose, dishevelled and exhausted was finally visible.

Rose wasn’t quite herself, she usually accessorised so well, but ropes around her wrists and ankles wasn’t quite the look she’d usually go for. As Hannah ran to her, screaming with excitement, Rose’s hoarse voice could barely be heard.

“Please let me go.”


-x-


 

Stay Away

Jamie had never been a petty person, or so she told herself, and she had gone through life accepting what fate gave her, without being too concerned about clawing back something she felt she was owed. She was humble, not feeling entitled to anything, until of course, she, like many people do, day after day and mistake after mistake, she fell for someone she shouldn’t have. She had never been petty, but she had always been shy, and as you can imagine, this can cause all kinds of problems for someone who is struggling to navigate through a busy college corridor. As Jamie was knocked to the ground, an almost daily occurrence that she had just about accepted, the group of students continued on, as if she hadn’t been there at all. She began to collect her books, and strewn glasses, when another pair of hands joined her own. It was a cliché, she knew that, and she cringed every time she recalled the moment, but for the first time, she felt welcoming to what fate had given her, instead of disgruntled indifference.

She didn’t say a word to him as he helped her gather her possessions, and she couldn’t even push a thank you from her throat as he walked her to her dorm room. It had been embarrassing to simply point and nod, as if playing a ridiculously timed game of charades, but she was sure that if she opened her mouth in the presence of those piercing blue eyes (again, the girl loves a good cliché), that she would say something worthy of a restraining order. He told her his name was Bradley, and ever the mistress of her own bodily reactions, she sighed without meaning to, and almost slid down her own front door. Composing herself, she managed to tell him her own name, before he wished her well and sauntered down the staircase, and out of sight.

They talked more and more, or rather he talked and she smiled, and nodded, while fantasising their future conversations, before the present had even finished. In her reality, they were deeply in love. The kissing, the touching, the actual public proclamation of their love for each other, that was all a formality, because for Jamie, he said it (prepare for another cliché) with his eyes.

Unfortunately for Jamie, this was not the case at all. Bradley was a narcissist who enjoyed the sound of his own voice, and had finally found a quiet and appreciative audience for it. He didn’t view Jamie with any malice, of course, he was fond of her, even if it was just for the fact that she listened and responded positively to everything he said, which in Bradley’s eyes made her the very best a person could be, but he certainly wasn’t in love with her. However, Jamie had been raised on romantic films and poorly thought out advice pages from magazines, that told her that the second a man opens up and talks to you without hesitation, you ought to buy your mother a new hat, because you’ll be taking a trip down the aisle very soon.

As previously mentioned, Bradley was not in love with Jamie, and Jamie had barely been able to talk in front of him, so had no way of telling him that she wished he was, and so Bradley thought nothing of confiding in his new friend about his girlfriend, and the dilemma of how he should proceed with valentine’s day.

At first, Jamie was distracted by Bradley’s eyes, and his lips, and all sorts of things she had decided made him worthy of the alarming amount of clichés she used to describe him in her diary, but after a few moments, the gravity of his words, and the knowledge that another had already stolen the heart she had earmarked as her own came crashing through her fantasy, and left her again on the floor, with her books all over the place, and her glasses not only strewn out of reach, but crushed by the size twelves of fate. Self pity rose through her body and threaten to leak from her eyes any moment, and for the first time, she spoke without effort, quietly excusing herself, and running from his dorm room to hide in her own, with a tub of ice cream, and all of her regrettable diary entries.

She poured over them for hours, unsure of how she could have misread the signs so badly. If she was being honest, she hadn’t really listened to Bradley all that much, so it was pretty easy to ignore that he had a girlfriend, and if she was to be even more honest, she wasn’t sure that she liked Bradley for anything other than the fact he acknowledged her existence and had been raised with enough decorum to help someone pick up their possessions if they dropped them. Politeness and general acknowledgement weren’t quite enough to build a marriage on, and if that had been everything, she would have happily settled the matter and learned from her mistake, but fate hadn’t quite finished with Jamie yet.

She slept for a few hours, to try and rid herself of the tear induced headache, and awoke to a phone call from Bradley. At first, she thought about ignoring it, but while she didn’t listen to Bradley all that much, she enjoyed giving the illusion that she did, as it gave her someone to spend time with. They spoke, with her feeling free to for the first time, and when she was sure he was satisfied with the lie that she had left due to feeling unwell, as opposed to the truth, she agreed to meet with him ‪the next day and hung up the phone. She tried to sleep again that night, but couldn’t. She knew, deep down that Bradley wasn’t in love with her, and yet, the fact that he had called, the fact that he had worried enough to check on her after she left set her mind racing, as she imagined a scenario in which he was in love with her. She tossed and turned for hours, her heart saying that he could be feeling the same torment, and her head telling her to shut up and go to sleep. While she listened to her head and gave into sleep, she couldn’t resist dreaming of Bradley all night.

When she awoke, she heard knocking at the door. Gathering herself together, and covering herself up as best she could, she approached the door of her dorm room and opened it slowly.

“Jamie!” Bradley looked handsome, and Jamie wished she didn’t think so. She silently stood aside, allowing him in, and watched with a heavier heart than she would have liked as he sighed and fell down onto her bed, throwing his bag on the floor. “Oh Jamie, I need your help.” It was Jamie’s turn to sigh. She had awoken sure that her feelings for Bradley meant nothing, and that she could continue life as his echo chamber in exchange for having seats saved at lunch and someone to be with on lonely nights, but seeing him made her remember the concern in his voice as he called the night before, and left her clinging desperately to the idea he might in fact have deeply buried feelings for her, despite his girlfriend sitting atop his heart, swinging what Jamie was sure were long, tanned, beautiful legs. “My girlfriend is mad at me.” There it was. “She’s upset that we’ve been talking, and now she won’t speak to me.” Jamie tried to show concern, but an ugly part of her had surfaced, and enjoyed knowing that she could get at the ominous girlfriend, that she had grown to resent over the last twenty four hours. Jamie wouldn’t normally sink to this level, and preferred to get her kicks from high test scores, cat memes and pound a pint nights, but love, or at least very strong lust with a hint of bitterness had given her a new edge, and nothing could thrill her like the sadness of a perceived enemy.

