T.L. Spencer's Blog, page 28

Blood Prophecy

Wow, I can't believe it! After two years of fighting with myself, I not only finish my novel but it's being published!  At the end of October, I was lucky enough to win the hearts of many voters for the Fiction Fast-Track competition for Apostrophe Books and will now have my trilogy, Blood Prophecy, published as an ebook! I am really excited and quite overwhelmed by the experience.

As a first time writer, it's absolutely amazing and because I was ill when I began writing this novel, the achievement for me, is even greater. A novel about destiny, magic and love, I hope my novel will entertain and enthrall anyone who reads it. I will keep everyone updated as to when it is available and include a short synopsis at a later date x

Keep talking and keep writing! ;)
    

Apostrophe Books

This months competition has come to a close and I anxiously await the results. Fingers crossed and happy Halloween to all!

The Handmaid’s Tale: A New Perspective, Serena Joy

We stood face to face for the first time five weeks ago, when she dutifully arrived at this posting. On that day the handmaid was permitted to come to the front door. I decided to wait behind it, to see what little I could of her before she was presented to me. One of the precious freedoms left even for those like myself. She appeared as a red shadow, her image warped by the stained glass. A shadow, an object, a vessel - the handmaid’s duty. It is a bitter and gloomy thought.
I wish I could be different, but time and experience has ruined me. I gazed at the door, its varnished wooden frame peeling away, revealing the rings hidden for centuries, showing the age concealed beneath. The smell of stale perfume, the old furniture, having been used by many lords and ladies at grand balls and parties, the images of butlers in black suits and white gloves remain encrusted in time. The old grandeur died years ago but lingers still in the air.
My thoughts were interrupted by a figure, one of the Aunts. I had heard the expression on the Black-market. They use it as a means of making vitriolic and vindictive cows appear as benign and gentle beings. Of course, it never works, they rarely succeed. This doesn’t shock me really, with their electric cattle prods slung around their wastes. Perception is something difficult to master – one must be perceived in the right light. ‘Aunts’ are not. The bell had tolled for me. I opened the door, the beam of sunlight, shining like a spotlight. It mocked me, wanted me to sing, a merriment forbidden to anyone within our walls.
 I glanced at the handmaid. So you’re the new one, I said. She nodded. I took a moment to breathe the fresh air and take in that all too familiar view of those ridiculous uniforms meant to keep them safe. A prison of blood, a shroud covering the body, staining and numbing the mind. Straightjackets can perform the same task just as easily. The old one wore hers, something she couldn’t escape from. Not until darkness fell. After she left we had to clean up the mess, remove furniture. I told the new one to come in and shut the door behind her. I knew she would do as I asked and naturally follow me into the sitting room.
The chair, the foot stool, the crystal lamp. The window plain and austere relieved only by a vibrant red rose stained on the middle pane. Two curtains, red and gold. They were heavy and musty with age and neglect, their tassels moth eaten. A pillow rested on the chair. It belonged to my Grandmother, a piece of heritage that clings on to life but not the living. The chair itself stood in the centre, its colour faded by the Sun. My way to be seen while remaining out of sight.
Sitting on my chair, I gazed at the new Handmaid. Though her face was hidden, I could see her. Knowledge is power here, it signifies control. I knew what she was thinking, assessing if I would be a kind or miserable mistress. They all do at first. She should have known better, it’s healthier and safer for them to accept what is and not dwell on other things. One is only destined for disappointment and punishment if one thinks of freedom.
An array of light shone through the room, the light of the sun shooting rainbows off the diamond on my finger. A thousand spotlights glittered around us, it brought back the music. That was how we met, my husband and I as once again, my eyes were drawn to my studded finger. He makes me do them. Interview each new one just in case they are ‘one of them’ he says. I once asked why. A mistake I shall never make again, the cane a reminder.
I lit the cigarette and detected a sigh of pure longing from the Handmaid. She, of course, like the rest of them, was not allowed anything that could damage her health, or the chances. The Black-market has many things available for the desperate and longing few. There would have been nothing for her there though, she had nothing to exchange. Not without sacrifice. I slowly exhaled, mentioning that old what’s his face didn’t work out. I couldn’t say I was surprised, he never did accomplish anything.
She told me it was her third posting. Unlucky for her. I coughed at the melancholy tone; she gave too much away poor thing. I told her to sit down. Usually I’d make them suffer, Handmaids only cause pain, dredging memories and the loss of femininity from the dark tunnels of my mind. But she reminded me of a blood clot. Something that works its way around the body, until it finds the heart, destroying the beauty of creation.
Don’t call me Ma’am, I said. She is not a maid. Not of that kind anyway. The old one called me Ma’am. I will miss her. She did her job, was quiet, unobtrusive – invisible. Despite the bloody straightjacket.
The new one didn’t know, would never know. She would be here for the duration – an indefinite prison sentence in a penitentiary of hell. He, after all, my husband, is not a man. Not an Adam. He can hunt but not produce. There will be no paradise for her.

