The City She Called Home.

Flying over the city that she had once called home, looked like every other city form above. Yet completely different from when she had left all those years ago.

On the ground parts seamed unchanged, preserved in time. While other parts, complete streets and buildings demolished to make way for the changing times.

Like every other city around the would, whole buildings had been built for the sole purpose of purifying the air and water and solar energy. Building with their mirrored windows and sola panels reflected their surroundings, making the city seam endless.

Standing in front of the entrance to a large collection of stylish tower blocks, with shops on the lower levers and flats, offices, gyms on the other 46+ floors.

This was somewhere that had very much changed.

It was here on this plot of land that her life had changed so dramatically. But it was not within any of these buildings that had grown here. It was what was here before. The Prison…

At the age of 25 she had been sentenced for 45 years. 

She had been at a party, a lot of drink, a lot of drugs had been consumed. As the night went on for its almost second day. The police had been called and not long after they had arrived that it all went south every fast.

Ten people died from taking drugs, because she was the only one found with some on her, that was still alive.

She’d been charged with manslaughter, and distributing drugs.

Five years in to what felt like ten, her and three other women had been approached with an offer.

Their sentences would be reduced or they would receive an extreme amount of privileges if they took part in a tril. They all took it, at the time it seamed good. a way out of past lifes.

The four of them and four men form Pentiville prison got taken up to and isolated estate in the middle of Scotland.

One big house, eight prisoners all serving life, two doctors, four nurses and ten guards. 

Why two doctors? Well if they had questioned more, read the pages of paper work they signed blindlessly, they might have found out more, and what they had signed up for.

Drug users to test drugs.

Four months in they all felt good, what ever they were being given had not really taken affect. small rashes and some sickness but they put it down the good food, fresh air and sun, which non of them had had in a long time.

Six months in, things started to change. all of them became so ill they could not get out of bed, at this point they began to lose their hair and the rashes got worse. So the nurses shaved their heads, making them feel less human.

By the 8th month three of thee were dead and two of them had been quarantined in another part of the house.

Fourteen mouths after they had arrived there was only three of them alive.. By know they had started to ask questions about what was happing, they were told that the others had been taken to another location to recover and that what they were doing would befit their county. 

Three months after they were woken by vehicles out side the house. Managing to get to the window they saw the guards loading up vans, and burning files upon files. Just before they left the four nurse were shot!

They had left the three sick people to die, with hardly any food, water or pain killers to ease the pain that they were in. It was nothing like they had felt before. But some how they survived. 

They had managed to make it to a small village where they were taken to hospital. When the doctors there tried to find out any thing about them their names came up with nothing, their lives had been erased.

By the time she was well enough to leave she had found the other two had been moved to other hospitals but know one knew which ones.

Taking this as a chance for a new start, she took the name of one of the dead nurse that she had befriended, pick pocketed money from the the hospital staff locker room, leaving with the cloths of the dead nurse that she had arrived in, the money she had took and a strange tattoo that they had been marked with while they were ill. - each of them a different mark. Their brand to identify them and a number.

She had not seen sense to go back to London, In stead with her new identity, she traveled, changing her name when needed, never wanting or needing to return until now 200 years later…

A Month Of Writing: August 20th 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 20th

The sound of the alarm on my phone grow loader as it danced on the work surface of the kitchen, woke me.

Slowly rolling on to my back. Regretting having drunk what ever I had had last night. Pulling myself up off the floor wondering weather I had chosen to sleep on the floor or if I had passed out. Stopping the alarm looking at the bottle of lemon aid and vodka siting on the breakfast bar, wondering where I got the vodka from, as it was not something I drank, but the lemon aid, I’ll happily have that now. Reaching for the bottle I then noticed that there were two glasses sitting beside the glass bottle of drink. 

Who was I drinking with last night? looking around my studio.

My jumper felt itchy, hot and claustrophobic, pulling it off over my head the burning scratching feeling shot over my arm and over my body. Dropping the jumper on the floor I realised I had had a tattoo on my arm. still read and swollen, fresh. “what the fuck?!” “how the hell?…. What the hell?” Talking out load to myself for no one to hear. Looking at my arm wondering what this strange design meant? Where did I get it done?… And why didn't any of my friends stop me.?