“I could talk to her, if you want.” Jamie said, her voice laced with sympathy as she sat on the bed next to Bradley, stroking his auburn curls. “I could tell her that she doesn’t need to worry.” Bradley beamed up at her.

“I knew I could count on you.” He whispered, taking one of her hands in his own and kissing it gently.

Jamie wished things could stay as they were, Bradley snuggled close to her, without a care in the world, however, life wasn’t always easy, and sometimes, it was just ridiculous. This was one of those ridiculous times.

Jamie could barely believe when Bradley excitedly pulled his bag onto the bed and threw a spirit board in her direction, or when he babbled on about his dead girlfriend. The whole thing felt like a prank, but just in case it wasn’t, Jamie decided to go along with it. She realised that she had a great opportunity. She could simply tell Bradley that his “ghost” girlfriend was breaking up with him for good, and she would have him all to herself. It was a flawless plan, as far as she was concerned, and she couldn’t wait to get started.

She had decided to take a nap first, but as she awoke, she wished she hadn’t. She had slept a lot longer than she intended, and was dripping in what she hoped was sweat. Her sleep was a mess of nightmares, all revolving around Bradley’s ominous girlfriend taking her revenge as Jamie took her man. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t believe what Bradley had told her, and that it was all just a game, but she felt compelled to apologise to the spirit, in the hopes of getting a good night’s sleep.

She knew that she shouldn’t be alone, but Jamie didn’t have anyone else she could have invited along. Attempting to contact spirits wasn’t the top of the to do list for her small circle of friends, and so she tucked her hair behind her ear, did her best to fight past her nerves and took a deep breath, before opening her eyes. Everything was as she had left it before. The unlit candle on her left, a note pad and pencil on her right, and the spirit board, looming in front of her.

She took another breath, looking around at the well lit room and trying to force herself to laugh at her own paranoia. She had yet to summon or approach anything, and even when she would later try, there was no promise that any of it would work. The panic must all be in her head, she decided, taking another breath, and shaking off another shudder that the room had taken against her will.

She lit the candle, exactly as she had seen in the YouTube tutorial (they make those for EVERYTHING these days), and took another breath.

“Is anyone here?” There was silence. Jamie kept her eyes focused on the spirit board, as the coolness of the room edged down her spine. With every second, she was convinced that the whole story had been a prank. Bradley seemed relatively well adjusted, so it was unlikely that he truly believed his ghost girlfriend was desperate for a heart to heart over candlelight. After what felt like hours, but was only in fact a few moments, Jamie finally laughed to herself, and blew out the candle. She would mark it up to experience, and forget about Bradley, and his alleged ghost girlfriend. She packed the spirit board in it’s box, and left it outside of Bradley’s room before heading to bed, and hoping she would dream of something a little less strange.

She awoke early, when the darkness still lay outside, to see a single candle lit on her desk. She was positive that she had extinguished it before taking the board back to Bradley, but as she stood and examined the candle, she noticed the board was open on her desk. She tore her eyes from the scene, her body submerged in icy fear, and saw her door was still locked, as she had left it, and as she turned to the board, she couldn’t understand how it had appeared, unless of course, Bradley had been telling the truth, and a pissed off ghost wanted a conversation with her.

She watched in silent horror as the board spelled out a single word.

SIT

She fell into the waiting chair, despite desperately wanting to run, but unable to move an inch. She thought about praying but she wouldn’t even know how to explain this situation, or what kind of help to ask for. Her eyes followed the planchette as it continued to move.

STAY AWAY

She nodded, unable to say a word, and hoped the spirit understood that she had won. No man was worth this, at all. As she tried to find the strength to speak, she could see the spirit continue, and after taking a few seconds to figure out the words she was spelling out, she wished that she hadn’t.

YOU WILL DIE.

There was a knock at the door, but she didn’t dare move. The candle flickered as the planchette continued across the board, and while she recognised Bradley’s voice from the other side of the door, his words didn’t register in her mind, as it was too full of the spirit, and what she had to say.

HE WILL KILL YOU LIKE HE KILLED ME.


-x-


RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Boo, Bitch
Sincerely, Jennifer x

Darling Dawn


RECENT UPCOMING COLLECTION PREVIEWS
“Window Shop” from Ours
“Beach Walk” from Ours

RECENT BLOGS
The Road To Halloween Continues
Jen’s Spooky Soundtrack
British Fashion Start Up Awards Nominations 

COME FIND ME
Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen

The Road To Halloween continues…

Halloween is getting closer, and my favourite thing to do on the road to Halloween is to dim the lights and watch something frightening, in preparation for what should be the most frightening day of the year.

Gone are the days of me having to sort through my DVD collection (and previously VHS collection) to find something frightening, because Netflix has it covered, and they even have things organised by genre, which is already a step above my DVD collection (and yes, previously VHS collection).

I have already watched quite a few movies, so will include some of the best, and some of the worst on Netflix, to give you my thoughts.

This post may contain spoilers for the following movies:

February (The Blackcoat’s Daughter) (2015)

The Presence (2014)

#Horror (2015)

The Green Inferno (2013)

Continue reading