Writer's block

It's been almost a year since I've updated this blog! I know it's been a long time! I've been writing on my other blog but not much either.
My head is so full of ... just stuff. I really want to write more again, normal things that is, not Johnlock fanfiction which I have been writing in between. (I know but it is a nice change )
So for now I will update with one of my latest poem and will try to write my short stories again.

Oblivion

Floating on a cloud

I see a quilt of meadows

With a ribbon of a river through it

Vast forests of green 

Blue eyes of lakes

Mountains rising and falling

Thickening mist at their top

The breathing of the sea

Rolling on sandy beaches

A skein of geese in V shape flying

I am slowly drifting away

Into oblivion

© KH

Reality Check

It was still raining outside. Her nose was pressed against the window and she watched a droplet slide slowly downward over the glass. She followed it with her finger until she could see it no more. It was not that she was bored or that she didn’t love the rain; she did, she adored rainy days. It was just… she didn’t know really. Days like this made her feel melancholic in a way. It made her miss him more, yes that was it. She sighed and tore herself away from the window to make yet another cup of coffee. Her fourth this morning, she should really tone it done. Maybe she should go outside, walk some in the rain but when she looked outside again she saw it really pouring down hard. She wrapped her cardigan around her and sat down behind her laptop. It was high time she wrote some emails to his friends and family. They were still under the presumption that he was here with her. She had been postponing the inevitable for far too long unable to face reality. They were so far away and she couldn’t stand the thought of their love or blame even. Not now, not ever. She hardly knew them; she didn’t want to know any of them to be completely honest.

She started to think back to the time they met. She was on holiday here in Scotland when she met him whilst hiking one of the many Highland trails. He came from Canada but his ancestors had Scottish roots so he said and he came here to look for it. They spent some time together; both being alone and they clicked. They talked about anything and everything and she even told him about her dream of wanting to live here. He said he could imagine why. That it was such a beautiful country and he had fallen in love with it. He had to go back to Canada but they stayed in touch. One day he just turned up at her front door with loads of bags saying that he was there to stay. Her tiny flat in South-London wasn’t big enough but they managed meanwhile saving up all their money to buy a cottage in Scotland which they did a year later.

She looked around the cottage where she now lived alone. They fell in love with it the moment they walked in. It wasn’t that big, but big enough with a lovely garden close to a loch. ‘This is where we grow old’ he’d said and she’d believed him. That was last year.

She sighed looking at her laptop again. How do you tell a mother that her son has been missing for over a month and they have given up all hope of ever finding him again?

It had really started to pour down now when she walked to the kitchen to make lunch. She couldn’t even see the hills anymore. Thankfully she had an AGA in the kitchen that kept her warm. She remembered that she was the one who really wanted one and she’d never regretted it since. It made the whole kitchen more cosy and warm. She sat down at the kitchen table looking out. She couldn’t just send an email. That was too cold. She had to call her. ‘I really don’t want too’ she mumbled to herself.

Suddenly she was startled by a knock on the door. She sat there frozen. Who could that be, here in the middle of nowhere?
She got up to open and looked out to see a silhouette of a man in a hat standing there.

‘Who is there?’ she asked shaking as a leaf.

The only reply she got was more pounding at her door. Slowly she opened the door slightly to peek through to see a policeman standing there.

‘I’m so sorry to disturb you’ he said ‘can I come in?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry I live alone and I’m being careful’ she explained.

‘As you should’ he nodded. He took of his cap and shook the rain drops off. ‘Fine weather we’re having’ he smiled.

They sat down at the kitchen table where she quickly poured him some coffee which he welcomed.

‘What can I do for you?’ she asked.

‘Well’ he started ‘you have reported a missing person, am I right?’ when she nodded he continued ‘That missing person was your husband?’

‘Yes we were only married for a few months’

‘Ah I see’ he said ‘there has been someone here to talk to you about that?’

‘Yes, he has been missing for over a month now’

‘And he was gone hiking was it?’

‘Yes all by himself’ she flinched thinking about it ‘the weather was similar to this kind of weather so I didn’t like the idea much’

‘But he went on hikes often?’