Taking a photo of my arm and turning on my computer I put the photo in to a group chat on Facebook with the friends that I had been out with the night before, asking all the question that I had. And turned to some tattoo and Wiccan chat rooms, posting the photo in hope someone might no what this symbol meant. before heading to the bathroom for a hot shower.

Sat at my computer with wet hair, mug of coffee, a glass of water and pain killers I looked at the messages on face book.

Jamie: “Did you wake up at yours or his?”

Me: “mine and who is or was he??”

Emma: “the cute guy in the suit”

Me: “What! I don't remember him?? I was to drunk!! Why didn't you look after me”

Jamie: “we did.. we put you in a cab”

Me: “And cute guy in the suit?”

Jamie: “left after you”

Me: “and what about the Tattoo?”

Chris: “What dose it mean?”

Me: “how should I know I don't remember”

Emma: “Meat you at Ginger and White in a hour?”

Me: “ what do you know??”

Emma: “Fuck  all of you”

Nice friends I thought taking a sip of the coffee. changing tabs to one of my computer to the chat rooms.

white witch: “Nice tat. where you get it?”

Solo eater: “Got any other tats ;-)”

sisters 3: “what dose it mean?”

Dark arts queen: “Nice work where you have it done?”

Red Witch: “looks like something Viking”

Dark arts queen: “@RedWitch no looks Pagen.”

The same response over and over along with some slightly perverted comments.

then one court my eye.

The True Dark One: “I recognise it give me a moment….”

Then another message popped up with a link.

The True Dark One: “ Https.www.Universityoxford/lostcityjunglearchitecture Page 5 last photo”

For a moment I hesitated. the link was for a University web site. I clicked on it and it took me to a published paper form a professor on an ancient abandoned city and its architecture I scrolled down to page 5 and to the last photo. It was of a wall and pillars with faded carvings on the was of people surrounded by what looked like flames. I looked at the picture but I saw nothing. Picking up the pack of pain killers and taking two out I laid them on my computer and reached for the water, picking up on of the pills I knocked the mouse pad and the screen zoomed in.

There it was. The chiseled symbol that now was inked on to my arm, carved in to the ankle of the female figure. I zoomed back out to read the note under the picture.

“The image is believed to be depicting their version of the devil his human wife. Whom he marks. She constantly runs form him Scared of his love and power. Each time she dies her reincarnates her, so they can full in love again until she stops running from him and they can live and rule Earth and hell together”

Looking at the chat room tab “New message”

I went back to look.

The True Dark One: “Looks like he’s found his wife in this life time.”

A coffee at the Ginger and White was not going to be strong enough to help this shit…

A Month Of Writing: August 19th 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 19th

A long day at work had tired her out and it was the first day back after a three day weekend. And standing and waiting in the cold for what seamed like at least 40 minuets or more, which in fact was only 20 minuets.

Getting on to the bus, only two stops from its stating rote, meant that it was empty. Heading to the back seat, she made herself comfy as the bus continued its journey. 

Neon lights from the shops lit the roads on the late autumn evening.

As the bus pulled in to the next stop, she looked around as two more people climb aboard. looking at the opposite seats with a few papers and magazines laid. she moved over to the neighbouring seat and reached for the both. Picking them up she saw a think black notebook with scraps of paper sticking out of the sides, its cover slightly bowed with its contents  elastic closure stretched keeping it closed, Staring at it unsure weather to pick it up or just leave it. But there was something about it… It was as if it was asking her to pick it up.  Moving back over to the seat that she had chosen by the window laying the papers and the magazines on her lap and looking at the notebook laying on top of them.

She stared at it wondering if there might be a name and number or an email inside so she could return it to its owner.

Slipping off the elastic, carefully not to knock and of the lose pages out of their carefully placed places.

The front page with its lies for its owner to scribe their name was blank. Glancing up as the bus stopped again letting no one off or on, waiting to move on.

