The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Sixty-Five :.

My name is Elliot Parker and recently I have been on my best behaviour… mostly.

That’s not to say my patience hasn’t been tested. I noticed something but since I noticed it I started seeing more of it. Clover is being very territorial. Has been for a few weeks now. Like she keeps making a point of telling me that her baby daddy Ben has been relying on her more emotionally, or how much closer they have gotten but she is still obsessing over some other boys. Both of whom stopped talking to her. It’s the making a point of it and being territorial and trying to put me in the place she has assigned for me. Never a good idea to do.

It just gets my back up, I don’t think I have ever responded well to being told what to do, who to be, what I cannot do. It’s like one of the first things people tend to discover about me. I tend to either act out or follow it and get miserable and resentful… safe to say miserable is not something I am willing to feel.

The only thing stopping me from acting out is the fact she is a friend and is insecure right now. And to be honest, she can dangle her territorial talk all she likes, I don’t want what she thinks I am after.

I am both her and Ben’s friend, she hasn’t liked that in the past and right now I don’t care. He can do what he likes and so can she.

I guess I am just tired of this being told what to do by other people thing. I guess I am stubborn and difficult and I really don’t see why she feels threatened by my damn existence. She is always the one who gets the guy, they fancy her, I am just the nerdy friend in the shadows. She is the one who heads for the guy you fancy to snag them first. Working out how to tell her to stop trying to control or manipulate me in a tactful way is being very hard.

I want to find a way to make it clear to her that the only guy I am interested in is Adrian. Which she knows. Mind you what others think of me doesn’t really matter.

I know who I am and what I want and I refuse to be told otherwise. What other people think doesn’t matter, not really. Why do I seem to keep having to tell myself the same things? Because I stopped working at being a deliberate creator looking to the future, instead I have been looking at what is even if what is doesn’t matter.

I keep looking at the what-is-ness of things. That will change.

My name is Elliot Parker, I was lazy in my thinking and forgot that I am a deliberate creator.

I can have whatever I want in my life. I know that, I know that things with Clover will get better. I know that I will stop noticing when her behaviour is not pleasing to me because I will be consistently trying to view here in a way that pleases me. I know that she will be the mature adult I know she thinks she wants to be. I know that things will be good again.

What else do I know?

I know that I am becoming the person that I want to be, I am that person it has already been agreed. I know that the what-is-ness will not be so important or matter nearly as much. I know that I can enjoy being a deliberate creator again. I know that I am a powerful deliberate creator. I am comfortable in the knowing that everything is working out for me, always. I know that when I am ready, Adrian and I will have another chance, when I find myself to be an energy match to what I am desiring. I know that there is nothing that I have to or need to do right now. I have nothing I have to do to make anything happen, there is no making anything happen, there is only being a match to that which you attract. I know that Adrian and I are coming to the best position we have ever been in to be a brilliant co-creating match, an eternally expanding in our togetherness co-creating match. It feels good to know that. It feels so good to know that that I can appreciate it already without the physical evidence or awareness of what is missing. Because I am looking forward to that future wonderfulness that I have amassed for my future. I like being able to appreciate knowing, I like being able to appreciate believing, I like being able to appreciate that I can choose and change my beliefs. I like the freedom and expansiveness of the world around me. I like knowing that I can change my life easily by just choosing to feel good.

Appreciation feels good. It feels great. It feels steadying and wonderful and fun and eager. I like that I can appreciate the transformation and confirmation of beliefs that serve me and choosing that I can carry forward what believes serve me and abandon those that don’t. I like feeling so free and fun and ready. I like feeling this way. I like feeling bright and expansive. I like watching the birds that fly in the sky in and watching how I am just as free. Something I have always admired about birds. I like the free feeling. I like the fun; excitement I have with my future. I am eager to be thankful of so much. I am so happy to just be happy that there is a world of possibilities for my future. I like enjoying the freedom of choice. I just like this rampage of good feeling thoughts. I am sassy, feisty, sexy and I am alive!

The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Sixty-Four :.

My name is Elliot Parker and I don’t know how I feel right now.

You see, the brief conversations I have with Adrian are different, he is encouraging me to do things that make me happy. I suppose he has given up the fight of getting me to be very practical and just come to an acceptance that I am not a practical person. I want to be happy and put myself first and that is what I am doing. I suppose I just wish it would be easier to not feel so conflicted in my decision, I know that it is silly, to feel conflicted about putting happiness over practicality.

Time is flying by so fast. I can’t work out how or why it is speeding by so quickly.

I can’t help myself, I keep looking back at things, I keep trying to remember how I felt when I was younger, who I was. I keep trying to find a way to be ok with my more negative traits, to be ok with the darker side of me, the dangerous side. The part of me that wants to lash out and hit back at those that hurt me or try to control me. The part of me that wants to be defiant. The part of me that is unwilling to keep being put into a place that other people think I should be and should stay. The side of me that doesn’t want to be what people expect of me. Perhaps being dangerous is just a translation of me putting myself first. Perhaps being dangerous is feeling confident and self-assured and going for what I want. Perhaps being dangerous not feeling guilty about who I am, not feeling like I should be apologetic for what I want.

I am hungry for my life to be happy and fulfilled.

Honestly, I am struggling to decide what I want in my life. What I am willing to compromise, what I am willing to stand up for.

I suppose I feel reflective, life is so short and time is flying by and right now I feel like I don’t know what I am doing. I know what I want to do, who I want to be, I keep trying to believe that I can do it and believe that I can be that person, I just don’t know how to do both, how to be both the best of me and the best of the worst in me. How can I accept myself? When I want to do so much, so many different things, jack of all trades and master of none. What if I want to be the Jack of all trades who masters some, how do I do that? How do I split my time? How do I prioritize all that I want? What is best for me?

I know I keep trying to convince myself I am sure and certain and know what I want the most. I keep trying to convince myself everything will always work out for me. So much so it has started to become a belief.

That’s the thing, while you know and believe in more, in the law of attraction, but you are still having this human experience and all that comes with contrast. Sometimes the contrast is so vast that it is easy to get lost in confusion, that is what makes being decisive hard. I just have to hope that it will always work out.

I just want to sleep and dream for so long. I want to dream about being in the room, I want to see Adrian, however bittersweet. I even want to dream about the stowaway girl again. I like watching the dream grow and change and somehow ends up influenced by the world around me, the subconscious and conscious work hand in hand. I suppose my battle is more to do with wanting to live more in dreams than in reality. Reality just feels and seems to be so unimportant sometimes. I suppose that explains how I feel so calm about putting happiness first over practicality and what is expected of me. My disassociation to reality. My disassociation with myself. I don’t recognise myself in the mirror, I haven’t for years. I don’t recognise myself as a person. Sure I am stronger and more compassionate but I am also healthier. Now I am trying to accept the things I don’t like about myself, and make the best out of the worst of me. I am trying to accept the things in me I don’t like and find a way to like them so that they can’t control me. I don’t want to feel like the darker side of me can be exposed but that it is already exposed, there is nothing to hide and I want to be ok with who I am. I want to be stronger by accepting what would be called flaws or quirks and turn them into strengths. I don’t want to look at myself and see the monster within controlling me, the darker side of my personality. I want to look at myself and see it in a new way, a better way.

I want it to be ok for me to be selfish and not feel guilty about what I want or what I decide to do in my life. I want to be able to do the right thing for me first and then I can extend that to others, but until I can do that I will keep feeling this conflicted. I know that I am consistently fighting to be the best in me, and when I am with Adrian it is easier to be the best in me because I forget the worst because even though it is there it is not the weakness I think it is otherwise. He makes me better, iron sharpens iron and I hope I make him better too, I hope that we make each other better and stronger and healthier.

The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Sixty-Three :.

My name is Elliot Parker… Except right now, it’s not.

My silence has said more than I wanted to express. I sit here in silence as day turns to night and night to day. It spins by and my refusal to speak stops me inflicting damage. That doesn’t mean the rage inside hasn’t leaked out to the world around me. The sea has been rough for days. If I unleashed it, if I speak, if I say anything, I might not be able to stop. If I can’t control myself, this ship will be smashed to pieces. I don’t know if “the Captain” could stop me.

