The Voice...

 A voice tells the story of a moment that changed life, forever...

Looking over the wall was a nightmare but falling into the sea, her end. Surrounded by sharks and her siblings was more than she could take.

A dark sky witnesses huge waves crash against the crumbling brickwork of the highest wall that she'd ever seen, and as her Siblings sink into darkness, beneath the black ocean, she frantically grabs for them, trying her hardest to raise them up out of the water, and to push them up the wall so that onlookers can save them. As the sharks bite into her brothers and sister, blood fills her mouth, when she looks into the terrified eyes of her family... She screams, petrified. She knows she will be next, but if anything happens to her, they will all perish.

But...

nothing happened in the sea that night, or any other night because this particular child was recounting the nightmare of being taken in the middle of the night, by child protection, and medical professionals.

Every night for the longest time, she woke in a sweat, crying, heartbroken because of the same recurring nightmare. A trauma that would stay with her till the end.

Believe it or not it will all work out.

How?

One day, you'll be the adult, you'll make the choices, and it'll be up to you to do what's right, for you and those around you...

She lost her family, so what did she want?... she wanted a family, it was important. With that in her heart she made one, she worked towards it and made it happen. It didn't happen overnight. she worked on herself, and got re-educated and worked towards her dream.

It took a long time. But, it did happen.

'We are not what happens to us. We are who we are despite what happens'.

MJ

PS.

Just to be clear, being brought into the care-system was the best thing that happened to her.

Time For Reflection...

It's hard to believe my last post was the middle of December. Thank you so much for your messages. There's been a lot on my mind. 

I've been thinking about being real, and in studying that I knew it was time to reflect... let things go that weren't serving me, and make a conscious effort to be real. I discovered I was spending much to much time on social media and not accomplishing anything, wasting precious time, which I could use to be doing other meaningful things. It's so easy to get into the habit of wasting time, and it's strange because I can hardly believe how liberated I feel, knowing I can now take time out to do the things I felt I didn't have time for. 

There is a list of things to do. I have a project on the go that requires more research, so now I will focus and be able to continue writing with gusto... Once I have a new excerpt I shall blog again, and hopefully connect with like-minded followers.  Lets face it, most of what happens on Social Media, isn't real... I think once we connect with another who is 100% authentic, and feel the same vibe, its important to stay in-touch. There are not many genuine individuals out there who feel as we do.  

Signing off with love... 

MJ Ewen 

Forgiveness...

 

I will tell my story about what you did... it will emerge from a learned soul and penetrate even the coldest of hearts... you will see how your behaviour affected the innocent. It's my hope that you will understand and learn.

If you don't, it's because you don't want to. 

They think there are no consequences, but they live and die under false illusions. I smile, I know different, there are always consequences and the passage of time will make no difference.

If you do it, live it, and know it's wrong, then you will bear those consequences.

So for now I will write my learning, I'll speak my truth, and share all I know so that the unforgivable, and all of our stories will mount, and your understanding will continue. 

Whatever process you acquire, to learn, and understand when seeking out knowledge, or however you set your skills, values, and attitude... it must begin with a good heart, and for those of you who make the mistake of saying, but... I had a hard childhood, it happened to me, then my friend, you are the least excused, because you know more than most how it feels to be in that deep, dark, desperate hole...

If you read this and know you are guilty, then think and move forward in a way to work on yourself.  There's no excuse. The amount of information, the signposting to a better way, is visible in our invisible world. 

To those of you who ignore it all, and to those who walk through life not challenging the behaviour of those who are guilty,  you, are just as bad if not worse by allowing others to be harmed, it's not acceptable, and it's definitely not acceptable to turn a blind eye.

They say it takes a village to raise a child... well let me tell you this, I came from a large family,  they all turned a blind eye, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and unbelievably, Grandparents ... they all contributed to the neglect, the abuse, the lies, and the horrendous life we had to live before a neighbour intervened... You think children don't want to leave abusive Parents/family/carers... think again, my life started when I was taken. 

The stories, the messages, my thoughts will continue till I am no more... and my message to you out there, you who maybe suffering because of what you've been through... There is light, there is healing, sometimes there is no understanding but its not your fault, and you will learn to leave the blame where it belongs, even though right now you feel like you'll never be able to move on, trust me, you will.

Always remember that Forgiveness is for you, and helps you move on. In forgiving, it enables the bitterness to disappear from your life...   

MJ Ewen

Virginia...

 Let me introduce myself... 

My name is Virginia.

