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

Aleta...

The Loft is a place in my mind where my characters begin, 

and stay until they have a job... 

 

Glamorous, pink and fluffy, with lots of ding-a-ma-bling, startled, black eyebrows, 

false lashes, and lashings of blood red lipstick. Yeah you got it... I may have a little problem here.

She came with the loudest noise. I heard her before I saw her, and then I began to wish she wasn’t here. That’s how I felt when I caught sight of my latest Character, who had recently joined us at 'The Loft' in my mind...  Talk about flamboyant, loud and brash. She looks like she belongs on a float in a carnival, and here she is, ordering everyone around, as if she owns the place.  I ask her to be respectful of others, but my goodness the look she gave sent shivers down my spine, however, it did render her speechless, and I’m guessing that doesn’t  happen often.

I introduce myself, and ask her name... her response makes me smile. 
“They call me Aleta, she shouts"
On seeing my quizzical expression, her animated eyes roll to the back of her head, but  she carry's on regardless...

“Aleta, Aleta, Aleta, but here’s the funny part, it means, Truthful... Mythological Goddess of Truth, but listen hunny-bunny, and you take it from me, I aint that” she huffs and chuffs... throws her head back, laughing like a crazed hyena. I thought, Oh my lord, what the heck am I going to do with this one?

Looking up to the double doors of the loft, I see a few characters smile peevishly, as they close the doors, quietly.. 

Oh no, they obviously don't want her in... I think I feel a tantrum coming.  

~MJ Ewen~

(A re-edit from 2014) Image from Pinterest 

Lets all Be Kind...

 

I live for the moments I can put Magic into my words.... 

Whilst watching TV today, I was reminded of the Be Kind Campaign.

My heart went out to the mum's who'd lost their children to suicide, and how their deaths were due to being relentlessly bullied in school... by their peers.  Young people, who were just like them, and who continued to hurt these beautiful souls. 

I was also bullied as a child,  and not just in school.  I would leave an abusive home and vomit on my way to school, because I was fearful of the constant barrage of abuse in all of my locations.  

Physical, and mental. 

I'm older now, and often wonder how I recovered...

Thankfully I was removed from the abuse, and it was said I survived because somehow I became resilient, and able to distance myself. I was one of the lucky ones, and healed. But, its super important for us all to be good role-models, and show our babies, and our young people that being kind, gentle, and compassionate, is the only way to be. It's also true that being kind is much better for us and our own well-being, than it is to be unkind, and nasty. 

Do not be responsible for hurting hearts and souls, or for making others feel like they don't want to be here... we're all connected, we just need to remember that we really do rise when we lift others.

for those of us following the Be Kind Movement...

Be Kind was established in 2015 with the aim of celebrating and amplifying the power of kindness through education. Our passion lies in developing emotional intelligence (EQ) skills using the medium of film to influence, impact and embed 10 values of kindness in children and young people.

https://www.bekindmovement.co.uk/ 

MJ Ewen