“You don’t even like him!” Cathy screamed when she was leaving my room. Which is not strictly true. At least the fact that she was leaving my room. She was rather storming out of it. And she slammed the door in my face. Not that I minded, though. I mean, she was right, wasn’t she? I didn’t even like him. Really. I mean it – cross my heart!

I want to be somewhere I am not,

I want to run some place I don’t know,

I want to sleep in peace and have no dreams,

I want to vent my grief in a torrent of tears.

First of all, I want to apologize for my long absence. This place seems abandoned and it is my fault. Due to extra circumstances I have to work more than usually which totals around 80 hours per week. This is the reason for no results of the contest so far. And no review of tha last winner’s blog. As well as no new contest. I will do my best to catch up in the nearest future. For now I am posting a poem I have written very long ago. I figured it is time to post it here.It is dedicated to the matter of teen pregnancy and child abuse.

The fish escaped;
the bird didn’t give up.
The fish went deeper;
away from the poking beak of the bird.
The bird readied for another dive,
for that other fish.

It does not matter now, she thought. Nothing does. She will close her eyes and everything will disappear. The world. The tears. The pain. That was what she hoped for, that was what she believed in, that was what she had never tried before. Because if she tried and it didn’t work, she would have nothing left to have faith in. Because if she closed her eyes and the pain were still there, she would be broken. She would be destroyed. Ruined. Quashed.

She walked to St. Mary Magdalene’s clutching a tan trench coat around her body.
It was the coat he had given her just two nights prior to his death and far too big for her lithe frame. Stopping just below her ankles it would have dragged the ground if not for her stiletto boots. Nevertheless, the coat protected her from the bitter winter wind, just as it had protected her from the splatters of blood the night he died.

Tabitha creased her sweater once again and wiped her tears.
She didn’t want him to know she’d been crying. He’d hate that.

Her eyes searched for that familiar face in the crowd that descended from the escalator.
Must be any minute now. She clenched on the barriers that prevented her to rush through the customs and find Carl herself.

They met in a formal dinner. She was nervous. He was sweet. They both led very busy lives with very demanding careers. He managed to make quite an impression, until he took her to the middle of the floor, and asked her to dance the chicken dance with him. In a black-tie formal event. Utterly shocked, her eyebrows shot up as she asked him, “You’re joking right?”

“Alright hun.” Claire asks as we start unloading the car. I could only shrug. My best friend Claire and her boyfriend were helping me sell my stuff at the local car boot sale. It was early Sunday morning and Kieren and I would still be in bed right now, reading the papers and eating breakfast if he hadn’t left me just over a year ago.

It was a really busy place with so many interesting stalls and people. So many people clearing out to make room for the new.

She woke up and instantly checked the clock. 3 am. Not that bad, she thought. Yesterday it was 2 am, the day before she had not have any sleep at all. She hardly could sleep since he had gone. How could she sleep if he was not there. She was sitting on her bed, looking around, waiting, ready to see him enter the room. Though she knew he never would.

“Take up that Kentucky incense and smoke it, Bernerd!” the old woman said, pointing to the hand rolled cigarette in the ashtray of the fifty-four Fairlane, “A man of yer age and ya ain’t learnt better than ta’smoke.” She scowled folding over the top of her leather purse, “Old fool,” she grumbled.

Bernerd reached over and butted out his homemade smoke never taking his eyes off the night road. “Only and old fool would take an old crank like yew ta’the hospital in the dead’ a night, Ethel. Now hush, I’m in heavy traffic.”

First of all, Show Your Best - February Blog Contest is closed. We have received 20 submissions which is less than for janyay contest but still a decent amount of wonderful blog posts. The results will be announced this Saturday, March 20.

Meanwhile you can take part in another contest here on The Colors Magazine. Tell Your Love Story writing contest. It is completely free and you all are welcome to participate and who us what you have got.

And yes, you still can vote for me over here http://nekonette.com/contest/vote.php to help me win. Thanks a ton to those who already have voted.

This is a girl whose writing will inspire you, will keep you thinking and wondering. This is a girl who would surprise you with her writing even when you think that it is not possible. You wonder if it is really so? Check out her blog Humming Today. She started that blog almost 3 years ago, in March 2007. As she said back then “I’m here to explore..inspire..and aspire”

And so she did, for 3 years already.