Writing Dump + New Spoken Word YouTube Video

‘Photo Dumps’ seem to be ‘a thing’ in the blogosphere right now. Thing is, I’m not much of a photographer. I am a writer, however, a very keen one and one searching for feedback on her work! So today’s post is going to be a ‘Writing Dump’ because someone likes to be rebellious original. It will consist of poetry, short stories and snippets of novels both finished and not.

First though, here I am with another spoken word poem, this time accompanied by creative film-making by me, starring me! Todays poem/film is called Peace For A Poet and it is about a poet on a journey to find peace in our crazy, messed-up world. Along her way she highlights all the injustices she encounters, but in the end….well, you’ll just have to watch it to find out!

I really hope you enjoyed that! As always, feedback is appreciated!

Now, onto #1 of ‘The Dump’. Oh yeah!

“I see you crying, crying like you can’t take no more. I know you’re hiding, but I don’t know what you’re hiding for.

You’re like a diamond shining underneath a billion rocks.

And no one knows the truth except me, and you, of course.

Or do you? I guess there aren’t many mirrors in the pile of rocks that crush you,

Nothing to reflect your brilliant sparkle and bounce it back to you.

Just dull grey rock, maybe you think you’re the same, just with one small difference:

you’re at the bottom of the pile, under everyone else.

Let me tell you, you’re way above them, honey, you just need to realise it.”

I like this because of its sass. It’s from a prose-y short story called Revolution.

#2 

Okay, here are a few snippets from my incompleted NaNo project, The Melody Of Life:

He looked upset. “I wish I could be here to help her”

“Why can’t you?” I asked, raising my voice as anger and confusion threatened to appear, seemingly out of nowhere.

He didn’t answer, just hung his head, all trace of a smile gone.

“I said, why can’t you?” I shouted.

“Dante?” I spun around at the sound of my Mother’s wobbling voice.

“Coming, Mum.” I popped my head around the living room door.

“She misses you, you know.” I whispered, but when I looked around my Father was gone.

It was weeks before he appeared again, perhaps even a month. I was upstairs in my room, imagining as usual. I heard something at the window. Looking across, I couldn’t see anything. Just as I was turning back to stare at the blank canvas of my wall, a shadow crossed the glass. I sighed and decided to check it out. Flinging the window open, I looked out across the rooftops and, sure enough, there he was. He was sat with his back to me, gazing out at the town, swinging his legs over the edge of the garage roof.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, leaping out of the window to join him. He looked at me as I sat down next to him, no surprise in his eyes.

“Where have you been? You abandoned me!” I laughed, glad to have him back. He didn’t laugh with me.

“You don’t need me anymore.” he said. That stopped my laughter short.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What do you mean, Dad?”

I’m not your Dad.” he told me. That made me wince. “Look, you need to leave me behind and find your real Dad.” The power of his words really hit me hard, right where it hurts too.

I thought about explaining how I couldn’t, about how it would hurt me even more, about how I was safe here, with him, but somehow my argument sounded feeble now.

“You may not need me, but you do need this.” I watched as he pulled a scrap of dusty orange paper from his jeans pocket and handed it to me.

I traced Sahra’s handwriting across its surface. “Where did you get this?” I breathed.

“Call her.” he said, and with that he jumped from the roof.

“Dad!” I cried, looking over the edge, but he was gone. Probably forever.

Just to say, this is his imaginary Dad, his real one left when he was young.

“How did you know I was on the roof today? How did you see me?” I asked

She laughed a little. “That would be because I was on the roof too.”

I was astonished. “You were? You were on my roof?”

“No! My roof, silly.”

“Oh.” It was obvious now I thought about it.

“It’s a great spot for thinking, no?” she stared dreamily out of the window.

“Yeah, you also get a pretty damn good phone signal up there too.” I joked.

She laughed softly.

An attempt at humour. 😉

We walked for a long time in silence. Finally, I spoke. “Sahra?”

“Mmmm.”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Today.”

“Oh. That’s okay.”

“You know what you did, right?”

“I guess so.”

“You took me into the real world and you’ve made it hard for me to leave.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“When your life does have bits missing, it’s easy to slip into a place which isn’t entirely real. Before I met you I had cut myself off, wrapped myself up in my imagination, hidden from the truth. I created a place that’s perfect, too perfect, a fantasy.”

“And I drew you out of it?”

“Exactly. You’ve changed me in the few days we’ve spent together. You’ve shown me how amazing reality can be and now I don’t want to go back to my old ways.”