‘Oh yes that’s how we met’ she smiled thinking about it ‘Funny you should come now, I was just thinking about how to tell his mother. Should I email her, call her? I just don’t know how to tell something like this’

‘No, you never do’ he looked at her ‘it is very difficult to follow the trail he was on, the weather has been like this for weeks now’

‘I know they’ve told me, they also told me not to have hope’

He looked at her how she sat there fiddling ‘Can I use your bathroom?’ he asked.

‘Sure’ she pointed him in the right direction.

She went back to the kitchen he made sure she was sitting down at the kitchen table again before walking up the stairs instead of going to the bathroom. He had always been intrigued with this case and something about it was off he thought. He made a quick look around the rooms. Nothing in the rooms, although one was locked, but the master bedroom was different he thought. The bed wasn’t made and it looked like the bed had been slept upon on both sides. He looked in the ensuite and found all the men’s shaving gear like it’s been used recently. When he heard a thumb he quickly walked back toward the bathroom, flushed the toilet and walked to the kitchen.

‘Would you like another cup of coffee?’ she asked when he walked in.

‘No thank you I really have to go back. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Is it alright if I come back to check up on you every now and again?’ he asked.

‘I would like that’ she smiled.

When she let him out she waved at him before closing the door. Outside he walked around the cottage out of her sight. There… it wasn’t his imagination. One of the rooms upstairs the one that was locked, the curtains, they moved! He looked around and saw a tree where he could hide behind. Then he saw a man’s face and not much later she was there too pulling him away from the window and closing the curtains again. He walked back to his car and called it in.

--- 

‘Why did you lock you husband up into that tiny room?’ he asked.

Her lip was trembling, she was on the verge of crying ‘He was going to leave me’ she said tears welling up in her eyes ‘he said he would never leave me’

‘Husband?’ the man said ‘I’m not her husband. We met during my holiday in Scotland. I’m Canadian and I live in Canada. I wanted to go back after a few weeks and she wanted me to stay. I hardly know the woman! She asked me to meet her for a goodbye diner and god forgive me I said yes to please her and be done with it. How could I know she was nuts enough to put something in my food and lock me up for god knows how long? How long has it been anyway? Months maybe a year even! The woman is mad! All I wanted was to go home to Canada and she wouldn’t let me. That woman needs a serious reality check!’

© KH

The King is dead, long live the King!

Long have we waited for Shakespeare's King Richard III in the adaptation of the Hollow Crown series. We that is; the fans of Benedict Cumberbatch.
Last Saturday we finally got to see him play this role.
Shakespeare wrote Richard to be an evil King, who conspired to get his brother Edward off the throne, his other brother George imprisoned and later murdered. He locked the sons of Edward, next in line of the throne, away in the Tower later to be murdered all so that he could have the throne all for himself. In Shakespeare's play Richard was deformed, he had a humpback, scoliosis. He was mean, evil and it would be his downfall too.

Everyone agreed after Saturday night; Benedict Cumberbatch was brilliant as Richard III.
Everyone accept the Times; they had to give another perspective on it;

We all have a favourite Richard III: spidery Antony Sher, martial Ian McKellen, debauched Kevin Spacey or good old Laurence Olivier. After Saturday’s conclusion to The Hollow Crown trilogy, the Cumberbitches now have their own, although Benedict Cumberbatch’s besotted fans will surely have had a problem adjusting their sexual fantasies this time.

Really, as if most Cumberbatch fans don't have a brain of their own and can't enjoy a good Shakespearian play. As if we go wild for every evil King that comes along and have sexual fantasies about him. This is setting women back a notch as Benedict would say it not to mention an insult to his acting achievements. Most of us are in this Fandom for his work first and foremost. Most of us aren't teens but grown women who have husbands, children and jobs of their own. Lives of their own. There is nothing wrong with a bit of fangirling now and again but we all know the man is married as are we! 

To be honest ; I never once saw Benedict whilst watching Richard III. I only saw Richard, sometimes I felt sorry for him even especially when his mother made horrible remarks towards him. Sometimes I was in awe how genius he was, Richard that is and yes I had to remind myself that it really was Benedict behind that armour. 