I have to say I have no idea why my parents called me Virginia. To me the name dictates a strong, brave women, who would intuitively protect those around her, and due to silly curiosity, I looked up its meaning... I was surprised to discover it meant, pure, virgin bride, and chaste... well I don't think so, how the hell do you think I cornered my victims? The only person I want to protect, is me... so for your own safety, if you're weak, and present as vulnerable, stay the hell away.    

I grew up amongst Monsters, and quickly Iearned how to stay safe. I figured out that if you scanned your surroundings then the feedback would infiltrate you, with the information you'd need... I learned so much, I had all the answers, which meant I'd always have my say, and being in control is paramount. 

I'm everybody's friend, until I'm not. 

It all started with pain, and then those damn voices came.

I quickly learned to achieve the skills I'd use to my advantage.  At a young age I became use to assessing, and reporting.  This was how I became able to design an internal pilot scheme, to get rid of certain individuals who I knew would become a drain in my world.

The scheme was specific and I followed my guidelines to the letter... anything else just wouldn't do. 

From an early age I sensed the stranger inside of me, the stranger whispered its lies, and told stories to claim victims. She was relentless, even I felt anxious of the lengths she would go to.

...Things happened to her, terrible things, things she doesn't ever want to discuss or think about. So, if you ever meet Virginia, for God's sake don't show any sensitivity or weakness, because, if it's one thing she detests, it's someone who may let her down... 

MJ Ewen 

The Gypsy...

Just imagine... 

your walking along the road to nowhere, you know somethings got to happen because your life's in the gutter, and, you also realise that If you disappeared right now, no one would miss you. You've accomplished nothing. Your thoughts and mood, have been dark for a long time. 

You look around but your vision is cloudy, you're walking, aimlessly. Then it starts snowing. Within a couple of minutes the snow begins to fall hard. You're not dressed for winter, you left the house in a hurry.  Music, you hear music. It's a Christmas Carol...  we wish you a merry Christmas... we wish you a merry Christmas...  its Christmas!  Is it really Christmas? her intuition tells her to follow the music.

In the distance the glow from fairy lights cuts through the haze of falling snow. There are voices, music, and laughter.  It's been so long since I laughed.  I wonder, could I do that again? ... Maybe not.  Since you left, the world's felt lonely, and the way you left confirmed my importance.  Since then, my time has been spent reevaluating who I am, my purpose, and where I'm going, or actually, do I want to be here? and like a recording, I'm stuck...  Death is final.  Its so inviting, but not to be taken lightly. I need to think everything through.  Mind you, its not like anyone will miss me, but have I finished, am I really done?

Gaiety is up ahead, the music sounds beautiful, but can I feel beauty, right now? So many questions, so much uncertainty. The music alters, it's gypsy music, violins, and fiddles, jig out the beautiful, and the dark, reminding me of how we use to dance. 

Wiping snow from my eyes, I'm startled as a tall lady steps out from in-front of her brightly coloured stall, 

"Hello my lovely, may I invite you into my space, I have a feeling you won't regret your visit"

Her dark curly hair, cascades down, despite being tied up in a bright turban scarf which holds golden coins that jiggle as she moves. Dressed like a Gypsy, her dark eyes softly stare. She's waits for an answer. 

What do I have to lose? I whisper to myself. Her patience is inspiring,  I know I'm supposed to answer, but this overwhelming, inadequate feeling, monopolises my mind.

"Come, let's talk, I sense you need a friend"

Feeling comfortable, I reach out to hold her hand. The Gypsy pulls me through her sequinned curtain, revealing the smallest room which is beautifully decorated. A tiny round table, two blue velvet covered chairs, shelves, that home books, trinkets and treasures. In the middle of the table sits the most exquisite, crystal snow globe, which rests on a intricate, gold stand, raising it from the linen it sits upon. My senses heighten, I smell delicious aromas, and essential oils.  

"Please, take a seat, let your experience begin" 

Sitting down, I'm unable to draw my eyes away from the globe, its light reflects silver, and golden specs of incredible light, whilst tiny flecks of snow, float around a scene I can't quite see...

The Gypsy settles herself, and asks,

"Shall we begin, my lovely?" 

MJ Ewen

Writers Are Never Alone...

If I can help you see that beautiful light within then my purpose has been exposed, find that light, and find your magic, because we all have it... 

MJ

Jumping off the stairs she lands on all fours and for a moment she resembles a monkey. In her crouched position she is paused... her mind is still, whilst her hair cascades across her face, but through the breaks, I see big grey, green eyes, and as her black lashes blink, robot like, she begins to stand.

It's been a while but another Character waits to enter The Loft... 

Leaning against the wall I relax into my folded arms.  I decide to wait for her to speak.  I'm usually the communicator, the one who draws them out of their shells, but I decide for this one I need to spend time observing, for future reference. 

