When the devil goes to church: Chapter 2

We were here. It was a small church building, brought by these cruel monsters to hide their sinful ideas and practices. Under the eyes of the lord, in gods home. The men came around to us, we all looked up. We are fuelled with the sudden urge to fight, but with what? Our hands are bonded behind. The soldiers came close, trying to grab any part of us and I without thinking, kicked one of them in the face, he fell back grabbing his nose as drips of blood escape through the crack of his hands. The rest of the soldiers stepped back a little dazed. Without thinking, Willow hopped off the cart, running towards the woods as the soldiers break from their daze as one of them go after and like that, we all hopped off the cart, I ran towards the woods, the 40-year-old woman was shot with an arrow in the leg. I could hear her piercing scream as the soldiers grabbed her and dragged her back. I just kept running. The strain in my legs, the pounding of my heart, and the sounds of arguing guards and dogs don’t slow me down. 

I can’t stop. If I stop I die. The trees flash past me, Autumn leaves, golden and dying fall in front of my eyes and crumble under my feet. Snapping, twigs snapping, the sound is in earshot behind me, they’re coming. I keep going for the hope of light at the end of the woods. I swerve around trees, I’m starting to wonder if I’m going in circles.  

A tree trunk lays amongst the leaves, I get ready to jump over it. I can hear dogs behind me barking as they sway around the trees effortlessly. I don’t have the same skill or mobility to stay ahead. I curve around a tree branch, accidentally catching a piece of bark or a small branch that was sticking out, tearing my leg a little, I suck the air between my teeth. I can’t let them know. I survey the forest, I come to the conclusion that I’m safe enough to peer at my wound. The cut is not deep enough to be life-threatening but also is deep enough to cause blood to trickle out without any way of stopping. I panic. The dogs will find my scent even quicker now. Their blood-hungry. I try and think quickly, but the dog barks are getting closer. I slump down by the tree. There is no use running with this injury, I will only get so far. 

The dogs are closer now.
I close my eyes.

When the devils goes to church: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Watching from the sidelines, it's almost normal now like Sunday church to attend the trials to watch many women's bodies lifeless being pulled out from the water, or blackened by the flames. You no longer feel any type of disgust from it, the trials have become human to watch rather than let the women live or even protest the act. The men who created the trials have been here in our small town for less than a year and already the trials have become more and more frequent and their excitement has intoxicated almost every other men in this town, they live for it. I wonder how their wives must feel to know, they fantasize the idea of watching women being used and burned for amusement.

The men untie the newest victim passing her to a few other men who put her carelessly on the carriage, I wait for them to leave, but they stand there. Looking, searching. They are talking, silently whispering. me and every other woman around became scared, they start fidgeting and I, myself feel my hands move and battle each other as I try to steady myself. you can sense the fear in the air as we are frozen by their icy glaze.

The men charged out into the crowd, grabbing and dragging women from their husbands, mothers and fathers and children. No sympathy as they hurl them into the back of the cart with the withered burned body. I watch them, then they look at me. We stay silent in a raging silent war, waiting for the first person to make a move. The world stops. Nobody dares to breathe let alone move then all at once the whole world lets out a small breath and the charge at me like a starving animal. I tried to run, but they grab my legs like a snake twisting around its prey and squeezing all the life out of it. They dragged me across the floor, I felt the pebbles and twigs scratch and rip through my skin letting the blood leak out. Four men grab each limb of mine, a place me in the cart with force, I can feel every ache, they bound my hands once they're done, I lay on my back and looked up at the sun as a final goodbye as I know I'll never see it again.

There was four of us if you didn’t count the dead body, scrambled on the floor even though we were out in the fresh air, only the stench of death and decay filled our nostrils. We sit up, shuffling and kicking the body around as we find a way to be comfortable. I recognised, one of the girls, she was the Parris’s family youngest child, Willow, she was a small and always careful young woman, now she just gleams with fear and acceptance of her timely death. She was only, 12 years old. The other two women, I did not recognise, one being in the mid-30s another being mid-40s. Both of them looked emotionless. Not sad nor angry, just there; maybe it’s too much or maybe it’s not enough to send them to dreaded fear and anxiousness. we bumped along, not saying much till Willow, tearfully sniffs as quietly as possible. We look at her before looking at each other not saying anything, we scoot over to her, slowly huddling her carefully, we looked together in that very silent moment, we vowed to stay together to the bitter end.

When the devil goes to church: Prologue

Can you hear me?

I'm hoping this is getting to you somehow, I'm hoping wherever you are, whatever dimension beyond this one, you get this. Maybe your world has some sort of way to receive this letter or better yet a warning. This place, It's not safe. I don't know how I allowed us to be here, anyway, you probably know who I am, or maybe we are just meeting? Maybe it's beyond too late or maybe we still have time? I'm hoping we do. It would be terribly unfortunate to go to these efforts to only fail. But I know you can help, I can feel it. After all, you are seeing or hearing this, aren't you? Please, you can hear me right?

There's a tunnel, maybe you can open it, so we can leave. That's our way out. Come find us. Please find us. We are here. We are right here.

Can you see me?

A writer

Paper was scattered across the ground of the room, some of the paper was ageing over time, others were crumpled and tossed in any direction, nothing, but a single lamp lit up a small corner where the desk was and from the desk to the floor, the ceiling was drenched in writing. The writing was everywhere and was being mass-produced by a sleepless person with entire another world in their head, they're trying to write it down and the words turn into sentences into paragraphs then into chapters then into nothing as they move on to create another world.

2 years later

It's Saturday the 2nd of November 2019, It's been 2 years when I started this. I have a few things to put out there. In 2018, I suffered from severe depression from being manipulated, lied to and gaslighted by my ex-boyfriend, we dated for 5 months and he had completely made me feel like I was disgusting and everything was my fault and I couldn't be loved. I suffered from a major eating disorder after he would comment on another girl's be looking better than me and through all the hell, I dug my way out and pulled myself to make to 2019. In 2019, I had finished my therapy after starting in 2014, and I was actually happy with my body and would be able to eat food without feeling the need to starve myself. I was healthy. On 2nd October 2019, I met my partner of a year now. We had barely spoken till 8 days after we first met and it was the most romantic time, but that is a later story.

2019 is coming to the end, and for the most part, the biggest change is my friends, my lifestyle and my ideas. I have lost a lot of friends but gained a lot more. I have gone from living with my mum to living alone and cut my long hair to a short bob. I'm in university trying to progress my writing journey.

Let's pray for better times and happiness.
2020 is coming soon.

what was 2017 like?

2017. what a massive year, but if we look past all the news and politics, the year was still huge for me. I finished year 11, the final year of high-school and I passed greatly to do what I want in a college of my choice, but besides that good stuff, I suffered greatly with anxiety and depression that affects me now all because of bullying. All because people who don't like me for me or what I do, but in all of this, I suffered from being loved like it was something that could never happen I mean in my head I thought I was only good for is dying, but college proved me wrong because I have the sweetest bad boy ever and he's been all mine for 4 months and 5 months in February. He is the only one that makes me smile, or even remotely any emotions rather than my usual hole or emptiness.

I wonder what the rest of 2018 has in stock.

If love had a time limit

A book idea



We live for 60 years, no more, no less. 60 years to experience it all and if you fall in love, you're time for death quickens. Seconds ticking for every second you spend with them. Some people don't fall in love and marry people with no intimate feelings to continue on the human race with 60 years or so still around, No one risked losing a second for love.

So why should I be the first?