You can say that we (Cumberfans) are biased because we are fans after all but we do see what is good or not. We do appreciate Shakespeare (so many of us were at Hamlet plus countless of non-Cumberbatch fans) we do have a brain that works. So please, don't ever call us bitches again. Or that Benedict is only liked as Richard by his fans. To the journalist of the Times; You really are the one with a huge chip on your shoulder or blinders on... 

As Richard III would say; 'Off with his head!' 

© KH 

The affair

The shadows were creeping up slowly in the room where I was sitting in my chair. I don’t think I had moved an inch since I had sat down that afternoon. I just sat there unaware of the birds chirping in the hedge in the garden, the pigeons asking for attention on the other side of the garden wanting me to feed them. I didn’t hear the postman ring my doorbell or the neighbour taking the package for me instead.
I was alone with my thoughts, I felt alone, in despair even. I couldn’t think, feel, hear, move but only sit there in my chair, in my living room. I couldn’t do anything other than just sit there and exist. I didn’t know who long I sat there. All I know is that I felt a tear roll down my cheek and my hand moving toward my cheek to wipe it away. By then the room had gone dark and the sounds outside had silenced. My stomach rumbled but I couldn’t give in.

How simple life was before all this, I thought. One doesn’t think about life in general when you’re going through everyday life, doing everyday things. One takes even the littlest of things for granted when you don’t have to think about tougher things ahead. You normally don’t think about things getting different, or that things can go wrong or worse, change so much that your whole life is upside down. I didn’t, not until a day ago that is. I had a job, a loving husband and we were even planning on starting our own family. Until…

I got up from my chair and started to pace up and down, wearing the floorboards out. I had no idea of the time; I hadn’t been paying much attention to that, until I heard the clock in the hallway chime 12 times. Oh dear, past midnight. I quickly made myself a sandwich and a cup of tea before I went upstairs to bed.
I was lying awake staring at the ceiling for just a little while until finally my eyes became heavy and I must have fallen asleep.

The next morning I woke up startled not knowing where I was or what had happened for a moment. I took a shower, went downstairs all ready for work when I realised there was something not right. I already was on my way back towards the staircase when the doorbell rang. My heart jumped in my chest. I held onto the banister to catch my breath before I answered the door. Two policemen stood in front of the door.

‘Good morning may we come in?’

I really must have looked like I was ready to faint; they were inside before I had the chance to say anything. They took me to the living room and sat me in my chair. One policeman came out of the kitchen with a glass of water and handed it to me.

‘Are you alright ma’am?’

All I could do was nod as I took small sips of water. I looked at them; could they see through me? Could they feel what was going through my mind? Did they know? I raised my eyebrow and sighed.

‘I’m so sorry to have to tell you this’ they started.

My husband who was declared missing for weeks now, was still missing and they had to stop the search because there were no more leads on his whereabouts. Of course they would still keep trying but there would be not much hope.

‘Can we call someone for you?’

I shook my head, no; I was okay, thank you. I would be, somehow, sometime, if ever.

After they’d left I went back to my chair. That was it then, I thought. Surely but slowly the tears came rolling down my cheeks. The cheating bastard! How could he!? We had such plans him and me! Angrily I wiped my tears away, I would never cry for him ever again!
I walked to the basement and opened the door. There he was hanging from the beams; his hands tied.
I stood in front of him and took his wallet again where he’d kept a picture of not only me but of his secretary as well. She wasn’t even pretty. She had mousy greyish brown hair and thin lips. She wasn’t even thin or big breasted or something vulgar like that which men always seem to enjoy.
I put on some latex gloves and poured water over his head to wake him. I had taped his mouth and tied his hands to the beams above his head. He sat on a stool and I kicked it away. He looked at me with big scared eyes.

‘Well husband’ I said to him in a sarcastic tone ‘now you’ve done it. The police were just here. They have given up on you’

He shook his head and tried to speak.

