My Friend Anxiety

It is cold
Creeps through your soul like steel claws
They clutch your heart
Your tummy
Your gut
Frozen

Your hands start to curl
Stiff fingers clenched
You can’t breathe
Or breathe too quickly
Hold your breath
Frozen

A white wash from head to toe
Heart racing
Mind racing
Thoughts racing
But you’re still
Frozen

You’re detached from reality
The mundane becomes surreal
Focus foggy exhausting
Feel sick
Can’t eat
Frozen

*

It’s all in your head
Snap out of it
You need to be more positive
Look on the bright side
You don’t look ill

*

But I’m in bed at 8:30pm writing shitty poetry
Because a phone call is too difficult
So i seek peace in sleep
Using words to touch kindred spirits
Until dreams take me away

*

Anne Harrison  19.07.17

Dreams, Reflections and Clarity…

*Personal Blog*

 

Last night I had a dream, I don’t usually recall my dreams, but this was vivid and frightening. In my dream I had a total breakdown, as I write the details are swiftly scattering from my thoughts. Yet my Mother was still alive in the dream, she was harsh and unsympathetic, disregarding my breakdown and walking away. I was a wreck, utterly immobile, my physical form trapped by my raging mind. Blocked from activity, screaming silently… Always screaming in my thoughts…

I sought help, walking down the yellow lines in the road until I found a house that would give me shelter and hope… Yet I was early, I was sent away while they took someone else into the property, escorted them to the guest room where they would be staying, I walked away towards a park, which was part of a park from my youth.

Upon awakening, I could hear the rain on my roof, that was soothing. Cats wanted feeding and the morning gave me little time for reflection.

***

It is no lie that I have been battling my own little mental monsters recently, a lot of this has to do with some painful truths which have emerged after my Mother’s death… The prominent pondering is whether or not she really loved me at all?

Six months on, I’m still awaiting grief counselling, initially this is something I snubbed and rejected but as the year dwindles by I am left considering that this maybe a good idea… Especially when dreams like this haunt my mind.

I am grateful that I have this blog, besides my silly little tale, I can freely express myself and pour all my thoughts onto the screen. Which I have done over and over again throughout 2017. I keep returning to this theme, I keep finding myself so close to breaking point and each time I turn to writing. I write until my demons subside and I can regain clarity.

I am calm as I write this morning, despite my lingering nightmare, despite feeling like I’ve failed in life throughout the first half of the year… I wonder if it is too easy to blame my failings on having to deal with Mum’s loss… I wonder if it is other little niggling facts that are a painful reality I have to deal with – externally I am almost dismissive in regards to some details (forgive me if I can not explain) Internally, I know that if I dwell, I will snap.

This I can not afford to allow, in my dreams maybe I crack, broken, rejected and cast aside. In reality, I write.

Writing gives me focus, even if it makes for dreadful blog reading… I would apologise, but why beg forgiveness for something which ultimately helps. I feel like I freedom, my mind is clear, I feel lighter, more focused. Like blogging gives me the ability to unravel my tangled thoughts and find direction.

I can face my day with a clear head and let the dream fade from my thoughts… One day, maybe I will find the words to go into the detail I need to cry.

Today is not that day.

Thank you for being there for me x

 

Love, Anne Harrison 27.06.17

I’m at War with Myself

and i am not alone…

 

i see friends and strangers purge their deepest sorrow on line

i see a world where we strive to be perfect

but have no energy or motivation

i read through endless contradicting articles

and find inspiration for mere moments

 

i am told i am imperfect

i am told i am inferior – that i need to be something other then me

i am expected to carry this self loathing in my soul

and be grateful that ‘they’ point out my flaws

 

no one sees my talents my skills my passion

these are hidden with shame

hidden from sight

 

inferior – we always fight comparison

as we fight to be something we are not

 

pretenders on our own thrones

 

 

Anne Harrison 26.06.17

My Body, My Rules…

Act 2 – Part 9

 

He was slick with sweat and had bit his tongue, yet Hera supported his head as she helped the lad sip at the herb laced tea.

“Steady, don’t try to stand too soon.” She helped him to sit up slowly. Seizon-sha coughed and shuddered, blood ran freely from his chin, he tried to talk. Yet his words were lost in a groggy mumble, disorientated and exhausted.

