A Little Story about Werewolves that needs a Title

I’m going to say this right now: I am obsessed with the supernatural. I love vampires, werewolves, mermaids, just to name a few. You should see my collection of books about fairies – one of my favourites is a book of poetry devoted to them. However, today, I’m sharing a little something on werewolves. Be warned: This won’t be the first, or the last, time you’ll hear of these characters.

The wolf stares at me. It’s a new wolf. It’s not my wolf. My wolf had emerald green eyes that glitter starkly against her immaculate white fur. This wolf is different. He’s a shadow, and the alpha. His eyes colourless holes of black, the curious glint the only thing distinguishing them from his black hair. I wait with baited breath. Is he going to attack me? The only thing I can think about is my older sister, Astrid, being dragged from her favourite spot beneath the oak tree at our edge of the woods. I was five at the time, and I had come out to tell her that I had just seen George running into the woods through the public entrance if she wanted to join him. I remember that as I arrived at her oak tree, a shadow of a wolf seemed to be dragging her through the snow, leaving a thick stream of blood. I’m not sure whether she was screaming or not – I was too far away. But she did turn her head towards me. The snow had buried her nose and mouth, and her dark yellow hair, wild and dirty from being pulled and dragged in multiple directions, covered her the rest of her face. I did see her eyes though. The bright, luminous emerald green that only a twelve year old can have. That was ten years ago. I look at the wolf before me. Is it going to drag me away too? He looks directly into my eyes. I reach tentatively into his fur. I had assumed it would be course and gritty, the fur of a survivor, of an alpha. But it was soft and fluffy. I pulled my hand back and he nuzzled my palm. He looks at me, then at the pond where my legs are swirling in the still blue water. He glares at the water, almost as though he can see something in there that I can’t. I follow his gaze, and for the briefest moment, a pale green face looks back at me, but it was gone before I could notice anything else. The wolf snarls at me before stalking off. I look back into the water, but the face isn’t there. I shake my head to clear myself of the eerie feeling. There’s something I’m missing… But what is it?

This story really needs a title. Any ideas are welcome!

Thank you in advance,

– The Empress



Today, I had a doctor’s appointment, and I was really bored, so I decided to write something. Amazing what 103 words can do.

They watch me. I know that much. They watch my every move, waiting for me to slip up, waiting for an excuse to banish me. However they’ll be waiting in vain. I’m a Good Girl now. I’m a Reformed Child. I’ve changed since then. I’ve changed since I became The Wolf. I’ve changed. Yet they watch me. It’s like I’m dancing on glass. If I press to hard, it shatters, and I’m falling into their grasp. But I won’t fall. I’ll continue dancing. And they’ll continue watching. Waiting for me to fall, waiting for the glass to shatter. But it won’t. I’ve changed.

After reading this, I hope, perhaps in vain, that you don’t judge someone for one wrongdoing committed long in the past. Despite what people think, people do change.

– The Empress

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Today, I feel like sharing the love this Valentine’s Day with a special poem, just for my lovely followers. And what a better theme than the mighty colour of love, red?


A fluttering in the heart

Someone you can’t bear to part

Love forevermore


The voice of passion

A powerful assassin

Campaigning forevermore


Alone on a journey

The future, so murky

Searching forevermore


A heart racing

Two lovers embracing

True love forevermore


A bouquet of roses

A lover proposes

Valentines forevermore

So, while it’s not my best poem by a long way, it’s just a little something to get you in the mood.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

– The Empress

Fifty Shades of Irony

Today, Fifty Shades of Grey was released in my country! While I haven’t read the books, and don’t intend to, I just thought I would share that bit of irony with you.

Watch this space for more literature!

– The Empress

A Little Something to Inspire

Today, in art, we had to draw backup sketches of our art sketchbook; so me, being me, I did something on writing, which features a little something written by me (don’t look so surprised). Coincidentally, we are preparing for an English assignment where our only prompt is ‘Life is…’

To my surprise, while the short thing I wrote ties in brilliantly with both topics, I also like what I wrote. I can’t believe that last fact either. Because I liked it so much, I have decided to give it an honorary place on my blog. Who knows? This could be the start of something big.

Life is art. Anyone can survive life. But to succeed at life, you have to be an artist.

But how does one become an artist?

You have to find the light in eternal darkness. You have to learn to dance when you’ve fallen down. You have to sing when you can’t hear the song.

Life is art. Become the artist.

Another Poem

I have decided to give you another poem because I feel like it… and I finally have internet at home…. for about one hour. I also want to coax the person who viewed my blog in the USA a couple of days ago back.

Onto my poem, title Watching, Waiting:

The snow is knee deep

The cold bites my arms

Yet all I remember

Is a pair of yellow eyes

Watching, waiting

A shadow leaps out

Sharp teeth pierce my skin

Yet all I remember

Is a pair of yellow eyes

Watching, waiting

My clothes are stained red

A strange smell lingers

Yet all I remember

Is a pair of yellow eyes

Watching, waiting

I lie in the cold

Screaming in pain

Yet all I remember

Is a pair of yellow eyes

Watching, waiting

My eyes turn to glass

As I take my final breaths

Yet all I remember

Is a pair of yellow eyes

Watching, waiting

So that’s my poem! I hope you like it!

But in the meantime, watch this space!

– The Empress

My Latest Obsession

I am not a typical fangirl. Most girls in my year level dream of John Lennon (if you’re reading this, hi!), stalk 1D, lust after Peeta Mellark, and crave Augustus Waters.

However I am not like that.

I love murder mysteries. With a passion. I was the kid thinking of Miss Marple when my English teacher was going on about making predictions as a reading strategy. I was (actually, I still am) the kid who wants to go on the Orient Express in the hope I’ll meet Hercule Poirot.

But Agatha Christie is not my latest vice.

The award for that one goes to a small, fictional county in England. You guessed it: Midsomer Murders has stolen my platonic heart.


DS Ben Jones portrayed by Jason Hughes and DCI Tom Barnaby played by John Nettles in a scene from ‘Secrets and Spies,’ episode 3, series 12.

Whether it is the early episodes with DS Troy and his repulsive ties, or a later one with DCI Barnaby and his dog, I like all the episodes I’ve seen. I just have one tiny problem with it.

The timing.

Where I come from, we are dismissed from school at 3:30 in the afternoon. So of course, the ABC decides that is when they are going to air my favourite tv show. Of course, an episode is aired at 5pm Sundays and 8:30 pm Mondays (although on a different channel, which isn’t good because of the ad breaks), but am I seriously so obsessed that twice a week isn’t enough? That I need to watch it everyday, which I am refraining from doing?

The answer is yes.

Although I wish they would air more episodes with DS Scott. The ABC and Gem only air ones with Nelson, Jones, and Troy, so I can’t really compare them without Scott.

In case you haven’t worked it out, I prefer the Detective Sergeants to the two Barnabys. I don’t know why either.

But now, I am off to check the online tv guide to see if a Midsomer Murders (or any other English murder mystery. Nobody does it like the Brits) episode is airing at some point.

I doubt this will be the last you’ll hear of me and Midsomer Murders. Watch this space.