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Eleanor’s room was in disarray. The floor was non-existent - concealed beneath a jumble of jumpers, wellies, jea..

kmart realism is fuuuuun

Cassandra drove her biro through the eyes of Bruce Pillar with such ferocity that the shiny paper ripped in two. Stabbing the brochure gave he..

It was a Sunday afternoon. Usually Catherine would feel a sense of foreboding at this point. She had to return to Stalag 17 (i.e. work) tomo..

Stood in the centre of that deserted oval, I felt like a spectre against a coal-coloured canvas. Would passersby find us interesting? Quie..

lolitaj14 Writing