T-L Spencer: Dreaming, Writing, Reading

There are some rules I just have to follow in order to really get in to the flow: 1. Wear warm and comfortable socks. 2. Always wear a pair of pyjamas. 3. Have a sugary snack close by - preferably chocolate. 4. Plenty of fluids available - nothing fizzy. 5. Sit in a light place on a comfortable chair. 6. Listen to music that creates an atmosphere. It has never failed me!

England 1809. Jane Eyre is isolated in the moors, depressed and dying. Collapsing in exhaustion, she is soon rescued by St John Rivers and as she recovers, relives her experiences. As a child, Jane is abused by her cousin John and later abandoned at Lowood School by her aunt, Mrs Reed of Gateshead.   While receiving a thorough education at Lowood, Jane is punished for her passionate nature and experiences true pain and loss as her only friend, Helen, becomes ill and dies in Jane’s arms. Years later, at the age of nineteen, Jane leaves Lowood, having been a teacher for some years and takes the post of Governess at Thornfield. While at Thornfield, Jane befriends Mrs Fairfax, the housekeeper and develops a strong relationship with her employer Mr Rochester. His frank and direct attitude appeals to her and she finds herself jealous of the pretty Miss Ingram, who she assumes holds his affections. When Mr Rochester proposes to Jane, she is overjoyed but soon heart-broken; it is rev...

The cook rants at us in French. I speak a little and understand the speech to mean 'sit down and I will bring your food'. My friends and I aren't looking forward to the meal but because we are in a hostel, we have no real choice but to comply. There is set menu: snails. With chips. As we place ourselves in the far corner of the dining hall, a sickly smell emanates from the kitchens. It makes me feel sick and I watch my friend turn slowly green as the cook delivers our meal. I laugh at the sight of two slimy looking things next to a pile of salted fries. I offer a small smile to my friend and mutter "When in Fance..." I start with the snails, hoping to save the potatoey goodness as something to look forward to. There are no utensils, only a cocktail stick. Wanting my suffering to end as quickly as possible, I prick the snail and squirm when I hear a popping sound. Without delay, I pick it up and put the snail in my mouth. I feel a moment of hesitation. Should...

Evening ends, The cold nights start outside in the street. Souls, shadows of their former selves Ashen in the streetlamp. I insipid in reflection mirrored No longer in shadow gaze. Destiny weaves her web,   Surrounding me with... nothing.   Shadows of night burst from within, breaking the boundaries Of time, forgotten; Create the spark, Fire’s passions dull In the everlasting heart. Hidden below in shadows unknown, Left to quiver, Salt, the tracks, traces of old And molten lava of those cried tears untold. Nobody knew but one in the dark, The whispers. Whispers of a broken heart. The Grave will give birth to the dawn, Help will always come, no matter how small Hope is never lost. Keep fighting, that is all one ever asks, A simple yet uneasy task. Copyright © 2011 TL Spencer

When I named my cats after the infamous plant Belladonna, I never expected them to live up to their formidable namesake. Sadly, I was mistaken.  Bella, italian for beautiful, is for the majority of time, a perfect angel. Unless of course she doesn't get what she wants. Bella, the little darling, can hiss and growl with the best of them and has deceptively sharp claws which she uses to dig into any defenseless skin available. However, Bella is nothing compared to the feline alarm clock, Donna. Every morning without fail, she will waltz into my room at some unearthly hour nd pounce. Not just onto the bed, but on my face! If that doesn't work (which it hardly ever does) she stands up and uses my face as target practice with her bat-like paws. When that fails, she restorts to puffing air onto my nose and after that... she bites. I love my cats, they are adorable, but at times (like 3am) I really have to try.