Sahra stepped in front of me. “Dante, you don’t have to.”

I clenched my fists. “You know what it’s like, Sahra. You know it’s hard for me.”

“Yes, Dante.” she whispered softly. “But it’s not impossible. I’ll help you, Jenita will help you, so will Paige and everyone.”

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Ooh, the drama!

“Please.” I asked empty space. I felt my way blindly through my thoughts. “I’m not five. You have to tell me what’s happened.”

I heard a sigh, it was strangely muffled. “Look. Get your head out of that pillow and I’ll explain everything.”

I lifted my head and blinked in the light.

Neeeeext! 

I punched in her number, just to see what it looked like on the screen. It was attractive. I laughed quietly to myself, I never found the prospect of numbers or figures exciting. Maths was not something I revelled in.

Hehe.

I have to tell you the truth after all this time. I’m not much of a writer, you know that, but I’ll try to explain the best I can. Please don’t expect any eloquence because that’s one thing I can’t provide.

I am and always will be your friend, but I have to tell you this (you may hate me for it afterwards and never want to speak to me again, but I’ll accept that as my fate). I lied to you all along. It felt terrible to deceive you, but I promise I was only trying to help.

You know, if you ask nicely I might even give you some more snippets, but for now…..*closes book*…..the end.

#3

The Angel Of Peace

I arise,

Shrouding shawl wrapped around my compassionate shoulders,

Ascending from the wrath of 195 nation’s past.

 

From the eye of the storm reflected in their vision,

From the glint on the blade of a metallic winking sword,

And from the release of a gun.

From two hands interlocked, stained with the blood of enemies and comrades combined,

I arise, the angel of peace.

Just another lil’ poem on the not so lil’ subject of peace. 

 

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The Gift: My Second Story + The Exciting Start Of An Anthology

Hello there people! As promised, here is the second of my life-changing experiences that I said I wanted to share with you all. If you haven’t read my first post of this series, That Time I Stood Up For What I believed In,  please click here.

I am also still looking for bloggers who are willing to step forward and share their own stories with the world, by contributing to my anthology. All you have to do is comment below, leaving your experience and I’ll put it in a post with some other people’s, to represent a diverse array of positive and negative experiences that made us who we are today.  I have a few participators at the moment, some who’ve given their stories, others who’re still writing them. It would be great to have many more though.

So without further ado, I present:

The Gift by Gracie Chick (ME!!!)

I stand pressed against the wall, I can smell the chlorine from the pool and I’m gazing down at its green-blue depths through the glass of the viewing area window.  I am surrounded by jostling, noisy kids with wet hair, just come up from swimming classes. My own ponytail is dripping down my back uncomfortably. 

Usually I would be joining in the conversation, laughing and joking with my friends, but today is different. Today is so much different.

Bittersweet feelings are flooding my body and my mind, they are intensified as a familiar face emerges from the crowd. She looks at me sadly, and then just walks up and pulls me into a hug, I hug back, my eyes pricking with tears. 

I’ve only lived here seven months, but great and strong relationships can be formed in that time. And it’s often when you go to leave them, you realise what amazing friends they’ve been. 

Her Mum calls her name and she glances over her shoulder. 

“Gotta go.” There’s a moment of sad serenity as we say goodbye. 

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Another friend comes and stands by my side and together we watch her run out of the door and down the street, away from the leisure centre. “Hug?” my friend asks. “Yeah.” I hug her too, it seems that’s all I’ve done this morning. “Thank you for everything.” I say “For making us feel so welcome, for being so kind and thoughtful, for teaching us so many new things, for becoming such a great friend.” 

She smiles and thanks me too. “I’ve got something for you guys. I gave it to your Mum.” She says and then she has to leave too. I wave to her with a brave face, but inside I’m welling up with sadness. 

Back at the place that we wouldn’t be calling home for much longer, I suddenly thought of my friend’s words about the gifts she’d left us. Me and my siblings opened the packages that had been given to us by my friend’s family, people who had taught us so much. They had welcomed us into their own house, shared all their skills and passions with us and showed us true hospitality and kindness. 

They had already given so much. I opened the envelope addressed to me first and I started to read the letter inside. It was from the eldest daughter, my friend and teacher, thanking me for listening, learning and showing her so many new things. Then she began to tell me about the gift she had given me. 

 

 She had bestowed upon me the most precious thing she owned. I would prefer not to say what, because it is quite personal, but it was the meaning and the sentiment with which it was given that really touched my heart. 

