Silverlink Writing Group: The Writers


Emma Collingwood

Here are some examples of my work:

Page last up dated 3 August 2010



Silverlink Writing Group Competition August 2010:- 500 words starting with:-

Once upon a time in a far off land, a book fell off the shelf when no one was near it. The pages flipped over, stopping at almost the centre of the book. Those in the room turned to look and stare.

This had happened before and it was not a good sign.

Blundell flung the door open and strode into the room. Those in his way parted, he stood over the book. Looking down he rubbed his chin and raise an eyebrow.

“I knew this was going to happen. I knew HE would come back from the grave.”

“Sir? What are you talking about, who are you talking about?” asked young Abby as she stood beside her mentor.

Word Count = 434



The Prophecy


Once upon a time in a far off land, a book fell off the shelf when no one was near it.  The pages flipped over, stopping at almost the centre of the book.  Those in the room turned to look and stare.

This had happened before and it was not a good sign.

Blundell flung the door open and strode into the room.  Those in his way parted, he stood over the book.  Looking down he rubbed his chin and raise an eyebrow.

“I knew this was going to happen.  I knew HE would come back from the grave.”

“Sir?  What are you talking about, who are you talking about?”  asked young Abby as she stood beside her mentor.


“Nothing, girl...there’s nothing for you to concern yourself with child.” Blundell said hastily placing the book back in its rightful place and continued to sweep the damp, dusty floor of the old shop.

“Sir...Mr Blundell?” His young apprentice had stopped tidying the shelves and was now looking at him square in the face, her sharp, inquisitive blue eyes looking straight into his tired ancient eyes.

“What is it child?” He snapped impatiently.  He was lucky to have Abby as his apprentice.She was a clever, sensible girl.He had chosen her because she was gifted; not like those foolish children from the village who did not understand the secrets of the ancient shop and saw Blundell as nothing more than an eccentric old idiot with nothing to occupy himself with but the fables and myths of the past.

“Sir...well...I was thinking...the book...”

“My dear Abigail, you are a wise child for your age... much more so than anyone of the village children.... Your dear mother, God rest her soul would have been proud but there are certain things that even you are too young to understand.”

“Sir, with respect I am not, haven’t I already proved myself to you?”

“All in good time Abby, now we have floors to sweep and shelves to tidy and this afternoon we must continue with your lessons.”

For many moons the old village of Scattersbrick had frowned upon old Blundell for his strange ways. They shunned the old shop believing that the books he sold were the books of the devil and filled with nothing but the evil black magic of the witches and warlocks that possessed the village centuries ago.  They believed Abby was nothing more than an apprentice witch, an orphan he had corrupted with his need to have ultimate power.  They did not understand.  Even Abby was sometimes too young to understand the importance of his teachings.  The child’s mother had noticed the signs of magic in her eyes and knew that she was destined for greatness.  Abby was most certainly not a witch but would soon be capable of more superior powers than any man could ever wish for.  Old Blundell was nearing fourscore years and did not have long left to teach the girl everything she needed to no.  Soon she would be the soul protector of this place.  Soon, he had to admit, she would need to know the truth behind this terrible event.

“Mr Blundell, it’s The Prophecy isn’t it? I heard you and Master Saltzburg discussing it... It’s just as you feared... isn’t it Sir?”

“Yes my child...I’m afraid so.”



Silverlink Writing Group Competition April 2009:- 500 words starting with:-  The shot rang out...
Word Count = 358

WINNER of the Silverlink Writing Group

Competition April 2009


The Sacrifice of Gemini

The shot rang out in the darkness, breaking the silence and restoring it within a heartbeat, seeming to end life and restore life in the blink of an eye.  Alexia’s eyes blinked rapidly, the flashes of green sparked under the light of the forbidden moon.

