I went on a creative writing course today for people who suffer from mental health issues and had a bit of time to write something based on a certain theme, intertwined with making numerous cups of tea and chatting up the girl sitting next to me. Here is what I wrote. I’ve not edited it, this is just what flowed out of me naturally in today’s session.
Looking forward to the ideal summer.
The sun was peaking down, spying on my life which was a perfect existence. When the sun is jealous then you know that your life is something special.
She’s not quite an angel but she lit up every room that she entered. Striking, extravagant, sublime… perfect. In her presence, I often closed my eyes yet the light never faded even behind closed lids. I saw kaleidoscopic beautiful fireflies prancing about the back of my eyelids. I’m sorry if I’m being over-emotional here and to anybody who reads this who wants this to have a happy ending then stop reading here.
The crow-faced demon, jet-black and extremely intimidating, whose body was made up of nothing other than ghastly, spectre-like black hands approached our table. As he walked towards us the table, the floor and ceiling were pulsating. In fact, the steady beat of the surrounding environment was slower in pace than my heart. The being had, after all, just walked out of the walls. I took a sip of my Rose wine to regain my composure and smiled at my darling but at the exact instant, her face disappeared. All that remained was an overexaggerated medium and miasma of nothingness. She was ghastly, haunting and despondent. She’d frozen in time.
I stood up slowly, tried to settle myself and nervously approached crow-face. I noticed whilst walking that the other attendees of this establishment were motionless and trapped in this moment of eternity.
I looked crow-face in his hallow, deep dark eyes whilst he stood in front of a mirror. Terrifyingly I saw another 30 crow-faces behind him in the mirror all who looked ready to jump out and join what I assumed was their leader. He opened his beak, cawed, and in a voice as gravely as the darkest and oldest bombarding forceful sin he said,
“Hello, Alex.”
The room was too cold, icy and my body felt numb and my mind felt like it was floating and looking down on the unwelcome form of myself. Crow-face smiled. It was grotesque and was the ingredient required for the most horrific nightmare.
“What have you done?” I asked, my voice dry, sounding like my tongue was no longer muscle and had been made of sandpaper.
Crow-face smiled again and giant hands such as those that made up his body projected out of the floor. They grabbed me by my arms and legs and held me down. The grip was unimaginably tight. Crow-face peered over me as if the moon was eclipsing the sun, which metaphorically, looking back, it was.
“You do not deserve this angel, she is mine and will always be mine – Now, what do you fear the most?”
You and I Books 
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