Sample Idea 2.

This is another sample idea of something that I’m thinking of making a future project. I need to edit it, and proof read it, and spellcheck it, and … yeah you get it. Basically this is the roughest, of rough draft ideas. Enjoy.


She walked in from work, her body drained mentally, and physically. Everything felt stuffy, and all she wanted to do was lie down on the couch. Her keys rattled against the door as it swung open. The sound echoed through the hall. The dark that lingered in the shadows felt out of balance. She ignored it though, labelling it as just lonely paranoia. Though when she stepped through the threshold of doorway the world opened out. A huge forest stood ahead of her and small village dwarfed by a castle in the background. The village was walled up, guards patrolling with bows and arrows strapped to their backs. It looked like a medieval cosplay. It was so real…
Lucrezia couldn’t pull her eyes away from it, watching as the men on the wall started pointing their fingers at her. That didn’t make sense, they didn’t know who she was, surely their arrows would be drawn to strangers?
A thundering rumbled from behind her, it made her twist slowly on her heels. A huge caramel brown breast plate of a horse passed right through her. She stepped back from the missing collision, her back hit something solid, and narrow. It made her wince until all the horses passed by her. There was roughly eight of them, all driven by men, with girls at their backs. Something seemed strange about the image she was viewing through her eyes.
The women’s clothing, all modern… white blouses, pencil skirts, jeans, and even a mini-dress designed for a holiday. One of the girls backs struck her attention more than the rest. Something about the muddy blonde hair that reached down the slender back, between square shoulders. She was wearing a vest top, and shorts that left very little the imagination. The girl didn’t even have shoes on, her feet slapped the sides of the horse as it galloped toward the village gates. The guards at the wall re-positioned themselves carefully while the gates opened. They all looked so focused. Like attacks were a common thing. The gates opened, and the riders stopped their horses for their passengers to be dropped off. Lucrezia locked eyes with the girl with the slender back. She recognised those eyes from the mirror in her bathroom. She was one of those girls, bound, and being dragged into the village. The gates began to close, the guards on top of the walls armed their bows with their arrows. They were all pointing in Lucrezia’s direction. She pushed off whatever was at her back. It only made her trip over her own feet to the ground. What she felt catching her body was not as soft as the fresh green grass implied.
An arrow passed overhead. It travelled at great speed through the air, thick, and heavy it landed in something with a thunk. The sound made Lucrezia cringe, and a large fleshy body crashed beside her. Its dead face staring at her. She screamed rolling away.
When she looked back she was in front of her house again, the concrete paving of her driveway empty of forest, and dead bodies. She glanced about herself, and noticed a neighbour rushing towards her.
Mrs Shumacker, a gentle woman with an iron will. She was in her eighties, yet walked everywhere, refused the bus, and carried more shopping bags than a fresh, healthy teenager. Her white fluffy hair swept to one side in the breeze. Her wrinkled old face came rushing over, Lucrezia couldn’t tell if she looked worried or scared. Who wouldn’t be if you had just seen your neighbour act like she had seen a ghost. She might think she had lost her mind…
“Are you alright?” she whispered, clutching Lucrezia’s arm to help her to her feet.
“Yes… yes I’m ok… Thank you” She smiled at the lovely woman. She was praying Mrs Shumacker didn’t phone the insane ward.
“What happened? I heard you scream” she wondered over to Lucrezia’s door checking inside as if someone might jump out at her at any moment. She wasn’t quite sure how to reply, if she said she had just had a vision then she would definitely be on the phone declaring her mentally unstable. She could have said she had been attacked, but there was no sign of someone breaking and entering, nor attacking her. So, she went for the most convincing, but pathetic lie she could think of.
“I slipped on the step at my door” she tried to make herself look as humiliated as possible. It wasn’t hard, Lucrezia was embarrassed by the lie. Mrs Shumacker looked sceptic, raising one eyebrow at her as if to say “Really?”. Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip trying to hide a false shame.
“What happened?” Mrs Shumacker asked her again, her voice deepening with a seriousness that could have sliced through butter… She didn’t have time as a laugh slithered across the air from the end of the driveway. It was a man… he was wearing nothing but a long black skirt that trailed behind him. His body wasn’t anything particularly shocking, just tall and average lean. He didn’t look like he worked out, nor did he look as though he over ate. Every inch of his skin however, was carved with lines, and lines of words. Lucrezia couldn’t read it from where she was, but she could tell it was really fancy old english kind of writing.
“I’ve found you” his voice croaked down her spine. She reached for Mrs Shumacker, hoping to usher the woman into her house as quickly as possible away from the strange man. “You won’t get away from my story”. He held a book in his hands. It was wide open, the ink on the pages looked like they were moving.
Lucrezia felt her heart stop for a breath of a second before the words reached out around her. She pushed Mrs Shumacker out of its reach just as the ink, like chains, wrapped around her body and pulled her into the pages of the book.