The pale, ghost-like figure lay lifeless on the bitter earth.  Her heart bled a river of red tears across her chest... But her eyes did not cry.  No one else, not even the sky would shed tears for her, for it lay cloudless and bear with no blanket to cover her.  Mother Nature seemed unwilling to protect her from Jack Frost biting her fragile, finger tips to the bone.  It was too late for protection or rescue.  Her skin was paler and whiter than the fresh snow of a new century, which had fallen not one month ago.  A century filled with hope in the hearts of many but despair deep in the hearts of others.

Lana lay dead because of the new century; the secrets left behind in the old meant she could not escape.  Her eyes did not sparkle under the light of the moon but stared at an unknown person in an unknown space.  Alexia’s breath brought life back into the world and her own heart beat faster inside her chest, faster and faster until a heat rose to her head.  She did not scream, there was no reason to scream.  Crying would not bring back life from death or undo the undone.  Slowly she took the paper from her pocket and pressed it into Lana’s pulse-less palm.  The ink streamed fast and rhythmically across the paper like blood in a vein then stopped like the death that will one day take us all.  The words seemed to tell all...

“Sister, I did not know you and I have lost nothing.”

Suddenly a shot rang out in the darkness, breaking the silence and restoring it within a heartbeat.  Under the forbidden moon, where two lives had stood a second in time before, there was now nothing left.  The bringer of death was forced to take herself...




Silverlink Writing Group Competition November / December 2008:- 500 words starting with:-  The body was found in the library, a blood-smeared candlestick lay beside it...
Word Count = 339

WINNER of the Silverlink Writing Group

Competition November / December 2008


The Darkness of Death 

The body was found in the library, a blood-smeared candlestick lay beside it.  Her eyes gazed up at the stars, neutral and colourless when they had once sparkled like royal emeralds.  Blood stained her snow-white complexion, pouring from her mouth, red, like fire from a dragon?s throat.  Her pale, swan-like neck was sliced, once by the blade of a sword, at the base of her jaw.  Wounds lay rancid upon her fragile form, stripped of all its dignity and laid to rest in what would normally be a quiet, perhaps even restful place, deep in the walls of her ancestor?s house.

Her beautiful black curls were blood soaked in vain, as the warm, fire-red hue of the blood, her lifeline since she drew her very first breath, still made her look beautiful.  Although Satan had taken her precious life with, evil, menace, spite and blood lust, her disgraced and disrespected remains no longer resembled a being from the heavens but a demon changeling from the depths of Hell.  She had the ability to transfix her onlookers even in death, as quick as a flickering candle; she cast a spell over the mind.

The candle, weeping with blood as if moved by her loss, touched the tip of one finger.  It was his mark.  It was the mark of her lover and her keeper, to leave a candle by the side of his victims.  A mocking mark of disrespect.  It was payback for the love that she did not return to him; like he had done to so many before who also failed to return his love.  The victims of his obsession, his mania and insanity. Upon the fine finger of her left hand, so dainty and fair, he placed a ring; a sickening token of his fixation, for if he could not have her in life, he would take her hand in death, with Satan to bear witness.  The gold strands fashioned to form the ring knotted a never-ending ring of eternity.  A never-ending curse.




Silverlink Writing Group Competition October 2008:- 500 words starting with:- The dark clouds rolled in as thunder rumbled across the sky...

RUNNER UP of the Silverlink Writing Group

Competition October 2008


Silver Blade

The dark clouds rolled in as thunder rumbled across the sky. Upon the hill, the house seemed to rise up out of its foundations as she staggered towards it. Rain fell like an ocean washing away the land, cleansing the Earth of something unwanted. The air smelled like a plague of ancient times when fresh, blood ran like rich wine, cleansing the living.

Slowly she approached the house. She inhaled the icy air, filling her lungs like needles and knives, making her choke instead of giving her life. She staggered through the mud as the dank darkness and sin stained her ivory gown like black ash with merciless mirth. Sanctuary was near.

Her keeper would come to her soon. The one who had bound her to him like ivy to a trellis as it twists like heartstrings. He wanted to curse her because she was different, he said. She was the key to his heart. She was the most beautiful woman in existence. Bewitching. On the stroke of midnight she would reign beside him.

