Spark Wordly

This is where I'll be posting my short stories and poetry. Feel free to comment and givd feedback.

[wordlyspark]

Falling Before Flying

You were tested and tried.

As you cried to the gods.

Looking somewhere for sanctuary.

But like everyone else they let you down. 

With no answer or warning,

You fell head first.

Without ever really knowing how to fly.

By:Zee 

This poem is my own work please ask for permission before using.

[wordlyspark]

SuperWhoLock: The Mystery Of The Blue Box

There was rain falling from the air tapping against the roof of 221 of Baker Street. Sherlock and John had just yet solved another case. As always John liked to think that he'd solved the last clue. Mostly he was right but according to Sherlock John was mostly wrong.

"If I hadn't noticed the tiny blood stain you wouldn't have catched the real culpret." John hobbled over to the fridge. By now he was unfazed at whatever strange and disturbing things hid in plain sight.

Sherlock gave one of his small smiles one of the things he liked about the soldier, was that he was easy to annoy. "Do you need me to get out the tiny violin." He suggested rubbing his thumb and finger together.

John slammed the fridge shut "Is there ever anything to eat in this house. I can't just survie off of Mrs Hudson's tea."

"Why not?" Asked Sherlock spinning theatrically in his chair. "I do." He said looking closely out of the window.

"Well most of us don't survie off of pure arrogance."

"Let's go for a walk." Sherlock sat up giving John no time to think. "Chop Chop time is of the essence." He exclaimed.

"But I'm hungry and it's late" Said John as he clenched his stomach. Reluctantly he grabbed his coat.

"We'll get something to eat along the way." Said Sherlock who locked the door. "You fancy chips I fancy chips?" He said in his snappy and quick paced voice.

Together they walked John felt the chill from the wind. In Sherlock's haste he realised that he had forgotten his umbrella.

"Why don't we order by the phone?"

"You know how I feel about those things. Face to face contact is much better."

"We are only gonna talk to Gary." John said feeling his belly grumble.

"Exactly and tonight Gary is our first clue."

"it's not been less than twenty-four hours since our last clue."

"Exactly isn't this exciting." Said Sherlock rubbing his hands together. "The rain gives this mystery a nice atmosphere."

"Again I'm missing the part where Gary is the clue."

Sherlock opened the chipshop door allowing John in first. "Then allow me to enlighten you." Sherlock was about to show off. He could tell by that gleam in his green eyes.

"The usual." Said John to Gary who nodded it looked like there was not much left.

"What can I get the famous Sherlock Holmes."

"A cone of chips with a pinch of salt no vinegar and a clue to the light I saw flashing through your shop windows."

"You saw all that?" Quizzed John who was now in a better mood when Gary handed over his order.

"Keep up John." Sherlock shook his head at Gary "There was a blue light but no lighting it's raining. But there was no noise just a blue light."

Gary pointed outside of the window "I couldn't leave my customers."

"What did you see?" Asked John who only had a few more chips left. "A blue police box I believe."

"How odd." Noted John who was very much enjoying his chips.

"of course it's odd it's our kind of odd."

"yes yes it is..." John slammed his foot against the ground sighing. "Can't we just go home."

"Sherlock pulled John out of the shop." Gary gave him Sherlock's food. Which John took a chip from feeling that Sherlock was too lost in thought to notice.

Sherlock and John went around the back it smelled. Of rubbish and urine this put John off of his food entirely. But there plain as day was the blue police box.

[wordlyspark]

Read the price of a Princess by me on wattpad there are four chapters so far. It is a story about a girl who has had to runaway from her kingdom. It's a story of monsters,hope and facing your fears. It's a story for those who need it the most. A voice for those who can't speak up. I'd like to think of it as a story for young adults and adults in general. It's a tale that I feel needed to be told

Arianna is not your ordainry Disney princesse she is a princess with complications.

Trigger Warning for Sexual Assault Victims. Unless you can handle these themes I suggest you don't read until your in the right mind to do so.

Arianna had to leave her kingdom. Nobody knows why. Accept one. Her story isn't one of romance. It is one of betryal and territory. It's a story of our world wrapped in a fantasy.

I hope this books will give a voice to those who need it. I hope it will give other victims to raise their voice. No matter how hard it might be.

This is a fairytale for those who are in need of a voice.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/239842962?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=Starzeexx&wp_originator=wjf450EWQ99U3%2BcA9Z0bKhen4QXUEBeWtgN9R2f20NoI%2F1KKJeHQOE2yMueUA8Jo1%2F1F86O1gf8pOcKF0LKRVtHHeMrJCAez%2BkRjj%2BB39jcIw2iLxNY9w7%2BKQZQcU3Li

[wordlyspark]

THE PACKAGE

A/N

This is an inspired short story idea from a prompt I used. There is a trigger warning for those who suffer with depression or mental illness. Please read and enjoy. Any feedback or likes would be helpful as I would like to improve my writing.