Somehow I battle with myself, if I let myself tear this ship to splinters I could break away and runaway, again. But if I runaway, heaven knows what might happen. I might be somewhere I don’t want to be. I am locked in my own body on a ship stuck with the very person I was running from. I never really escaped, I never really ran away, not how I wanted. I am being pulled back. Do I hate him more for lying? I know I lied, at first, now, it is better to stay silent then get pulled back in. Do I… Can I even hate him? I mean, was it all really an act on his part. Was any of it just an act on my part? Is there any way it was just an act and nothing more? Can I convince myself that my heart never skipped a beat? Not one single heart fluttering moment was real? Is there any way to back out now, am I really going to be locked back into this?

If he takes me back to my home, what awaits me? How angry will my parents be? I mean after all, if they lose their own control, like I am afraid of doing right now, they could reduce the kingdom to ash. I might be powerful on my own, but two uncontrolled rage plus there is no doubt I would react, it could turn the land to ash and then what? I’ll be the unforgiven petulant girl who ran away who runs away again, if it is possible a second time.

“What do my parents know?” My unused voice is cracked and broken. It snaps “the Captain” out of his thought staring out the window. He rushes around his desk and kneels in front of me. I tried to read his face but I am weak. My lips are dry and the only thing that passed them is the broth he forces down my throat to stop me from wasting to nothing altogether. If he is wearing a mask, I can’t see it. I don’t speak again.

“They know you came with me, I had them told we were getting to know each other on a short cruise.”

“They don’t know?”

“No, the blue and cream, they were sent to find me, they found out about the destroyed ship and they were the search party, it’s why the resistance was weak to us taking the ship.” I feel my silence resume. It’s the first time I listened to what he said. I’ve tuned him out for days. Put myself in a bubble and he knows it. I allow myself to slide back away from the room, he can see it as my gaze becomes unfocused, he tries to stop me. He shakes me and I keep backing away building the walls up around me. He tries to pull me back again.

My parent’s didn’t even know I ran away; they might never have to know. I could follow his lies, that we went away to get to know each other. I could go along with the story, I could just look like for once I was being compliant with what they wanted for me, for the kingdom. They might not hate me forever if they found out the truth, I’m not in the worst position with being an only child. I can see through the unfocused gaze “the Captain” has left the room.

I stand and walk over to his desk, his stolen desk. It is the blue and cream’s ship after all. The draws are all locked, I can’t remember them being opened. I kneel by the draws, I take a deep breath before I begin to try to pick the lock, I’m not the first to try, but maybe I will have better luck, a few minutes pass that feel like hours before I crack the lock and open the draw. Stacks of papers. Sketches of “the Captain” his name scrawled below it Prince Adrian Ferislekraig. That name rings so many bells, like a forgotten talk, a forgotten discussion, a forgotten argument with family. Like a hollow moment in a past that is lost to the minor moments of an argument, a look of disappointment… the reverse of a sketch, “day walker” is scrawled hastily on the back. I see a sketch of myself the brief scribble on the back, “rescue- wanted unharmed” my name looks so strange scrawled by my image, an old handwriting so familiar that I can’t quite place. Princess Ellainor Parkrovia. I hear footsteps on deck approaching.

I replace the sketches in the draw and pick the lock to close it before I am seen. I stand unsteady and sit in the chair and turn so that I am staring out of the window, the first time I have spoken in days, the first time I have moved willingly in days, that is all he will see as I stare aimlessly out at the water rolling at the ship, the “Captain” strides into the room. I feel my movement register on his face. “First you speak, now you move, not hatching a new escape plan are you?”

I shake my head to say no and keep my eyes on the water. What the hell does day walker mean? Until I can dig some more I will refuse to speak, to ask anything.

The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Sixty-Two :.

My name is Elliot Parker.

Sometimes I like to dream, often I like to dream. I like escaping to other worlds. I like being able to see the energies of the universe transforming around me, I guess that is why I like the stowaway girl dreams. I get to be someone else. I like being someone else. Because right now, I have this day dream in my head.

I know how I want things to be, how I want to feel. How I would love to be in Adrian’s arms right now. The most perfect thing for me right now…

Is it bad to tell a day dream? I mean, this is my diary, if I can’t share my thoughts and feelings here, where can I?

There is the day dream in my head, of Adrian and I lying in bed. The covers drawn up around us and cups of tea steaming away on the side table. There’s something silly on the TV and we are curled up together, all warm and cosy and I just feel safe and warm and happy. How I normally feel in his arms. That at peace feeling being in our own world like nothing else matters.

I love that around him I get to be myself, I love that we are one hundred percent who we are around each other. I would love for him to be able to not get into his own way so often, but it is ok that he just feels comfortable around me and makes that time for us to relax right now.

It’s not my only day dream for us. It’s not the only way I think about him.

I love how he smiles when we kiss. I love how he jabs and pokes my back (even if it sometimes is a little too hard or annoying) when I am laying in his arms. It just feels so at home comfortable. I love how we just seem to fit together. I love how his arms wrap around me. I love how he pulls me into kisses. I love how he laughs. I just feel like I don’t have to be anyone or anything else.

It’s those happy thoughts that keep me smiling at the moment.

After the recent crazy manifestations, it’s just nice to smile at a memory, at a day dream. Somehow even my dreams are getting more complicated, the stowaway girl dreams are just a challenge sometimes. Somewhere between romantic and evasive and just like a story. I like the idea of just being with and needing someone and not feeling shut out by them when there is emotional honesty. I like the not running away from each-other-ness. I like that dream because there is just that open honesty. I started bringing it into my “real” life. I started taking brave risks.

It’s like playing a game with lady luck when I start taking risks that aren’t risks. He is away for a year; things could work out if we tried?

So what is the best that I can do at the moment? I mean honestly, what is the best outcome? I get what I want, I get him, I get us. Until then?

I guess I can just focus on me, on my manifestations directly consistently about me not requiring his participation as being a co-creator.

So what do I want for me without needing anyone to co-create?

Abundance in wealth and health and wellbeing. I want to enjoy being me, I want to love the skin I am in. I want to have my own adventures. I want to win the lottery, who doesn’t? I want to improve my career. I want to stay motivated and determined. I want to be happy. I want people around me I trust. I want to keep being deliberate about what I am creating. I enjoy being deliberate and not creating by default. I know being happy is the best chance and choice I have right now.

That’s the thing isn’t it? When you are honestly truly happy you attract whatever it is that you want. I love that, attracting what I want by just being happy.

I didn’t expect making this year the year for me would be this much work, that doesn’t feel like the right word. It’s an almost effort that doesn’t need to be an effort. It gives him a chance to be the man he wants to be. I am the woman I want to be, almost, I want more confidence. That is something the stowaway girl has in buckets that I don’t. She has that whole I am woman and I know who I am vibe. I want to manifest that I can conquer the world kind of confidence. I want to be challenging myself. I want to start doing things that would normally scare me.

I feel like I am getting ready to conquer the world even if I don’t have my safe place in the same country anymore. I take the risks and the energy they bring and what is to stop me from moving past the things that scare me? I can do it? Can’t I?

Maybe he won’t even recognise me when he sees me next. If I keep changing like this, and allowing myself to be the whole of me, soon I will be able to do so many things that I thought I couldn’t do just like I thought I couldn’t be the girl I am now. I didn’t think I could be this person, this honestly happy, strong woman who is doing the best deliberate creating.

It’s that energy you get before you leap into something with both feet and just see where you land. Maybe I will learn to fly. It feels possible. I keep trying to reach for that better feeling thought all the time and I get there more often than not. I keep changing and getting better and feeling better, I don’t recognise myself in the mirror, I haven’t for a very long time. I don’t even recognise old photos of me, if I didn’t know better, I would ask who is that person.

The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Sixty-One :.

My name is Elliot Parker. I think that I surprised him. Waiting for the typing to turn into a message felt like the longest wait on earth. What I got as a reply was traditionally him.

“Yeah course I’m gonna call ya. But your gonna fucking hate me now, I’m finally getting around to watching the new Potter movie.” Some things never change.

Sometimes it is what remains unsaid that I hear through the energy. I knew, I know that my message made him smile.

That’s the most beautiful thing in the world to me so nothing compares to the joy of just knowing that he smiled.

Nothing compares to the joy and the happiness. Especially in my new bed time routine. I have a little message that I say to myself each night and then I play a game. I list the great things, the things that I desire that I get to manifest and I go to sleep feeling that bit happier, that bit more at peace and excited and I don’t even notice when I fall asleep.