So she began to look through the book. Scribbled notes on each page, some clear and readable, others scribbled roughly and practically unreadable. with strange symbols which almost seamed religious but she was unsure.

Pages from books stuck in with lines high lighted and question marks and questions noted. “Why was she there?” “Why did the writer include this?” “Why did he do that?”. It all seamed strange and pointless, yet it intrigued her, so she kept going, the lose pages had more notes on, then there was scribbled pictures in pen and some in pencil of screaming faces, people burning, similar to the images of witch trills. Dark twisted images of statues of Angels. More lose pages some from the Bible, defaced with drawings.

It all made her feel unease but there was something about the book that made her want to turn each page, despite her instinct to close it and leave it on the seat next to her and go.

A dark curiosity made her turn the next page, eyes taking in each spread of strange dark weirdness…

A Month Of Writing: August 17th 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 17th

“Usual” asked the girl behind behind the counter. 

“please” he responded with a smile and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

“hows it been today” he asked the other girl as she began to put together his sandwich.

“been busy, enjoying the quite time before it picks up at around 4’ish”

“fair enough” He looked around the cafe with a dozen or so tables with only 6 people sat eating and drinking. His eyes stopped at the table in the corner by the window, where a girl sat with a plate with a half eaten cake and an untouched cup of coffee. She sat scribbling in a notebook franticly, passionately.

“She’s been here for nearly two hours, thats her second cup of coffee that she hasn’t touched.” said the girl placing his late on the try.

“Is she a regular?”

“Nope.. what ever she is writing has got to be important. my be she’s a student.”

As he watched her putting words on the paper, then flicking back through pages and crossing through words, lines. she pushed her hair off her face tucking it behind her ear. He suddenly realised.

“I know her.” His stomach tightened with that thought. He recognised the ring, the tattoo on her arm.

“You should go and say hi. Make sure that the pens not running out” smiled the other girl, placing his bacon and egg roll on the tray.

It couldn't be her. could it? It had been so long. Maybe it wasn't her? May be he was wrong?

“No that wouldn't be a good idea.”

Suddenly she stopped and jumped up startled. knocking the coffee of the edge of the table. She stared straight at him shocked at seeing him. She grabbed the notebook and quickly left.

“I think she remembers you”

He watched her leave and stared at the door after her. It was her, he could not believe it. He thought he would never see her again considering. But here she was still the same after 300 years. 

A Month of Writing: August 3rd 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 3rd

“I’m not going in there”

“Why not? We agreed we would do this together.”

“Yeah, well, I was drunk and things always seam like a good idea at that time.”

The two of them stood looking through the open door way in to the dark void.

“Are we still going through with this?” he said pushing passed the two of them with a T bar stand with two yellow woking lights on them trailing the power cable behind.

“All in.. Well she's starting to chicken out” smiling at her.

“Lets just do this” she said turning on her touch.

“and let their be light” he said, plugging in the lights in to the extension lead. plunging the darkness in to light. Yet it almost seamed that the darkness was eating the light. with them unable to she the end of this cavernous room beneath the building that they knew so well.

In front of them was a mound of dirt. creating the dusty damp smell. set in to the side of the mound were concrete slabs creating a path of steps. leading to the top.

The three of them stood looking at the make-shift path in fount of them.

“fine I’ll go first.” she said stepping in to the void. they all slowly step up the slabs laid before them, each step leaving a its mark in the fine layer of dust. 

“I think this place is bigger then just one shop.”

“There has always been rumours of tuners leading down to the beach from one of the old manor houses.”

“yeah but those tunnels would be small, I think, there meant to be centres old and these shops have only been her 80 years tops.”

As they reached the top the three of them stood with their touches shining in to the far distance, even the light from the working lights did not illuminate this basement void. 

“We should go” she said the tone of her voice authoritative.. the two of them turned their touches to where the beam of hers fell. They stood in science as they paned the beams of light below, the white beams hitting and reviling tomb stone upon tomb stone….

