Rules and Guidelines

As we all know, Christmas is literally right around the corner, and for most of us, it really has been sprung on us. A few weeks ago, almost the entire nation thought of Christmas as the time that would bring all of us together, uniting us for one last “Hurrah!” before the end of such a horrible year. As we drew closer to the official date, the government swore to us that Christmas would be as normal as humanly possible. And yet, a mere 6 days before, Christmas is all but entirely cancelled for millions of people across England. Some say that the promises Boris Johnson made to us were immature and simply not possible, putting false hope in the hearts of countless families, while others claim that it is far too little notice to suddenly cancel the plans of the entire country.

After the second official lockdown in England, cases finally began to drop and regulate, leading many to believe that a normal Christmas may be possible. However, it seems as though the government were a little too certain of this, as the majority of restrictions were in fact loosened. By doing so, the cases rose once again. However, it wasn’t just because of the restrictions that cases began to rise, but also because of a new mutation of the virus, that scientists have discovered to be 70% more transmissible. Unfortunately, the numbers increased by such a large amount that as of last night, anyone living in the South East of England and in London has been moved into Tier 4 restrictions, a level that didn’t actually exist here beforehand. Across all of England, the 5 day Christmas relaxation has been scrapped to 1 day, while in the South East household mixing at all is entirely against the rules. 

This sudden change of heart from the government is precisely why so many are outraged, and for a number of reasons. For instance, the fact that there was even going to be a relaxation in the first place is completely absurd. The number of people who would ultimately have been infected, and unfortunately have died would have been immense, all because people had decided to ignore the current global pandemic. Of course, there are obvious reasons for doing this, but that doesn’t mean that the good outweighs the bad. Plus, the fact that the government was willing enough to put the health of the entire nation in jeopardy to celebrate one holiday, while completely disregarding so many others (such as Eid, Diwali, and Hanukkah) was once again the cause of outrage amongst hundreds of thousands of people. 

The fact is, the government does not know how to approach this virus, something that is becoming clearer by the day. While countries such as New Zealand and Australia are completely rid of COVID-19, our government is ignoring the advice of leading scientists, the needs of the people, and actions that most would take in this moment. 

Christmas will be different this year, there is no denying that. But that doesn’t mean it has to be all bad. We may not be able to meet with friends and family, but the least we can do is take peace in the knowledge that this year will soon be over, and good things come to those who wait. This Christmas will be like no other, and it will go down in history as one like no other, be that good or bad. So, Merry Christmas!

Grandma’s House

Michael hated going to his Grandma’s house. It was in the middle of nowhere, with no signal for his phone and nothing actually worthwhile to do. So every year when his parents forced him to go and visit the only relative they actually had, he knew that it would be the longest visit ever.

An annual argument would go on between Michael and his parent’s, with him insisting there was really no point in him visiting her, while his Mum and Dad were always quick to rebuttal with the fact that she was extremely old and needed some company. No matter how hard he tried, he never won, and he always seemed to find himself sitting in the backseat of his Mum’s car, anxiously awaiting the minute his Grandma would wrap him in her arms and almost suffocate him in the tightest hug she could muster, which (to him) seemed like a death sentence.

All too quickly, Michael’s Mum stopped her car outside of the desolate cottage, as a feeling of utter defeat washed over the teenager. He was in no rush to unbuckle his seatbelt, a  frown seeming to be one of his most used expressions whenever he arrived here. The smell of chalky gravel was like a slap in the face, as the crunching under his feet was the only sound over the screeching of the nearby birds. Hanging onto his back pack which was awkwardly slung over one shoulder, he trekked his way towards the old-fashioned front door. Ever since he was younger he always used to think that the golden plated knocker in the middle of the door was a bit eccentric, especially given the fact that the rest of the house was noticeably run down, and almost falling apart. And yet, Grandma Clarice refused to ever change it, claiming that it “Gave the house some much-needed class”, whatever that meant. Luckily, Michael’s Dad had managed to convince her to install a small doorbell just to add a bit of a modern touch, even if the chime was still old and almost scary. 

