My second blog is a more cheerful one. I am going to share with you just how excited I am that my first story for children will be shown as an ebook. This has been brought about by an extremely brilliant author, Eloise De Sousa of EDS Mentoring. She has been a tower of strength […]Starting on the write road — Tessa Bremner
Tony Blair: ‘Time to distinguish’ between people who have and haven’t had jab
— Read on amp.lbc.co.uk/news/tony-blair-time-to-distinguish-between-people-who-have-and-havent-had-jab/
I recently submitted my final paper for my degree in creative writing. It was a screenplay about a dystopian society set in 2025 where the pandemic of 2020 had separated society into two distinctive groups: the vaccinated and the anti-vaxers. What’s ironic in reading this article is the thread of truth captured in my script about how quickly society can restructure itself for the greater good and marginalise those who do not conform. In my dystopia, new ‘safe areas’ are cordoned off and restructured around towns, industrial areas and local neighbourhoods leaving the rest as the red zones where anti-vaxers must now reside. These ‘New Haven’ towns have a co-ordinated team of safety officers funded by the big pharma companies who, through their powerful position of providing these vaccines and offering back payments, pull the puppet strings strings of government officials. The purpose of these officers is to check Vax Passes given to the vaccinated and prevent anti-vaxers from invading New Haven.
The icing on my dystopian cake is the fact that government has allowed the big pharma group to data mine all the records of those vaccinated to find a carrier who might hold immunity to the new strains of the virus mutating and spreading, even though all these safety systems have been put in place.
They find the cure in a baby born of an anti-vaxed mother exposed to all the variants and a vaccinated father who has participated in vaccine trials. Of course, thanks to the blood records being freely accessible to the big pharma, the family have no choice but to go on the run to protect their child from becoming a lab rat.
Now obviously, I’m not saying all this would come true in reality, but take note: most of this script was written before these recent headlines were announced by government. Our NHS records will be sold if we don’t opt out before the end of June. Segregation of a marginalised group always starts with the rhetoric of ‘us and them’. Look at the hatred drummed up for immigrants to countries already so mixed (as proven in their own history and genes – a fact that they conveniently ignore).
It’s always interesting to see how fiction becomes reality in the height of man’s mania to survive.
The Cure: Copyright 2021 ©Eloise De Sousa
All rights reserved.
When the light goes out – not the light in the bathroom or the upstairs closet – no, the light in your eyes; that dim orb of humanity, the apex of my focus, my lighthouse. When that fades, will I be gone too? Will the memory of my touch, those living kisses we shared under the moonlight – will they go too? Never to be remembered. Never to be mentioned. Never?
Am I invisible without your existence? The closeness of living our shared life bears that question. We sat and ate, breathing in and out, side by side, bearing the highs and lows like waves billowing against the sandbanks till our efforts waned and the tide drew out. The carnage of our choices remain dented in the sand, only to be washed away by the next generation and the next, the endless cycle of invisibility.
Your eyes are closing now and I can feel my memories being sucked away, vacuumed into eternity where you will be without me. All the anger, the sulks and frustration fade in the drowning sun that once swam across your brown irises. As I say goodbye I know that a part of me has gone too. I’m halved. What remains is the nothingness that survived your demise. I’m afraid.
Tomorrow, the world will awaken refreshed and anew. I will still be here, missing you.
After a wobbly start to Scat’s re-launch, thanks to C19, Scat has finally found firm footing for his return. Ready to face his readers with a new cover and a revised version of his book, this wily feline feels confident that more children will enjoy his fabulous tale.
Bullying affects everyone. It’s not easy to overcome the sense of helplessness you feel when you are bullied by someone. Nor is it easy to understand that some bullies have their own terrible tales to tell. Scat follows the path of vengeance against his bully but soon learns that there are consequences to every action.
Watch Scat’s story here and share it with your family and friends.
What would you do if you were Scat?
Order your copy of Scat the Black Cat here.
The Bracknell Forest Library Service are loading new videos of books read by their authors for your enjoyment during lockdown. I was lucky enough to be included in their line up with my book, Space Dust. If you recall, this little adventure was written for the Library Service during last year’s Summer Reading Challenge.
Writing a book is one thing; recording it without my comical faces or extreme hand gestures was near to impossible! Add to that the intermittent sounds of Millie, our dog, joining in the recording and you have a video of Space Dust.
