The Itch

A piece I wrote for a university assignment. “Freestyle” piece. 

“Miss Freis, I can assure you that you’ll be perfectly fine.” The doctor said, looking down her nose at me with eyebrow raised and an artificial smile tugging at her mouth. Under her hand was a little green slip, scrawled on with illegible writing that I hoped the pharmacist downstairs would understand. At least the prescription was more or less printed at the top. “Please take this downstairs for me, you’ll want to use this ointment twice a day, once in the morning and once before bed. Just like we discussed.” Continue reading


What Makes Us Tick

When I first opened my eyes, I already knew who I was. My entire existence was already hardwired into my brain; my name, my personality, my manufactured “life”. It was all already there. So when I opened my eyes for the first time, and I mean really opened my eyes, and consciously took in my surroundings, everything I knew fell apart. Cheesy as it may sound it’s the best way I can describe it—I still knew everything but everything was different. It didn’t help that my head was being messed with.

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Otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month, but I think the shortened version sounds adorable when said out loud, so that’s how I’m titling this post.

For anyone who doesn’t know, NaNoWriMo is an annual creative writing project which can be found at, where creative writers from around the world go to write a novel in the month of November.

The given aim for the end of the month is to have a 50,000 word novel written… That’s about 1667 words per day. And this year I have decided to participate.

It’ll be a huge challenge for me, as I have never written any story above 3000 words, but I shall try my hardest to finish this thing and to get my butt out of this terrible procrastinating habit I’ve been nourishing for the past few years.

So! Wish me luck with this! I will probably be writing updates on here from time to time.

The Mountain and the Wind

Upon the Earth the steadfast Mountain lies,
Through aeons His purpose immutable,
For change crumbles and grinds His rigid highs,
And shifts and turns change His walls to rubble.
The sprightly Wind looked down upon the rock
And felt her free heart ache at his solitude.
“Never can one rejoice alone and stuck!”
The Wind thus resolved, “No more shall He brood!”
She then tickled, she played, she laughed for Him
Until He cheered her games with deep guffaws.
Yet all too soon the friends began to grow grim…
For keeping them apart were Nature’s laws.
The Mount stood too fast while Wind danced too quick,
The constant with the ethereal won’t last.


Crystalline winds of the North
Engulfed, melted
In the belly of the Southern breeze
And the blanched face of Mother Earth
Gains a rosy glow
As fresh blossoms smile at the Sun,
Scattering their fair skirts over sodden ground
Carpeting it to welcome new life.
Snowdrops gaze upon the kind features
Of Lady Spring
Curtseying to Monsieur Winter
Who bows to her in sweet farewell:
“Until we meet again.”

The Problem with Word Limits (plus a consideration of a future piece)

For one of my final pieces during my first year of uni, we were given a very brief… well, brief for a story. It was so brief a brief that we were literally asked to “write an original piece of prose” and given a 2500 word limit. Now, it’s not that I had a problem with the lack of specific instruction on the piece as it allowed for all of us to write about exactly what we wanted, but after speaking with many of my peers I realised that the word count was what held a lot of people back.

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