writing

Cold

My hands are cold,
My hands are tied,
Your subtle whisper,
I heard you lie,
My clothes, my shoes,
Are no more,
As my body hits the floor,
My hands are cold,
My hands are tied,
Here i lay,
As i die.

 

 

Rebecca Pursell

Oh this was scheduled because I’m a wizard. 

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Story Time · writing

Disconnected – Short story

“How much food do we have til they open the store again?”

“A couple of meals i say”

It was enough, it’s not like the store wasn’t going to open again. But for some reason people thought the need to ration, even supermarkets got in on it too. Once a week the it would open for a set amount of time, then close. We were able to get the most needed items, but they still had to limit how much because everyone needed to eat and drink.

The world had lost it’s mind since the internet went down, it was as though people had forgotten how life was lived without access to the online world. Four weeks had passed, nobody understand why or when it would be back – If was to ever come back.
I didn’t care, i actually liked it. The air was hectic but i also felt a sense of peace. People weren’t glued to laptops or phones unless they needed to make a call.
Children were out on the street playing, or at home with toys. The news reported that toy sales had risen because children were unable to play most mobile or tablet games without a connection, and mobile data was unavailable. Footballs and sporting goods were another popular thing, people were going out and just throwing a ball around.
Crime hadn’t changed, which we all though would. Hackers are clearly pissed off, but banks and expensive stores have had to adjust the alarms systems. Most are a live alarms, where the security feed is 24/7 linked with an online server. It had all been disconnected but nobody gave it a thought to go and rob the local banks. – How odd?

Is this something that’s going to make the world come together or eventually will people crack and crime will rise, i just don’t know. I aren’t seeking for answers, i am accepting this as it comes across. Whilst most spend all day and night trying to do something about it, i am sleeping without disturbance.

 

“Have you seen the fucking news, look quick…. The worlds been cut off from electric. What in the fuck are we going to do now?”

 

Diary · Uncategorized · writing

Leaves set free – poem 

The air so cool and leaves set free,

Swooshing to a place id like to see, 

With animals hiding to keep themselves warm, 

Birds are fleeing away fast like a bee swarm,

The fox and owl find food to eat, 

And the red breast Robin finally lands his feet, 

The air so cool and the leaves set free, 

Each is an animal I’d love to be. 

Rebecca Pursell 

Story Time · writing

Underground – short story

I don’t remember the last time i touched air, or sniffed the fumes of petrol on a busy morning full of traffic. Though it’s not possible to touch air is it? But you do understand the feeling of it. I used to enjoy the breeze every time i would leave our shopping centre, it would instantly dry my sweaty palms and cool my wet neck.
I would sweat a lot whilst shopping, especially indoors. The rush of wanting to go from shop to shop trying to get through people, though why rush? It was as if sometimes the shop would disappear but i had this urgency to just get out of the way of people because my fucking God, some humans did not look where they were going. I often felt like i was the only one that would look around or left and right to see if my path was safe, or to spot the arseholes who weren’t actually looking. Sometimes if i bumped into the ignorant of the blind, they would look to me as if it was my fault.
I felt like an alien whilst people wandered and stared solely in a straight line, not giving a shit where they walked because they wanted to walk where ever they felt like it.
The satisfaction of entering a shop, but then to do it all again whilst in that shop. Avoiding people with prams or large baskets and trolleys. I always moved out of the way when someone wanted to get past or decided to shuffle next to me and look on the same shelf. That pissed me off, i had to wait until they were done so i could continue with that section. Selfish shoppers, and what’s with the parents that just allow children to wander. I am not apologizing if knock over your kid.  I don’t miss the stress of being amongst other humans whilst shopping. – In fact i am with them twenty four hours a day, and have been for the past fourteen years. We haven’t seen an ounce of daylight and i haven’t had a strong lung in take of air for a long time, i’ve forgotten what most things look like or taste like.
Our air though is filtered through and reaches us underground, Lord knows what would happen if something was to go wrong. The ‘Army’ as we call them i suppose are trained enough to take on that kind of situation if it was to happen, though too many have already been eaten and killed. The overly brave, who think whatever is up on the surface is weak and no match for the mighty army. How wrong were they? Once a month, a team does venture out for a whole week to seek food and supplies, even try and find more traces of humans. Not many return, and each time we are thankful for the loss of life so we can continue living.
My cabin isn’t too bad, i made some fake plants out of clay the other day with another bunch of women. Most of them are married and the men go off doing labour work, us females don’t have much to do except look after the children and educate, cook, nurse or like me wander and observe.
Never in my life would i imagine that whats left of some of the population is here living underground. I can’t speak for the rest of the United Kingdom or the cities outside of mine, in fact the rest of the world.
We haven’t had human contact outside for the ten years, the four years this all happened was fine. I guess you could say hopeful? I mean it’s a long time isn’t to be underground and not speak to humans above.  – I can’t really remember what made us all live underground. All i know is that if we go up, we die.
I think i was thirteen years old when this happened, i am now twenty seven. I don’t know what year is it, or date. We have our own calender’s and i gathered all the months and dates are incorrect but it helps us to live everyday, so we can celebrate birthdays or even Christmas.

It’s my birthday soon, i want to leave the underground and live in the real world. I am going to make my escape the day after my birthday. I need to know the truth, i need to see daylight.