Reading her honest, heartfelt words made the emotion that already filled my body spill out in the form of tears.

I could not believe that she had valued me so much as to give me the most meaningful thing in her life. In her beautiful letter she explained that it was ‘ the most precious thing that God granted me to have and I am thankful to have it.  “I have thought many times before about giving it to you, so now is a good opportunity”. 

I felt this great and overwhelming emotion, a mix of honour, sadness, joy and strength. I could the bond of our friendship getting tighter, not weaker, as we had said goodbye. I had the feeling that this relationship would just get stronger and grow as time went on.

So there you have it, my second experience, The Gift. For someone to give me the most valuable thing in their life, as a symbol of our friendship, showed me how important relationships really are. I made up my mind to treasure this gift and keep it always.

I hope you enjoyed reading it and now it’s your turn. Please send me an experience to include in my anthology, which will be spread out over several posts, so I can learn something from you.

I’ve decided to share the two experiences that I have received in this post today! Starting with one from the amazing Thoughts In Life.

Honestly, what I have learnt from a personal experience is to not allow others to change you. I was influenced when I was younger by a person very close to me and I became a person that today I cannot recognise. I became distant from the people I love, my attitude became unbearable, I changed for the bad. But after a while I realized this wasn’t who I was. I started changing my life around, and started being myself. No matter who you meet in life don’t allow them to control you or turn you into a person you are not.

And now for one from my Auntie Melissa, one of my most loyal readers.

I vividly remember when I was about 9 being in the school playground with my friend who was being bullied. We could’ve cowered in a corner and continued to be scared, instead we stood together and passively defied the bullies. We wouldn’t fight or call them names back, but together we refused to be afraid and do you know, they went away and left us alone after that.

I learnt that you just have to be true to yourself and your beliefs and in this case, for me, it is to ‘treat others as you would like to be treated yourself’. In a kind and caring way. I still practise this as much as I can today and in my current work very much believe that if I want change, then I have to make it happen in my life before I can help and advise others to do the same. How can I ask someone to change something that I myself will not consider?

What did you think of all three stories? Please don’t hesitate to send me one yourself, it doesn’t have to be super long and detailed or a major experience, it can just be a little memory you have that always sticks with you and that you learned a lesson from. It can be short and brief, but powerful, like the ones above. 

Thanks y’all and bye for now..

Gracie 🙂 🙂 🙂

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Into The Sunset: My Purpose In Life And My Dreams For The Future…

Hi Everyone! There’s something I’ve got to tell you all. In a few weeks, me and my family are setting off into the sunset in our unusual, slightly cramped, but quirky and beautiful Morris Traveller. Some of my readers may be classic vehicle enthusiasts, but for those who aren’t (including me!), a Morris Traveller is a 50-year-old British car.

My Dad converted it into a camper van, affectionately known as Mo,  that will house me and the rest of my crazy family for the next stage of our life. We’re journeyers, literally and figuratively. We’re searching for the way forward, a way to contribute to making a better world, a way to come even closer together, a way to learn and teach, give and take.

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Home Sweet Home!

Being the enthusiastic, maybe a little mad writer that I am, I decided to sit down and write my life’s ambitions on paper. I needed a plan in my head, I needed some sort of map, a way to let my feelings out, be completely and utterly honest about going away and starting a different life.  For me the only way was writing, and I mean serious writing, pages and pages. I sat up long into the night, head bowed over notepad, scribbling furiously until I was happy with it.

 

And I’d like to share bits of it with you guys today.

I’ll start off near the beginning:

I was born a writer, but I always wanted to teach. I love the sense of empowerment and delight that learning gives me, I thrive on it and want to share it with others, even those who find hard and unrewarding. I want to bring out the best in every person I teach.

I’ll have to learn a lot, teaching doesn’t come naturally to me. But I’m willing to work hard, make sacrifices and be determined if it means I can have my school one day. The one I’ve planned for years and years. You wouldn’t believe the amount of excitement and motivation it gives me, just thinking about it.

I don’t know exactly what shape or form the school will take, but I know that people will be central to it. It will be based around a strong, fair and kind community who want to teach the next generation the skills they need to live in the world and make it a better place.

This is all I want, it’s simple really. Just to live in place where I can learn and teach, make a difference in the world and be surrounded by people who care about the planet and each other.

