Blog, Writing Corner

A Story From My Past. One Decade Later.

I was so close to sharing this last year, but I wanted to wait until we hit that ten-year mark. Well, technically it’s not even ten years yet but fuck it, let’s start this year with a bang. Sharing this embarrassing little hint to the past was a no brainer for me. What other way to start the year on a good note than to look back on how far you have come. Fuck, that’s the worst sentence ever. Why does it sound so wrong? I promise I’m a good writer. Or at least, I’m a lot better than what you’re about to read. Trust me? Buy my eBook? Okay, let’s try that again. What other way can one start a year on a good note than to look back on how far you have come. Nope. That doesn’t sound right either. What other way can you start a year than to look back on how far you have come? It’s getting worse? Fuck this shit, you know what I mean. It’s healthy to look back and pat yourself on the back every now and again. Like take a fucking moment to celebrate your growth. Roar. This statement is my undoing. Moving on.

I’ve been writing for a very long time now. What started as a hobby quickly turned into a distraction when shit started to hit the fan. Over the years, writing became so much more. It means so much more. It’s my therapy. It’s my escape. It’s my voice. It’s my story. Now, a decade later, I can comfortably call myself a published author. Someone paid to read a story I wrote. This fact still blows my mind. I’m so incredibly grateful to have a platform where I can share my stories.

May this year be full of great adventures, great writing and so much more. But…before that, let’s see where I came from. Without further ado, here is chapter one from my very first story…ever. I wrote this when I was fourteen years old so prepare yourself for a large dosage of painful second-hand cringe.






I never believed in happy endings, mostly because I could still remember the time when everything was perfect. A time when I had no problem, nothing to worry about. Oh how that time was wonderful. How naive I was back then.


   “Keep up!” Drake screamed while looking over his shoulder. I laughed and pushed my legs to run a little faster. I have to catch him. Drake’s red came flapped in the wind as he ran. At eight years old he truly loved Superman and playing make belief. He would always be the hero saving all his victims who was mostly played by me. He never failed to rescue me from the big bad villain. Mom and dad were right behind me, most likely to stop me from scaring people. I knew the way I was screaming and waving for Drake to slow down must have made me look crazy, but I did not mind. I kept on laughing and almost lost my footing when Drake turned around to make a face and ran straight into a tree. I laughed loudly while mom rushed to his side. Once sure that it was only the shock that made the brave boy cry; she turned towards me with a scowl on her face. It was clear she was not happy that I laughed at my brother. Drake got over his pain and bruised pride quickly and jumped out of our mother’s arms and ran towards me. The look on his face made it clear that I was going to pay for laughing for him. I turned around and ran. I could not stop the little cries of laughter as I ran. I looked behind me only to see that Drake was catching up fast. I suddenly felt my world move and I came crashing down onto the hard ground. I turned around to see a big fat tree root sticking out of the ground. Is this revenge for laughing at my dear brother? I could feel the tears roll down my cheeks as the pain ripped through my body. My knees were badly scarped and the blood was pouring down from the open wound filled with dirt and small rocks.

  “Sweetheart; are you all right?”  I looked up to see mom bending over me with a worried expression on her face. She dropped on her knees next to me and pulled me into a comforting hug. I gave in and cried out while hugging my mother for support. It hurt. She hugged me tight and suddenly my tears just stopped and I could hear myself laughing. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy, but I did not mind. They clearly did not see the joke in all of this. The joke in life.

  “The trees mommy, they are mad at me so they tripped me.” I said as if it explained everything. Mom let me go in shock, not quite sure what to do while I jumped up and tackled Drake to the ground. I won!

  “I got you!” I said and jumped out of his way before he could react. I ran. Now it is my turn to be caught. I turned around to see all the faces of the people I love chase after me. They were trying to catch me. I smiled.


I took him an hour to return to the waiting room. I knew this because my eyes never trailed away from the big while clock hanging on the wall above the reception desk. Drake, now twenty one years old, returned to me with a mask on his face. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to hide his pain from me, but I knew pain to well. I lived with pain for all my years. I will not change now. The glassy look in his eyes told stories. He has been crying the whole night and I could not blame me. Yet, some feelings fell between the cracks of his mask he wore. I could see the anger. I understood his anger. How could something so horrible happen to our family? We have gone through enough horrors, but it must not have been enough. Today started normal but yet it ended in something straight out of our worst nightmares.

I got home in a rush and found the door half open. I paid it no mind. My head was to dizzy for me to care about anything other than relieving myself from the pain. The alcohol was clearly having his toll on my body. The fight this morning left me annoyed and with only one thing to cure the anger in my body, I had no choice. Drugs and alcohol always helped me solve my problems, they never have failed me. I stop straight into the living room, something was different. Usually when I got home at this time of the day I would find my parents watching some stupid series that I had no time for. The living room was deserted with the television off and the couch empty and cold. It was clear no one has watching anything on that couch for some time. The thought of my parents simply not being home crossed my mind, but some annoying feeling in the back of my head made it impossible to believe it. Usually when no one home, my mom would leave on the radio. She said it gives a person a lovely environment when you come home. It never really bothered me. I ignored the feeling, it was most likely the great amount of drugs and alcohol I have in my system. It was simply just playing tricks with me. I walked to the kitchen, my mind set on my desperate search for something to sate the hunger I got from the drugs. Opening the refrigerator I found leftovers from last night and quickly placed it in the microwave to be heated. While waiting for the food to heat up, I went upstairs. As I passed my parents’ bedroom door the annoying feeling came back to me. I knocked on their door and pressed my ear against the cold door. When no sound met my ears, I simply shrugged. They were mostly likely asleep. They were sleeping a lot these days. I guess the age is catching up to them. Deciding that the annoying feeling is just the drugs, I went to my bathroom and cleaned my face. It is always better to be safe than sorry. If they do wake up and see me like this I would never hear the end of it and I am in no way excited for another fight to break out. No matter how angry I made them, they always forgave me. They were under the impression that the little crazy girl that believed that tree can have feelings. I grew up a long time ago and they have yet to accept it.