After staring blankly at the peeling front door for a solid minute, Michael sighed and clicked the wooden button to the right of the door, and waited patiently for his Grandma to hobble her way to the front door, something he knew could take a while. The bag dropped dramatically to the floor, and as he bent over to pick it back up, he noticed the door creak open ever so slightly, before he heard his Grandma shriek with excitement. He put on the best fake smile he could muster, and stood back up straight to meet the aged eyes of his Grandmother, a small, frail woman dressed in bright floral patterns and her thinning hair swept back by a black hair band. She was just over half of his height, and her entire body was covered in defined wrinkles, as though she had just stepped foot outside of an hour long bath and this was the messy aftermath.

After a suffocating hug that went on for far too long, Michael waved goodbye to his parents (and any possible means of escape) and stepped foot inside the old cottage. A warm scent of freshly baked cookies grew enticingly stronger, as Clarice quickly pulled out a tray of her delicious baked goods from the oven. As he reached for one of the treats, she slapped his hand away, warning him that he would only burn himself, and that he should wait a little while. He smiled half-heartedly, and walked into the guest room to put away his clothes for the weekend. The guest room hadn’t changed much since the last time he had left, except for a clean change of bed sheets and a fresh layer of dust on top of the bedside cabinet. He opened the oak wardrobe that was in the far corner of the room opposite the bed, but could only stare in confusion at what he saw.

The back pack once again fell from his shoulder, but this time he didn’t move to pick it back up again, letting it lay slumped against the bottom of the wardrobe door, to which he held onto. Within the wardrobe was barren but for dust balls and a couple of wire hangers, but it was the back of the wardrobe that had left a chill to travel down the back of the young boy’s spine, for etched aggressively and messily into the pristine oak wood was three words: “Leave here now”

Not only this, but a small, rusty blade that must have been used to carve the message was stabbed into the wood, as though the author had been halfway through writing another message.

Michael traced the letters with his index finger, noticing how jagged and messy each indent was. A flood of questions flowed freely through his mind, each with their own assumption of who, or what, had found a way into his Grandmother’s house, and his bedroom, and found time to write this note. And of all places, why in a wardrobe, where his Grandma would never see it? A sheen of sweat began to form over his entire body, while his heart also began to race uncontrollably. The idea of someone breaking into his Grandma’s house terrified him, and the idea that this message was to him directly terrified him even more. But why would they want him to leave here? What were they planning? And who are they?

As slow as he could, Michael turned to face the open window that was mere feet away from him, only to be met with the delightful view of a vast field of flowers and blooming trees. He almost sprinted the shut and bolted the window, pulling the blinds down and ripping close the lace curtains, as if each layer was another layer of protection from whoever clearly wanted him. He flung his backpack under his bed, and tore the nail out from the wood and put it in his trouser pocket, before slamming the wardrobe shut and leaving the room. As he regained his composure, he lay his head back against the now shut door of his room, trying his best to calm down.

After a few minutes of deep breaths and constant sweating, he finally managed to open his eyes again. As he did so, he noticed something…abnormal. On the ceiling was the small door to the loft, but one of the four metallic screws was missing from one of the corners. Dazed, he fumbled to pull the rusty screw from his pocket, and he started to analyse it closer. He then began to realise that it was the same screw.

That meant that whoever had written that note was in the loft.

Through The Woods

She had no idea how she had found herself trapped here, all alone and absolutely terrified. Every tree began to look the same, every dirt path, every stone, and every footprint. It seemed that she was just going around and around in circles, doomed to roam these woods for eternity.

Her journey had began what seemed like a lifetime ago, as she wandered into the woods to pick some berries for her Mother. She was sent out by herself, while her Mother was slaving over the boiling pot outside of their humble, little cottage. Nothing bad ever happened in their tiny village, so the parents were always at ease, and trusted their children to be independent from a young age. That shouldn’t have been the same today. Everything was different, it could be felt in the atmosphere, the sky was black with clouds and the grass was the darkest shade of green.

Amanda didn’t notice, though, the bright bubbly 9 year old simply did as she was told, and had fun doing so. So, when she was told to go fetch some berries for the pie her Mother wanted to bake, she basically sprinted out of the front door. The woods were right outside, and she was basically raised in them, it was almost as if they were inscribed on the back of her hand.