Rat in a Pet Shop

Will that infernal macaw ever shut up, I think, as I look through the horizontal bars of the cage. He always makes such a racket.  I thought that he had been sold but obviously I was wrong. I can’t say I blame them. Who would want a gobby parrot with a feather problem?
Today is the day. Today I will say goodbye to this 8 by 12 box and say hello to paradise. Tonight, I will be in a big house with warm, fuzzy saw dust, yummy food and blissfully cool water. I just have to be good, advertise myself, curl my tail like a good little rat and run on my wheel for all the little humans – even if they smell funny.
A shop keeper refreshes my water; about time too! It’s been warm and between you, me and the rat post, it was starting to smell. And it had green stuff in it! The woman drops a treat in my cage and I eat it gladly, taking a peek at my neighbours.
To my right are the albino mice. Odd creatures if truth be told – their eyes are creepy – I can never tell where they’re looking. They hardly make any noise so I can’t say I’m overly fussed. The left neighbours are altogether different. As the constant hum of the AC isn’t enough (not forgetting that parrot) I have to deal with the chipmunks! Yes! A giant cage filled with squeaky, stripy, hyper chipmunks! If I could roll my eyes, I would believe me. I look across the way and see (surprise, surprise) more cages. Hamsters.  A little grey one is huddled up in its straw bed, hardly visible. It’s trying to sleep, I get that, but really? How can it be so dense? It’s never going to get out of here like that. My whiskers shake in irritation – sleeping, how ridiculous.
A sudden smell has me recoiling, running into my little hut at the back of the cage. A dangerous  scent has hit the air: cold, hard, predatory. A young man walks down the aisle with a grin on his face, holding up a glass box. I shiver in my black and white coat, my tail trembles. My whiskers quiver and I can feel my nose wrinkle at the horror. A snake. Every rodent hides away until the danger passes and the fun begins. Why bring a snake down here? Imagine if it broke free – caged little happy meals just ripe for the picking! A couple enters with two little ones and I push the scaly thoughts aside. They rush to our cages and it’s my chance to show off.
I do my best, I run on my wheel, I do funny tricks with my tail and they watch with smiles. In my own way, I am screaming “Pick me, pick me!” And it seemsto be working. But no. They don’t want a native pet. An animal whose name they can actually pronounce. No, they want a fancy, all singing, all dancing exotic pet from Chile, or wherever it is that Degus come from.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a racist rodent. I adore my cousins big and small. I just want to be loved. And if we’re honest, what makes an ‘exotic’ pet so bloody special anyway? And it is not just one that they buy! They take two! They’re taken out their cages without much effort and placed in a carrier. I’d congratulate them both if they didn’t look so smug. I can hear them now, with those smarmy accents, “Adios amigos!” Disgusting.
Am I doomed to remain a pet shop rat forever?
I go to bed, feeling gloomy and forlorn and make little effort to look cute when people come to peer in my cage. What is the point? Still, as it reaches closing time and a birthday boy runs in, I can’t help but lift my head. The boy wants a rat. What can it hurt, I think? My tail twitches and I head to my wheel. One last go for old time’s sake.
He runs straight to my cage and jumps with excitement. This is it! This boy is the answer, my ticket to a new home! Minutes later, as I’m taken out those weird sliding doors at the front of the shop, I look back at all my exotic cousins. “Cheerio,” I think. They really aren’t so bad after all.

Note to Self

A gentle reminder to all those basking in the wonderful warmth of the shocking English sunshine:
please remember to protect your skin!

Unfortunately, I learned this the hard way. After spending a fun day in the sunshine (stupidly forgetting the sunscreen) I came home and looked at my reflection to see a tall (and somewhat stripy) looking human being. In all honesty, I resembled - and still do - a cherry with a golden wig of hair.

Sunburn is extremely painful, and because of my stupidity, I have been told to sufferin silence. So, here I sit, armed with after sun, ice packs, calomine lotion and paracetemol, just waiting for the skin to strt healing and peeling...

Ouch!