Aerial Silks – Flexibility

Move in the picture – I’m going to say it’s some form of foot-locked gazelle. I don’t actually know the name of this move. I was practicing this move for a photoshoot. It isn’t a hard move. Once the foot-lock is on, just wrap the free silk around the waist twice, hold on to the free silk at your side, then lean back. Hook the free foot over the silks, and then wrap the free silk around the arm for dramatic effect. A nice simple move, but really pretty for a photo.


Flexibility in aerial silks would be very beneficial for lines and joint mobility for some moves. Just like in pole, and aerial hoop it would definitely look better if I was already very flexible. However, I’m not, and it has taken me a while to get to where I am currently, so to make any real progress it will take me another long time as well.

For silks though, some flexibility can be helped along in some moves. As an example if both feet are foot-looked, one in each silk. Twist the body so you’re facing one of the silks and start to push your feet out, one front, one back. Always remember to breathe, and the silks will help you sink into the front or box splits. The box is a little harder because of the angle.

To help with my flexibility, I have been using a couple of different things to help my body open up.

Bendy Kate’s advanced stretching techniques – is handy to have.

My instructor runs stretch and flex sessions twice a week.

KinoYoga – youtube.

TrackYoga – an app on my phone.

If interested please follow the link below –

Aerial Hoop – Flexibility

Move in the picture – I’m not sure what it’s called, I think its some form of variation from the top bar delilah, but not sure. This was strangely uncomfortable on the top leg. To be honest, I’m thinking the leg should probably be hooked on the rigging but having metal in the back of my knee seems pretty painful. I need to get my back leg lower as well…


Aerial hoop is one discipline that does sometimes demand flexibility all the way through. If people think a pole is unmovable to wrap the body around, well just wait until aerial hoop is added to the mix. The moves are really pretty, but to pose them effectively flexibility is one of those things I would definitely recommend working on early.

I had zero flexibility when I started my aerial/pole training. I couldn’t even touch my toes. However, now I can touch my toes, and over time my flexibility has progressively improved. My only issue is some moves would look amazingly better if my hips would just open! and my back would bend.

To get to the level that I want, that will compliment my strength in my training, I will need to practice stretching every day… The only way to make any real progress. The only warning I have is – listen to the body, it will get to a point when it will just open up. However, every body has a different time and effort spent limit before this point. Push too far and it will just ruin the progress made.

If interested in trying out any of these disciplines please follow the link below –

Pole Fitness – Flexibility

Move in the Picture – Russian Layback – Beautiful move, and the only real difficult, and maybe just a little frightening part of this moving is getting in it. Once in it though, quite comfortable and easy to stay in. I have one recommendation, arch your back to lift your butt and push it into the pole.


Flexibility has never been one of my strong suits. Strength I am all over it, flexibility however is another story. It is a long, slow process that just has everyone crying uncontrollably while counting down the seconds really fast in their heads because they want it over with quicker.

Sadly, everyone wants to have a nice comfortable split, or back arch, or all combined. Personally, all combined would be ideal, better lines, some moves on the pole would be easier if I didn’t have to push my body passed its shapely limit. So, stretching is an everyday thing, and your body will have a set time of when it will open up, and at what limit before the flexibility will just happen. It can’t be rushed, to rush will damage, and set back any progress made.