A Month Of Writing: August 2nd 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 2nd

Swinging from the chandelles, high on Champagne on ice

A ballroom floor of black and white tiles littered with black, sliver and purple balloons and glitter and streamers the same. 

While musicians play a lively beat with drums and sax, guitar and keys. The grand piano taking centre stage.

As guests as dressed up in black, purple and green, laugh and dance and jest. as glasses kiss and lovers caress. Hand in hand they move throw the crowds. For a privet corner, for a secret kiss.

A table out stretched. Nearly as long as the room, laid in purple, and red with a marvellous spread. Roosted hog, beef and quail. Roasted veg, steamed corn and jugs of ale.  Rich velvet chocolate cake and fruits from across the seas.

A Champagne fountain takes centre place, glasses staged high each filled… Devine.

A jester on a ladder empties another green bottle while another hand hands hime another.

While a group gathers round waiting for a glass of Champagne from on high. 

A figure dressed in black and green and mask to match. Purple ribbons hang from its stick to match the ribbons with in her hair. 

Stands alone and watches the chandelles that hang above their light and reflection captured in the mirrors in the celling above. 

Gold gilded frames, frame each one and cast painted sculpture hang between each one. 

As she watches the guests dance and sway on the checkered ceiling refection so high. 

Her broken thoughts last and slip away with the touch of a hand on hers as he leads her a way.

A Month Of Writing: August 1st 2018

During the Month of August 2018, Each day I Wrote Two pages of fiction in my Travelers Notebook. Here are some of the extracts.

August 1st

It was starting to feel as if it had not stopped raining for weeks.The constant grey glom hung over the city making noon seam like twilight. Shades of grey, blue and indigo washed the sky’s filled with heavy drops of rain.

Yet it had only been five days and nights dry and still.

As the sun rose, burning its rays of light through the dark clouds. It was as though its heat began to melt the dark sky in hope that it might be seen..

Sat in a small coffee shop, opposite an empty park. its green ground partly flooded. Puddles of grey blue catching every drop of rain through at it.

A gentlemen at the window table with a cup of hot black coffee, dressed in a tailored black three piece suit sat watching contently as people walked pasted with umbrellas.

Two girls rain past with their bags over their heads, flat shoes and short skirts. They made him turn is head for a second look, before retuning to his coffee.

People sat in hiding from the weather, drying their coats and trousers with a hot drink and a snack.

The warmth of this long summer  storm made the rain warm, not refreshing the air. A sudden flash of light from somewhere made people look up and towards the window. Followed by a sudden load rumble above in the distance. Echoing and bring a strange quite to the coffee shop.

He smiled to him self as he pick up the coffee cup in one hand and the saucer in the other. His dark bright eyes transfixed on the darkening sky above, as if pleased. As if receiving some good news.

A girl and her boyfriend- maybe, came in qickly pushing the door open and closing her umbrella, glancing at the table where he sat, for a second their eyes met and she was hypnotised until the touch of the boyfriends hand on her arm.

Smiling to himself as she walked to counter. He still had the charm after all these years. Dark, twisted, irresistible, yet this girl was not his concern today.

Looking back out the window he waited, listening and watching as the storm grow stronger  above. as the strikes of light seamed almost continuous and long explosions seamed endless the lights in the shop flickered and the street light went out, and shops on the other side of the park were put in to darkness.

He took this as his que. Standing and straightening his jacket , picking up his umbrella, dropping a tip of £10 on the table with his half hull coffee, he smiled once more at the girl making her blush. Leaving the shop he stopped opened his umbrella. He crossed the road and headed in to the small park towards the shops on the other side. 

For a moment she watched and for a second it almost seamed as if he was walking over the puddles rather then through….

New Years Eve.

“They are her demands. If I want ‘our relationship to have any kind of further. I will abide by them’. Is how she put it”

“And to think she is someones little girl.” 

“Hay come on, I was with this woman for five years” picking up her empty mug from the table.

“I know I'm sorry. It just seams she's being a little... Well spoilt little bitch.”

“Well yes.” Turning around to open the bottle of  white wine and poring out the last drop for her. “You two never really got on did you?”