If you’d listen to watch the story, click on the pic below:
If you’d like to buy your own copy, paperback or ebook, click on the pic below:
Whilst working towards completing another crime thriller this year, I was pleased to receive another five star review for The Iron Pendulum.
Needless to say, I appreciate all reviews, good or bad, but this one made my day:
This book was an impulse purchase. I was looking for something different and enjoy reading material by less well known and/or up and coming authors. I wasn’t disappointed. It’s a gripping page turner than offers a fantastic and unexpected twist at the end. I am always fascinated by the ideas that get woven in to novels. This story is full of characters you can try to get inside the mind of. Super. Highly recommended!
C. TAYLOR5.0 out of 5 stars A gripping page turner! Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 7 March 2020
I’ve just received another review for Space Dust and I have to share this reader’s incredible post. She had taken the time to analyse every aspect of the book, giving her point of view of what the book tried to portray.
This reader gets me!
21 September 2019
Eloise de Sousa has a way with words. When I started reading I had a little lump in my throat but soon I was excited on the adventure with Big Ox and Little One, whose Mummy had left without even a goodbye! The theme of space is so relevant as our youngsters learn more about the Universe. The story gathers pace with Little One looking for his Mummy on the adventure that Big Ox has taken him on in a canoe with his “absolute favourite spoon”. They travel passed planets and Eloise has incorporated some real life information about Venus and Saturn, and “Neptune’s glassy cloud” in a subtle way.
Beautiful flow, rhyme and rhythm, as mentioned by other reviewers. Repetition is just right. Imagination is second to none – “sea horses swimming in creamy mushroom soup, Or spring onion beams for them to perform their daring loop-dee-loops” … can you just see it?
I love how sensitive Little One is when he tells Big Ox he is “very sorry if I sound like I don’t care”; but then sees how down Big Ox is by his remark. Little One quickly wants to get Big Ox back to his happy self by suggesting they continue their travels where he may see his Mummy.
Very sensitively written. I love how the story calms down towards the end as sleep overtakes Little One but we know that there are more adventures with Big Ox and Little One to follow.
The illustrations are brave and bold and love that they are by the author herself.
I’m so pleased that I have bought a few of these books for the young people in my family as well as close friends. I’m sure they – and their parents – will enjoy.
Well done Eloise de Sousa!
you for wonderful I’m so
pics receive special
Have you ever been tempted to write a short narrative motivated by music? It is a wonderful exercise that produces different effects to the words, sometimes attaching a rhythm or patterning to the narrative.
In my endeavours to find ways to stimulate my writing, I try to choose music from different genres. It can inspire thoughts about characters or influence a scene that has been suffering from mental block. Sometimes, it’s just for fun to relieve tension and let the mind flow, unimpeded.
Today, I’d like to share with you a little piece written under the influence of Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy. I’ve chosen an extended version that allows me enough time to become accustomed to the melody and then to submerge my mind into the emotional senses aroused by the music. Suddenly, the music speaks and all I have to do is note the words flowing from its narrative.
So, here it is – my little piece written under the influence of Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy! Enjoy.
Soft, sensual lips slowly murmured my name. I felt the quiver resonating through my body, sending shivers down my spine, extending outwards to my toes and the butterflies dancing under my ribs. Shadows of laughter hinted at those lips, so delicious and inviting. Yet, something held me back. Was it the unanswered question lingering in my dry throat, hungry for the lips to sate me? Was it knowing that once I succumbed to such sweet temptation, there was no going back? Or the fact that our bodies were entwined when they weren’t supposed to touch? Oh, sweet torture.
Angry, I let go of those long fingers wrapped around my waist. They slipped away, taking the warmth of their touch with them. Desolation engulfed my now hollow frame. How could I be so stupid? Those lips had promised salvation; knights willing to slay the hunger growling inside me like an ugly beast pushing and shoving at my maligned heart. Helpless, I watched as they turned down their protuberant smile and sharp lines invaded smooth skin around them. A sadness I had caused shaped something once so beautiful and eager. So easy it would have been to say yes; so easy to quiet the doubts pecking at my temptation.
Alas, those sweet persuasions were now far away and focused on a new prey, a prey eager to take the trip to fantasia.