But, today was different. The woods were darker and thicker, and the berry bushes were even thornier than usual. By the end of it, her basket was full, and her hands were red with her own blood, as well as being covered in thorns. As she turned back around, the shadows that were tormenting, chasing, and teasing all surrounded, shrouding her mind with the blackness that they were.

She began to wander, around, and around, and around. All to make no difference. She was trapped, lost, a girl stuck all alone in the darkness. She shouted, screamed, and cried, but alas, the sound fell upon deaf ears. Amanda grew more tired, more cold, as she began to give up on ever escaping. As she lay down against a rotting tree trunk, the basket of berries was food only for the wildlife, and so was she.

Machiavellian: Psychological or Personality?

During the Renaissance era, many people that we know and love today made their first rise to fame, including the infamous William Shakespeare and Galileo Galilei. Another of these individuals was Niccolo Machiavelli, an Italian diplomat and philosopher. He rose to fame after he released his book “The Prince”. Within it, he explains his opinions that all leaders should be harsh with those that they rule over, and that you should do anything to get to power, no matter the cost.

From this moment, people began to describe someone as Machiavellian if they were deceitful or narcissistic, and from then the phrase grew in it’s popularity. In fact, it is a trait that is common in a massive amount of villains in films and literature, from Iago in Othello to Scar in The Lion King. These characters (and more) all share the same attributes, being self-absorbed, manipulative, narcissistic, deceitful, and selfish. They have no empathy for those that they hurt, and will do anything to reach their goals. Most antagonists share this common set of points, leading many to believe that Machiavellianism itself is a villainous personality.

However, in the 1970s, two psychologists came together and studied the behaviorisms of those who appear to have the Machiavellian traits, and managed to have it categorised as a mental health condition, alongside schizophrenia and personality disorder, and many psychologists seem to believe that it is essentially a subclinical form of psychopathy, due to the common malicious and callous ways. It is said to be one of the terms involved in the Dark Triad, alongside narcissism and psychopathy. While there is no cure for it, Machiavellianism can be helped, subdued, or coped with through talk therapy and CBT sessions (cognitive behavioral therapy), which is a method used to silence the malicious thoughts and feelings that one might have frequently. In order to diagnose someone with such a disorder, they use a set of questions, known as the Mach IV test, and it is a surprisingly common mental health illness.

In conclusion, Machiavellianism is clearly quite a serious and self-destructing mental health condition, one that does not get enough recognition for it’s true name or it’s true appearance, while still making a major appearance in most films and books.

Colour

The world is full of colour,

Full of reds, and greens, and pinks, and yellows,

All bright and fluorescent.

Sometimes, the colour can seem to fade,

As if it no longer exists,

And the whle world seems to go grey,

Draining all of the happiness and life from everywhere.

It is the little things that can make it brighter,

The smiles, the laughs, the jokes,

All of them can make it so much easier,

To subside the grey.

Everyone’s life deserves a bit of colour,

No matter who they are,

So try to be that colour in somebody’s world,

It could change everything.

Scars

Everyone has something that makes them different, namely, our scars. Everyone has their own scars. From surgery scars, paper cut scars, even emotional scars. Everyone has something that makes them different, namely, our scars. However, there is one thing that links all of our scars; the stories behind the,. Every single scar has a story, be it big or small, sad or even funny. My scars, however, are slightly different.

They are strange, peculiar, with a backstory that makes you think: Wait, really? Well, yes really. So, here it goes, pretty much my entire life story. When I was 6 years old, my parents started noticing that I had acne, and my face was super oily for a 6 year old. They waited a little while, and then took me to the doctors. Which really was a mess, it was back and forth, to and fro, they never actually said what the problem was until I was around 9 years old. It was then that I got a letter through the post, saying that I had something called Premature Adrenarche. A mouthful, I know. It essentially means that your adrenal glands begin to secrete (or produce) sex hormones known as androgens far too early in life, examples of which include testosterone in men and estrogen in women. Essentially, I have too much testosterone being produced too early in my body, while there isn’t enough estrogen being produced. This led to early onset puberty, from around the age of 6 or 7.

