Let’s be honest, you probably know what these colours mean. That dress has had the world at each other’s throats on the discovery that we perceive colour perception differently. Once again, human differences tear us apart. If only this picture had never been shared…. Alas. We move on.

But let’s be real here, regardless if you saw the white-gold it has been confirmed by the dress owner that the garment is, in fact, blue and black. But lets talk about what’s important- that is, why this is important.

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Short Story – Colours

I wrote this piece for my first year creative writing course.It’s very different from my usual style.


The cuffs press into my wrists, and red marks have exploded up my lower arm as the cool metal chafes against my skin. It burns where the restraints lodged against my thumb. Red on white. Those colours happen to me a lot, naturally irony would have it that they are on me now. Both mine.

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Meeting Totems – Bear

For various reasons, I have been reading into the samurai lifestyle and bushido. To be a samurai, a warrior must face their own fears and recognise the inevitability of death. This way they can live a Zen lifestyle. While I’m not a samurai nor am I particularly bushido or even a zen buddhist, I did think to try to apply this to my own meditations.

So, I decided to make contact with bear.

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Short Story – Promises

I wrote a short story for my Creative Writing course inspired by ‘Holes’ by Louis Sachar.


Rain punched down like a thousand fists on the withered and crumbling roof of Sunshine Manor. Maddie’s heels sank into the squelching mud as she ran up the pathway, shoulders hunched against the wind. A barricade of rain blinded her as she stumbled to the front door. She threw out a hand, fist clenched in preparation to bang against the wood. Instead, the rickety door jumped out of its frame and flew open. She stumbled in, catching herself before she hit the ground.

“Hello?” She squeaked.

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Short Story – Honest Work

I wrote this for my Creative Writing course in response to a sci-fi brief.

Honest Work

Light shone over the city of London, the great council-regulated bushes and flowers basking in the sun where they’d been placed over every available flat surface. It glittered off the Thames and created dancing shadows where fish darted about in the clear water and the anemone stirred, creating long waving shadows across the riverbed. A large plaque announcing the installation date of the eco-friendly sewage filter system shone with a recently polished gleam.

The day-crowd of people wandered the streets, either on aviation bikes (avibikes) or hoverboard or even just walking happily, browsing the indie businesses that lined the edges of the streets or were dotted about the place in little market stands. The smell of freshly cooked pastries and sizzling food on open grills filled the air, steam puffing into the sky as stall-owners flipped burgers and shook pans in front of queues of hungry onlookers. Some people sat on benches set in shadow beneath large walkways going between buildings a few stories above, just as busy as those beneath them. Street cameras with bat boxes and birdhouses were positioned high on the roofs, looking down over the crowd with their huge gaze and up-to-date disturbance-identifying zoom technology.

The gentle hubub of the city was muffled between the walls of buildings, almost impossible to see down sometimes where light didn’t reach, or stalls were set up in the way. Not even tenants of the huge geothermal flats would have known what was happening down by the compost skips.

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Meeting my Totems – Bat

I spent some time trying to contact my totems again.

I began in the desert and spent some time trying to find a place to go through, and eventually located the hole which was far larger than before.

The cave was far more vivid this time, I could taste the salty air and hear the drops of water fall down to the shallow pool in the middle. It was cool and damp, and I felt a gentle breeze on my shoulders. Something flew past my face and I dodged out of the way.

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Short Story – ‘Beached’

This is a short story I wrote and submitted for my Creative Writing course in my first year.


They used to wash up on the beach occasionally. It wasn’t very common and there was always a spectacle when they did. Usually the Marine Rescue Squad would show up and pull them back into the sea. MRS had these huge net things, and cars that could drive into the water, so that they didn’t have to touch them. They always looked confused to be there, and it wasn’t like you could talk to them to tell them the way the tide works. Sea creatures don’t understand why going near the shallows is a bad idea.

It hasn’t happened for a few years. I almost miss them.

I have to walk along the cliffs to get home. Every now and then I glance down at the golden sands where the sunset shimmers on the waves and turns the deep dark blue sea into a dancing fire. I used to use this time to remember those days. And then one day, I didn’t have to remember any more.

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First Exploration in Totemism

As this is my first post on this blog, it makes sense for me to begin at a beginning.

I sat down to meditate last night- not something I often achieve without falling asleep – and began my inward adventure.

Before I begin, I will explain that the technique I used was borrowed from a friend of mine who has found her own totems after a few tries. I began researching about totems and spirit animals in order to find out roughly what to expect, and what animals I may potentially come across.

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