Tears smothered Eliza; she’d bewitched him with the spell of her ancestors, using the power to keep him here when she saw the black blood fill his eyes like black ink burns a parchment. Loud drumming filled her head like the guilt in her heart. His horses were coming to her. Like the wings of the eagles they knew where to find her and soon their master would come. Her blood froze: she wouldn’t make it to sanctuary. The church wouldn’t help her. They’d drown her for her sins as they had the wizened old woman who wanted a quiet death….

The fate of a witch.

Sickness overcame her and she fell to the ground. She laughed a demonical, humourless laugh. It was her fault for awakening him from his final resting place but she thought she’d love him. She knew his curse but didn’t know it came with torture. Eliza wanted to be loved forever but not live forever. She couldn’t feast upon the blood of her kin like they did to live. She couldn’t rule in the kingdom of the immortal. She wouldn’t.

When she woke, a looking glass stood before her. If she were a vampire like he she would be invisible to her own eye. Someone had taken her into the house but it was not like she remembered, there was nothing in the room but its stone cold walls and the looking glass. Eliza’s eye widened for in the reflection of the looking glass she could see small parcel. She froze. He’d be coming for her soon but she was paralysed. She breathed deeply through her nose to calm herself and moved slowly towards the corner of the room, trembling.

A knife, a beautiful thing made for her fair hand lay beneath the paper. This was the end. She’d be at peace. She sleeps in her own scarlet blood with the silver blade slit through her wronged heart. Dead.



Silverlink Writing Group Competition August 2008:-  500 words starting with: The lights went out?
Word count = 497 (including title)

Curses of Blood


The lights went out.  Darkness engulfed the house along with its secrets.  Allie was blinded in the blackness; something was trying to tell her that she wasn?t welcome here.  She was paralysed in terror, unable to take a step further.  She could not breathe as her flesh and her fingers turned numb.  Beads of sweat trickled past her wide, cat-like eyes, unseen in the darkness, she wanted to run far away from this evil place but she could not.  In her mind she could not.  Why shouldn?t she visit her mother?s house?

Her mother.  The woman whose name and blood she shared had disappeared after her birth and left her with no one.  There were many who believed that Alice Mary Moore was a madwoman who had been driven demented in her childhood by the death of her own mother, they said it was a curse and death would soon come of all the family.  They said the man who loved her must also be mad, for who could love a woman who was as mad as Alice; one moment crying in pain, the next shrieking with evil, demonical laughter?

Allie was saddened that she had never got to know the woman behind the whispers of the old wives of the village, the woman her father had loved.  They said she would go mad just as her mother had done.  They would speak ill of her behind her back and give her glances filled with horror, as if she was a witch unleashing a curse upon the village.

The windows of the house rattled as the raging wind battled with brutal force against the house shaking the very heart of the building.  A deep and unwelcoming silence.  Had the world outside suddenly ceased to exist?  Allie could feel every beat of her heart in her chest.  Her mouth became drier as she became sick with fear.

Why had she come?  Her mother had disappeared years before and she could not have been in hiding for so long.  Children told stories that her mother had slit her wrists with her husband?s jewelled dagger after he had died in battle.  Her blood was red as the devil, flowing like the fine wine of demons, the life draining out of her; her screams drowning the Earth and herself with her own pain and blood.  Allie preyed it was only a story.

Footsteps were coming closer and closer.  Allie held her breath, terrified of what was there, she thought soon that the fear would freeze her blood and kill her.  She forced herself to turn round and face her fear.

Red blood, streaming from the ghost-white walls as if the stone was crying.  The words written in the blood froze her, still as stone forever:

"Those who mocked me will die in their beds tonight.  Those who loved me will be cursed with death as I was."

These blood stained words killed Allie Moore stone dead that night.



BACK                    TOP

Make a Free Website with Yola.