Ghost He was a giant. Intimidating to all who crossed his path. His eyes were old but not from age. He'd seen the world but not like others had. Nothing bothered him anymore, even the loneliness had ceased but he had become a ghost. In his world he was now invisible. The target caught his eye through his scope. No one got away from him, not now, not since the complete destruction of all he ever cared about. He'd lost everything that day, but he couldn't think about that now. He had orders, and work was all that was left. He was calm, inhaling as the wind blew from the east. He grimaced and sighed, it wasn't the right time again. His body was seizing. Twenty four hours of only shifting slightly for necessities will do that to someone, but he had orders. He would complete his mission. His body groaned, every bone ached. He had been out of the fight for a long time. His orders came anonymously but he knew not to question given orders. He had always done as he was told, he was a soldier; a man bound by honour, by rules. He wondered if he'd ever be able to lead a civilian #life, or is that what he even wanted? His ears pricked at the sound of distant steps. He'd learned to be vigilant and to expect everything. It was time to move on, the mission could continue at another location.

Hoping To Inspire Soon... I have recently been working on a start to what I hope will eventually become a novel. After i have finished writing Part2 to the Prologue, I am going to post it on here.... I just hope people will appreciate my first attempt at the start of a novel. Thankyou everyone! And can I just say, the creativeness on this site is incredible and I admire you all.

The Class Clown To look is to see a mask. A child cauing havoc, mischief at first glance. The one who likes to cause problems, The one who likes to use his fists at first chance. He's just an angry, young boy. Volatile. Dangerous. 'Not worth the effort when there's plenty of children that want to learn...' I've heard those words a thousand times, It makes my stomach turn. He's misunderstood and judged, By the people who are supposed to lend a helping hand. He is the class clown to those who don't know him, But I think it's time we rose up and helped people understand. It may be for the attention, But not the kind most people assume. At home, he's battered, bruised but alone. There's things he does, things he sees. He's from a typical broken home. The mask he wears in the classroom Protects from the fears he faces each day. He's cried. He's screamed. He's broken many things. But nobody... Nobody sees him that way.

Who Am I? People stare. Looking like me isn't anything absurd, But standing at the front of a class, 5ft 2, piercings and tattoos, It isn't really heard Of. Mothering became a priority. At just a teen I realised #life was about to change. With another to take care of, I was released from my parents' chains. Beaten, broken and bruised, Through Dante's Nine Circles of Hell. Escaping and fighting to keep sane But never quite clawing back out of the shell. Dark. Dank. Cold. There was a prince. A prince that had rode through Hell himself. Tearing at the sins I had committed, He beat them down with strength and stealth. I had survived. I had people around me but had never felt so alone. He swept me up and never looked back. To a sanctuary. A safe haven. Our home. In my own head There is a constant battle between the dark and light, But standing here in front on thirty eager minds I thrive. And I know that my #life is an endless but exciting fight.