Kane paced like a caged wolf along the tree line, anxious yet hesitant to approach, Hera had warned him back allowing his son to go through the trial unhindered. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t moved… Haunted by memories of his own experience.

Vixen caught his arm, turning him about to face her. His constant stress was grating on her nerves…

“I cant do this, Kane. I can not come on this quest with you, but neither am I going to neglect you.”

“I don’t understand?” He shook his head… Still rather distracted…

“I’m a whore Kane, I’m not a soldier, not an adventurer. I’ve never hidden who I am from you and you’ve never demanded I change.” She lightly touched his face. “This journey, to find the Princess, that is for you and your son.”

He glanced back to the clearing then, to where Hera had Seizon-Sha seated in the long grass supping her infamous healing tea.

“If I accompany you, I’ll only be a distraction for you and the guards, I’m too fond of you to cause issues, so I’m going to return to the city, I know I can get into the Palace grounds because I know the girls that work there, I might as well use my position, my body, my abilities to try and find Kireina, where ever she is being held. She is like a daughter to me and you need to focus on one thing at once. Constantly fretting over both your children will keep you distracted and only get you killed.” She planted a soft kiss on his lips.

Kane sighed heavily, her words slowly sinking in, making sense. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer and resting his forehead against her shoulder. “Why are you always so dreadfully sensible?” He spoke into her curls…

“Never underestimate the wisdom of a whore with curves.” She laughed softly then stepped away from his embrace. “Just don’t get yourself killed.” Vixen turned to leave. “Come back to me Kane!”

 

Anne Harrison 22.06.17

The Demure Hostage

First, an apology, troubles with my computer at work means I have been without access to WordPress for *far* too long… I have writers withdrawal…

 

Act 2 – Part 7

 

King Fendor circled around the demure child, seated silently. Kireina was just slightly younger than his own missing daughter yet appeared far smaller. She watched the fattening King with contempt, understanding perfectly her role as motivation, manipulation to force her Father and Brother to seek out and recover the lost Princess.

Fendor ceased his absent circling to stand over the girl, she was so unusual, with clear delicate skin, as white as a Lilly petal with caramel curls and honey coloured eyes. The King mused over the possibility that maybe Kireina, like her brother held some magical qualities. His gaze was making her feel increasingly uncomfortable, lecherous and intimidating.

The King had changed drastically throughout his thirteen years as Monarch, having ceased to train in any form of combat, the former General had become fat and lazy, gorging himself on fine dining and exotic wines. He had little or nothing to do with his wife, The Queen, since the birth of their son and heir, which secured his bloodline to the throne and in turn condemned her first born son and his children. His obsession was with the Dark Arts, foul demonic magic that he used to maintain fear over his people.

He oozed evil, a thick black aura of corruption emanated from his very soul causing Kireina to feel sick.

“I need to know!” He blurted out suddenly, causing her to near leap from her skin. With surprising swiftness for such a large man, Fendor darted forwards and snatched Kireina by her wrist, yanking her arm up sharply, painfully. He reached into the thick folds of the elaborate robes he wore and drew out a long thin bladed knife. Dark sparks of energy flashed up the length of the wicked blade, which appeared to be made of glass.

Kireina yelped as he jabbed the point into her wrist… “I need to know!” He muttered again, glaring at the child from under a hooded brow. He drew blood and sniffed at the wound, then licked her arm. She cringed as his rough tongue lapped at the running cut. A warm tingle grew in the pit of his tummy and the demons he had within him awoke, lured by the taste of blood. The tingle became static, cloaked shadows surrounded the King, drawn by the power they felt.

She tried to withdraw, her fear mounting as more evil allies emerged to surround them… Some ghost-like, some more tangible, some possessing the guise of rats or more twisted ghouls. It was her blood which they craved, fresh, virginal, magical…

A mere essence of her brothers qualities hidden in her soul, something her Father had picked up on when she was so very young and Kane had encouraged his daughter to learn from the hag, Hera. This training had stirred the magic laying dormant and Kireina started to show potential as a gifted Shaman.