I haven't slept or ate in days. Somedays I think she's alive. That there will be the good morning text. Or even a goody snapchat. Just something to tell me that it was all an elbroate joke. Looking around the room I see the places we sat the things we did. Each passing memory flicking through my mind. Even the sweetest ones turn sour.

Pulling up my purple covers I shiver. Feeling as if her ghost is still with me. Somedays I wish it was other days I just want to forget that she ever existed. It hurts too much to think about her. My breathing has become heavier this room feels so stuffy and useless without her. Outside its raining heavily. Each drop hitting like a bullet against my window. 

*Honey you have to at least try get to school" Just because we had the funeral mum thinks I've found some sort of closure.

"I can't, I'm not feeling well!" Mum is silent for a while.

"I'm sure they'll send you home."

"I said I don't feel well!" Hearing mum sigh I pull up my covers trying to hide from this dreadful world.

"Well I'm going to work call me if you need anything" Her voice is soft the way it used to be when she put me to sleep. 

That was a long time ago. When me and April beleived in fairytale endings. Looking around is easier when April's photos aren't showing. I couldn't even force myself to look at the blue streaked eyes. So much pain, so much, hurt so many things I didn't know.  April was the friendly type of girl. Despite looking pretty with her straight blond curls and soft rosy cheeks. April always manged to make you feel like somebody.. 

"I'm going to work!" Mum calls up "Text me if you need anything!"  

Throwing the covers off I hear mum leave for work. Listening to the car pull out of the street

Sniffing myself I pull away. Maybe I should get a shower? 

Discarding the shower I go downstairs. It's like no matter where I go or what I do there's a memory attached to everything. Bathroom was where we spent ages doing our hair. Trying on make up. In the kitchen there is the chipped mugs we made last summer. April thought it would be a good idea to take pottery as an extra hobby. What a bad idea that was

Chocking back a laugh I start to sob. Breaking down as I just cry for every memory we ever shared. April is gone and I don't know how to accept it. Since she's alive in my brain. So alive and so free. 

Jumping I hear a knock as at the door. Dropping the chipped mug as it drops to the ground. Smashing into pieces. Packing I rush to the door trying my best to smile. 

A guy with ginger hair and eyes of green lemon grass stands with a package in hand. 

"I didn't order anything" the guy scratches his head  checking the package. 

"It's for a Miss Hollow" He holds out the package that's wrapped neatly in pink wrapping. Tied with a red bow. 

"Who's it from?" 

My eyes grow wide. So many memories of Christmases, Birthdays and friendversarys flash through my mind.  

"Um miss do you still want it?" He takes my head shake as a no. 

"Wait!, I meant yes, I want it"  He hands it me tipping his hat as he goes. Even though he didn't know it. I knew it was April. From the neat wrapping to the fancy old fashioned handwriting. 

It says it was sent the day before she died. I rip the tag off scrunching it in my palma. Throwing it in the bin. Reading the note carefully.

Dear Lola 

If you receive this I'm sorry it must mean you know I succeeded. My intention was to never hurt you. But I promise I'm in a better place. Having tea with Satan. Since I hear God don't let the sucidel people through his holy gates. 

Kissing the note softly I slip it in the pocket of my oversized grey hoodie. Seeing the words on the page hits a new level. Like I don't have to process it as much. Carefully I unwrap the parcal. Sniffing the bow. It smells of her strawberry scented perfume. Staring back at me I see our memory book. It's decorated with pictures of us and stickers. 

Flipping it open I take the time to look through each page not wanting to overlook anything. There's the tickets to our first football game. Which we both hated so much. Both agreeing that watching it wasn't as fun as playing it.. There's also our first ever school photos. It's as if my whole bank of memories are on this very page. 

I wonder how many days and hours this took. Its not just a simple note book. It's hand made and colourful. Filled with who she was and what her dreams were. Inside one of the lilac purple pockets is her friendship necklace. Dangling it in front of me it catchs the light. Clinking together it creates a silver heart. Checking the other pocket I pull out the key. Opening the locket to find five year old versions of us. 

Shutting the book I smile for the first time in weeks. Putting the memories to bed for now. Knowing that no matter how much I miss, loved and cherished April. It doesn't mean I can't forgive her and it certainly doesn't mean I have to forget her. Sweeping up the mug I put it on the counter. Deciding to keep the handle part as a memory I can revist. 

My phone rings playing April's favriote song bad day. I click answer. 

"Hey mum I'm going to get ready for school" Allowing my one last tear to dry up.