Quote of the Day

Sunday, 15 December 2013

"Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and, therefore, the foundation of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared."

 - J.K. Rowling

It's a reminder

‘Your favourite object… what is it?’

Her fingers rose to her throat, idly playing with the golden chain that hung delicately around her neck. The heart-shaped pendant bouncing a number of times against the solid expanse of her chest before landing squarely between Olivia’s fingers.

Olivia stared at him for a long moment trying to gouge his intentions before allowing the words to flow off her tongue, ‘my mother left this,’ raising the necklace as high as it could go, ‘with the owner of the orphanage to give to me when I was old enough. She never left her name or anything – just a baby and a necklace.’

‘Hey, liv, I’m sorry.’

She shook her head, ‘stop. I don’t want your pity. It’s hard to miss the mother you never had.’

‘But you still wear it.’

‘It’s a reminder. A reminder of the life I lost. The life I could have had and the only thing keeping me rooted to the woman who gave me up.’

Caged In

Monday, 9 December 2013

There was no use crying anymore. It wasn’t going to help. She was trapped like a wild animal, naked and begging for death. The throbbing darkness swelled around her with the flicker of the overhead light, casting grotesque shadows around the room.

The woman tugged relentlessly against her restraints, the rough surface of the rope cutting into her thin, fragile wrists. Droplets of blood slowly winding their path down her hand. There was no room for manoeuvre, a dull ache pounding in her shoulders.

If she could just loosen the rope then maybe, just maybe she could escape. It was her only hope but that small shred of hope shrunk with each passing second. She was going to die here.

She tried to rein the sobs in but the sheer intensity of emotion racked her body.

The woman shivered with the chill breeze sweeping the room, caressing her naked flesh. She couldn’t pinpoint the source. There were no windows – only four dingy walls.

The constant flicker of light illuminated the mixture of red welts and dried blood lacing her aged skin, deep purple bruises marking her breasts and thighs.

She never saw their faces but every single disturbing mask that covered their faces would haunt her thoughts until her last dying breath. Every encounter was different but each brought a new round of pain. Her skin still stung from the force of the whip that had been slashed across her legs.

She knew it was only a matter of time before things got drastically worse.

aspiring author attempting world domination with a bit o' magic and some kickass moves.