I got my day dreams back. I thought I had lost them but I brought back the day dreams and the being able to picture things. It’s like a special all naturally energy that is akin to the ecstasy of love. It’s a special kind of thing to be addicted to. Addicted to happiness, I never thought I would say that, I wouldn’t have thought it could be possible. Finding happiness and peace in stressful, crazy situations? Impossible. Or at least it should be but hell somehow I have cracked this thing where I can just let myself be in clarity in any situation. Clarity is the most amazing feeling. Freedom is a great feeling too and I have both.

It sort of feels like the fire has been put out before it has been lit. I don’t know if that makes sense at all, like in the craziest situations I’m observing the action unfolding from a further seat, like the reality slows down and my mind works faster and sharper. I just don’t quite know how to express it with other people. Like I know that I have stopped beating myself up about the past and the chains that held me down by some miracle have somehow fallen away. I enjoy that just not feeling frantic and confused. I’m no longer feeling like I am trying to play catch up or cross fast flowing rivers to get what I want.

I think more than anything taking those risks and not being concerned about the immediate pay off just seems like I have just taken control of my life and manifestations. The words I am a deliberate creator no longer feel like I am trying to convince myself that is what I am. It just feels like a knowing. Like the knowing that everything will always work out for me.

It feels like there is something kind of weightless when I walk. Like a quiet shadow? I don’t know. I am just finally coming to terms with it being ok to love myself. It doesn’t feel like an impossible mission.

Adrian responded with a degree of sincerity and he wanted to diffuse the tension he imagined there to be. I didn’t say it for agenda. I said it for me, it was my rampage and my complete honesty with how I felt. Whatever happens, being honest with myself and moving through life believing the best is what I want to do. He imagined the tension he felt, it was his pinching off from source energy, I know how that feels and I recognise that feeling. But I feel it less now.

I keep trying to find the words to describe what it feels like when you stop pinching off from yourself and just allow yourself. I mean I am consistently working with ease to improve my allowing my whole self to be wholly present in every moment. It’s not always easy, it’s not always natural, well its always natural to allow, but the pinching off is the unnatural thing that hurts. But habit can sometimes be a pinching off thing, a particular learned behaviour can sometimes be just as much trouble. Sometimes you just have to do what that song says and let it go.

I suppose that’s why I don’t worry so much about taking risks, because they aren’t risks but it is just the only word we really know for that kind of action. I am sure there are better words, and calculated risk sounds wrong, it is still a risk to the old me. But this time. It’s more a different way of allowing. A thought free one, instinctual. It comes from a place, an impulse that you can’t rationalise, I just wish I had a better way to put what I feel into words sometimes. I am sure it will come to me.

Just like I can feel it in my soul that there is no need to be concerned about the silence between Adrian and I since he took his flight. I selfishly wish he had stayed, but I know he is doing what he thinks he needs to do that will make him happy and I can’t blame or judge him for that. Hell, I am doing the exact same, just I am following my gut and following my passion. There is no way that I could ever stop following what I am passionate about. It just feels too good to just be happy in my own world in my own way. I get that he has set beliefs on what he needs to do, what he believes is responsible. I just gave up believing that being responsible will make me happy. I don’t need to hold myself accountable for anything that is beyond my control. The only thing in my control is how I respond and how I feel and I sure as hell will make sure that the aim is always reaching for that better feeling thought.

A Trip Down Memory Lane… The Diary of Elliot Parker Part Two

The Diary of Elliot Parker Part Two

This is the diary of Elliot Parker…
A mysterious dreamer and more than that, a deliberate creator who is still learning to master the whole deliberate side of being a deliberate creator… Elliot has strange dreams and dreams with in dreams and her waking life is ever changing but always attempting to find that better feeling thought, that better feeling life. Things get tougher and its time to face some truths.

The link to purchase the full story on amazon…



A brief message before you read below.

I have been thinking a lot about The Diary of Elliot Parker and while writing it was cathartic, enormously so because it was a fun way to break the writers block. I am well aware that I have perhaps misused the process in the sense of it got me out of a life block too, it became similar to blood letting. Wanting to break free of my own thought patterns was tricky because of many issues, what is written may at times be exaggerated or misinterpreted but that is ok as long as it is understood that this was written for the purpose of entertainment, not all of the views expressed I agree with then or now. Whether or not that is understood is another thing. But I want to make it clear that I do love the characters. I love those that inspired the writing wholeheartedly. I am entirely grateful for the chance and the inspiration to write something that challenges me and makes me want to be better. I am entirely grateful for those in my life who have inspired and encouraged me, I am entirely grateful for this writing to put me in a better mood by bloodletting the things that stung or were difficult and to come to an appreciation for the experience for what it taught me. I want to lead a positive life, this kind of helped me find a path to that positive momentum. Like I said, I don’t always agree with what is in the diary or the drama of it, I understand it can upset people, but I don’t want them to think for one second that that means they are not cared for or loved or that is the truest opinion I hold of them.  I love those that inspired my writing, in whatever story or form. And I want to sort of apologize and more importantly I want to say thank you for being a part of my life and a true inspiration.

The first few chapters of part two as a taster just for you 😉

.: Entry Thirty-One :.

My name is Elliot Parker.

Right now, I don’t know how I feel.

I am very aware that I had come to terms with losing one of my best friends to an emotionally abusive parasite. Since that argument, there has been only silence from that corner of my life. That’s not to say there was no missing for the companionship. But the best friends thing, that is sort of a no. I don’t think that there is the trust there for that level of friendship anymore.

I am only discussing this for one reason. Somehow she has orbited my existence again, Clover sent me a message the other day. Asking about going to go and see something, sort of odd. It was a TV psychic’s show. But, well to me that screams the person is a fraud to some degree. I don’t know how I can put my finger on it. When I saw the message in my inbox, I felt surprised for sure. But I don’t think I felt the elation that some people have when someone they cared about makes a reappearance. If I am honest, the first thing I wanted to do was get things off my chest. The social media slams, the inappropriate messages to my ex. I wanted to get it off my chest and into the open that I knew she was dragging my name through the mud. And I wanted her to know, I am well aware that this wasn’t the first occasion.

I got the response I expected. Initial denial. Presented with proof. Reluctant agreement but no apology.


It’s funny. Getting my inner rant, my inner source of rant material exposed was a little cathartic. But I still didn’t feel better about her talking to me. I wanted to feel better, the conversation was becoming a large source of resistance, as had the silence and the ending of the friendship. It was all rather uncomfortable. I took a few minutes, ignoring the conversation window, I decided that more than anything I wanted to feel good. I want to make choices, have experiences and manifestations that make me feel good. And the anger that I still held for Clover was the opposite of feeling good.

Honestly, I talked myself into feeling better by going general with my appreciation. The blue sky. The birds tweeting and flying. Very general good feeling thoughts. I found the blanket of emotion and vibrational energy change, it sort of felt like a turbulent sea calming to a gentle ebb. The flow of opposing energy became quietened.

It was then that I came back to the conversation, maintaining that quiet soft energy. It was there that I declared my intentions. That I don’t want to be pissed off. I don’t want to be in the receiving of the negative energies that had belonged around the situation. More than anything, I want to be happy, and that is exactly what I am going to be. That is my focus. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every thought. I want to be dedicated to feeling that better feeling thought, to raising my energy. I am putting away whatever angst there is around the friendship. With that I want the friendship to be entirely positive, or I should say, focused in a positive and happy place.

My name is Elliot Parker.

I want to be happy. I was going to write “My name is Elliot Parker, and I don’t want to be angry anymore.” But that wording, I knew I could write it better. I want to attract happiness into my life.

So yesterday, well, I got a surprise invitation from Clover, a trip to go and get lunch.

I wasn’t sure about saying yes. I wasn’t sure I was ready. But the olive branch was there. And it would be interesting.

She told me a few things that I already knew thanks to mutual friends… and her ex. Some drama for certain.

Lunch went ok. Eventually my vibration eased from uncertainty and caution to calm. We began to discuss what had been happening since the rift. The excitements and so forth. It was good. I even might have sort of confessed- ish, about my attraction to Jonas.

It was sort of awkward. I suppose that was inevitable. Things have been pretty rough.

But one thing that had interested me. The perception, the way it had been worded, I seem to have been misled by Adrian. He messaged Clover first. He initiated the conversation that I found inappropriate. It makes me curious why.

Mind you his behaviour now is nothing out of the ordinary. He has gone away for work again, as per usual the weeks leading up to it the conversation slowed, so much that it becomes a stagnant puddle with the very occasional ripple. Now he is away, well sometimes I wonder if blood from a stone would be easier.