However, this power was now exposed in the face of pure evil and King Fendor concluded that she was no mere demure hostage…

 

Anne Harrison 20.06.17

 

Taking Fate by the Horns

Act 2 – Part 6

 

A strong hand grabbed Sha tightly around his throat, hoisting the young lad off his feet and slamming him hard onto his back in the dust. Blasting air from his lungs, his head spun, dizzy and disorientated from the swift action. Blinking dust from his eyes just in time to see a fist aimed at his face, no time to react, unable to even turn his head for the vice like grip on his throat, stealing his breath. The fist slammed into his nose with a bright flash and  sickening crack. He tasted blood, pain shot through his head, he gasped for breath, struggling, panicking, anticipating a second blow. Sha turned his face aside shortly before a following punch landed heavily on his jaw. He bit his tongue, lip split.

He had to gather his senses, to swallow back his fear and the blinding pain. He knew he needed to remember his training, to recall the correct maneuver before he ran out of air in his lungs and got his head dashed in against the hard earth. The pace of the raining punches were slow, deliberate and forceful, Hi attacker really pulling his fist right back to put as much strength behind each blow that he could. This gave a short period between each punch, yet Sha was struggling now to remain conscious.

Blood filled his eyes, his mouth, his ears rang, muffling sound. His lungs burned… Yet somehow the boy raised his knees towards his chest and kicked upwards with the last fragment of his fading energy to force his attacker backwards kicking the bastard in his ribs, forcing him backwards… Stumbling… the grip on Sha’s neck was released and he gulped in air desperately and rolled out of the way, attempting to stand, fighting nausea, knowing that he had just mere moments before the vicious attack resumed.

His sight was blurred red and Sha saw the beast he opposed… A man… clad in Northern Clan garb, but his head, his head was that of a beast… The beast snorted, steam billowing from flattened wide nose. His boot dragged up the dirt, the beast lowered his head, a circle of vicious sharp horns crowned his forehead. Two longer, sharper, like curved scimitars aimed at Sha’s torso and it charged…

Sha fought the urge to flee, reached for his sword, the scabbard empty upon his hip, the beast narrowed the gap between them howling unnaturally. Sha freed the scabbard from his belt and swung the empty sheath at the creatures eyes by the narrow edge, putting as much strength as he could behind the blow, using the beasts own momentum to add power to the blow.

Cracking violently across the bridge of it’s nose, blinding the creature temporarily. It bellowed in rage, human hands reaching for it’s bull like head… Sha swung the scabbard again and again, aiming at the back of the knees, at its ribs. He wiped blood from his eyes, hammering blows to try and prevent the creature from rising again against him. His scabbard bent and broke apart… Yet the beast was on his knees!

Sha clambered clumsy onto the creatures shoulders, keeping his body behind the giant bull head, he reached round and took hold of the two largest horns to twist the head aside. Though he wasn’t sure of himself, his strength was fast fading and the Minotaur was regaining energy. He was huddled behind the giant head, gripping the horns, riding the thrashing wild monster with little thought of action. He wasn’t strong enough to twist the head, it took all his effort to cling on and he was starting to slip.

As he slipped Sha pulled the two horns apart and there was a slight give… The Minotaur howled… It hurt him… Sha wrenched harder, pulling the two main horns apart with all the strength he could muster. There was a splintering crack, but it wasn’t enough. The bull man bucked and struggled to reach the young lad tugging at its head, however it’s own actions aided Sha the horns gave a little more, as it shook it’s head the sharp bone cut into Sha’s hands, blood causing his grip to slick. He tumbled, fell backwards from the Minotaur’s shoulders.

Landing with a crumpled twist of limbs, his body afire with pain, energy fast leaving his body, darkness threatened to overwhelm his senses. Yet Sha had kept a firm grip on both horns and as he slipped and fell both horns were torn free from the bulls head.

The Minotaur crumpled to his knees gripping its head as blood gushed freely over its fur muzzle it gripped the bleeding stumps and tore its face in half with a fierce tearing of flesh and a desperate cry. Pulling the Bulls head free from his shoulders Kane gasped for breath, letting the torn flesh fall from his hands, running his hands over his face, through blood clotted hair. His human head free from the restraints of the bulls skull.

He turned to face his son, the lad trembled in fear and understanding.

“You killed him!” Sha uttered, spitting blood, backing away from his own Father… “You Killed him… You killed the Guardian!”

Kane lowered his head, ashamed … Yet Sha had already drifted into an exhausted unconsciousness…

 

Anne Harrison 13.06.17