“Not really… I tired but we did't really have anything in common." He handed her a mug ,half full with wine. 

"She took the glasses as well."

"And half the cutlery, and plates, most of the saucepans." sipping from the mug.

"So that's why your cooking in a wok" He sat down opposite her at the table with a beer. 

"And the dining table. Hence the garden table and chairs." Pulling back the red and white checked table cloth to revile the hidden black metal table. The two chairs covered with blankets to mack them a little more inviting.

"And the sofa. All the hangers in the wardrobe. And all but one towel." Taking a well needed mouthful of beer from the cold bottle. 

"She did leave you with a bed, didn't she?"  A small smile on her face finding her friends situation a little amusing.

He looked at her disapprovingly and sad. 

"Dose the mattress. One pillow and the duvet count?”

"Shit.... Anyone would think that you cheated on her"

He took a long gulp of beer. Finishing the bottle. 

"You didn't" 

"It was two years ago I was working away. We had had a fight and I wasn't sure if I was going to come home to an empty house." 

"Your and arse. You know that.... Dose she know?" 

"Doubt it she never brought it up. And I'm pretty shut that she would have thrown that in my face if she did no." Flinching as he rubbed his black eye. 

“You should have slapped her back.” The disapprovingly gaze feel towards her again, from sad eyes. no answer need he was a gentlemen and he properly apologised to her for her hitting him, she thought.

He got up and stirred the sauce in the wok.  And added a bit more red wine to the mix. The mixture hissed as the cool liquid hit the heat in wok. Throwing a small cloud of hot vapour in to the air. the warm smell mad her hungry. Picking up the pack of spaghetti. he tipped the lot in to the saucepan of boiling water.

Night time in the city did not seem very dark. Street lights, along with car head lights and building emanating glows from windows and neon signs created a yellow warm glow across the sky. Even this close to Primrose hill, seeing the stars were out of the question.

Random echoing explosions from the park and near by residents filed the air. 

Finishing the last drop of wine from the mug watch him. waiting for the spaghetti to cook.

“There is a another bottle of wine in the fridge if you want to open it?“ 

She found the fridge looking very baron compared to normal. Half a dozen bottles of beer, a pint of milk, pack of bacon, butter, and at the bottom was the bottle of wine.

“got the bottle opener?”  taking of the plastic seal form the top of the bottle. 

“Nope” Poring the hot water in to the sink. “She tock that too, sorry” 

“Thats cool I want to cut down on alcohol next year” Opening the fridge putting the bottle back.

Mixing the spaghetti in the wok with the sauce the smell of the red wine filled the kitchen. before shearing it out between the two plates. 

“I know what I got… hopefully.“ putting the two plates on to the table before heading off to living room. retuning with a bottle of champaign. taking of the seal and pushing the cork out of the bottle. A load POP! followed by a smash as the cork flew out, hitting a pitcher on the wall braking the glass and making frame fall from the wall.

“Whops” placing the bottle on the table, to pick up the broken picture. of him and his ex. “Maybe I should tack it as a sign?” Pushing the glass with his foot to the wall, with intention of cleaning it up after they had eaten. He took another mug from the cupboard and put the broken pitcher on the side. he filled his mag half way, then hers.

“Enjoy your last meal of the year.” picking up his fork to eat.

"What's your New Years resolution going  to be?" 

Topping up there champagne mugs.

That both were wrapped in coats and scarves sitting out side on the steps leading down to the grass.

"Not to do anything that means I gotta get devoice the year after" 

The sudden eruption of fireworks began to light up the sky with crackling and bangs of sparkling colour.

"Happy new year" kissing her in the check. 

"Here's to starting the new year single." Taping her mug against his. 

"Have you got a New Years resolution?" 

"Change the locks" 

She smiles with a silent laugh.  

"So you are finely devoiced?" 

“Yep it was finalised the week before Christmas.” Sipping more of the Champaign.

“Well congratulation, to the end of 7 years of marital bliss.” rolling up a smoke.