‘Don’t bother’ I told him ‘After I confronted you with your affair you begged me not to do anything until you came home; you would make everything alright again. When I didn’t hear anything I called you over and over again and when I started to look for you where did I find you? With her! This is your own fault, Thomas. So… what am I going to do with you now?’

‘Mmmmm’ he tried to scream.

All the anger and the hate that had built up inside came out and I directed it all towards him. I punched him in the face and he immediately got a bloody nose.
How could they have treated me like that! How could he have treated me like that! We were going to have kids. He was my soulmate.
I looked at him and all of a sudden I hated the woman I had become; the woman they had made of me. I put the stool back under him and walked away back upstairs. What was I doing? Who was I? I couldn’t let him go now, he’d run straight to the police. We would never have a normal marriage again; I could never trust him ever again.
I walked up and down wearing the floorboards out again when suddenly I realised the solution was right under my feet the whole time.

A few months later the police came again with an update. (Still no news) I invited them in and made some tea. One of the policemen came into the kitchen to help and when he walked over the floorboards it squeaked.

‘You must have someone take a look at that’ he said.

I smiled at him ‘Oh it’s such an old wooden floor. I’m sure it’s okay, my husband put his life into this floor you know, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it’

© KH

I will find you

This couldn’t be it, she thought while she stood there looking at him. She had no more tears left to cry, no more feelings left to feel, she just stood there, looking at his lifeless body. This wasn’t what we agreed upon, she thought. We said we’d stay together for ever, for an eternity, we would grow old together, sit on that bench near the pond looking at the geese come back from their long flight after a long winter. He broke his promise and now he was lying there, white as a sheet and cold, so very cold. People came to her and talked to her but she barely heard what they said. She wished they’d all leave.
She wanted to be alone, even if it was just for one more minute, for one more moment to hold his hand.

She looked up when someone touched her arm. They said it was time to close the coffin.
No, she shook her head, it wasn’t. Just give me one fucking minute alone. She had said it out loud hadn’t she? They were all staring at her so she must have. She didn’t care. Someone closed the doors and she was alone with him.
She walked to the man she had known and loved for so long.

‘This isn’t fair’ she whispered ‘you promised me.’

She took his cold, ice cold, hand in hers and stood and watched, waited. Someone coughed behind her but she shook her head, no, not yet. It wasn’t time yet. She looked at his face again, a few days ago those now closed eyes had looked at her all bright and smiling and he had said;

‘If something ever happens, wait for me. I will find you again wherever you are.’

She had laughed at him but he was so serious. She leaned forward and kissed his cold lips and whispered ‘Wait for me, I will find you again.’
 

This time when they came she had to let go. She swallowed hard when they closed the coffin. She didn’t hear the people around her saying how sorry they were how he would be missed.
She just stood there numb to all of it, repeating in her head; ‘wait for me, I will find you wherever you are.’

The weeks that followed went by in a daze. She did things without feeling them without really noticing. Just on autopilot she thought. Autumn came and went, the dreaded December month came and went. She made herself scares from friends and family. Maybe it wasn’t a good thing but on the other hand… for her it was the best thing she could do. She knew she could live without him, but she didn’t want to. Life had no meaning without someone who you connect with, share things with, laugh with, or even cry with. Before she knew him she felt alone in life, when she met him she felt a connection like it was meant to be, like she knew him before. He once said it was from another life time. She’d always mocked him for it but now that he was gone, she started to think he’d been right about that. One January morning she walked to the pond and sat on the bench were she had been sitting a lot with him. She remembered when they first met. She was sitting right here on this very spot, looking at the ducks feeling alone and sorry for herself when he came sitting next to her with a loaf of bread to feed the ducks. He didn’t say much, just smiled so lovely and warm at first. Before he even spoke she knew what he was going to say.

‘Fancy meeting you here’ he said and smiled. 

She had never even seen him before and yet… She knew him from somewhere.

‘I know you’ she said ‘Don’t I?’

‘Yes’ he smiled.

‘I’ve never seen you before though’

‘No you haven’t’ again the smile.

‘But how?’ 

‘I’ve found you’ he simply said.

