writtenbybelblog

[writtenbybelblog]

Commute Crush

‘Is this seat taken?’

The man’s head snaps in my direction, his eyes wide. He must have been in deep thought this morning, staring out the window as he usually does. I must have frightened him.

‘Him’ being the man that gets the same bus as me, to and from work, everyday for the past 6 months. I first saw him on the way to my new job. I stumbled onto the bus, panting hard as I had to run to catch it. He was sat in what I now know is his usual spot, doing his now usual thing - staring out the window, lost in his own world. 

From what I could see, I immediately thought that he was gorgeous. The messy brown curls framing his side profile, where I could see one of his beautiful, piercing blue eyes. He’s always in his work uniform - black shirt and black pants. His sleeves are always rolled up, showing off the intricate tattoos on his arms. I was already so nervous for my new job, that I just gathered what was left of my dignity and shuffled to the back of the bus, to what would become MY usual seat. 

That’s how it went on for the past 6 months. I’d sneak glances at him as I stepped on and off the bus, trying to catch his attention. It’s a treat for me that our schedules lined up so perfectly. 

I hate to admit it, but in between my glances, I’ve tried to figure out where he’s heading. I don’t recognise his uniform, or the weird logo on his shirt. So, this morning, I’ve decided to bite the bullet and ask to sit with him. Maybe strike up a polite conversation. Maybe fall in love. Maybe get married, move to the countryside, and live happily ever after with our 5 kids, 3 dogs and 2 cats. Who knows?

So, back in the present, I ask again;

‘Oh, uh, sorry. I was wondering if this seat is taken?’

He stares back at me, like he’s seen a ghost. 

I clear my throat, unsure of what’s happening. ‘I-it’s okay if you say no, I completely understand, I wouldn’t want to invade your personal space, I’ll just leave you be-‘

‘Y-you can see me?’ He finally says.

I stop mid ramble, now giving him the confused look. ‘Wh-what?’

‘You,’ he says, pointing a trembling finger at me. ‘You can see me?!’

I laugh awkwardly, thinking this is his idea of a joke. ‘Yeah, I can see you?’

Now that I’m face to face with him, I notice how pale he his. His skin is almost…transparent.

His hand is still raised, the finger still pointing at me. I reach out to gently lower it.

But my hand drops straight through his. 

I feel a chill all the way down my arm, and my heart starts racing as my eyes meet his clear blue ones. 

‘No one has been able to see me,’ he whispers. ‘Not for the past 62 years…’

[writtenbybelblog]

The Regular

There he is. Right on time. 2.33pm on the dot, just like every other Wednesday. He joins the queue, scrolling on his phone, raking his hands through his messy brown locks. Just the sight of him has me nervous. My heart races as I fidget with the charm on my necklace.

It’s finally his turn to order his drink with my colleague, but I already know what he wants; the one shot soy flat white, extra hot. He pays and walks to the back of the cafe. I watch him lean against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other, eyes glued to his phone. I wonder what he’s so invested in, what has him so engrossed on his phone that he doesn’t notice me staring at him over the espresso machine. 

I turn away to pour his coffee - a simple tulip stack today - not that he ever notices. I snap on the lid and call out;

‘One shot soy flat white, extra hot!’

His head shoots up, like he heard a gun shot, and he stumbles over to me, shoving his phone into his pocket. I smile at him as I hand him his drink. Our fingers touch ever so lightly, and I shiver.

He doesn’t even look at my face as he turns away, taking a big swig of his coffee. I’m back to fidgeting with my necklace as I watch him reach for the door.

And then for his throat.

He starts hacking, face turning red. He’s clawing at his neck, dropping his cup and spilling extra hot soy milk all over the floor. He drops to the floor, face now purple, and his limbs jerk violently around him. Other customers rush to him, one calling an ambulance. 

To them, I am the horrified barista, clutching her necklace in shock. But what they don’t see is my necklace charm hidden in my fist. A tiny vial, that used to contain a rare poison. One that is tasteless, especially in such a hot drink, and completely untraceable in an autopsy.

