Beyond the Gate - Part 1

I've decided to write a story and post it in parts - enjoy!


Long, pained groans emanated from beneath Minnie's chilly feet as she crept warily along the dark wooden floorboards, emphasized along the glossy oak walls. A few feet ahead of her, a splatter of torchlight lay spilt across the floor, oozing along the surface controlled by her grip. She saw her desired destination when her wrist directed the torchlight in ascent at the stretched, arched window plastered against the far end of the wall. 
It took the young girl at least five minutes to travel the limited distance before her - she could not be disruptive. As she approached the silvery glass, her breath caught unexpectedly in her throat - the adrenalin that was now creeping through her body was probably unnecessary, but as her gaze scanned the depths of the vast inky garden, fear swelled inside of her. It was as though she was observing a dark twisted jungle, witnessing its features from a separate world - the world behind the glass. The garden was composed into two parts; the first, and closest to the  house, was prim, well kept and regularly nourished. The second loomed beyond an old battered gate and appeared as though it hadn't seen a pruner in decades. Minnie hadn't been given a fair amount of advice by her parents growing up and no matter how little time they had to fully interact with her, they had not failed to present her with one memorable, daunting warning: "NEVER go through the garden gate."
Her young eyes swept across the neat garden, the garden she often spent hours in on a warm day, propelling the dog's ball across the lawn and shrieking with giggles as he pelted across the grass and flew into bushes where it had landed. The memory aroused her with content and for a moment, her fear was extinguished; but soon, she had subconsciously began staring dreamily at the forbidden part and as the realisation tugged her back to reality, she began to feel uneasy once more. It was as though the bottom of the garden had swallowed every last drop of moonlight and in its place was secreting a sinister swamp of ebony darkness, cradling every corner, every twisted branch... 
That was when Minnie saw it. She would have been a fool to dismiss it as a bird or a squirrel or a rabbit; for a moment, the pair of intrusive eyes that glowed passionately as the torchlight hit them pondered her own, distantly...then they bulged slightly, as though their occupant had begun to smile wickedly. The world beyond the window was plunged into deep darkness as the torch in Minnie's hand eagerly escaped her sweaty grasp and clattered noisily to the floor. Like all the other branches, vines and weeds, coiled in jagged patterns, the mysterious pair of eyes had become lost in the gloom. 

A day in York

Not long ago, I attended York St John's university open day, which I loved, and was given the chance to wander around the city itself. For those of you who haven't been, York is extremely beautiful as the city balances between old and modern. Personally, I prefer the older outlook to the streets, taking a swift liking to one in particular called The Shambles. 
I speak in truth when I say this tight, cobbled walkway resembles Diagon Alley from the Harry Potter films, and not because I really like the franchise - in fact, it was my mum who originally voiced this opinion from when she visited a couple of weeks prior; I merely agreed...excitedly. 
The street is home to a number of diverse shops, snuggled cosily and firmly along its path. It was in one of these shops I purchased, and eagerly consumed, one of the most impressive ice - creams I have ever had - so wonderful that with each step it was made, my glittering eyes rarely left its transformation.                       
Five words will always remain warmly in my mind each time I  reminisce, the five words which were thrust upon me by the counter girl doing her job, enough to make anyone feel light - headed:
"White, milk or dark chocolate?" No, she was not on about the ice - cream, she was on about the sauce - the warm gloopy chocolate that painted the top of the cone, the sauce that so generously landed on the ice - cream and blanketed the scoop. The 100 percent chocolate stick made it perfect -  and yes, it was delicious, minus the slight problem that when biting into the increasingly solidifying chocolate, it threatened to tug the rest of the ice - cream off with it. 
The shops were lovely - small and generally unknown. I like the latter qualities found in those selective shops as it gives them a unique edge. There was one in particular which had been bathed in a very feminine perfume and appeared as though a jewellery monster had spat in every corner. There's no doubt however, this shop was pretty and had my attention grasped from the start; my mum eventually turfed us out. 

                                                                                                     
                                                                                            This image probably doesn't do the 
                                                                                                                                           brilliant ice - cream a great deal of               
                                                                                                                                           justice, but by the time I had taken this 
                                                                                                                                          picture, it had suffered a few licks and 
                                                                                                                                          the chocolate had already fully 
                                                                                                                                          hardened :P                                                                                           
                                                                                                     

Salut

There are many events looming ahead and therefore along with it, many writing opportunities. We have Halloween, presenting me with the chance to describe in drastic detail the happenings of the night, through a whole lot of nouns and a bunch of cleverly devised pre-modifiers. Then we have bonfire night, oh the writing possibilities are endless...
I suppose I'm a person of little words today; I've wracked my brain countless times and can seem to find nothing remotely interesting to write about. Odd. 
Anyhow, I'll be back, and hopefully with something a little more, well...fascinating. 

Script

I'm currently (very slowly) writing a script. From about the age of twelve I have always had a keen interest in script writing - it might have surfaced from my previous devotion to the Disney Channel (I have since grown out of it), from where a friend and I wrote fun scripts in a similar style, in the hope of filming them. We never did get round to bringing them to life and very unfortunately they were deleted when the old laptop broke down. 
Since then I have started, and failed to finish, a number of scripts all inspired by programmes and films I have seen; works such as Doctor Who, E.T. The Extra Terrestrial, Pirates of the Caribbean...
Although none were filmed, one of the scripts written by the same friend and I did make it past our printer (the scripts were even highlighted for rehearsal guidelines!). If she is reading this, she may remember the script I am on about when I reveal the main characters were three children and their mad as a hatter grandmother ;)
Anyway, the script I am currently writing may take quite a while due to motivation issues (I need to sort those out!) and juggling my independent writing with my A - Levels.
I intend on keeping the plot strictly private, which, in a way, makes it all the more exciting! :) Bye for now! :)

Where do we draw the line between fiction and reality?

The title to this may seem a little pointless, but I assure you it’s not. As an avid reader of the Harry Potter books, I can safely say it’s extremely easy to be misguided by the worlds of fantasy crammed tightly into a few hundred pages and all the more effortless to allow the mind to slip into false hopes of fiction having a chance at reality. I have spent many hours contemplating life as a Hogwarts student, resulting in my deep interests in castle – structured buildings; Durham and York Cathedral appeal to me greatly as my brain automatically associates them with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, immediately dragging me to my ‘happy place’. These stone giants are my closest links to the world I so passionately crave.

Still don’t see much point to this? Well, on its own this demonstrates the power creative writing can have upon a person; I’m not saying I’m a hysterical Harry Potter fan – well, I suppose that could be debatable – but fiction reveals our private hopes and dreams, all down to an inspired mind.

J.K. Rowling has a number of naïve children secretly believing they are in for a chance of discovering that one coveted letter that would change everything...(I won’t lie, I was always slightly scared I’d receive one, all down to my homesick gene)...and I can safely inform you, no such post ever littered my porch floor.

Stephanie Meyer has a handful of her fans claiming vampires are indeed among us, after all, how can you say they don’t exist when there is no evidence to back the point? I must admit that however much of a Twilight fan I am currently not, after spending a whole day hungrily devouring the pages of book one many months ago, I did believe that the main man of evil (James) was after me...in my defence I was half asleep and from then on discovered that if you eat, sleep and breathe a book, the plot is bound to hijack your dreams.

To wrap up my first and hopefully partially interesting blog entry, I do hope that within the three paragraphs above, your attention has been somewhat gripped. Enjoy my blog and indulge in my own diverse texts I will soon have posted on here! J