That was 10 years ago. Just 10 years! That was nothing! He was just 34 when he died. They were supposed to grow old together, here, and right here on this bench.
She spent her days on the bench. Watching winter end and spring begin, the geese returning from wherever they’ve been. Still she hadn’t cried. Not a single tear. All the while she just sat there during the day numb really and lying awake half the night.

‘You have to cry’ her mum said ‘this isn’t good you holding it all in’

She just looked at her and shrugged. How would you know, she thought. I lost my soulmate, my reason for being.
Spring went and summer came, summer went and autumn came and it was already one year since he’d passed. She just couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t go on like this, without him. Year after year went by, and still she felt numb and no one could help her. She wouldn’t let them get close enough. Not anymore. She kept everyone at a distance. It hurt too much.

After a couple of years, winter was just starting to leave; she sat on the bench when the geese came back.

While she looked at the geese she felt a tug at her jacket and a little voice said; ‘I’m back, I’ve found you again.’

She looked up startled at a little boy who could be no older than three years old. He stood there smiling a warm smile and held out his arms for a hug.
She hesitated but she held out her arms and the boy jumped on her lap and cuddled her.

‘Did you miss me?’ he asked.

‘I…’ she didn’t know what to say.

‘It’s me!’ the boy said again nodding. ‘Sorry I had to leave early don’t be sad anymore’

She looked at the boy again and when she looked in his eyes she felt it. All of a sudden she started to cry. All the tears from years past came flooding out and she couldn’t stop them.

‘There, there’ the boy said patting her arm.

‘I’m so sorry’ a woman’s voice came ‘Is he bothering you? Don’t you run away from me young man!’

‘Oh, no he isn’t’ she said ‘it’s just something he said that was so touching’

‘Yes’ the woman said ‘he does that. It’s a strange boy’

‘He isn’t your son then?’ she said drying her eyes.

‘Oh no’ the woman said ‘he’s an orphan. I’m his foster mother for the time being until there is someone who wants to adopt him. But strangely enough everyone who has had him in their care for a while brought him back. Like I said… He’s a strange boy’  

The boy looked from the woman to her as if he wasn’t three years old but 34 and understood everything. He nodded to her.

‘Can I have one more moment with him?’ she asked the woman. ‘We were just about to feed the geese’

‘Well, alright, I’ll wait here’.

She stood up and took the boy’s hand to walk towards the pond. When they were feeding the geese he said; ‘Do you want to be my mummy?’

‘Do you want me to?’ She asked in return.

‘Oh yes I do, but it can be strange you know’

‘Strange?’

‘Yes, for you’

She kneeled down to look the boy in the eyes; ‘is it you?’ she asked ‘have you come back?’

‘Yes’ he said.

‘How do I know that?’

The boy put his hand on her cheek and smiled ‘because’ was all he said. 

He turned around and skipped back to the woman on the bench.

She looked at him and heard him say; ‘it’s okay now, she is going to be my mummy!’

She knew he chose her and he would choose her over and over again, in any lifetime, whenever, wherever because he said so.
It would be a different role this time, but better a different role than no role at all. 

© KH

James Rhodes; speaking up

James Rhodes giving a statement after the judge ruled in his favour with friend Benedict Cumberbatch watching

Of course I am the first person to admit I know of this wonderful musician through his friend Benedict Cumberbatch but I'm very glad of it. What a kind, wonderful, lovely human being he is! James Rhodes a very talented pianist has written a book which I can't wait to get my hands on. 

Yesterday he was in court to win his case for free speech. Yes, this is still 2015.
James' memoir details the very serious assaults he suffered as a young boy and the way in which music has helped him to deal with the trauma. However, his ex-wife sought to prevent publication of key passages, arguing that they would have too distressing an impact on their 12-year-old son. But what about James, I thought? What about his rights? And do women shelter their children too much? Isn't it best their son would know about his dad? That is another discussion entirly I understand that. 