The beep of the microwave shook me out of my thoughts. I quickly made my way downstairs and after grabbing my food and a glass of juice, I made myself comfortable on the cold couch. I ate happily while smoking a cigarette. After seeing there was nothing on television I simply ate peacefully with my mind as my entertainment. I looked around the room, already bored with myself and my thoughts. My eyes landed on my bag and I sighed. I leaned forward and pulled the bag towards me. Pulling out my Math book I shrugged and started to work out some problems. It took me about ten minutes to finish my homework and once that was done I threw it on the coffee table. Oh how my day has turned out. I was so damn bored that even homework can be seen as some sort of entertainment, but that of course will never last long. Deciding that there was nothing else downstairs for me to do; I went upstairs and knocked on my parents’ bedroom door once again; the annoying feeling never leaving the back of my mind. Should I not be overjoyed with this peace? For once I was left alone without the nagging voice of my mother…and yet, the paranoid feeling that something was wrong never left. I got out my flyleaf shirt and just as I through it on my bed, I noticed a neatly folded letter, with mother’s handwriting. What? Did they go on some honeymoon thing and forgot to tell us? Why write a letter? There is something like cell phone. You know, the thing you never got me for my birthday. I rolled my eyes and ignored the letter, if it was important they would have left a note on the fridge like they always do. I got out some hot clothes and quickly got dress. I’m going out. I need more joints. I can just say that when I read the letter telling me something really stupid I took the time to go out. I sighed and walked out of my bedroom. I stopped once again on my out, at their room. Still no sound. Are they even here? Maybe, I should peak? The paranoia feeling was still with me when I was almost out of the house, I sighed and ran upstairs. I grabbed the letter and walked to the living room. I took another drag and opened the letter.

 Dear my loving daughter, Sapphira

I’m afraid I could not hold it longer.

Me and your Father could not live like this for much longer. Me and your Father killed ourselves, I’m sorry there is no easier way to tell you this. I want to make my final wish, I want you to be careful and to take of yourself. Don’t do anything childish. No more Drugs! Your killing yourself. I always knew. Me and your Father.

I wrote this letter, saying goodbye and I just want you to know me and your father love you and your brother truly much and with time you would forgive us. Don’t go in our room, I’m afraid the picture you will see, will haunt you forever. Take this letter to the neighbour and let him handle it. I’m truly sorry for leaving you so soon.


Mother and Father.

I remember screaming and running out of the house to the neighbour, before he can even ask what’s wrong I fall in his arms and sobbed. My brother told me after I fell into James, our neighbour, I couldn’t stop shaking and crying. I was in a state, but I got the word ‘letter’ out. After James read the letter he rushed off to the phone and called the police and ambulance. There was nothing they could do, it was to late. I don’t remember much about what happened next, just blue light mixed with red. I saw them bringing stretchers out our house, on the stretchers were my parents. They covered them up, but I could see blood staining the white blanked. My brother was talking to the police, finding out what’s going to happen to us, now. When he returned, I knew there was some news, but if it was good or bad, I couldn’t make out. His face was red from all the crying, he got a letter too, telling him their sorry and how much they love us and how sorry they are. The same old thing. I never needed a joint as I did now. I want to forget. Forget I ever found the letter. Couldn’t I have been right when I thought they were on a second honeymoon? Why kill themselves? W don’t have big problems. There is always food on the table.

  “Hey.” He slumped next to me on the highly uncomfortable chair. His usual brown hair is all messy, it looked like he ran his fingers through it a number of times, which he only does, when there is trouble, something complicated that was left for him to solve. I tried to give him a fake smile, but tears broke and I could feel his strong arms supporting me. He said nothing, I cried and he just sat there and kissed my forehead, holding me like a baby, caressing me.

After what seemed like hours, my tears dried and I could feel myself drifting to sleep. Drake, my brother, said nothing and played with my hair, till my eyes fell closed and I drifted in a peace sleep, forgetting that my parents killed themselves and that Drake probably under a lot of stress is right now. I forgot everything and dreamed, dreamed that there was some right in this world. Dreamed that everything is disappearing.





You can’t say I didn’t warn you. And yes, it was incredibly traumatic to read through this cringe-fest. I can’t believe I confidently send this to a publisher. Excuse me, I’m just going to go stuff my head into an oven.

And just because I really, REALLY, really want to die from embarrassment. Here is the entire copy. Yes, there is more. And yes, it gets better/worse. My 14-year-old virgin-self wrote sex scenes. Yes. It’s that bad. You’re welcome.

hunted cover

Hunted Book One of the Pain Series (Unedited)

Before I go and hide for a few days, I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who has supported me on this journey. I appreciate it.

Thank you so much for reading and I will see you in a click!


PS Here are some fun details that I definitely almost forgot to add to this blog so I’m throwing it in at the end.

Word Count

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