Tuesday, 13 March 2012


Hello :) Sorry for not posting yesterday, but I was extra busy, and I did post over the weekend :)
So, em...yeah...not much to say, if I'm honest. I'm  nearing the 75,000 word mark for Wolfbane :D I'm on Chp. 30, and most of it's rubbish, but other than that I'm quite happy!
I wrote this story over the weekend. It's not fantastic but I quite like it. Enjoy!

P.S. Is anyone following this blog on Figment?


Stars fell and rained down from above like an apocalyptic horror film. The night sky was black as ink, smudging the edges of the ever rotating specks of light that exploded and shone down on us. The constellations were clear and in my mind’s eye I saw everything - the rounded edge of Orion’s club, the flowing hair of the Gemini twins. It was beautiful. I knotted Sean’s fingers with mine and smiled. I loved doing this. Even if it was fake.

“The tour of the night sky has now ended. Please leave the theatre.”

The lights powered back up and the sky vanished. I could still see the faint outlines of the stars, twinkling and sparking as they faded backwards into the ceiling. Everyone around us was standing up - couples and parents and grumpy teenagers brought along by a school trip, or something. I stayed on the floor, my back pressed into a bump on the carpet. It was so peaceful and calming. If I stayed like this forever, I could never fall. Only fly.

“Leslie? We need to go.”

Sean pulled himself away from my grasp and stood up. He loomed over me, a grin on his face. “Up you get, lazy pants.” He thrust his hand into my face and I grabbed it. He yanked me to my feet and waited for me to steady myself. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I stretched my arms and searched the air for Sean’s hand. I held it as we walked through the planetarium’s doors. “That was fun.”

Sean glanced at me as we weaved our way through the crowd of people clogging up the museum corridors. 

“You found that fun?”

“It was...interesting. I like knowing that there are other things out there. I enjoy knowing that despite popular belief, we are not the centre of the universe. I want to be reminded to help others now and again, otherwise I forget.”

Sean laughed and played with a string of my hair. “You are a strange one, Leslie.”

I ducked under a floating skeleton and grinned. “Is that good or bad?”

“In your case, good. Definitely, absolutely, unequivocally good.” I smiled and we pushed our way through the museum doors into the chilled April air. The sun was high and shining, but it was an illusion, like every other type of weather in Britain. It was freezing. I pulled my jacket closer to my chest and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“What about you? Did you enjoy it?”

Sean shrugged and jumped down the last two steps onto ground level. “Meh. It was ok, but I liked our trip to the club much more.”

“The one where everyone was shouting at us, and trying to get a piece of me?”

“Yeah, that was the one.” He grinned roguishly and winked. “I like fighting off other men.” He enveloped me in a hug and I squirmed under his grasp.

“Not now, Sean. People are staring.”

Sean let me go and smiled. He grabbed my hand again and stopped in front of a statue. “Let them. If they’re going to be prudish, it’s their problem, not ours.” He leaned on the statue and crossed his arms. He was skinny, and wearing a pair of black skinny jeans. His hair was swept down over his face and his eyebrow was pierced with a silver ring that glinted in the sun. I sat down on the statue’s base and pulled my knees up towards my chest.

“Did you really not like it?”

Sean shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not a cultural guy, if I’m honest. I enjoy the lower enjoyments of life - T.V and ice-cream and Darren Criss. I have that and I’m set.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You do know who you’re leaning against, don’t you?” Sean shrugged again and I sighed. “You are wiping your sweaty, lowbrow back over the greatest poet of his time. Robert Burns. He came from Scotland.”

Sean nodded and glanced at the worn black marble. “Huh. Interesting.” He paused. “I’m kidding.  I enjoyed it.”

I nodded, not overly convinced. He had done this before. Said he liked something when inside he detested it. It was disconcerting. There was always that little bit in my mind that screamed he wouldn’t like something, despite his obvious joy.

“Leslie, we got haters. Three o’clock.” I blinked against the harsh light and squinted to where Sean was meaning. Standing a couple of yards away was a troupe of boys, hair cut into short peaks. They were dressed in jeans and Adidas jumpers. They were haters alright.

“Sean? Should we go?”

Sean shook his head. “No. Leave them be. In fact...” He sat down beside me and held my hand. Our knuckles brushed as he raised my hand to his lips. He gave it a quick peck, just enough to make me blush.


“I want them to know, Leslie. They can look, they can stare, but it all counts for nothing if they don’t know we love each other.” He turned to look at me, his eyes warm and soft. “I love you.”

“Ditto.” We sat silent for a moment, our bodies tightly coiled springs, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Haters always had that effect on us. Sean was calmer than I was, but his eyes were still trained on the frowning group of boys.

A minute or so passed before Sean whispered in my ear. “They’re coming over. Go or stay?”

I paused. I agreed with Sean. They had to know we loved each other. They had to understand. But would it be worth it? It wasn’t uncommon for people to be aggressive when it came to dating and pecking order. Not in our society. I gulped down a lump in my throat. “Stay.”

“Okay.” Sean’s body tensed at my side as the boys got closer. They looked about my age, maybe younger. The expressions on their faces had changed from those of mild interest to those of disgust and fear. There were five of them, and the tallest seemed to be the leader. He stopped his gang a few metres in front of us and took a step forward, his hands in his pockets.

“What you doin’?”