The ambulance arrives, and I try not to smirk as I watch them carry his covered corpse into the vehicle.

That’s what you get for stalking my best friend, freak. 

[writtenbybelblog]

Dinner’s Ready

My boyfriend should be home any minute. At least, I hope so. I don’t want the dinner I’m cooking to go cold.

Kevin and I have been together for almost a year now. Time really does fly. It feels like just yesterday that we had met, when I was his waitress at my old job. Our connection was instant, sparks were flying, and the rest was history. He’s always working, so it’s hard to make time to be together. That’s why I’m here tonight, making his favourite dinner.

I hear a car in the driveway, and my heart skips a beat. I’m practically holding my breath as I hear the front door open, hear the keys in the bowl, hear the footsteps in the hall.

‘Mmm,’ he calls out. ‘It smells lovely in here, honey. What are you-‘

He enters the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as he takes me in.

I smile sweetly. ‘Hi, honey. Welcome home.’

He just stands there, frozen, mouth hanging open.

I tilt my head, the perfect picture of innocence. ‘What’s wrong, babe?’

‘Wh-what are you doing here?’ He finally stammers.

I pull a confused face. ‘I’m making dinner?’

He starts looking around, alarmed. ‘Why are you here? What about…’

He trails off, so I finish for him. ‘What about… Josie? Your wife?’

His whole face turns grey, and he looks like he might puke, or faint, or both.

I smirk, letting myself enjoy this moment. ‘Oh, don’t worry, she’s upstairs. Her and I have become great friends, and we’re all going to have dinner - together.’

[writtenbybelblog]

My Darling Amelia

‘To my darling Amelia,

If I even still have the privilege to call you that. I wouldn’t blame you if you saw my name on the envelope and threw it straight into the shredder. But if you are reading this, I hope you’ll allow me to explain.

Despite what my last letter may have said, not a moment has gone by that I haven’t thought of you. Of your beautiful smile, your contagious laugh, your eyes that feel like home. Last year, when thinks were getting really rough out here, all I could think of was you. Of what would happen to you if something happened to me. Of the heartbreak you would have you live with if the worst was to happen. So, since I was sure when or even if I was going to come home to you, I thought it would be best for you if I ended things in a way that you wouldn’t want to wait for me. In my last letter, when I confessed to you that I had gotten with someone that I met out here - that was a lie. I figured that if you thought I was unfaithful, it would be easier for you to get over me and move on, rather than tell you the truth and risk you saying that you’ll wait for me. 

I realise now what a stupid mistake that was. Especially now that I’m coming home. 

I’m not sure if you’re still living at this address, but I’ll leave my new number at the bottom of the page in the hopes that you’ll let me hear your voice again. If not, I completely understand, and I wish you nothing but the best in your life.

Yours always,

Daniel xx’

Amelia’s hands shake as she drops the letter, letting it flutter to the floor. Is he serious? It was all a lie? Her Daniel, whom she hasn’t heard from in 8 years, had lied to her, to save her from being hurt? As if she didn’t spend months and months crying her eyes out over the cheating bastard? 

Or, was he lying right now? Did he actually cheat on her, and now just wants to get back with her now that he’s home? Amelia looks at the date on the letter - it was sent a year after his last letter, the letter that broke her heart. She picks up the envelope, and sees all the forward addresses of her homes over the years. Until it dropped into her letterbox last week, like a ticking time bomb. She’s kept it unopened in her purse, until now. She stares at the digits at the end of the page. Should she call him? What would she say? Should she give him a piece of her mind, or give him a chance to explain himself?

Her internal struggle is interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. It’s Hannah, the maid of honour, telling her that everyone is waiting on her - the bride.

[writtenbybelblog]

A + M

Mikey saunters into school, deeply regretting staying up until 3am playing the new ‘Call of Duty' game. Granny could see the bags under his eyes from across the breakfast table and threatened to take away his PlayStation. But Mikey had a solid argument ready - how was he going to be a world famous YouTuber if he couldn’t get enough practice in? He took Granny’s eye roll as a win.