I then go into the future, describing the school that I want so much:

I can hear the sound of laughter getting closer, the kids pile into the large, homey kitchen. The tinkling of water mixes with their joy to create the perfect melody as they wash their hands. I can feel the soft smoothness of dough as I knead and they copy, studying my hands in concentration. They are so eager to get it right, this will be their lunch.

We sit down around the table and I begin to read them a piece of poetry. I taste the words on my tongue, rolling them out into the air, popping each one like a giant gum bubble. Their young faces are filled with wonder and fascination. I tell them to write their own, using the emotions in their bodies to inspire them. They put their heads down and start scribbling.

Some of them take longer, savouring the language they use. Others rush through it, dashing to put on their wellies and run outside into the sunshine.

When they come back in they’re smeared with mud and grass stains and they smell like summer. They’ve been chasing each other around the meadow, foraging some salad ingredients from the hedgerow. They argue over who’s going to tell me about the lamb they saw being born.

We all sit down for lunch. Warm, happy voices and friendly, but passionate debates mingle together, filling my heart with contentment. The pasta is delicious and the children feel so proud of their work.

When darkness falls and they’re in bed or they’ve gone home, I log onto my computer and sign into WordPress. I type furiously, my fingers flying over the keys. I whip up a whirlwind of words that challenge, inspire and inform the reader. I become graciechick, writer, blogger, Light In The Darkness. Changing the world from her desk.

Then I talk about the struggles of leaving everything behind and going out into the world:

I’ve got  friends here, I’ll have to leave them behind. In a way I feel like any other thirteen year old, the idea of having friends over and carrying on all the fun activities is quite tempting. But I want to teach and I’m dedicated to my future.

Going away will be enriching and I’ll experience things I never imagined was possible. I’ll learn from life and learn to teach. I’ll gain the experience and knowledge needed to be a good teacher. I want to quench my thirst for understanding. I’ll meet people who already possess the wisdom needed. I’ll visit places that will inspire me and push me to the limits, but it will all be worth it. I’m working towards that dream of starting my own school and changing the world.

I don’t want to travel forever. When I find a place I feel I belong and an environment where I can grow and flourish, I’ll definitely think about wanting to stay. I’m not one of those people who travels for the sake of travelling, I’m looking for something.

Travelling is brilliant. Every day, every place I go, every person I meet is an opportunity to learn something new, to add to the library of my mind. But friendships can’t really be formed when you’re always moving on. Friends are so important to me, just like they’re central to any kid’s life. I want to able to forge good relationships with people my own age. Of all the things about the lifestyle we are about to adopt and have experienced in the past, the only bad one I can think of is friendships.

I want to be able to have my friends over to stay, to be more independent and to go out with them by myself. I want to be able to laugh and have fun with them and to see them more than once a month.

You could see this as a negative thing, but I can see through that and see the good in it. I’m searching for a place where we, as a family, can find the right friends, like-minded people who’ll join us on our journey through life.

I apologise that this post was so long and I hope that you enjoyed it. Blogging on A Light In The Darkness is extremely important to me and I will never stop writing my thoughts, ideas and stories on this site, although I may not always have an internet connection! So bear with me, good followers, for I will never abandon you.

Goodbye for now and wish me luck!

Gracie 🙂 🙂 🙂

 Do you have ambitions for your life? Can you relate to my dreams and struggles? I always deeply appreciate your comments and feedback, so please don’t hesitate to send me a few words, they always make me smile. 

 

Poppa

 

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The next part of our adventure takes place in Kent. Currently we are living in a house here, taking care of a good friend’s 95 year old father.

We are looking after Poppa, as everyone calls him, in his own home on Romney Marsh.

It’s a lot of work looking after Poppa and a lot of it my parents have to do, but I am Chief Tea Maker and I do bake a lot of cakes and puddings for him, as he does have a very sweet tooth. He’s a lot of fun to be around and everyone loves him.

It’s funny, but exciting for us to live in a 3 bedroom house, seeing as we’ve only ever lived in tiny houses and, just recently, in the back of a car!

We have our own room, me, my brother and sister, and we look out of our window in the morning across the flat marsh with sheep grazing in the sunrise. It’s beautiful.

I’ve set up my own little corner on the landing with a table and a chair. I’m right next to a window again and the view looks like a painting. I have my stack of books and my writing stuff. And, of course, a tin of biscuits! It’s blissful.

This morning Poppa did some Homeschooling with us. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He made everyone laugh by playing Irys’ recorder!

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Looking after Pops is a pleasure for us.

We always said that if someone’s in need of help we would make it part of our journey to help them and we are.

 

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A good student