With this, as I have said before, came extremely severe acne. My face would be covered in giant painful spots, and as I got older and closer to my teenage years, the acne began to spread down my neck, on my chest and ended up at the bottom of my back. Not only was it extremely painful at times, as some of these spots were red-raw from my clothes rubbing, but it was also incredibly embarrassing for me when I was in school. I remember that whenever I got home from school, I would take my jumper off and see that my shirt was covered in blood and puss. I wouldn’t take my jumper off at school, in fear of others seeing my dirty shirt, or even worse my shoulders themselves.

Dermatologist appointment after appointment, they finally gave me some steroid cream and some steroid sellotape. The cream burnt like crazy, and it bleached all of my clothes that I would wear after I put them on. The sellotape, as you can imagine, was quite uncomfortable to wear for days on end, and my movement was restricted by quite a lot, in fear of them coming off. After doing this for about 6 months, I stopped. It was doing nothing for them, all it was doing was wasting my time and wasting my clothes. So, after a little while again, I got referred back to the dermatologist. In the end, she gave me the strongest tablets that she could, called isotretinoin. I was taking 3 tablets a day, and the side affects were horrendous. Dry lips, dry skin, dizziness, fatigue, and my mood swings were all over the place. I had another 6 months of this hell, and when I got through it, I was thrilled with the results. M y acne had all but disappeared, and my skin looked so much better.

Only one problem though, I now had these giant lumps on my shoulders. These weren’t spots, it wasn’t acne, we had no idea what it was. So, back to the doctors we went, hoping to fin d yet another cure for my broken skin. And the thing that I was not expecting was the response that I got. They are scars.

An image similar to my own scars

Because of the trauma and wounds that the acne put my skin through, when it began healing, it began healing too much. My skin produced too much scar tissue, which led to these giant pink lumps forming all over my shoulders and back. They were itchy, and they sometimes stung. They were called hypertrophic scars, and having them because of acne was actually pretty rare. It was because of this that the doctor gave me 3 options; I could leave them to go by themselves, and use a silicone gel to help them along a bit, I could inject every one, one at a time (which is a procedure that does not usually work), or I could have surgery, to cut them out (which could just result in my skin healing strangely again). I chose the easiest and most painless option, which was to leave them and let them disappear by themselves.

I wrote this post because I have never seen another individual with the same scars as me, with the same issues as me. And I think that that makes me pretty special. So, why can’t your scars make you special? No matter where they came from, or where on your body they are, they are yours, and they help to make you who you are. So celebrate them, flaunt them, own them! Toodles!

For business inquiries, you can email me at gjwhelan@outlook.com, add me on Twitter or add me on Instagram!

Writing

Writing is hard. Extremely hard. But it isn’t just the coming up with the storyline and writing the actual words, but finding the time and the patience to is also incredibly difficult!

Not just that, but coming up with ideas and inspiration for the things I write can be almost impossible if I haven’t had a good or a creative day. So browsing the Internet or even looking around the room for possible ideas is something I am constantly finding myself doing.

So here is my plea for help, I suppose! After all, I remember my teachers always saying when I was little that it is better to ask for help then to suffer in silence. What do you guys actually want me to write about?

If you have been reading my blog for a while (which, if you have, thank you so much!) you know that I write about literally everything, from poems and short stories, to unsolved murder cases. And I love doing this, I think it gives my website variety, and that little bit of flavour that sets it apart from all of the rest.

But having to keep doing this can be a bit exhausting, and my brain is officially frazzled after doing this for only 3 months! So, do you guys have any suggestions for me to write? It can be anything at all!

Try

Many often worry about what will happen,

If they try, and if they fail,

Or if they get too scared to even try.

Many people let their fear overwhelm them,

Making them miss out of anything and everything,

With their life dull and colourless because of fear.

No matter how scared you are,

You should never let it get in the way of your life,

You should always try.

Whether it’s trying a new food,

Trying that new job,

Or trying to reach that immense goal.

No matter how hard it seems,

How terrifying it may seem,

You need to try.

The Origin Of Mythical Creatures

For years, people have speculated about the existence of creatures that boggle the mind, that confuse and excite many. However, the actual origin of these creatures are tales that many aren’t aware of. From unicorns, to fairies, to leprechauns, all sorts of magical and mystical things have become a staple in most children’s bed time stories, and learning about why and where they came from is a great way to get to know them just that little bit more!