Sean straightened his back and tightened his grip on my hand. “Sitting. Is that illegal now, officers?” His voice was sweet and calm, but there were undertones of sarcasm and hatred that only I could hear.

The boy who spoke took another step towards us. He smelled of smoke. “I dunno. Is it?”

It was my turn to speak. “I wasn’t aware of it. Were you Sean?”

Sean shook his head. “I can’t say I knew about it either, and I read the paper every morning.” He shrugged. 

“I don’t think it’s illegal, gentlemen.” He smiled politely and squeezed my hand harder.

“Get outta here.”

I glanced at Sean, a bemused expression hiding the fear bubbling inside me. I had met other people like this before, but they hadn’t been as aggressive, as forceful.

“I don’t see any reason why we should leave.”

The boy’s face darkened and he reached into to the pocket of his hoodie. I saw something metal glint in the light. “Move. Get out of here, freaks.”

My grip tightened on Sean, but we held our ground. There was no turning back now. “I don’t see why we should. If you have a problem, you leave.” Sean’s voice was strong, and behind the boy, his friends murmured hushed words of confusion and anger. I heard the word knife. It ripped through me and goose bumps prickled my skin. “Sean...”

He stroked my thigh and ignored me. “We were here first. Now, if you excuse me from this extremely tiring conversation, I’m on a date.”

My eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was baiting them, his fingers drumming off the rounded curve of my thigh. He was smiling. He knew they were angry, he knew they were frustrated and he was enjoying it. He wanted them to give up, for them to realise our togetherness wasn’t a problem. He hadn’t heard the whispers. He hadn’t seen the hilt of the blade. “Sean...”

The boy had taken a step forward, his face set in a frown. His hand tightened in his hoodie pocket. “You wanna say that again?”

“Sean...we should go...”

“Not now, Leslie.” He looked the boy in the eyes and stood up. He was tall and lanky, looming over the boy with his gangly frame. “I said that you should leave. It’s not my problem if you hate me. Now, please leave me to get on with my date.”

The boy creased his brow further. “It’s you people that are wrecking the country. You freaks.” He pouted and spat a blob of saliva at Sean’s foot. It landed on the tip of his Converse, and Sean bristled.

“You want to try that again?”

The boy hesitated. He was looking Sean up and down, examining, and determining the threat. Apparently there was none, for a few moments later a bigger ball of spit hurtled through the air. This time it landed on my hair. I barely noticed it - all I saw was Sean’s face darken and his hands ball into fists.

“Say sorry.”

The boy cocked his head and showed off a cheeky grin. “What? I couldn’t hear you.” The group behind him tittered.

Sean clenched his teeth. “I said, say sorry.” I stood up beside him and curled my hand around his tensed fist.

“It’s fine, Sean. Let’s just go. We don’t need to bother with people like this.”

He glanced at me. We were roughly the same height and build, but he was a bit taller than me. “No. They need to apologize.” He turned back to the boys. “Say sorry.”

The alpha male took a step forward, still grinning. “To whom? You or your date?”

“Leslie. Say sorry to Leslie.”

The boy looked at me and then sank into a curtsey. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, Miss.

That was enough to make Sean snap. I remember the exact moment it happened. His body went rigid and his jaw slackened. His nostrils and he pulled away from my touch. I remember telling him to stop, to leave them be, to see the knife, to see the danger, but he ignored me, His ignored my pleas as he walked up to the boy, whose hand was coming out of his hoodie pocket. I saw the tip of a shining blade poke out through the fabric. 


It was all over in an instant. Sean towered over the boy, pulled his hand back into a fist, and that was when the blade went in. The boy said something as the knife cut through his chest - gay fag, I think it was. The doctors afterwards told me it had gone in between the ribs, and pierced his heart. I didn’t notice. All I saw a blood red rose blooming on his purple top and his body curling inwards in pain. And I remember his shriek. I’m movies people never scream when they’re stabbed. They’re wrong. In real life, the pain rips through you and you yell and shout and scream. I remember him collapsing on the ground his hand clenched to his side, staring up at his attacker. He was gone. Stabbed my boyfriend and then left, his troupe at his side.

“Sean!” I rushed over to him and clasped my hand to his side. I slid his head onto of my knees. “Someone call an ambulance!” People were staring all around the park. Words flowed through the air, drifting along as people whispered amongst each other - gay, murder, crime. They were frozen, unsure what to do about it. Then a woman, her hair smelling of lavender ran towards me and pulled a phone out her pocket. She pressed a few buttons and started talking. She was asking me things. What his name was. Who I was. Who the boys were.

"Jonathan. My name's name's Jonathan Leslie Wilson." The air was full of blood and vomit, and the world span around me. The woman was still talking, her hand a vice grip on my shoulder. Sean, Sean, Sean...

The first thing I saw with him that morning were the stars. And the last thing I saw before he died were fireworks, exploding in my head.


Caroline said...

Woah! I end surprised me.

Caroline said...


Ⓟⓡⓔⓢⓛⓔⓨ said...

Wow, nice post! I've just seen your blog and love it. Mind checking mine out? It's private so email me at minimelt@ymail.com please! (:

Rose said...

crap, that was freaking AMAZING! all along i thought "she" was black!! genius, jenni (:

Rose said...

also, jenni m'dear, can you tell me how to add a little picture in front of the url on your blog? send me an email or fb me - i've been trying to find out for AGES! '¬' x