 Benedict Cumberbatch, James Rhodes and his wife Hattie

The pianist was at court for the ruling, accompanied by his second wife, Hattie, and schoolfriend Benedict Cumberbatch, the actor. His fight for the right to tell his story has been backed by writers including David Hare, Michael Frayn, William Boyd and Tom Stoppard.
James said he wept as he read the ruling that anyone who had suffered in the way in which he did had the right to tell the world about it. It was “an amazing, resounding endorsement” of the right of sexual violence survivors to tell their stories, he said. “One of the hardest things has been the secrecy involved; not being able to talk about it directly or indirectly, the threat of imprisonment should I even reveal there was ongoing litigation.

“I’ve had to give concerts with all this hanging over me, not knowing if I was going to lose my house … feeling that I was being punished for something that was done to me 30 years ago. It made no sense to me that this could happen in Britain in 2015.”
Rhodes was repeatedly raped while a pupil at the junior school at Arnold House, a preparatory school for boys in St John’s Wood, north London. His abuser was a man called Peter Lee, who worked at the school part-time, as a boxing coach. Lee was recently arrested and charged, but died before he could be brought to trial.
The attacks left Rhodes with spinal damage and the trauma led to many years of addiction, self-harm and mental health problems for Rhodes.

Rhodes’ autobiography, entitled Instrumental, will be published next week. Interwoven with his account of rape and trauma is the story of the way in which he largely taught himself to read music and play the piano, and his relationship with music.
His autobiography reveals how now, at age 40, his intense relationship with music has helped him to make sense of the torment he has endured.

Music can heal. James knows that more than anyone. I understand that, I too use music to soothe when grieving or when hurting. For him to write about this is very brave and helpful for others in the same posistion.

<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WhjcoZIRWVE" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

© KH

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Retiring from Geekdom

Simon Pegg as Scotty in Star Trek

Actor Simon Pegg is being very critical in a recent Radio Times interview about the Science Fiction genre, one that has brought him his fame and fortune. 

But he told Radio Times magazine that society had become “infantalised” and that challenging films had been usurped in the box office by the vacuous.
Despite his reputation as a poster boy for geeks, he told Radio Times magazine: “Before Star Wars, the films that were box-office hits were The Godfather, Taxi Driver, Bonnie and Clyde and The French Connection – gritty, amoral art movies.
“Then suddenly the onus switched over to spectacle and everything changed … I don’t know if that is a good thing.”
Pegg, who played chief engineer Scotty in the recent Star Trek films, added: “Obviously I’m very much a self-confessed fan of science fiction and genre cinema but part of me looks at society as it is now and just thinks we’ve been infantilised by our own taste.
“Now we’re essentially all consuming very childish things – comic books, superheroes. Adults are watching this stuff, and taking it seriously.
“It is a kind of dumbing down, in a way, because it’s taking our focus away from real-world issues. Films used to be about challenging, emotional journeys or moral questions that might make you walk away and re-evaluate how you felt about … whatever.
“Now we’re walking out of the cinema really not thinking about anything, other than the fact that the Hulk just had a fight with a robot.”
The Mission: Impossible star said he wanted to take on more dramatic roles.
“Sometimes (I) feel like I miss grown-up things,” he said. “And I honestly thought the other day that I’m gonna retire from geekdom. 

Now I don't know about you Geeks, but this SciFi Geek was kind of annoyed and offended by Mr. Peggs statement. As if 'we' geeks don't know that 1) it's all fun and games and acting 2) we don't know what else is going on in the world 3) we are all teenagers 

No none of the above Mr. Pegg! I am your age probably and I am first and formost a geek who really knows and understands what is going on around me and who cares about others and the world around me. I am sure it isn't meant like it comes across and there's probably more said, but it seems like Simon Pegg belittles his fans and fellow geeks in this short statement. I for one think that geeks as much as any are more aware of what is going on around them. Geeks being set apart themselves for most of their lives and all. They need a way to escape, through films like these but when it's time to face reality they sure can! 

Further more I don't agree that it is childish! Why should it? It can be, if you go and dress up and all, but I love being a geek/fan of SciFi Star Trek in particular and not having to be ashamed of it! I am a 47 year old woman and I can be childish but I certainly am not! 

I am sure he didn't mean it like I read it, but I just felt I had to say something. As if geekdom is something to be ashamed about. Geekdom is awesome and just be proud of it! 

© KH

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