It was interesting though, I made a flippant comment that maybe I will find “the one” and settle down. She said that I already had. She is still so very sure that Adrian is the one, but he is just acting like an idiot at the moment, and has been for a while I might add. When I made the comment, I had another voice in my head, another face in my thoughts, of course there were giant question marks surrounding them. There was once a time where the only person who would have appeared in my mind’s eye was Adrian. But now? Now I am not so sure. The thing is, I am acknowledging something that I never understood or acknowledged when we were together, I am worthy of being treated with love and respect and kindness. Without question. So perhaps his face didn’t appear because there is never the consistency of the good feeling thoughts in relation to him. It could be that the only reason that the other faint question of another appeared was because they are an up lifter. They make me smile just with their name, feel at ease with hello. That’s the thing isn’t it? We are worthy of the love we deserve but are unwilling to ask for. We are worthy of the one that will make us feel happy, feel at home with. Adrian in the past has made me feel like that. So whatever happens with him is out of my hands.

I relinquish all efforting thought and desire regarding Adrian to the universe.

My name is Elliot Parker. I know that there is an abundance of happiness and joy in my experience.



.: Entry Thirty Two :.

My name is Elliot Parker and I am a deliberate creator.

Right now, I don’t know what I am creating. I don’t know what it is that I am wanting in this given moment, other than inspiration.

I am hoping that inspiration will come. I am knowing that inspiration will come, I will know what I want to talk about.

So Clover and I are still talking. It still feels strange. It feels neither satisfying nor comfortably natural anymore. I feel like every message she sends about seeing signs feels like she is forcing it. But I am not sure. It could be that my responsiveness to signs from the universe has faded for a while. Her boy, for lack of a better word, obsession or perhaps you could call it a very concentrated focus, well it is frustrating. I noticed I am much less receptive to hearing about the boys she talks to. It sounds horrible but I just feel less receptive to what I am uncertain about. I said last time that I am giving the situation with Adrian up to the universe. I could feel the struggle and resistance in my vibration with him. Things seemed to be much more under the microscope about Adrian when I talk to Clover because the only thing she is really enthusiastic about discussing is boys. So I can see how the resistance just seemed to multiply. My attention was focused entirely on what was absent, what was bothering me wildly about him. So that is what I was attracting. Not what I wanted, but the absence of it. The same could be said for winning the lottery. But you can appreciate the understanding.

I want to give up the resistance. I want to allow myself the tapping into the magic of the universe. To do that, the easiest way to access that allowing feeling is being appreciative. To appreciate the thing that you are wanting to draw to you. To appreciate generally, the bliss and joy of nature, the small tiny things and appreciating them, like the birds that fly and how they fly. To allow the appreciation to flow freely. To allow the inspiration and guidance to just be, to let that guide you safely to what you want to appreciate now. Doesn’t it just feel good to bask in the appreciation of those little things? Yes.

I want to feel that same feeling good basking joy when I look upon things that perhaps holds a bit of resistance, whether a little or a lot. Clover or Adrian are a great example.

There was a time, a while ago, when I found a way, of quiet and peace and meditative focus where I found myself in a place where I attracted what I desired, I thought perhaps it took a long time, but I didn’t understand what it was that I was doing so when it came, I felt panicked. Because however receptive and inspired I was, I panicked because while I was up to speed with my desire, while I was up to speed with the manifestation, I still held and wasn’t able to see my fear as resistance. It was a momentary fear of not wanting to be hurt again. But I could have had all that I wanted if I had just taken hold of that manifestation, marvelled in it, enjoyed it and made it my own in every way. So now what do I want? Not a second chance for that manifestation to happen the same way so that I recognised it. But to happen again in a way that I know what I am on the cusp of, to know what I am receiving and manifesting. To hold it in a place of pure positive energy and certainty. I didn’t recognise it the first time it came around, the next I will. I didn’t know or understand what it was that I was bringing into my experience. At the time, I didn’t know or understand that I am a deliberate creator. But I am. I can do amazing things.

I know I am now up to speed with the desire, so much so that the blips outside of allowing, where I am resistant, I am honing my desire. I am growing the specific-ness of my desire. I know what I want. I know I am allowing what I want in my life. I give up the struggle and the battle. I give up the deception of control. I give up the resistance. I am allowing and giving in to my alignment. What I am wanting is inevitable, I am worthy, I am happy, I am giving up the struggle. If it is in my highest good and I am in alignment with that it will make itself known to me in a way that it will be entirely unmistakable. It is struggle free. It is understood. It is a happy hello to my own alignment. It is a happy hello to the manifestation.

My name is Elliot Parker.

I know that I am in the receiving mode. I know that I am in the fun and relaxing place, the point of attraction for the receiving mode.

These are the words that have been just out of my grasp for the last few days but I know, I know that these are the words I have been in eager anticipation of. I feel pretty damn good. I feel like the impulse I received last night to just share something with someone because I knew it would be something that they would like, and it got a response, a brief one but a response. That is what I had wanted to manifest for the last couple of days. I know the elements in the universe are joining me co-operatively. The co-operative components of the universe are conspiring to bring about what it is that I am desire. The better that I feel, the more that I allow, and boy am I allowing!



.: Entry Thirty-Three :.

My name is Elliot Parker.

This is my diary. This is my diary that seems to have warped as I have grown. I suspect, that this diary is my own way at times to rampage myself right into that pure positive energy.

There is a brief story I want to share with my diary.

So last week, or was it the week before? Either way, I had a strange impulse to put on a specific piece of jewellery. I just had this call to put the ring on. This ring, has runes on it that the inscription translates to health and happiness. But that is not all, there is a pendant that was pared with this ring. A simple silver pendant with runes. I gave the pendant on the cord string to Adrian last year when I found out that he was going to be working away a lot. A little sort of totem or something. Something to remember me by in a way.

So about half a week or so later (we land this now on Saturday) I lay in bed in the late evening and I felt my grandad there with me, his spirit took my hand. I was feeling pretty damn bloated after an evening out with my friend at a nice buffet. And I have to say it was great. But, I remember saying that I will not be intimate with someone without a relationship. I took a decision in that moment that that was what I wanted. So anyway back to lying in bed bloated with my grandad’s spirit being with me. I asked if I should send a message about the buffet place to Adrian and I just had this answer come to me in that moment. Send the message tomorrow morning when you wake up and you feel good and light and there is no resistance.

The next morning comes and I sent the message, I got a reply. Which surprised me. The reply was like that’s cool, guess what, I’m back. And it just felt like the receptive mode was like just go with it.

So I went out for the day still messaging Adrian, silly conversational stuff, and I felt inspired to dye my hair so I did. It’s a lot less red, quite a dark brown though. So we were chatting and we wanted to meet but timing was unfortunate on the Sunday but the Monday, well apparently that was 100%. That worked for me the day was easy and receptive too. It was a couple of pure days of receptive mode, I got my hair cut on Monday and I felt better. And here’s where it gets a bit messy. So Monday evening we did hang out, it was a fun evening, an intimate evening. There was a silly moment, where I grabbed his bum and said “this is mine”. It was a silly moment, but I just felt the idea in the receptive mode of the sensation. So the silly game of “this is mine” escalated in a simply aligned way. When he asked “is there anything else that is yours?” I just felt inspired to the answer. As he said “you don’t want my brain its broken” I said “your mind… your heart” I just felt inspired to the honesty, to the lack of argument. In response to his comment I felt inspired in my answer because it was honest, “broken toys play together nicely, just need a little imagination.” That is so very true, I felt his resistance when he answered “no they don’t” it was as though no one had ever said to him it is ok to be who you are and be loved for it. “I have enough imagination for the both of us.” That was the best answer I could give that he would receive in the right way. It was simply an aligned evening, I felt a place of pure alignment. He is mine, I know it. I can’t explain the how but I just know it.

So the plan was I would see him Thursday. Well with contracts signed now he has to get ready he’s going to be away for 18 months and he thinks he has too much to do so Thursday is an impossibility. It’s not impossible. I have had inspired day dreamy things during meditation that tells me that Thursday is definitely not an impossibility. I am in the receiving mode, his day will be easy and complete before he realises and Thursday is an incredible possibility.

I feel pretty sure that I am in the receiving mode. Today is Thursday. Between Tuesday morning and today I contended with my resistance but now, I am releasing resistance. I know everything is always working out for me. There is nothing that I need to do right now. Just write in my diary and relax. Today I will allow, today I will meditate and enjoy the things that I do. I have lit a little tea light candle to enjoy the flame of, to just enjoy the peace of watching a candle. That is my secret. I love to watch the flame, it sooths and calms my soul. It is my natural soul cleanser. It feels good to release any and all resistance to be burned up by the candle and diminished.

