Eva Wakeford

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Creative Writing

October 31st, 1992

The candle went out. Darkness brought down its iron shutter over my eyes, rendering me powerless, panicked and petrified. I stumbled out of bed, the thin sheet tangled between my legs as I fumbled around on the floor for the matches; hands splaying frantically through my limited possessions. That’s when I realised; I had used…

Creative Writing


Away into the night she flew, That is what she did best, After all If all birds were meant to be caged Then may the function of the heart be bound to its cardiovascular constraints, Never learning to soar beyond those twelve by twelve rungs. You could try and find her in someone else, But…

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