There is something intriguing about her. The character seems familiar, but I'm sure I've never met her before. 

"May I speak?" She whispers,

"Of course"

"I'm lost, I don't know where I am" visibly, she shivers.

"This is The Loft, where people come to wait"

"Wait?" She queries

"Yes,  it's like a half way house, where you spend time before you're included into a writers world" and with that explanation out of the hat I smugly hug myself tighter, feeling secure that my explanation is enough. 

Silence... Confusion...

"Why would I come here to go into a story?  I don't understand,  I want to go home"

Flummoxed, I'm confused now...

"But you are home, anyone who lands here usually wants to stay,  although, I did once have a couple who decided to leave, however, it's highly unusual"

This will never do, I thought, sensing my own irritability...

"But I'm not a character to be placed into a book,  I'm me,  I just don't know where I came from, I feel so confused, but I know who I am, and I don't think I want to be inserted with words, in-between pages"

(Silence)

My mind works over-time, I'll have to let her work through this.

"My name's Mary, she offers, I'm a good person, I'm clever, I studied hard and have a degree in philosophy and English Literature. My life seems real hazy right now, and I feel fearful because my mind is overwhelmingly foggy about everything else"

"Its ok Mary, it'll all become clear, I promise... and being someone important in a writers mind isn't for everyone, sometimes it's something you'll grow into, sometimes it can be something you help your writer with, quite often writers need a helping hand to grow their characters, and that's where you'd be the perfect asset, I watch as her demeanour softens, you're going to love your new job, Mary, we can take it easy, and go at your pace, if it's not for you, then you can leave at any time, but usually, once here, you'll want to stay. The Loft is warm, inviting, interesting and that amazing degree you've worked hard for, it'll be helpful, because that means you're a communicator, and there are some characters in The Loft who definitely need help" with another warm smile, I wink in her direction. 

"I like to help, I love getting to know people and I especially like to understand others, hence my philosophy knowledge" she looks up towards the top of the winding stairs, where those double doors beckon to all of my clients, and the characters who nestle there know that at some point I'll need them. 

"Maybe I'll stop for a little while then, she looks at me and asks, what's your name?"

"It's Mary-Jane, but my friends call me MJ"

"Ah she cries, no wonder I've grown to like you, we share our first name"

"Why what's your second name" I ask,

And as I watch her face, I smile, knowing her realisation is but a word away... 

"My second name is, Jane" she splutters...

Sometimes you don't have to understand the way of the land, often times, acceptance is the key, but never think writers are lonely, because we're not...

MJ Ewen 

The Lake...

Detective Emily Crawford leans forward as she watches her diver disappear beneath the calm, shimmering lake. The only evidence that he'd been there, were his air bubbles. 

The call came in at 9:05am.

Sylvia's voice, shaky, dials the number for the police. She lowers herself behind a big oak tree... terrified, he mustn't see her. She whispers her information and the lakes terrible secret, into the mouth piece. The phone signal isn't that great, it cuts out... she hopes they've heard. and before she scampers away, she looks back across the lake and almost cries out, as she realises who it is. 

Sylvia had been walking, enjoying the early morning sun. Her binoculars pinpoint the woods, beautiful birds, who as usual, search frantically for food. Sylvia stops to look, as she hears the boat chugging its way towards the middle of the lake, nothing unusual about that except it stops, and the engine cuts-out. Peering through her binoculars, she watches as the hooded figure looks around, it takes a minute or so before he bends down to retrieve something from the floor of his boat.  

Her long black hair hangs over his arm.  He's strong, he holds her up high, kisses her, and then drops her into the lake, and he viciously pushes her under the water, she sinks immediately, which must mean she's weighed down. 

Sylvia, reaches home... and with a squeaky voice which sounds breathless, she explains she is scared, yet despite this she grips the phone tight. She's being questioned, and then she tells the lady Detective, that she knows who it is, she saw him clearly through her binoculars...

"Who is it?" The Detective asks, impatiently.

But before Sylvia answers, there's a hell of a bang, she screams into the phone... Emily Crawford, still on the line knows whoever is there with Sylvia, isn't paying a friendly visit. 

Sylvia, shouts,

 "It's you, oh my god, MICHAEL MORRISON" she screams in terror as the phone is knocked out of her hand. 

One blow to her small delicate head, is all it takes. 

and then silence... 

Detective Emily Crawford, listens further, Sylvia had gone quiet, but she hears whosoever's there pick up the phone, and she knows they're listening... Emily, switches off the call and quickly rings through for back up, advising, she'd be there as soon as she was through at the lake. 

Within minutes, Emily sees the diver beneath the lakes, murky water, he has a body in his arms...

MJ Ewen