Unicorns!

When you think of magical creatures, I can guarantee that the first thing that comes to mind is a unicorn! Majestic and elegant, these enchanted horses are the favourite of millions of children all across the world (and for good reason). The first ever recordings of the unicorn was written by a Greek doctor Ctesias, while he was writing all about his travels. He was in Persia (modern-day Iran) when he had began to hear stories about a horned ass. He then began to obsess over these mystical beasts, and described them as large as horses, with white bodies, blue eyes, and red heads. Their most prominent feature, however, was what Ctesias describes as a one and a half foot horn right in the centre of it’s head.

He called them swift and powerful, and stated that no horse or other creature could ever over take them. Despite all of his vivid descriptions, it is actually believed that Ctesias never actually saw a unicorn, but instead took various descriptions from his acquaintances of these creatures, and began to write about them. Despite this, other accounts of unicorns seem to describe them as ugly brutes, which has led to later historians believing that Ctesias was more than likely describing an Indian rhinoceros, a creature which almost perfectly fits the description. But, unicorns are such a better story than rhinos!

Mermaid!

Like the unicorn, mermaids are a child’s favourite fairy tale creature, beautiful and an amazing swimmer, the mermaid has been around for a number of years. It is believed to have originated in Assyria, in 1000 bc, when the goddess Atargatis fell in love with a human being, a shepherd. Unfortunately, Atargatis accidentally killed her lover, and she began to drown in her grief. Because of this, she jumped into a nearby lake, and took the form of a fish, as she saw it as getting what she deserved. However, the waters would not conceal her divine beauty, and she was left with the torso and head of a human, but the fins of a fish. This was the original mermaid tale, and was exactly what led to so many others.

Fairies!

Fairies! Fairies are of course a massively popular fairy tale creature, and the amount of fairy costumes I have seen children and adults dressed up in is amazing, so I just had to include them in this list! However, there isn’t an exact origin story of fairies, they are just dotted about everywhere, from religion to spirits. For example, Christians used to believe that fairies were either angels sent down from Heaven by God, or that they were demons sent up from Hell (of course, it all depended on the type of fairy). Another of these many theories is that they are deities, in the Pagan belief system. They may even be prehistoric precursors to humans, or spirits of nature. The first even record of fairies was by the English writer Gervase of Tilbury, who wrote all about fairies in his folklore. He was an English scholar and canon lawyer in the 12th century, and was the first known person to ever write about fairies!

These are only a couple of the massive list of mythical creatures, and some of the most popular. Some of these origin stories are definitely not what I expected, making it so much more fun to write about! Let me know in the comments what creature you want me to write about next, or which one of these was your favourites! Toodles!

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Global Sauna

It is a widely accepted fact that the human race has made immense progress in the last century, improving our technology, our standard of living, and even our society’s definition of “normal”. However, another fact that is unfortunately true is the fact that when humans thrive, the planet and all of it’s inhabitants suffer incredibly.

One of the most devastating effects of human advancement is, of course, global warming. This is currently an issue that has such severe effects that it worsens each year, and countries such as the United Kingdom often experience the difference in temperature quite definitively. For example, it is currently 30 degrees Celsius in England, while the average is usually around 20, and as low as 10 degrees Celsius. Clearly, this type of weather is one that us Brits aren’t used to, especially so late in the year. In fact, this entire year has had abnormally high temperatures, which could very easily be an indication of the disastrous results of global warming.

Since the 19th century, people have been aware of their impact upon our world, since the discovery of an average temperature rise and greenhouse gases having an impact. Despite this, no major changes have actually been made, and instead more factories, cars and general air polluters have been manufactured, worsening the condition of our world. Our atmosphere is currently full to the brim with pollutants and chemicals, all of which are incredibly harmful, not only to us, but to other species and even the world itself.

If the government instead installed methods such as no emission vehicles or a mandatory reduction of factories, we could hope to see a major reduction in greenhouse gases, and of course global warming. If we do not change our ways now, the damage may be irreversible, and we may really have destroyed our planet Earth.

For business inquiries, you can email me at gjwhelan@outlook.com, add me on Twitter or add me on Instagram.