Hello again,
I’ve taken a long break from writing my blog as I took my life in another direction. I decided to let go of the past and move on. I started by selling my beautiful, larger home and moving to a smaller, more manageable, beautiful home with a clean slate. I’m so at peace in this new place – it’s been two years here, and it feels like it’s always been my home.
I went back to university as my youngest son started his studies. It was ideal for me as I could study from home, part-time, as I work and support myself.
I’ve rediscovered my love for history, philosophy, art, and writing.
It’s the strangest thing because you, my readers, are accustomed to seeing me write about spiritual and personal development. But I have discovered a fascination with exploring the shadows. I have been a fan of supernatural horror and science fiction for years – reading it and watching movies or series. Somehow, it helps me to cope with my anxiety and depression. Recently I have started to enjoy writing it – my skills, for now, are closer to a mild thrill than a jump-out-of-your-skin experience, but I thought you, my followers, might like to read a bit of what I’ve been working on.
Therefore, meet Frank, a character I created early on in my fiction writing practise. He was inspired by a prompt as part of a university assignment. Frank started his life as a short story, but if you enjoy his adventures, I will continue to add to the story next month:
Towards the evening, the light became clearer. There was no wind on the lake. There was also a great stillness which Frank could almost taste in the air. He turned off the engine and turned around in a slow 360-degree circle to enjoy the peace. His eyebrows furrowed, and he stroked his greying beard. The bristles felt smooth in one direction, scratchy in the other- they comforted him. Was that someone watching him from the tree line? He turned for another look, but there was no one there. He felt goosebumps on his forearm and pulled his jacket closer around him. Blew into his hands and rubbed them together. Frank revved the engine and set sail for the cabin.
He climbed out of the boat and secured it on a damp tree stump on the water’s edge – the smell of earth and moss filled his nostrils. He looked back across the lake – the water looked deeper, darker, in the twilight, like black ice. He turned to walk back to the cabin in shadow now. The light was on. Frank stared – he made it a habit of always turning off the lights, drummed into him by being locked in the cupboard under the stairs daily as a child. He could almost smell it now. Dust, old fat, and stale cigarettes. Frank shuddered as he saw a shadow in the window. “Impossible!” he whispered. He started running towards the house, but he tripped over the old tree roots surrounding the area, and the fall winded him.
“Fuck!” he shouted into the night and pushed himself up from the ground as an owl hooted somewhere out in the woods. He rubbed his sore arms and kicked the offending tree root as he stared at the window, shaking his head. All the lights were off, the cabin in darkness. He gingerly walked up to the house, let himself in, and locked the door behind him. Frank turned on the light, removed his shoes, and placed them on a sheet of newspaper by the door. He slipped his feet into some blue leather slippers, a gift from his wife. He grabbed a rolling pin from the oak wood kitchen drawers. Frank made his way around the house, checking every room and shutting the door behind him as it proved empty of intruders. He came to the room that had the light on in the window. The metallic smell of blood hit him as he opened the door. The room was in darkness. He turned on the light. It was empty. Frank smiled.
He put on some rubber gloves from under the sink, grabbed a black bin liner, and climbed the stairs, cool as a cucumber. The first job was to close the curtains, and then he started to untie the ropes from the bedposts. These went into the bin bag beside him by the giant bed. He pulled off the blood-soaked sheets and duvet and stuffed these into the bin bag. He took the black bin bag downstairs, put it beside his hiking boots, and grabbed a spray bottle filled with bleach. Frank scrubbed the whole room meticulously, as was his habit until it gleamed. He put the knives, scissors, needle, and thread into a bucket of bleach. Frank slipped back into his shoes and grabbed the matches, the bin bag, and the scrubbing brush. He put everything onto the firepit, lit the match, and felt the thrill as the fire blazed. It was peaceful; he could hear the lap of water on the lake alongside the crackle of the fire. The heat warmed him; the flames illuminated his face.
When the fire was out, Frank went back inside and took an ice-cold Imperial ale from the fridge, leaving its packmates in the refrigerator for later. He poured the first few glugs of the amber nectar down his throat before even closing the fridge door. Frank took the rest with him as he undressed for the shower. He let the water warm his skin for a while, then grabbed the loofah and scrubbed himself down until he was red. “Cleanliness is next to Godliness” was his constant mantra. He shuddered as he felt cold and sticky breath on the back of his neck. He looked behind him – once again, there was no one there.
Frank used his towel to wipe the steam away from the mirror. He studied one side of his face and then the other. Looking at himself, he broke into a wide grin. Then he pretended to cry. Practised his broken expression. Practised his grieving face. Now empathy. He dressed himself in his Levi’s and checked shirt. Downstairs, he poured himself a neat whisky and smiled.
So, there you have it! I hope you enjoyed meeting Frank and his escapades! Please feel free to let me know what you think in the comments or via email, and whether you would like to read more.
Many blessings and much love,
Lucy L
I’ve spent the last four days in a writing frenzy. I can’t really think about anything else at the moment. A few weeks ago I had an idea for a book I was going to write but I didn’t know where I was going with it. I kind of stopped writing for a while. I would clean or do anything rather than write. Then I was texting a friend that I hadn’t spoken to in a while on a completely unrelated matter and out of the blue, she asked if I was writing a book! I told her that I started to write one and then stopped and she gave me a message that she channeled that I should continue to write and for inspiration, I should spend time outdoors with no shoes or socks on to ground myself in mother nature. So I did just that! I sat outside in my garden to write what I had started and to meditate, and go for walks in the woods – I love my walks in the woods with the bluebells and my favorite meditation tree. It’s literally a tree whose trunk has naturally grown into a chair shape with the boughs surrounding me on all sides. Now for weeks, I had been praying that I would get a sign if I was on the right path, and a really obvious nudge if there was some service work or life purpose that I was supposed to do but that I was avoiding. Do you ever just get that niggling feeling that you are supposed to be doing something? Well – I soon got my answer, didn’t I? Once I knew I was supposed to be writing a book I added to my prayer which is usually:
Lucy Loizou 