Fiction Writing

Since I was a teenager, I have always been passionate about the craft of writing fiction. The idea of being able to share escapism from writer to reader with nothing more than words on a page is magical.

I started my fiction writing journey on the platform, Wattpad, and have since gone on to gain over 2,500 followers and 200,000 reads across various stories. After going full-time with freelance work, I decided to provide fiction writing as a service to my clients, with a particular interest in children's fiction on the platform, Fiverr. I have provided links to both of my profiles and will include some extracts of my work below.

The Lighthouse:

The deep blue curtains surrounding Billy’s window billowed in the wind, fluttering back into his room like extensions of the sea’s waves. Billy pushed the hinges further and shuffled onto the window ledge, his legs dangling into the night until he was mere millimetres from falling, teetering just like his beloved Bishop. The icy winter breeze slapped his face and burned his nostrils as he took a deep, long breath. How he wished he could be out there, just him and Bishop, away from everything else.

The Hanged Man:

The fading carpet, long since defeated by those who had walked it, trodden and sad. The array of overflowing, shag rugs that didn’t seem to provide any continuity and invaded your toes with every step – threatening to suck you into the stodgy, spiritless swamp forevermore. The dusty porcelain plates on display behind equally dusty glass, no doubt passed down the Rinker generations but never used. Wedding china, a commemorative jubilee plate, cups and saucers too delicate to gaze at for more than a second or two, let alone drink from. The entire bungalow felt as though it could be blown away by something measured between a strong wind and a gale.

Life After Death:

If they were to make it through tonight, Lizzie knew those whistles would be the soundtrack to her nightmares for the rest of her sleeps. The piercing high-pitched shrieks reverberated around her skull as if her head were a hard-boiled egg, and someone was taking a metal spoon to her temple. Except, she wasn’t hard-boiled, not anymore; maybe she never was. Once the spoon finally cracked through her flesh and bone, it would not reveal solidity, one assured state of mind. No, once opened, everything would flood from her brain, the brittle shell collapsing in on itself, irreparable.

The Unanswered Proposal:

Sweat poured down my face

I got down on one knee

My heart thumping loud

Her eyes fixed on me

In that moment, just us

Not a soul in between

Just us two young lovers

Our bond evergreen

Two people, one question

Words never uttered

A life that had ended

A life that had stuttered

But there’s no ring in my hand

No smile on my face

In complete isolation

Without your embrace

The sweat on my brow

Rain all around

My thumping heartbeat

Shells hit the ground

I’m down on one knee

By fate, not by choice

Metal carves through my heart

And yet still I rejoice

As the bullet sinks deeper

And the blood leaves my veins

I explode with my love

A camouflaged hurricane

The bullets whizz past me

Then bomb after bomb

The odds were against me

Out here on The Somme

Ten years together

I beg for mere seconds more

On one knee, I’m dying

A casualty of war