He drags his long, lanky legs up the steps to his first class, and nearly collides with a girl rushing past. She skids to a holt in front of him, desperately smoothing down the flyaways of her hair and huffs;

‘Honestly, can’t you watch where you’re going?!’

Mikey uses whatever energy he has to keep himself from sighing. This girl is Alice. She’s in his English class, and all she cares about is her looks. She’s the girl that does makeup tutorials on her TikTok, for all of her 5 followers. But she’s also best friends with Mary, the fittest girl in his year, so Mikey tries to stay on her good side. 

‘Sorry, eh, I’m wrecked,’ he chuckles awkwardly, but Alice has already sped off down the hall, no doubt on the hunt for her bestie, Mary.

Alice pauses outside of her English class, her heart racing. She straightens her shirt and checks her face once last time in her compact mirror. She smiles to make sure that nothing is stuck in the pink bands of her braces. Alice originally wanted purple bands, but Mary’s favourite colour is pink. So Alice chose pink.

It was Mary that got Alice into beauty. It was Mary that bought Alice her first Urban Decay eyeshadow palette for her birthday. It was Mary who encouraged her to follow her dream of being a TikTok beauty influencer. Alice thought that she only loved Mary as a friend. But these past few months, since Mary started dating Jack, Alice realised that what she felt was more than friendship. 

Alice takes a deep breath and walks into class. She heads over to her usual seat next to Mary, who has her back turned to her, making google eyes at Jack. 

‘Hey,’ Alice says in what she hopes is a casual tone, and not like she’s riddled with jealousy right now. Mary snaps back to reality and turns to her best friend, smiling at her brightly. ‘Hey, Al, how are you?’

As the girls chat, Mikey has finally made his way into class and slumps into his seat, right in front of Alice, and immediately rests his head in his hands. The teacher walks in, and Alice takes out her homework sheet, and her stomach drops. She must have been tired last night, as she has doodled a big heart at the bottom of the page, a massive heart with ‘A+M’ written dreamily in the middle. She goes to scribble over the heart, or rip it off the page, or to set the whole page on fire before Mary can see it, but suddenly the teacher is in font of her, and he snatches up the sheet. He takes one look at the doodle, sighs and holds up the page for the whole class to see.

‘Reminder; this is English, not Art class,’ he announces sarcastically. Alice sits there, mouth hanging open in shock, then Mary nudges her. 

‘A+M? Who is M?' she teases. Alice, sweating profusely, tries to giggle. 

‘Uh, no one, no one!’ She stammers. 

‘Ah, come on, Al, tell me!’

Alice debates coming clean. Finally spilling her dark secret, finally confessing her true feelings, when there’s a loud bang. Mikey’s head shoots up in front of her, the teacher looming over him. 

‘Another reminder, class!’ The teacher snaps, clutching his now broken ruler, snapped in half after smacking Mikey’s desk. 'This is English, not nap time!' Mikey rubs his eye, mumbling his apologies.

Alice turns to Mary. ‘M is… Mikey?’

Mary’s jaw drops. ‘Mikey?! You fancy Mikey O’ Connell?!’

Now Alice is ready to die, as Mikey and the rest of the class turn slowly to face her and Mary. Mikey is wide awake now, and doesn’t know how to respond. Luckily, the teacher has fully lost his patience and is roaring at the top of the class. But neither Alice or Mikey are listening. They both just sit there, thinking how they ended up in this mess…  

[writtenbybelblog]

Worst Nightmare

*THIS STORY GETS A BIT CREEPY/GRAPHIC*

I sit and wait, bouncing my leg restlessly. The receptionist has not said a word to me since he told me to sit and wait for the professor. He just went right back to playing chess on his computer, clearly dying to be anywhere but here. Honestly, I’m feeling the same way. I’ve debated running out of here at least a dozen times. Why, of all people, was I chosen to beta test this experiment? And who, in their right mind, would create a machine that shows you your worst nightmare?

