Scribbles From Life
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Island, Forest or Strange Building.

A choice between being stranded on an island, dropped into an unknown forest or locked in a strange building. Well if I was the kiss-ass crazy self survival girl that I sometimes imagine being then the forest would be a walk in the park. However, in reality I don’t even like going outdoors if I can help it. I don’t mind the odd walk now and again, so long as it is really nice weather and my dog is with me. Read as walking along right beside my leg because I’m paranoid about strangers… and wild animals… most domestically animals as well. I’m not that brave about other living creatures and dead stuff scares me as well so outdoors is pretty much the enemy from the word go. Did I mention I grew up on a farm? Okay, I might be exaggerating things a bit. I will admit that most of the time dead animals creep me out, but if I was starving to death I at least have the theory about catching and skinning rabbits ready for spit-roasting tucked away in my head. If I would actually manage to do it is another matter entirely. The rabbits would probably hide in the undergrowth mocking my pathetic attempts at survival right from the point go so ‘lost in an unknown forest’ would most likely be tantamount to death and I quite like living. It has its amusing moments.

As for the island, I’m allergic to seawater. I have now given up on paddling at the beach since doing so leaves me itching at least for the rest of the day. However! Britain is technically an island. [I have literally just remember that, and I mean England,Wales and Scotland. Ireland is lovely and so are all those little islands floating around the edges of us, but if it isn’t too much trouble to the kidnappers then I’d quite like to be dropped off somewhere near Shropshire. Along the Welsh border if that would be at all possible.] So I’m going to pick island. Just make sure it’s Britain.



Strange building? No. Just No. Way to many variables and too many definitions of strange.

This entry was posted in: Scribbles From Life


Carol Forrester is a twenty-four year old writer trying to be a better one. Don’t ask her what her hobbies are because the list doesn’t get much beyond, reading, writing and talking about the same. She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University and various poems and stories scattered across the net. Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry’s. Most recently, her poem ‘Sunsets’ was featured on Eyes Plus Words, and her personal blog Writing and Works hosts a mass of writing from across the last five years. She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and is always open to writing more and hosting guest bloggers here on Writing and Works. With hopes of publishing a novel in the next five years and perhaps a collection or two of smaller works, Carol Forrester is nothing if not ambitious. Her writing tries to cover every theme in human life and a lot of her work pulls inspiration from her own eccentric family in the rural wonders of Shropshire life.

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