St Andrew's Church, Redbourne, Lincolnshire

In an attempt to kill a few hours before an appointment later in the afternoon, father and I went for a drive in the countryside. Fifteen minutes from Brigg, we came upon a pretty little place called Redbourne where, cosied up in a quiet corner, stood the prettiest church which dated back to the 13th century.
The immensely tall tower is the first thing that attracts the attention. In fact, on first sight, it looks like a building all on its own. However, on closer inspection, the overhanging trees reveal a magnificent mediaeval church.
When entering the church, one is drawn to the intricate glass windows, vibrantly stained with the apostles. The colours are just indescribable, so incredibly vivid. The most striking stained glass however, and perhaps the most striking feature of the church itself, is the east window designed by Francis Danby and executed by William Collins in 1832; enamelled glass depicting the opening of the sixth seal (Revelation, Chapter VI). It is a vivid rendition of the Day of Judgment, a darkened sun, a bloodied moon, the fires of hell and lightning from heaven.
There are other points of interest. If one is brave enough (unafraid of small cramped spaces and dark unknowns) the bell tower is the perfect place to visit. The six bells cast by Henry Harrrison in 1774 are wonderful to view and without a bat in sight!
These are the stairs - very narrow and very steep.Back in the light and onto firmer ground, there is a monument on the northside of the church dedicated to Sir Gerard Sothill, complete with latin inscription. As well as this, there are several 18th and 19th century tablets, dedicated to the lords and ladies of the areas, some with very comical inscriptions, the best and most delightful being the one to a woman named Charlotte, wife of Robert Carter Thelwall. After mourning her passing (1780) and extolling her virtues, expressing the dearest wish to be beside her, his own death is recorded (1787). So far it all sounds lovely... but underneath, as if in an afterthought is written: He was again made happy in a second marriage to Hannah Spooner. Brilliant!
Overall, it was a wonderful visit and not only did it kill the hours but it was an educational experience that I would to love repeat.

CHOCOLATE

Good afternoon to all...
Was Easter fun or what? How much chocolate do you suppose is healthy for one person to consume? Is it healthy to eat just one type of chocolate? I don't think so...To ensure my health and saftey, I forced myself to partake in the constant guzzling of basically every kind of chocolate in sight. I ate dark chocolate, white chocolate, milk chocolate and pralines and caramels and marsh mallows and every good thing that chocolate is. Yum Yum Yum!!!Chocolate is the key to happiness. It releases happy hormones...If everyone were to partake of chocolate consumption, the world would be a happier place!Unless of course you were to seal my chocolate.... then there would be war!

Epilepsy

I was diagnosed with epilepsy at eleven, and have been on medication since. However, instead of feeling sorry for myself, I wish to set an example and help motivate others with the condition. I am at university, I have a life and I'm writing... in short I am doing what I always dreamed of. Just because I'm different, it doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. Having epilepsy has made me a stronger person and allowed me to focus on what is really important.
Don't let life pass you by, live it to the full, with love and laughter!
CARPE DIEM x

Cuddles

In loving memory of one of the cutest cats...

Warm and rested by the fire,
Dark with aubern, her thick fur glowed.
Her presense calm in quiet slumber
Watching embers fade.
Those she loved around her always,
Laughing at her chatter.
Small but large were her demands,
Cute and inane banter.
In the dark her green eyes glistened,
Pierced into the soul.
She never like the policeman coming,
Hissing from the bed.
Her footbaall skills unparallelled,
Despite her timid nature
She always gave it all she had,
The ball did not escape her.
Sleeping curled on daddy's lap,
Resting with eyes closed
No one would disturb her there,
Just watched her dream and doze.
Gone from the world to a better place
Where there is no pain,
Only happiness and joy,
She waits to see you again.


To Cuddles, the persian. May you forever play in fields and catch mice.
xxx

Belladonna

Lucretius told us, “What is food to one, is to others bitter poison.” Dating as far back as to when the first spiritual and mythical beliefs were said to have been recorded, poisons have been used effectively for centuries. Our ancestors not only knew and respected the power that various plants possessed but learned wisely to use the healing, fatal and pain relieving properties to their advantage.
One particular group of poisons is renowned for its painful yet rapid affects. The Solanaceae or Nightshade is one of the largest and most diverse plant families, also containing some of the most poisonous and hallucinogenic plants that have been discovered in human history. All plants in this family are toxic due to the compound found within it called tropane. Atropa Belladonna, Henbane, Mandrake and Jimsonweed are all well-known but mundane plants such as Potatoes, Tomatoes, Peppers and Tobacco are also members and just as poisonous if the leaves are taken internally. Symptoms occur within half an hour of ingestion and death often follows less than two days later.Perhaps the most well-known poison of them all is Atropa Belladonna or the Deadly Nightshade. It derives its name from Atropos, one of the three fates; the fate which cut the thread of life. Her name, meaning ‘inevitable’ reflected her station as the death bringer for mortals. Italian for ‘beautiful lady’, Belladonna was used by Venetian ladies as an eye drop. The atropine within the berries’ juices enlarged the pupils of the eyes making the women appear excited and more attractive. Hallucinations were often reported as a side effect of elongated use, often having fatal results.Just three of the sweet-tasting, shiny black berries can be fatal to both adults and children. The deadliest parts of the plant are the roots followed by the stem, leaves and flowers. Though the berries are the least poisonous, they are the most dangerous as they are the most accessible part of the plant. When ingested, hyper excitement is the first and only reaction before a painful death less than an hour later.Though commonly used for its notorious toxicity, Belladonna can be used externally as a medicine. Combined with chamomile it can be used on the skin to heal bruises and swelling. Atropine, a compound within Belladonna is used by the military as an antidote for nerve agents because of its fast-acting properties.
Interesting, huh?