 

Story Time · writing

Charlie – Short story

 

I sat longer than usual on the bench, i knew my train was about to arrive but i just didn’t quite feel like catching it. I knew that waiting wouldn’t make him sit next to me but i wanted to sit here for a while longer hoping that he did. I wanted to feel hopeful, i needed atleast that. I am not sure if i fell in love with him, though i did care deeply and really did see him as a best friend.
But how can you love or be friends with someone you bump into everyday, waiting to catch the train home from work. How can you feel something by sitting for two hours a day talking with them and building a connection?
The last week i’ve say here and he hasn’t shown up, i knew this day would come. He’s moved on with his life and quite right. We never exchanged numbers or even added eachother on social media, which i can’t seem to fatham. Why did we not ever do that? Is that not what people do now, exchange user names and connect through a world of meme’s and cat videos.
I think maybe it would of all gone a different way, infact hundreds of ways. We could of spoken more, met up. Even exchange messages to confirm that we would both be at the station waiting for our seperate trains. But then i do realise if we had that, i don’t think it wouls be as magical.
For two hours a day, 5 days week after a long day at work i would sit and talk with a stranger. His name was Charlie, and for 6 months we built this friendship. At first it was me plonking my arse down on a bench after a really horrible day at work. I was at my all time lowest in life. I had a rubbish job, no boyfriend and not many friends. I pretty much spent my life either at work or in my home cuddling my cat. If i did go out, it was because i needed to get food and things to live or the odd friend would randomly want to meet for lunch. Which i can say was not that often, i had no social circle nor remember the last time i went out with friends for a girls day or even night drinking cocktails.
My life was shit and that day i wanted to run onto the train tracks and just end it all. But meeting Charlie, gave me hope and the fact i couldn’t leave my poor kitty alone.
After that day bumping into him became this weird coincidence and before we knew it, us sitting on the same bench waiting for our train became a regular thing. We would spend a few hours talking, purposely missing our travel home.
This handsome guy with dark hair and a quirky sense of dress style, made me feel like i existed in this world once again. He made me laugh, talked me out of my darkest thoughts and most of all he listened.
Six months is a long time isn’t it? Especially when we never exchanged numbers, the more i think about it the more i wonder if he really did exist.
If i had his number, maybe i would know why for some strange reason, Charlie left without trace…

Diary · Uncategorized · writing

I can fly – poem 

Let’s pretend that I can fly,

And see the world from way up high,

With my wings the things I see,

Is a world that pretends to be.

-Rebecca Pursell 

Story Time · writing

Goodbye July – Short story

I drew back the curtains and took one deep breath, it was dawn once again. I had slept little and had been doing so for such a long time, I couldn’t even remember the last meal that had satisfied my appetite. My eyes were tired and my bones felt numb – Was today finally the last? When the sun rises will we all be able to breathe without fear.

The summer nights were darker than ever recorded, but the mornings remained the same. Our crops were dying and the closet stores near us that sold food were beginning to look empty. Morning meetings would happen and we would all get told the number of food that’s left for us all, I think without this order and rationing we may have died of starvation a long time ago. Without our crops, we won’t even be able to harvest the basics, and with cities far away it would be suicide to venture out. – But what is left for us to do? The sick are getting sicker and are children are not growing, do we step outside our zone and head for the city. I’ve heard bad things and what might happen to most of us, we would be checked for infection and either spared to live in a colony or shot dead on the spot. You can see fire and smoke in the distance, we used to wonder about it until we had such bad winds so fierce that it blew the scent of burning flesh into our little town. Our once precious sanctuary, that’s now protected by farmers and boys with guns – Fences that only give us so much land to live but it protects us. We have a perimeter and rules, even a curfew just so we can keep living. But it’s not living, is it? It’s surviving and that to me isn’t happiness. It’s a sad fucking way to go…..

 

Now that July has come to an end, I feel that it won’t just be us surviving but fighting to do so. This might just be the last July I’ll ever see.

Good bye July, til we meet again.

 

Story Time · writing

‘Untitled’ – Short story

The rain was coming down heavy, but leaving a slight breeze that was enough to make curtains move. I loved the air when it rained, I also enjoyed the view in the distance. When I looked out of my apartment window, I had been blessed with a view – Not just houses and other apartments, my eyes focused on the far away. Fields and even more fields, which looked strangely beautiful when it rained. The mist and grey fog that hovered over the tops of the hills. I wanted to be surrounded by it and delved into an adventure, I always imagined that If I walked inside of it that I’d come across the darker side of what the weather can do. I guess I really wanted a horror adventure, maybe not the choice of everyone’s but I do like mystery, even if it does involve a serial killer or two.

I sat for a good twenty minutes just staring, I thought about a few things and most were blank thoughts. The ‘far’ away was very far indeed, the rain became heavier and it was impossible to see into the distance but it was still enjoyable to take in the weather. I never quite understood why people hated the rain so much, sure it’s horrible getting wet. It limits your outdoor activity and who loves to be out shopping or doing things for then to get soaked. But it’s tranquil, water itself is healthy, and just look at how many sea creatures and animal exist and how beautiful they are.
My favourite is the shark, I’m not sure what attracts me to this species as such but other than its hugely feared. The fact that people fear it makes me love the shark more because, even though it’s something you worry about if you’re on an exotic holiday and happen to be in the sea – They are extremely intelligent. I like things that have more than a meets the eye kind of vibe, and that is exactly the shark.

Before I get up from the window, I drink the rest of my coffee. I don’t usually drink it, it sets off my anxiety and never has been useful regarding keeping me awake, but seeing as my days are numbered I may as well enjoy everything I can before I have no time.

You see, the one thing that I am enjoying right now Is watching the rain, the water. Water that we shower and wash in, bathe, wash clothes. The complete necessity in life for us to keep, well living. Except one thing – It’s what’s killing me.

It’s the one thing that’s killing the whole world.