Luckily at the beginning, lack of flexibility can be ignored, it is when the moves become more technical, and advanced that flexibility becomes, not a must but desirable. Like for the image above, my back has opened a lot since starting pole, but I would prefer if I could push it a little more to look like I’m actually sitting on the pole.

If interested, please check out the link below –

Sample Idea.

Something I have been thinking about over the weekend. There was more of it, but I kept stopping and starting not feeling the flow. So this is a sample of the starts of something. Not sure yet what it will be, but maybe I’ll figure that out later…


Selena, Selena Farroway was her name. It was carved into everything she owned. Now she sat infront of her dressing table, the last remaining maid brushing her dark red hair, staring into the mirror at the pendant that dangled from her neck. Somehow, the name had become a vise squeezing until her every waking moment felt choked from her. The necklace was the physical reminder. Sometimes she swore to herself that she heard it jingle just to force her to step back into her place. She was a Farroway, and as such, she had a duty to fulfill. Thanks to the force of her mother’s efforts, she would do so perfectly.
The corset around her waist shortened her breath, and pushed her breast up to make her cleavage look more appealing. She often wondered if the fashion of a bask was to show her an example of how her life was to be. The maid snagged at one of the ends of her hair, making her wince. She snapped back to reality, noticing her mother walking in to admire her well paid work. Selena looked to the maid in her mirror, and their eyes met. The two of them had an odd understanding, because of the vipor like behaviour of her mother. That snag in the hair was the maid telling her she was coming without words. To Selena’s dismay, they shared the same delicate womanly beauty, fair skin, and petite frame. The only difference that she took great pride in was her deep ocean blue eyes, they stood out against her hair.
“Oh fantastic, you look beautiful, he will be most pleased” Her forced softness made her so unnatural that Selena struggled to see why she had even decided to become a mother in the first place. Then again, she only birthed her then sucked the life out of her.
“Who is he?” the question was defiant. She felt the maid twitch mid-stroke of the brush. Her mother accepted no question, just obedience. So, for the question to have even breached the thoughts of Selena’s mind was a risk. Her mother’s eyes sharpened on her, like dagger points at the back of her neck.
“Silence, did I ask you a question.” That wasn’t something to answer, to even breath at that moment would have been a death wish. “No, good, now hurry up I want her downstairs ready for his arrival”. She clicked her fingers at the maid, and hurried out. Her long, ruffled, rouge dress rustled from the room. The tension slipped away, leaving the two of them to both sigh with relief like they had both been holding their breaths.

Inspire Me

Another little play with poetry… I’m not great with poetry but we are going to see how this goes. Plus I’m currently suffering through writers block right now for other sections of writing so forgive me for it possibly being … awful.


Let the music fill your body

and watch as you move with it

like a flowing river

smooth, strong, and controlled.

Every line of her movement

embodies beauty

empowers interest

enforces desire

The wish to be like that, to do that, to be more than what we are.

You as a friend who encourages,

an instructor who teaches,

and our coach that pushes us.

Watch the sequence again, and again. Take my breath away.

I will train harder, I will concentrate more, I will practice and condition.

I will be better than what I am now,

My confidence sometimes splutters, but you put me back.

You put me in a braver state of mind, and I just want to say…

Thank you, for inspiring me.

My Winning Bid

I wrote this last year, some of you may recognise it. I posted it on another blog I had tried, but I deleted the other blog to put it on my personal email rather than uni email. This was an idea I came up with not for “All woman power” but because I thought this is what the world may come to if silly people who have misunderstood the concept carry on the way they are. There has to be an equal balance in life. This is a short story, but I am considering making it an episodic styled story. If there is another piece I will write it. Let me know what you think.


I found my heart set on him the moment I laid eyes on him. He was up for auction. Six foot five inches tall, forced into the gym every morning until late afternoon, and a healthy diet to support the body. He was magnificent, the auctioneer had clearly worked hard for this. He already had bids on him, a bidding prize … the added bonus, the winner got to name him.

£1000 my first bid. Click.