“Seven years… Only spent a year and a bit with him, before he went back to the states for a six month job, I think we spent six months together in over the last five years…  No love loss I’m afraid.” taking the cigarette off of him for a puff.

“Wasn’t he like 20 years older them you?” Smiling as he finished the last bit of drink in his mug ready to top it up. 

“No he was 17years older” Taking the bottle from him to top hers up. “I don't even no why we got married now.”

“For the money” happily joking.

“Really… I did’t get anything from the divorce. it was more of a mutual agreement…” 

“well heres to stating to the new year being single.”

They watched as the last of the fireworks died out leaving a mist of smoke in the air with the smell of burnt sulfur.  before heading in to warmth of the house…

Forgotten Stories

The repetitive daily routine and commute of five years had left her feeling slightly numb. It had become an uneasy norm to see the same people day in and day out, they had worked out the best spot to stand on the platform where the doors opened and they could enter and exit quick the tube and station. She had become a custom to the pushing and shoving, the man with the over powering aftershave, the girl who would push whom ever out of her way when getting on the tube and would always manage to stand on someones foot with her heels whiles listening to load music.

She had reached a point where she had just excepted that this could possible be it. this was her until she retired, or died! unless she won the lottery or some rich hansom man turned up and married her. Which of all of them the later one of retiring or dyeing suited her reality.

her daily montage of getting up, showering, getting dressed. (flat shoes, heals, boots, sandals, ballerinas, skirt, dress, jeans, suit trousers, jump suit, t-shirt, shirt, jumper, vest top, hoodie) hair make up (if she felt like it) coffee, toast, and out the house, walk to the station and on the tube .

Even the routine of seeing the girls she sheared the house with had become mundane. 

They where once all so close, but now 5 years on they hardly spent time together, they had all made new friendships, leaving  only the occasional weekend night for the 4 of them to spend together, pizza and wine. 

Even lunch breaks had become the same:

Monday, A ready meal form sainsburys 

Tuesday, costa for a hot chocolate or fruit cooler and a toasted sandwich.

Wednesday, The Italian cafe for a panini 

Thursday, Costa

friday, Costa.

The same people surrounded by tourists, excited to be in this crazy city. the regulars sit at tables for one and two or on the stools looking out of the window, blanking every one, lost in their own would of their own imagination, wish the working day over and holiday vacation to start.

Sitting at a table on her own. strangely quite for a Tuesday, still over half her lunch brake remaining and already a finished drink and a almost finished toasted sandwich. With a notebook sitting in front of her and one headphone in as she scrolled through the music on a the ipod in cased in black, looking for something too listen to that might just inspirer to write. Yet nothing.

“This is from the Gentleman that just left”

The girl with blue hair and tattooed arms placed a fresh take away cup beside her, with no lid. As she looked up her, the girl pointed out the window to the at the man walking away, pristine black suit  and shoes with dark blond hair.

“thank you” looking back at the girl who served most days at lunch and first thing in the morning, Her shift ending as she began to leave to return to work.

“I think you have an admire and he’s quite hot.”  the two exchanged a smile as they watched him walk away.

“Well cant be rich and hot cos that would mean that the world would implode or some thing.”

“Quite true” Pick up the empty cup and heading back to the counter

Glancing back out side with a small hope that her admire was still there but he had already beed lost in the crowed.

The late evening tube was almost empty. Two girls finishing off the make up before heading out, a suit worker with brief case and paper listening to his phone, and tourists with back packs and suitcases heading to places unknown.

Out of the darkness of the depths of the earth we pull in to the brightly lit station still five stops till her stop. It seams so far.

The doors open letting the girls off and further down the hollowed out worm that in which we travel. A group of slightly drunk and load me get on, pestering some poor girl seated further down the train.

The odd light flicked on and off above my head, making my eyes feel like they are under attack.

As the train pulled in to the next station of and green tiles and stops, the group of loud men grew louder as a group of girls get on and begin to head down the train closer to her away from the testosterone driven men. The doors begin to beep their “ready to close” warning as the last desperate traveler’s jumped on to the train.

