Writing prompt of the day:

You found out you have a twin sister . . . how do you react???

Melanie Martinez - Bittersweet Tragedy (Official Audio)

This is the perfect song to listen to whilst writing - the empathy, that voice . . . it gives you all the concentration you need.



Sweet smiles!!!!

I've done some creative writing - what do you all think of it?

I know I won’t escape.

It’s no surprise to me, that escaping isn’t an option. Still, the fear of them  has always plunged me into that hollow feeling of hopelessness. A feeling, which I can’t succumb.  Just the thought of them makes me shudder; it makes my heart beat faster. Faster. But the sight of them, the sheer sight of that piercing look - a sinister, yet beautiful gleam in their eyes - is enough to make me want to escape.

I can see it now, that little gleam which brings me no beauty, but dread. The dread that leaves me longing for freedom, the dread that tells me there is no freedom for me to escape to.

I can see them inching towards me, not with rapidness though - with that calm gradual movement of their feet, accompanied by the readiness of their fingernails. Fingernails, which are undoubtedly ready to leave an eternal mark on my skin. This will remind me of what I used to face, when I become a member of the elderly.

If I can survive this now, I will be able to recall this from my memory if I do become old.

Only thing is, something tells me that I’m not going to survive.

But I don’t want to die without trying though.

My eyes scan for all sources of help, and I find a young boy serving a customer at a bakery. Reminiscence makes an appearance. I’ve met this person before. No doubt. Oh what was his name? What was it?

Ash.

His name was Ash.

Ash, who knows how to break hearts. Does he know how to save a life?  Maybe, maybe not.

Tell him what’s been happening.

I could always do that. Couldn’t I? I take a step forward in the direction of the bakery. My life does matter to me.

But it doesn’t matter to anyone else, does it? You’re better off throwing it away than letting the others do it for you.

The little voice has a point. I don’t want them to discard my life for me. It’s my life and I’m the one who’s supposed to decide what to do with it. Throwing it away is an easier option than trying to survive in this painful mess. A painful mess which I’m stuck in. The kind of mess which follows me around. Which vows to never let me go. A little swim in the river can end it all. For good.

You see this life like a swinging vine. You want to swing your heart across the line and think that this will all be over for you. Ever thought about seeking justice for all that’s happened? Throwing your life away won’t bring you any justice for what you’ve faced.

The seeking of justice brings tears to my eyes.

How can my survival, ever pay for what I’ve lived through?

It’ll only add up to the debt I want them to pay for. I want them to know how it hurts to live a life like this. I want them to just have a taste of what it’s like to live a broken life like this, with no form of safety. No support. Nothing but a life which can only evanesce, slipping away from me like a piece of string from someone’s fingertips.

Look, do you want justice, or not? Do you want to end this all, get freed from this mess which you have made with your life, or get stuck with it?

I want my justice. I want to be free. Like a firebird. A fearless firebird, who eliminates her fear with her power.  Breathes fire from her lungs. Scares her enemies away.

But a forlorn little girl like me, with no power. With no fire in her lungs. What does she do?

She bottles up the courage to tell someone. To tell someone that she wants help. Help, to stop what’s happening from happening. Help, to bring the justice she deserves.  After all, she only wanted to be happy. So what do you do? You do exactly what she was supposed to do and free yourself from the pain that awaits.

My hands find their way to the door handle of the bakery, a portal of help, but something grasps hold of my hands. Something alert, ready, determined. Determined to do what I dread the most.

To hurt me.

If only I’d escaped.

But there’s no way I’ll ever be able to do that – from them.

It only takes one blow, connecting itself to my neck and I’m down on the ground. Helpless. A little shove here, a harder tug there. Trickles of blood.

Then, the crying takes place. The tears make their way out of my eyes, and what have I done? I’ve given them something to make fun of. My emotions. They’re making fun of my emotions.

“So what do we have here? A little crybaby? Wanting to go back to ickle wickle Mummy Wummy? Not a chance! We ain’t letting you go, ya know. We’re keeping you right down here. And ye better stay there? Understand? Weakling! Oh yeah, and when we do let ya go, go tell ye olde Muvver that we aint sorry for the damage we made!”

Their laughter resembles the cackles of Cruella De Vil.

Which makes me the weak, little puppy.

Style Question - Made for the fashion geeks! :-)

My first youtube vid - comment and like please, my fellow fans!!!!!!!

Cathy Cassidy: Dreamcatcher : BULLYING: THE TRUE VICTIMS

Cathy Cassidy: Dreamcatcher : BULLYING: THE TRUE VICTIMS: Author Eve Ainsworth writes about how looking at bullying from both sides has helped to inspire her new book 7 DAYS… Eve says: 'It...



This is a beautiful book to read is what i think - so start reading it from the word NOW . . . 

Sia - Elastic Heart (Mats Gulbrandsen Vs Cosmic Dawn Remix)

You are guaranteed to love this AWESOME remix of Sia's song Elastic Heart, feautured in one of the Hunger Games films.

Cathy Cassidy: Dreamcatcher : ZARIN: THE DAY WE MET CATHY!

Cathy Cassidy: Dreamcatcher : ZARIN: THE DAY WE MET CATHY!: When reader Zarin found out I was visiting a school near her, she campaigned to be allowed to go along - and her lovely teacher allowed Zar...