I watch as they meet, the enduring touch divulging a missing innocence that was never there to begin with, the embarrassing tartness of such haste and machination. My heart cries at the betrayal but my mind celebrates its fastidiousness – the victory of overcoming a certain desolation that would have cracked an already fragile heart, the hurt that might have been suffered after such sweet salvation.
No. I refuse to watch any longer. After all, it is my birthday and there will surely be more hidden promises of amuse bouche awaiting to entice my appetite for amour.
Copyright held by ©Eloise De Sousa (2019). All rights reserved.
Working as a junior school librarian has given me the opportunity to see first-hand, how my books affect their readers. Young readers don’t get an opportunity to write book reviews for titles they’ve enjoyed unless it is in-house, that is, in their classroom or school library. I like to encourage my students to share their views with each other by offering up a suggestion box in our library which is filled with book titles chosen by my young readers. I’m happy to add Spoilt Miranda and Cecil the Bully have made the cut!
When discussing books, I get a lot of feedback from my younger readers that Spoilt Miranda is strange and takes the younger reviewer on a confusing journey of dreams before she resolves her situation. My older customers get it though and enjoy the ride. Sometimes scary, sometimes thrilling, the idea of Spoilt Miranda is controversial and encourages discussion on how her silly behaviour could have been dealt with in a better manner. I like this because it makes the reader think further than just the story.
Cecil, on the other hand, encourages my readers of any age to think of what steps they would take to sort out a bully. From standing up to him or joining his ranks, there are always amusing points of view. The slapstick comedy goes down a treat and adds to the entertainment factor of the book, according to the young reviewers. This is something to consider when I write the next sequel to the Arden White Primary School students.
Give or take the marmite reflections on my books by the young students at my school, I’m pleased to share the news that they are mostly enjoyed and well read. It gives me great pleasure to see this and I do hope more children are enjoying my books around the world.
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Thanks for reading and good luck!
Cigarette smoke curls and licks at her frazzled locks, braiding them with a scent of something delicious and sensuous. I watch her sway before me. Her attempts to seduce are abysmal but I smile, my lips sticking to my teeth as I watch each layer removed from her body like onion peels.
Brown skin burns in the soft light and I desperately want to squeeze it between my fingers, feel its texture and warmth. But I stay my course. A gentle breeze lifts the cheap chintz curtains, exposing the street lights and dismal rain sloshing down the streets below. The air is a welcome break from the incense and heady perfume permeating every inch of this tiny room that she and I share. Our breath is mixed in these close quarters, almost tasting each other in its closeness.
Fingers test their boundaries as she snakes herself over my inert body, hoping for a response that will never come. What I want will make her scream – the kind of scream that sends nosy neighbours running and crying into their phones; the kind of scream that makes my skin crawl in delight and sends shivers down my spine. I lick my lips in anticipation. It’s time.
Her flexing muscles gyrate against my lap, working sweat through her armpits and at her temples. She’s ugly when she tries so hard. I snap her pretty little head with a flick before she can cry out. It’s a pity really. Such a waste of that gorgeous skin. Maybe I could take some and keep it for later? Yes. Waste not want not, and all that. Her muscles are still flexing as life flows out of her body. I mount her, feeling the power seep through my skinny body. Eyes once so bold now glaze over in a steady exchange with mine as I tilt my head left to right, a bird sitting on its prey.
Cigarette smoke slithers up the curtains and dances to the rain drops outside. My keepsake is carefully packed away in my briefcase and she is dressed in her best for her discovery later tonight or maybe tomorrow morning. I linger. It’s just that she’s so damn beautiful lying there in her dressing gown with her fingernails painted with matching toes. Those wayward locks are framing her face, exposing fine cheekbones I hadn’t noticed before. The light certainly gives her a mysterious flavour and I can’t resist kissing those luscious pink lips one more time.
With a sigh, I take one last look at the studio flat. The breeze has died down and the rain is no longer beating out its tender pulse. My exit will be observed at this late hour. Risks have to be taken by any doctor visiting his patient after hours. After all, isn’t this part of the service? I can feel my lips sticking to my teeth again so I blow out my cheeks as my gloved fingers trail down her fantastic body. Yes. I must go.
Until my next appointment, I shall have her to enjoy in my thoughts and in my fridge.