A well presented man stood looking down the open carriages at the group of harassing men. A dark night blue sky suit with black shoes gave the illusion that the blue was lighter then it was. He watched as the train pulled out of the light and it to the darkness of the underworld.  Glancing down at the screen of her ipod wondering weather I should change the album to something less chilled out then ‘ Young Mountain, by This Will Destroy You’ which was starting to make her eyes heavy

A feeling of unease surrounded her like an invisible blanket, heavy. It felt like she had been removed from the noise from the hormonal driven men had been muffled out by a pillow over her ears, even the music from the head phones seamed as if it was playing from a speaker a room far away

Looking back down the train as the lights again flickered the hairs on arms and neck stood up and shock with anxiety for unknown reasons, Apart from may be, her own imagination.

the Gentleman now stood looking down to the back of train.

There was something about him. Then she realised he was the man from the coffee shop. He stood there holding the rail above his head, and the other hand in his trouser pocket. It almost seamed as if his stillness and body was making the train move gracefully side to side. His whole mannerism and look seamed to radiate power.

his gaze remained still and steady, unbroken by the flickering lights.

She followed his gaze down to the other end of the train. A few people sat ignoring each other. (Strangers with no intention of becoming acquainted).

As the lights continued to be temperamental I suddenly saw movement. were her eyes playing with her imagination? Suddenly she realised that standing there were two children around ten or eleven. Twins  dressed identically it what could only be described as circus outfits. Full skirts with puff sleeves and purple, dark pink and gold diamond print.

They stood there silently each holding the hand of a woman in a long green dress. I almost felt as if she had seen her before but Could not think where form, If at all. The three of them just stared down the carriage at him. 

As though they were in a silent fight, throwing angry thoughts and angry words back and fourth.

Pulling in to the next station he walked down the carriage stopping beside her looking down he  smiled. All she could do was smile back with a blush. It was almost as if he was protecting her form someone her or someone from her.

As the doors opened the woman lead the children off their heads turned and watched him as they jumped off. As the doors began to beep he once a gain smiled at her and quickly moved  to the door jumping off jut in time for them to close with out touching him.

“Stupid Kids” Snapped Kelly putting shopping bags on the kitchen counter. Kelly was on of her house mates dyed red, black and purple hair. A Pharmacist, grate for when any of them are feeling ill.

“Whats wrong?” Poring herself a glass of wine.

“There was just two girls standing on the pavement by the gate. As i came if I had to walk around them into the road. Freaky as hell They just stood there and steered at me… I think they were twins, they were dressed identically, looked like they belonged in centre of Camden or a circus.”

“Nice” Taking a sip of her wine. before heading up to her roam, Leaving Kelly to begin cooking her meal.

Her room was on the first floor at the front of the house. once again the street light was out across the rood, leaving the room in dark shades of grey shadows.

Before turning on the light she glanced out of the window, partly be a nosy neighbour. Standing beneath the broken street light stood the two girls, about 15-16, holding hands, looking at the house. After what had happened the night before they freaked her out a little. Reaching for the curtain, she watched as one of girls looked up at her window and brought a finger to her lips in gustier to be quite. her whole body shock, every hair stood up a cold chill ran through her. she grabbed the curtain and pulled it across the window to shut out the outside world. Standing staring at he closed green curtains imagination running wild with what she had just saw. where were they from? who were the? and why were they standing outside scaring every one. Reaching  for the glass of wine on the desk hands trembling she missing and knocked the glass on the floor.

It had been weeks since she had been brought the drink in the coffee. and each time that she had been in there since their had been something else, a coca, a bottle of orange juice and cake. But as of yet she has not  probable seen him. The staff find it funny and cute, they have asked him for his name or where he works yet nothing, his charm and smile is apparently hypnotic, the girls seam almost smitten by him and they forget the answer to what they have asked him. Yet she has not had the pleaser of meeting this admire.

Sitting next to the window with a iced drink and a toasted sandwich. With note book and pen and ‘The Strain’ novel, a book that has been sitting on the shelf for almost a year.

The busy London life of tourists outside in search of Instagram moments with selfy sticks and digital cameras a round their necks.