I had a dream last night, after asking my grandad for assistance, to make the day dreams from meditation real. So anyway in this dream I am in a sort of open space, there is green everywhere and a couple of rows of houses. And there is a pair of magpies on one roof and I feel this bliss of knowing, two magpies, its happiness and in that breath I look to the opposite roof and there is a pair of magpies there and the bliss is just abundant. And it is then that my brain and I begin to argue a little, I said to myself oh there are four magpies, but my brain says no, today there is two pairs, two twos. Not four but two twos it is happiness multiplied by happiness. Accept that whatever direction you look, there is happiness.

Last night in the book that I had begun reading there was a quote, a pair of lines that I just felt complete assimilation with. “You only hear what you are ready to hear.” This is so very true. And I am allowing Adrian into my day.



A Trip Down Memory Lane… The Diary of Elliot Parker Part One

The Diary of Elliot Parker Part One

This is the diary of Elliot Parker…
A mysterious dreamer and more than that, a deliberate creator who is still learning to master the whole deliberate side of being a deliberate creator… Elliot has strange dreams and dreams with in dreams and her waking life is ever changing but always attempting to find that better feeling thought, that better feeling life.

The link to purchase the full story on amazon…

A brief message before you read below.

I have been thinking a lot about The Diary of Elliot Parker and while writing it was cathartic, enormously so because it was a fun way to break the writers block. I am well aware that I have perhaps misused the process in the sense of it got me out of a life block too, it became similar to blood letting. Wanting to break free of my own thought patterns was tricky because of many issues, what is written may at times be exaggerated or misinterpreted but that is ok as long as it is understood that this was written for the purpose of entertainment, not all of the views expressed I agree with then or now. Whether or not that is understood is another thing. But I want to make it clear that I do love the characters. I love those that inspired the writing wholeheartedly. I am entirely grateful for the chance and the inspiration to write something that challenges me and makes me want to be better. I am entirely grateful for those in my life who have inspired and encouraged me, I am entirely grateful for this writing to put me in a better mood by bloodletting the things that stung or were difficult and to come to an appreciation for the experience for what it taught me. I want to lead a positive life, this kind of helped me find a path to that positive momentum. Like I said, I don’t always agree with what is in the diary or the drama of it, I understand it can upset people, but I don’t want them to think for one second that that means they are not cared for or loved or that is the truest opinion I hold of them.  I love those that inspired my writing, in whatever story or form. And I want to sort of apologize and more importantly I want to say thank you for being a part of my life and a true inspiration.

The first few chapters as a taster just for you 😉

.: Entry One :.

My name is Elliot Parker. I am not your average woman. I like to say I am a quarter of a century old, it feels more fun to me.

I spent my life reading stories, living in other worlds, I never not once thought I would be living a story myself. For me, other worlds, they were an escape. Now they are my living nightmare. I used to read as a child you know. For fun. No kids I knew loved it as much as I did. No kids I knew actually requested veggies to go with their dinners either. But here I am. I ate all those damn veg and I am still five foot two. Don’t believe the lies they tell you that it makes you grow up taller. Just eat the damn veg. Wait! I revise that, eat a balanced diet.

See, there is more to this story than what meets the eye. I have to be careful what I say, I acquired a… gift. And now? Well… now I am trying to learn how to use it.

Like I said before; I spent my life reading stories. Hiding. I spent my whole life in all these other worlds. Somehow I went from a reader to a writer. Now, I create worlds. I guess I always have. But now, I am learning to be careful with what I think, and say, and do.

My name is Elliot Parker. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I want to forget.

But sometimes, just sometimes. I am bloody brilliant.

I tried to lie to myself once. Ok more like a hundred thousand times. I tried to live in denial. But deep down… I always knew. I wasn’t right. I was different. It took a long time to accept that and an even longer time to embrace that.

So I bet you want to know about my gift?

I will get there. I promise.

When I started writing, I started to look at the world. I started to look at people. I noticed things, small things at first. The nuances of a facial expression. Soon I noticed more in a behaviour pattern. But it got worse. I stopped enjoying reading so much, when I noticed I was predicting plot twists and outcomes from the first few chapters. TV? Well, I could ruin a soap plot before it even began to develop. Slowly even that trickled into life. That’s when things got harder to gloss over.

I noticed patterns in those close to me, I predicted the future before it happened, then slowly I tried to experiment to change it. To change the outcome. And it worked. I had started to become a monster. That’s what I am. I know what people want to hear, I know what they want me to say, what they need me to say. “It’s ok”, but it’s not. Not anymore.

I started to change the lives of the people I cared about. Sure they had free will. If you can call it that. I didn’t always know what I was doing. What outcome I really wanted. I’m what you could call self-destructive. I’m not going to lie. Well. Actually, yes, I am. If I know what people want to hear, it means I know what they want. I know what they want from me. They always want too much. It means I know more than I should. It means I pick up on the unseen energy like an instinct and in a split second I can tell a lie, in the other half of that second I have to decide if I want to push for the truth or accept it for what it is. Now? I only let one of two people lie to me. One of them is myself. One of them, I love, unconditionally… That doesn’t mean I will always accept that lie and let it grow. All lies grow.

I keep telling myself I am a good person. When really, there is the greatest capacity with in me to be bad. And oh, how I want to be bad. I want to live without the consequence of guilt or regret. But that doesn’t happen for people like me. When I do bad, I feel it, it haunts me, in my sleep.

I have this dream. As a writer, I always say a character has a life of their own, they have free will, to a degree. The characters in stories, they are real, they have lives, and they write stories and they have dreams too. I couldn’t understand, in this dream I mean. I had been transported to this boarding school, as a teenager. I found myself in a magical world that transformed and inside it, thousands of books would appear crammed inside of bookshelves. That’s when I first realised the power in a character of a story, a world other than this. I saw the thimble from Peter Pan and the tiny clothes from Alice. That’s when I saw Robin’s book. The cover was green and the pages were old. I saw his dream. He wanted to run away with Marian and become a notoriously philanthropic pirate. Who’d have thought it? That room with the books. That’s where I met him. Another one like me. A creator of worlds. A story teller. A writer.

He said his gift was being an impossible thinker. He loved the impossible and finding a way to achieve it. Like me. This room with the books was a secret. Our secret. This place, was his, this was his spirit dream. His name, he said Adrian Kraig. I don’t know how he knew I was different. Just that I was. I still don’t want to believe what I know. I try to fight it every single day. Like I was never meant for this life. For this world sometimes. But what I do know, is I am what could be called a powerful creator.



.: Entry Two :.

My name? I am Elliot Parker. And today I made a mistake.

I am an idiot. Ok, no I’m not, but I kind of am. You see. I want my friends to be happy, I really do. But I also want to be happy. These two things, they don’t always go together. I wish they did though. So that stupid thing I did. I sort of introduced my friend to someone that I have what you could call a crush on. Clover is a nice girl really, but she does sort of leave a trail of broken hearts and scorned boys behind her.

It was an accident really. I wasn’t careful. I ended up introducing Clover and Stan; and they hit it off. He’s a good guy, a really good, sweet, kind guy. She needs someone decent, someone who isn’t the average douche bag. That’s where the problem came… I have two choices. I tell Stan about her past and what she really is like towards the men in her life; or, I tell her not to fuck up this time and to make a genuine effort with a good guy. I know what I really wanted to do. To tell him about the last few guys to give her attention. But when she is the best of herself, she could be a good match for him. I came too close to putting a knife in to go for what I wanted.

I didn’t do it.

My name is Elliot Parker. And I put her first.

I told her not to fuck up. This was a good guy. And honestly, it’s not the first guy I have wanted that she has set in her sights. The first one, she really fucked him up. He had trust issues before, but now, well, I can’t see him having a relationship for a very long time. A healthy relationship, to be specific, he has even more trust issues it seems. Years ago, he was sweet and kind. A different kind of Stan. But one I liked all the same. But he was what she wanted. I wanted her to be happy, so I walked away, just like I am now.

But to be honest, he’s not the guy to hold my true attention. Sure it smarts a bit, having a card taken off the table. It would smart more if he was the only thing that I wanted.

And other than the odd crush on a fictional character, guys seem to come and go quite a bit. There may just be a handful that have stayed in my life and will stay in my life. None of them are related to me either.