My computer is loading, a small swirling circle in the centre of my screen. It went black then my bid went through. Fabulous, I was allowed access to more photos. He has a sexy back, holds himself tall. His skin is dark caramel. I love it. His dark cropped like an army grunt, and his eyes what colour are his eyes? Are there no face shots?

My computer beeps, another bid has been made… Oh that cheeky girl, trying to outbid me, like anyone could. I’ll show them. This man is mine.

£2000 my second bid. Click.

Ah, face pictures. Yes. Awe, look at those cheek bones, and that strong square jawline. Wow, this man is gorgeous, his eyes are a dark ocean blue, so deep. This man has seen many things, the soul in his eyes echoing as eternal and powerful as the ocean. How old is this man? I am young and inexperienced; I need my first pick to wow all the girls in school. A man with experience.

My computer beeps again. Now this is getting interesting, he is a valuable prize. I will not let anyone else have this prize now. Lucky, this is a birthday gift, if this wasn’t my birthday I would have missed this beautiful opportunity…

£3000 my third bid. Click.

Hmm… his history? Interesting, he is twenty-five years old, was sent to the men’s institution of Cambridge. Lovely, how nice, so he is educated. Oh he is sporty too, was party of rugby team and he used to be part of a wall climbing group. Nice tattoo, a dragon on his back.

My computer beeps AGAIN. Come on, stop bidding, £3000 is a lot for a guy! Maybe I should stop… No way, this guy is the one I want. No way am I missing out on this. I can still go on for another couple of bids. Bitches won’t get my prize.

£4000 my fourth bid. Click. Hopefully this will cut off their chances.

Hm… he is rebellious; he has refused to perform when asked… This is interesting history… he has tried to escape numerous times. So he doesn’t like to be dominated huh? That just makes him juicier. This is my first bid, he might be tough to break, I can feel my teeth puncturing my lip, and the taste of iron sweeping over my tongue. Another beep.

£5000 my last bid. Click. This is it, If I don’t win him now then it is over.

Beep, beep, beep. Oh god, that was such a fast line of beeps. Do I even bother checking my screen now…? Argh, Let’s have a look at this abomination… I-I… I did it? Oh my god I did it! I won the bid. I have him! I run down the stairs, the adrenalin pumping through my veins. This strange high made me run down screaming excitedly at my mum. Who was currently telling her winning bid to sit with her in the living room on the couch.

The winning bid is my father, my mother’s favourite. I leap into my mother’s arms.

“I did it! I won my first bid!” I felt her wrap her arms around me, laughing at my joy.

“Well done honey! I am so happy for you! What is he like?” She asked me. I bite my lip and wince. I had unintentionally bitten into my lip.

“Does tall, dark, and handsome count as a good description?” I asked her nervously.

“Sounds very knightly, I love it, let’s clean you up before we go, your lip is bleeding” she laughed. “Favourite, pass me the first aid”. My mother’s winning bid did as he was asked without any complaints.

Soon we were on the road, heading towards the auctioneer’s warehouse. The money already transferred into the auction pockets. I pat at my cheeks and pucker my scabby lips, I want to look at least a little pretty considering how nice this many looked on my computer screen.

At the warehouse, it was in the middle of the city, women rushing here and there having their winning bids carry all of their shopping. We had parked in one of the major parking complexes required for charging up our cars.

We enter the warehouse, my heart pounding so loud it cancelled out every sound around me. I wanted this so much, I had been told about it by my mother, and her friends, by my sisters and their friends… I was the youngest and had to watch what felt like the longest before making my first ever bid. We were taken to a small office looking room with two doors and a relatively large woman sitting at the desk. She was large, and blubbery, with sausage fingers, and marshmallow legs in her way too tight skirt.

“Welcome, I believe you are my special lucky winner” She emphasised the word special, like I was the best thing to come through her door. “Not many people would have bid and kept that bid after finding out such history” she added. I cringed my mother would probably start to worry.

“What kind of history?” my mother questioned.

“It excites me, now I want my bid” I said, keeping my voice even I couldn’t afford my mum cancelling the whole thing off.  The auctioneer squealed with excitement, grabbed her door and shouted out to bring the winner. Then he came in, his ocean eyes. My new winning bid.