“Sorry do you mind if I shear?” Breaking from the day dream, looking up to see him standing by the empty chair at the table. Bright Blue eyes, dark and deep enough to get lost in.

“No that fine”. As he sat down I realised that the coffee shop had suddenly become full, all the tables taken , the only free seat was at her table.

Glancing at her watch to make sure that she had not over spent her time and was late for work. No 40 minuets left, it had almost felt as though time was going slower. Most lunch breaks would fly by making the rest of the working day feel as if it was going on forever.

Taking a sip of her cold drink, summer fruits, a mix of ice and fruit syrup, which was basically water and sugar flavouring, Trying not to look at him, even with a hundred questions, Glancing out the window she noticed that across the road looking in the window of a shop was a woman in a dress of gold and black from behind the style looked very 1920s, short black gloves shoes almost flat with a heel no more then 1/2 inch and a black parasol of lace. she looked quite out of place at this time of day, it was as if she was one her way to an evening event.

“she has quite a classic taste in dresses, don't you think?”

“I’m sorry?” Looking at him. His face seamed to smile with out his mouth moving. He nodded as he looked over towards the woman,

“What are you working on. If you don’t mind me asking.?”

“Oh nothing much, just some notes for an article for my blog.” Closing the notebook, self conchase over its contents.

“You write a lot?” 

“A bit, nothing that good”  He sip his coffee, she felt so at ease but at the same time the familiarity of his presence was uncountable and unsettling with no exportation of why.

“So why do it?’

a moment to think 

“Personal pleasure” She smiled, looking out of the window again, the women stood now looking towards the coffee shop at them in window. 

“How many notebooks have you filled up”

“three or four”

“Not all of it is posted on your blog?” a sense of confusion.

“no not all off it is”

he moved forward on his seat placing his cup on the table.

“you should finish the ones that you have not yet finished”

“I’m sorry?” 

“your work”

He confused her even more. What did her know about her. she wondered if one of her friends had set him up.

“I’m sorry… But Do I know you?”

His smile was warm and comforting, eyes that made her heart race.

“I suppose you do.. In a way. Even them”

looking once more out to the street the twins, bother the children and the teenagers stood with the woman in black and gold.

“You should finish the red notebook and the blue.. And the pink one”

Shock and confusion, 

“The unfinished stories you started… You know who I am, and her and them.” It was as if he was looking in to her mind and sole. Yet he did not scare her.

“In a way we have been inspiring you for years, well mainly myself and her. When you haven't really no-test. we have just been there. Humming a tuning,  beside you guiding you to buy something.”

She smiled at his comment.

“So, are the two of you my conscience so to speak. The devil and the angle on my shoulder?” 

A smile of laughter at the idea.

“Not exactly. We are as real as you are. Don’t worry your not going mad.” his words trying to put her at rest, yet they placed more confusion.

“She’s no Angel… And myself. Well I’ve been called many things though time, and Angel and Devil are defiantly two of them. Or maybe I am one and the same? You see, with out realising it you have been playing Devils advocate in a way,  putting our lives on to paper.” 

Still the thought kept going around her head that one of her friend must have put him up to this, but there was one thing. She had not told any one about what she had been writing, Her computer was password protected, And the notebooks she had finished or was still working she kept in a draw in her desk that she looked.

“You should continue with them, finish them” He looked out of the window at the woman, still standing there with the twins, watching them.

“Be careful of her. she might seam nice but she likes a hunt, and the taste of blood. And kids well every one loves the idea of running away with the circus… Don’t give up on the ideas. Our existence.” 

He lent back in his seat, coffee in hand.

“Your making it sound as if you all are not… Well Human” She was starting to think about the stories she had stated and not finished. Pages of notes and doodled ideas, like he had said. Smiling he took a sip from the paper cap.

A circus of misfits and run a ways form their past, or them selfs. A Vampire of the old world with legends surrounding her. And the name of the one known by so many across this world, modern and old, and that cast fear, myths and legend, that caused the death of thousands of women. Whom was the most loyal servant of god him self… Lucifer.