‘Would you just STOP?!’

I nearly collapse out of my seat, my heart slamming in my chest as I snap my attention to the receptionist. ‘W-what?’

His annoyed glare flicks to my leg. ‘Stop shaking your leg, it’s getting on my nerves!’

I grip my knee, looking down in shame. ‘Oh, um, sorry. I’m just really nervous.’

He just rolls his eyes and goes back to his game. Finally, the lab door opens. A tall, slender man walks in and smiles at me.

‘Ah, hello, you must be Mack!’ he beams. ‘I’m Prof. Hemmings. We’re ready when you are!’ 

I slowly stand up and make my way into the lab, taking one last look at the receptionist, who doesn’t even glance at me. The professor shuts the door behind me, and I’m trapped in this dark lab. The only light in the room is coming from a dimly lit mirror in the middle of the floor. 

‘Now, Mack, my assistant is going to hook you up to the machine, and I’ll activate it. We just want you to look into the mirror and tell us what you see.’

His assistant emerges from the dark, and without saying a word, grabs my arms and shoves two tight straps onto my wrists. They place a helmet on my head, and tighten the chin strap too tight. They and the professor then both step to the side, leaving me to stare at my barely visible reflection. 

‘Okay, Mack,’ the professor says. ‘We’re starting in 3, 2… 1!’

A bright light flashes and I’m blinded. I rub my burning eyes, trying to adjust.

‘So.’ The professor says impatiently. ‘What do you see?’

My vision returns. I look into the mirror, and my whole body stiffens.

‘Mack? What do you see?’

Say spiders.

Say clowns.

Say spiders dressed as clowns.

Just don’t say what you see.

Don’t tell them about the three bloody bodies sprawled on the floor.

The rude receptionist.

The rough assistant.

The fake nice professor that forced you into this nightmare.

And don’t say you see yourself. 

Covered in blood.

Holding the stained pocketknife that you hide in your boot.

Smiling. 

[writtenbybelblog]

Secrets Buried

I brush away the sand, not caring how much of it gets stuck under my fingernails. I lift the lid off the box, and fall back in shock. It’s true - it’s actually true. Granny was a witch, and I’ve finally found her spell book. Our familiar family crest glistens in gold on the worn leather cover, and my hands shake as I reach out to pick it up. But just as I graze the spine, a bright red light flashes, and I’m suddenly trapped in a circle of hooded figures, their blood red cloaks blowing in the rough sea breeze. 

‘After all this time,’ a booming voice bellows. ‘It was here. The Tome of Lola Corrie…’

My head whips around, trying to find the one speaking, but the voice sounds like it’s coming from everyone, from everywhere, echoing painfully in my skull.

‘Hand it over, child, and we may consider sparing you,’ the voice demands.

I clutch the book to my chest, refusing to part with the last tie to my family’s true history. The circle of red closes in.

'Who, who are you?' my voice trembles.

‘This is your first and only warning,' the voice snarls.

As scared as I am, I'm more scared of losing Granny's legacy, my legacy. I don't move a muscle.

The mysterious figures clearly had enough. The wind picks up, like a storm brewing, and I hear a piercing shriek;

'Hand. It. OVER!’

One of the figures rushes towards me and makes a grab for me. I shut my eyes in fear, bracing for impact. But just before it touches me, another bright light flashes in front of my eyelids, this time a soft sage green. I open my eyes, and I’m no longer on the beach…

[writtenbybelblog]

Introduction

Hi everyone!

My name is Bel and welcome to my writing blog! This is something I've wanted to try out a while. I have always loved creative writing, and have written my own stories since I was a child. I recently did a Creative Writing course, and would love to keep writing on a regular basis.

My goal with this blog is to post a new piece once a week, and hopefully reach an audience that will enjoy reading my work as much as I enjoy writing it.

Thanks for reading this introduction, and I hope you stick around!