To be honest, I would quite happily retreat back into these other worlds that I love diving into. I could Netflix and chill on my own for a week straight and not give a damn. Though for me, it is more satisfying to read an entire book series in rapid succession, pretty much day and night. Those days, are ecstasy. Nothing like avoiding reality.

Truth be told, I want my safe place. The books and the stories. I am anxious. I really don’t want Clover to hurt Stan, or even vice versa. But now, it is out of my hands. They both deserve to be happy. If that is each other, then well, that’s fine with me.

I’m fine. I’m fine.

I hate that the itch and the urge to be bad is just there, on the tip of my tongue. I hate that it is so very easy for me to do something that I shouldn’t because it would cause a little ripple. But little ripples, they grow. Just like the ones I tell myself over and over again.

My name is Elliot Parker. I am fine. I am a good person.

I want to believe that I am a good person. But the temptation to be bad.

My name is Elliot Parker. No matter what I am, good or … bad, I am magical.

So perhaps I wanted to pair Clover and Stan up. To clear the cards on the table a little?

After all, mixed energy is bad energy. Bad energy grows quickly; the effects are much quicker to see. My indecision for Stan, cleared up quicker with competition, one that I won’t enter, for their happiness and for my own. I don’t want to cause a fight.

I made the mistake of crossing over two areas of my life. Now, I have to tidy up the mess, but I won’t, I mustn’t. They are adults. I can’t look after them all the time. They have to learn for themselves.

She better not fuck up.

Ok. I care about both of their happiness. It’s not like I can put some kind of anti fuck up device on them. I need that device if it existed for myself.

I keep telling myself that their happiness means more than my own. Its basic math. Two people’s happiness is greater than my own. Right? Right? WRONG. Stupid girl. I should be happy too. But they seem to be getting along. Interfering now, that is bad. If I interfere now it is done for no other reason than spite. Spite is bad. I am not bad. I am not bad.

I know Jonas and I joke, but I am not bad. We both know it. As wise as he is though, I can’t help but feel that there is a free spirit constantly surging through him. He is one of those people that I admire. He broke free of the rat race and did something he was passionate about. He does what he loves. His enthusiasm transcends in his work. His enthusiasm is contagious. For me, he is proof that it can be done, proof and wisdom that I can do it to. I can be everything that I want to be and do all that I want to do.



.: Entry Three :.

My name is Elliot Parker. I had the dream, again.

It always happens the same, no matter where I am, what I am doing. I can be pulled away without my knowing. At first I didn’t understand.

I appeared in the room, dusty, crumbling, bare. Exposed brick work, floorboards. It looked unassuming, uninviting and downright shabby. Then it happens, the dust of the brick sort of crumbles to the floor. The floor ripples and rumbles and crumbles away. The wood breaks apart. Then they shoot up. Old, antique, battered bookshelves. They pop up from the tears in the floor. And there they are. Volumes and volumes of stories. Some have matching leather bound covers. Others, like this one have yellowed pages and faded covers, bent spines. They are loved.

When this first started, I would open a cover and begin to read the story, when I did that, I got so immersed, literally. I would be pulled into the story and, Robin’s he was the first. I had to climb his ships rigging to go up to the bird’s nest. I HATE HEIGHTS. But I got pulled back out before I completed his little challenge. Turns out I was just simply a stow away in his story. There are worse things to be.

Have you ever been hated by an author or writer? A little tip and guidance, never wrong a writer, we get our revenge in print. I am just as guilty. There are people in my stories I base on people I know or have met. Oh boy do I love hurting those characters.

ANYWAY… moving swiftly on.

My own anxiety slipped into this dream once. I was having lots of problems with work. A boss that I have a particular issue with burst through the door and started to yell at me. I kept telling myself that this is a dream. I can change a dream, surely I can? I know most people can’t but I can because I am me and I am strong. I can do this. I did it. I told her to leave, suddenly my comfortable sleepwear (leggings and a vest top) disintegrated and transformed. I had black jeggings on, a black lace vest top and black crop top underneath so a tiny hint of my tattoo was visible, and my favourite biker jacket. I told her to leave and the look on her face was priceless. She wanted to fight me. My own anxiety and agitation wanted to fight back and cripple me in a dream. I didn’t want it to. I didn’t want it to win. Not again. When she left I noticed that the room was becoming clearer. More in focus.

The print of the title in the books was clearer, a little less soft on the edges. The leather bound books, the ones gilded in gold, the embossing, it became more tangible. The whole of the room had more texture. It had a smell. The air had the smell. That old book smell. There was a painting on the wall. For now, it just looked like the sea. But that was fine. The dream had become more real.

But this was new. I had more control. I was in control. I wanted a good dream, here it was. I had asked for a good dream before I fell asleep. And now, my dream was becoming clearer. I was pushing it forward, pushing the dream to progress to grow more. This change, the bleeding of my real life anxiety into my special place, my happy place this was new. And it had to mean something. Perhaps the intention I had entering my sleeping world was growing. Perhaps the inclination and the strength I have been summoning wasn’t just an “in the dream world” kind of thing. This was an adventure that I was asking for. This was a world that I had control in when I shouldn’t. I was breaking the rules.

That is when the phrase “you are a deliberate creator” began to make sense. I had heard it before. I had been told it before. I had never understood. But here I was in this dream, it had been the same dream for so long that it was a reassuring place, an untouchable safe place for me to just relax and not have to really worry or think. And I had changed it. Something I had never been able to do, I had never been able to turn right instead of left while climbing up the rigging which was something I was curious about, trying more than once if I could do it, just once. But here, I changed something big. I had done something big. I had created the change and then changed it again. I could alter the unalterable. I had done yet another impossible thing. First I had survived in the real world, more than once, something that was meant to but could have destroyed me.

My name is Elliot Parker, and I love to do the impossible.

The dream sort of dissolved while I made sense of it and came back into the waking world. I wanted to cling onto the dream refusing to open my eyes and face the day.

Admittedly, I didn’t get out of bed until the urge to pee was crippling. I kept trying to go back to the dream, but it had slipped through my fingers like sand.

But it was the deciding factor, aside from this dream, I have had nightmares, dreams, whatever they can be called; I have had full blown night terrors about work for so long that I am struggling to remember life without dreaming about work. I am a writer, plagued by dreams about a job that is most certainly not writing. Before this job, I had dreams about my stories, about my characters. Since that job, nothing but terrors of work full of anxiety. It has to stop.

A Trip Down Memory Lane… Counting Corvids

Counting Corvids

A magical girl, the blend of her race and another combined must leave her childhood home to a new country where she can be safer. Or so it should have been, she encounters life threatening situations and a boyfriend from hell!

Chapter One: Here we go

This story is as old as time itself, but as new as the ink I write with. This story is my life, my death and what happened next.

For my story to begin to make sense an open mind is needed. Many generations ago my family stemmed from three sisters, triplets. Daughters of a Goddess, Hecate. They were born in the exact same place as I, a stone circle on a Scottish island. I had been over a thousand years after the triplets, my great, great, great well you know where that is heading. Like their birth, my birth had an effect on the world. When we were born, all the magic in the world stopped for a short while.

The daughters of Hecate each held power over an elemental property; flames, earth and mist. These three women started a new species of magic, a new species of witch, the Elementals. There are rumours that the three founders of the line are still alive after consuming the last breath of Hecate. It is said they are the elders and guides for our magic.

It is said that as the three sisters altered the destiny of one man, the ripple caused death after death of many. Neither good nor evil claimed them damning them and by extension me into an afterlife in purgatory. Since then we have been attempting to build an alliance through generations of good karma. Of course no good deed goes unpunished. The witch hunts were brutal.

At some point the elders sent word during the trials, should a child of all three lines be born into eligibility then they shall forge the path from purgatory into a new world and afterlife. As with all ancient stories they become rumour, fairy tale and myths. And that is why I am here, standing in the same stone circle at the turning of the years, like my mother did twenty one years ago at this very moment when I was born.

The three of us are no longer alone in the circle. In this darkness is where the story starts. There was a blinding flash of violet light in the circle before the world went black. The magic had once again stopped. In the darkness three voices chorused. Of course I had no idea what they said, I was out cold. From the gist of what Dad has said that the myth or legend of a chosen one, well that is me, he was the only one managing to stay half conscious to hear. I can’t quite explain why. Anyway it seems that I am the supposed guiding light my ancestors have been waiting for. No pressure. As the sun rose on the New Year it rose on us also, around us surrounding the circle had been hundreds of magpies, they had stopped watching me, instead they glared at the single crow taking flight away from the circle.

