August’s Guest Storyteller, Blondeusk


Bio: Blondeusk has always loved writing stories and has spent hours day dreaming of one day seeing her books on the shelf in Waterstones. On her 40th birthday Blondeusk woke up and decided that she had done enough dreaming and it was time to take action on making her dream a reality.

Sarah says:  Blondeusk, welcome to my blog and thank you so much for guest storytelling this month. Whilst you’re here, I’m going to take the opportunity to tell people the success story of your blog, Blondewritemore. As a complete novice to blogging, Blondeusk created her blog in April of this year and already has 200 followers (probably more by now!). This must have taken some hard work and determination to achieve in three months, and I know she’s beavering away with equal determination at her first novel.

The extract below is from one of her stories: a thriller about two women; a captor and a prisoner who become friends and use their bond to break free from their respective confines.


 Extract from’ The Beautiful Prisoner’

The door to her attic prison cell opened slowly and Kim watched the blue plastic tray come into view. As usual the two bony white hands that gripped the tray tremored slightly which made the china plates of food rattle.

‘Thanks’ Kim said, standing up to accept the tray and smiling graciously at the timid looking face in the dark unlit doorway. The face silently nodded and waited for Kim to step away from the door, so it could be locked and bolted again.

As Kim sat down on the floor, the door was shut and the three bolts screeched angrily as they were forced back across the thick wooden door. Heeled footsteps moved from the door and gradually faded away.

Tray time was Kim’s favourite part of the day. The meal today was chicken casserole, creamed potatoes and peas. It was a sizeable portion and filled a hole within her cavernous stomach. She ate with speed in case one of her captors decided to come back and take it away from her.

After licking the plate clean she sat for a while on the dusty floor boards until she felt sleepy. Soon enough her eye lids started to grow heavy and she crawled onto the small mattress. It didn’t take long for her mind to transport her back to the night of the accident. Her brain had no other dream material and so every time she slept she relived the same scene.

She was back there, lying twisted and broken in the middle of the road, on that hot and sultry evening in July. An eerie silence had descended the road. The birds in the trees had stopped twittering and the sheep in the field opposite were no longer bleating.

Craning her neck she could see the steam vapours from the silver car’s bonnet twirling up into the air. The monstrous car was wedged into a huge bush and there was no sign of life from the driver inside. It had happened so fast. One minute she had been walking along the pavement texting her friend, the next minute there was a roar of an engine, tyres skidding across the road and she was being catapulted into the air.

She lay back and grimaced at the pain emanating from her legs. Suddenly the driver emerged from the car and staggered towards her. He was a tall dark-haired man dressed in a crumpled pin stripe suit. In silence he crouched over her and looked at her sternly with angry dark eyes. After a moment of thought he bent down and scooped her off the road with his crater-like hands. The ground fell away as they lifted her high into the air.

Over his shoulder she watched the giant boot of the silver car rise revealing its dark mouth. As he turned towards the boot, with her in his arms, she started to struggle but it was futile, her body was broken. He reached the boot and placed her inside. As he leant over her she could smell the sweet smell of alcohol on his hot breath.

The boot closed firmly and darkness enveloped her. She started to scream when the engine of the car started.

Kim awoke screaming ‘NO PLEASE STOP!’ Her face was damp with sweat and her heart pounded hard in her rib cage. This has to stop she thought getting up from the old mattress, there has to be a way out of this prison.


You can find the links to previous guest storyteller posts at

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