The wings of the magpies burst into flames as they swarmed and dived at us until the wings stopped burning and the magpies themselves plumed fresh char free feathers.

I’m not sure if it was the entire event or my childhood that freaked my parents out the most. You see, the problem is I didn’t have a normal childhood, my parents couldn’t risk me going to school. I was the breaker of hundreds of years of tradition, I had been born with powers, specifically basic flame powers.

Safe to say my shooting flames made my parents jumpy. I remember feeling lonely as a child, I struggled with mastering my power, my emotions. Apparently when I was three I had a strange encounter with a magpie. I liked magpies, I always have even if it was something I shouldn’t be proud of, my parents were wary. Once I had bowed to a magpie, it bowed back and flew to my shoulder. Since then I have always thought of magpies as sweet companions despite my parent’s very clear unease. The amount of hushed whispered arguments I had heard from the stairs always swam through in the darkness.

I think the magpies at the circle sealed our fate. Mum insisted we move to a town in Texas that is filled with magic that way I could learn to master my new abilities in peace without fear of discovery, so they say. I hated the idea, but I had no choice or no way to argue.

Chapter Two: “Home Sweet Home”

There is darkness all around, except for a glimmer of silvery moonlight shining on the grassy slope to the eerie shadow of a circle made of stone inside are three people stood waiting. In the distance quiet waves but an echoing wind howling louder and louder, the three figures struggle to stay balanced in the darkness.

Everything stops, a blazing violet light encircles and traps the stone circle, the three figures are clear for a moment, and the light grows brighter and denser until nothing is visible with in it. The light stops, and the figures lay motionless on the ground.


A young woman bolts upright in her bed, at the window stands a crow, watching her quietly before it cawed, in surprise the woman whips her head around in time to see it explode in a ball of fire. In seconds she was no longer alone in the room, still shaking as her parents rushed in, in a panic. The young lady, Willow, finds no answer, even once she has prepared herself for the day. Not quite sure on a solution she resolves to do a little exploring to distract her, not knowing just how true those words were.


The area around her seemed nothing like the promises her parents had made. This was in no way a good or remotely trendy neighbourhood. On the surface, everything was bleak and miserable. In fact everything here seemed desperate, buildings and people alike whether it was for love or money was indistinguishable.

The local park lacked in so many ways, everything was left to its own devices, pathways, grasses, fences. Walking alone here, seemed ever so slightly other worldly, that was until Willow felt impact in her shoulder, a girl had run into her and sent her flying, the girl carried on running, her pursuers closely behind her.

Willow jumped up confused, baffled and curious rubbing her shoulder; she followed in pursuit of the girl who had managed to get herself a little trapped.

Willow without thinking tried to help, pulling one of the girls pursuers attention away. Willow couldn’t believe her eyes at the towering man who looked more like boulders in shape then human, the girl had started to try to fight back. Not quite sure if she had done it on purpose or by accident, Willow had started blasting this creature with ball after ball of fire.

After a few attempts Willow succeeded as the thing burst into the exact same flames as the crow on her window sill, that very morning, but this time it was accompanied by an agonizing scream from the beast.

The girl and the remaining thing turned to face her, the thing disappeared into thin air as the girl stood staring at Willow.

“Hey how did you…? I mean… what are…? I mean… Hi, I’m Madison but most people call me Madi,” Madi extended her hand but Willow stared at it, “I have to go” she stammered before turning on her heels. “Wait! Wait who are you? You saved my life.”

“Willow” she through over her shoulder as she carried on walking, Madi caught up with her. “Can I at least get you a coffee to thank you, something or anything?”

Willow stopped “Only if you can tell me what just happened.” Reluctantly Madi agreed as she led Willow into a small dingy diner, sitting in a booth next to the furthest corner window.

“That thing what was it?”

“It was a Quake”

“A what?” Madi stared at Willow stunned for a moment.

“A Quake is a demon,” she studied Willows face as she spoke. “A Quake demon, is a low level demon, up to around five of them in an area are low risk threats, any more then that and they have the potential to cause some serious damage.”

“Oh, right, I see so why were they chasing you?”

“I am a Delicai, a good being, a good witch in theory, I make mistakes, I accidently caught their attention and well, that is how we got here.”

“Right I see how do you know all this stuff?”

“It’s a family thing, I’m guessing by your reaction that was your first vanquish.”

“First what? Yes, I guess it was.”

“So erm, what are you?”

“To be honest I’m not really sure, mum once said I was an Elemental, well that our heritage was, I am not so sure.”

“It makes sense, I can’t get a reading from you, good or evil. Elemental’s are essentially in no-mans-land that way.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well Elemental’s reside in purgatory for an eternity, which is the case until the ever-so-mysterious chosen one finally materializes and makes an alliance in either good or evil.”

“How cheerful” Willow’s words spoke, remaining as neutral an expression as she could manage.

“I wouldn’t worry too much it’s not your responsibility to make the alliance is it? After all, you seem to be just coming into your powers.”

Willow smiled politely across at Madi who patted her on the arm, Willows body tensed with a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes unfocused, in her mind she could see another Quake demon crashing through the Window. Willows eyes snapped open.

“I thought you were just a flame elemental but it looks like you just had a premonition, oh… wait your first? Does that mean you’re an earth one too?”

“We have to go”

“Wait why?”

Willow didn’t have time to answer, the Quake demon came crashing through the window throwing the shattered glass everywhere, and moments later Madi soared through the air hitting the back wall as Willow scrambled out of its path.

Once more with evert effort she could muster she set to work on igniting the demon repeatedly until it was consumed in fire chasing after Willow who lead it out into the empty parking lot before it finally exploded sending her flying towards a hedge. As Madi reappeared searching for Willow in the hedges among the chaos. “Wow that was some explosion huh Willow” Willow murmured from the hedge before dragging herself from the branches.

A Trip Down Memory Lane… Coryburn Girls Devil Take the Hindmost

Coryburn Girls: Devil Take the Hindmost

The Coryburn Girls are up to no good. On the cusp of the change they find themselves thrown in to the start of the delicate tensions of a war that they hadn’t anticipated. While navigating their own fresh starts the possibility of a life beyond their sisterhood beckons, they are lead down the start of a separate path, but will they find each other before its too late?

Or if you want a cheeky deal on the collection of the Coryburn girls why not buy the collective ebook or paper back! Here’s that little link you need, its available now! Today!

Chapter One

It was but a day and night that had passed by, time trickling like sand in a timer. Dusk was returning to the town that had been so eerily quiet for most of the day. Kayetelynn and Annabella had been laid slumped against the walls of their bedroom, unmoving and unconscious. In the middle of the room, a heavy wooden box with the most curious carvings, sat playing host to the gloriously impressive, blood diamond that had been stolen, many times over history and twice by the two girls rendered motionless.

Chrystyne and Eustace each sat patiently on their daughter’s beds. Waiting, watching Kayetelynn and Annabella slowly begin to rise, lifting the fog from the haze of unconsciousness. Aching and confused the girls struggled to find their bearings in the dim room.

Eustace was the first to speak; he was cool, calm and calculated, his voice trickled slowly as he spoke; “What did you do?”

The internal cringe, the knowing there was no way to hide this mistake or make it a secret.

Kayetelynn was unsure, she shrugged before she pulled herself unsteadily to her feet, the once blood soaked bandage fell from her hand, landing on the floor crumpled, stark bright white against the opulent rug at her feet. Annabella swallowed slowly staring at the unravelling bandage, pulling it away gently, to reveal scarred palms and fingertips. Her eyes drifted through her foggy memory back to the box.

Staring at the diamond and box as though somehow she could accuse it of this strange feeling that was sweeping over her in her consciousness; Annabella felt strong, much stronger than she had ever felt before. Her parents could see the scars, it was then that their parents truly began to understand, a cold panic swept them. Even their usual pale features seemed to some how become a brilliant white. Both Chrystyne and Eustace ran from the room in a panic running to the basement that had remained locked for years. Unsure of what to do Kayetelynn and Annabella ran after their parents.

Down in the dusty basement Annabella and Kayetelynn stared curiously at their parents sighing relieved in front of a mirror. The mirror, heavy, ornate and beautiful, showed only the image of the room, and not the four breathless occupants ignoring the piles and layers of dust that swept across the room.

In one swift motion Chrystyne’s hand came down on Annabella’s cheek; reprimanding her for putting them all at risk. Bewildered Annabella and Kayetelynn were directed back to their room rather aggressively. The relief had left Chrystyne as soon as a reality had settled back in.

Chrystyne lifted the diamond from the box. Finally ready to explain. “This, this saved our bloodline, by stealing your own blood.” Kayetelynn and Annabella looked on bemused. Eustace grumbled, adjusting himself before he began to speak. “The blood diamond absorbed your blood, did it not? I asked a question.” Kayetelynn nodded, he continued, “The box is but an old Nosferatu legend. It is believed to be a destroyer and a maker of our very existence. By taking your blood, it saved our most direct bloodlines, now the purest of the pure. But in preserving ours, it has destroyed many others. Half fangs, they are now what they once were, it will have undone them. And we are in danger.”

Chapter Two

Their father seemed weaker, like he had the weight of the world upon him, now wrapped in a shroud of concern and worry.

“If as you say, that the stone has undone them, am I wrong in presuming they survive?”

“There will be a tide of hell unleashed, desperate hell. Annabella what have you done?”

Annabella struggled to reply, unsure of how they knew that this had all been down to her, like somehow this had all been intentional, “I only did as the dream dictated.”

This did nothing to sooth her parents. “Tonight we must leave here. Tonight you will go to London and us to the boarder just as we planned.” Eustace left the room to summon the coachmen and carriages. In haste he loaded their luggage to leave ahead of the girls.

“You will meet the luggage in London, and you will need this.” He handed Annabella a sealed envelope. “These instructions will help you when we cannot.” His last words sounded uncharacteristic of his normal manner, they were heavy and sorrowful. Perhaps more that he was forced to bid farewell too soon; in conditions that he would in time break his heart, as though he knew the fates before them. The myths that had been created to the legends of the stone and box, in old stories that had been passed to generations as bed time tales.

“There will be a fall out; there will be a time that half fangs will know no other way. Their very existence as it had been all these years has become them, their last shred of identity in our existence; they will be unwilling to go back to what they once were. Mortal lives will pain them. Be wary of their clumsy pursuits.”

Kayetelynn nodded and hugged Chrystyne, “for the dead, we travel fast, my dears be at speed.”

Kayetelynn and Annabella said one last goodbye before setting themselves into a carriage made of the darkest wood and most decadent of fabrics. They sat restless as the wheels began to creak and bounce at speed against the old cobble stone roads.

A Trip Down Memory Lane… Coryburn Girls Winds of Change

Coryburn Girls: Winds of Change

Two girls on the journey of discovery, but are they about to lose all that their family had built? Will they destroy the life they know in pursuit of their own gains and adventures? What is the fascination with the stone that will change the destinies of everyone they have ever known?

Or if you want a cheeky deal on the collection of the Coryburn girls why not buy the collective ebook or paper back! Here’s that little link you need, ebook available 8th July!

Chapter One

In the crisp warm air Kayetelynn and Annabella walked arm in arm through a dimly lit garden; taking the time to smell a rose on their stroll. As though nothing out of the ordinary could ever happen in their lives; as though nothing out of the ordinary ever has happened. In complete honesty, tonight was a rare night off from chasing leads as politely and as unassumingly as possible. It had become an exhausting experience, often met with dead ends at the assumption that the girls were in fact no more then dreamers or trouble stirring to have something to gossip over.

It took Annabella a few moments longer than it should have to recognise the man that had come to a stop in front of them. He seemed to be a truly disgruntled and agitated figure of a man; he pushed a piece of crumpled paper into her hand.

“My- is it really you? Where have you been?” Annabella had caught him; he was immensely uncomfortable; unconsciously in his anxious state he stroked his beard, shaking his head to her question unwilling to actually speak, hoping to get away. Barely the shadow of a man they once knew.

Annabella was baffled that it taken her so long to recognise his face, after all this time she had never imagined he could change this much. “Tarron?” she pushed but he shook his head and pointed at the paper. Kayetelynn unfolded the crumpled paper and stared at the messy scrawl, “it’s an address?”

Finally he spoke, “I heard you were looking for something. That is the very last address that I was able to track it to.”

Annabella stood still in disbelief, “but Tarron that doesn’t explain the beard, you look ridiculous.” Kayetelynn’s comment dismayed Annabella who had hoped the two would be able to get along. “Kayetelynn, hush it suits him, don’t worry about Kayetelynn. She’s not been herself lately.”

Which was a lie, this was very Kayetelynn like behaviour, but Tarron nodded and excused himself despite Annabella’s weak protests; as quickly as he had come, he had disappeared.

Annabella smacked Kayetelynn on the arm agitating her sister, “what was that for?”

“You didn’t have to be so mean, he was helping us, we haven’t seen him in months and the first thing you chose to do was insult him.”

“He is being a baby”

“Lynny, you are the one acting like a child”

“I am not. I am angry. Why aren’t you? He left and didn’t even apologize; we got caught because he abandoned us, for all we know he could have told the guards where we were.”

Annabella sighed and pulled Kayetelynn to the side of the path, away from any eavesdropping passers by. In a hushed voice she finally spoke, “we got the box and we got out, we should be thankful we managed that. Do you not think that time and time again we have persuaded him to flout every one of his morals; he does it every single time because it is you who asks it of him. He loves you and you don’t feel a thing for him. He knows that, and yet still he is clinging to misguided hope that you will change and love him as he loves you. I am sorry Lynny but you don’t seem to want to even think about the entirety of this painting so please next time you see him, just apologize. Like it or not right now we still need and we are still using his help. So just think about that next time you snap at him, we still need his help. You know we do.”

Kayetelynn soured at her sister’s reasoning, more so that she had chosen to take someone else’s side over hers. It didn’t matter that Annabella was right, what mattered to Kayetelynn was her wounded pride.

Chapter Two

The air was dark and cool as Kayetelynn and Annabella made their way over the final hillside that stood in their path. Finally confronting their next adventure, before them was a seemingly unassuming home in the countryside that they had been seeking all this time. When the house finally came to view the ground seemed to lurch a little beneath their feet.

It was Annabella who took the lead like a hunting wolf on the scent of a kill. Annabella rarely wanted to take the lead for anything, not openly at least. But now more than it had ever been, the idea of being the leader was little but a thought in the tiny corner of her mind.

Annabella had felt the pull of what she had for so long been searching for; from the ridge of the hill it had all seemed so much harder, but now that she reached the walls of the house she could feel something calling to her. Everything began to feel that bit easier for her. She dragged Kayetelynn past the cold, ice-frosted windows towards the back entrance, quietly and with ease she picked and pulled at the lock hearing the final click she smiled.

Kayetelynn was open mouthed as Annabella made a line straight into the study; as though she had always known this house. Kayetelynn was in awe of her sense of direction, but her admiration fell into a sense of unease at an army of taxidermy squirrels, badgers and foxes that lined every single space around her. Annabella hissed at Kayetelynn to follow her, having seen the hundreds of draws lining the study room. Kayetelynn began to rifle through them making a considerable mess. It was Annabella who dropped to her knees and felt around the corner of the heavy rug, pulling it back to reveal a loose floorboard that creaked below her feet. It took a little bit of effort for Annabella to gently prise it open quietly.

Feeling around in the open space she felt the cold, hardness wrapped within a bundle of cheap rags. She peeled the layers of fabric away like it was an onion until she saw the core. The thing that had occupied her every thought for the last few months; night after night, with that same strange dream. The desire that had fuelled her determination and her search was now in her hand, the cold glinting blood diamond. Carefully she wrapped it back up and placed it within her bust before she replaced the floorboard wanting to keep a safe hold of the stone and never wanting to let it out of her sight.

Annabella and Kayetelynn left the door unlocked as they left; sensing that feeling that they had long overstayed their unwelcome; getting away would be a thousand times more important than locking the door behind them.

Somewhere within the house its owner had indeed awoken, with a start, leaping from his bed he ran to the window. There in the darkness he saw the figure of two girls running, desperate to get away. Clutching at his chest he knew what had been taken. It wasn’t fear that had overtaken him at the loss of something precious. Instead he smiled as he watched them leaving over the edge of the hill. “At last it is finally gone; it can be their nightmare from now.” He mumbled to himself.

He smiled getting back into his bed he nuzzled at his wife kissing her neck in the darkness. Uncaring of what mess could await them in the morning. His desire that had long since been suppressed seemed to awaken and with it a new energy.