Fiction and Writing


I’ve seen a few people being really honest in their writing, really brave in their sharing. I’m not usually one of those people, I strip out as much as possible from my writing. I hide. I’m being brave for the moment.



My mind was at war. Gleeful that I was finally at that point, pissed that it had taken three long months to get there. I lay naked, on my stomach, in the middle of the large bed. The smooth comfort of the duvet beneath me giving me something familiar and calming to focus on as it pressed against my skin. I knew he was at the side of the bed, patiently waiting for me to be ready. My heart thudded in my chest, my breathing threatened to quicken to panicked gasps. I calmed myself once more, breathe in, hold, relax, breathe out. It had been my decision, every decision was, he knew it had to be that way and he respected it. Not that we’d ever verbalised the understanding, it was better that way. One step at a time.

The bed shifted where he sat on the edge, I kept my eyes closed while I focused on the bedding beneath me and calm sensations. We’d stop there and never speak of it again if I chose, there was never any doubt of that, but I was ready. I wanted to move forward. Once my breathing was steady and my heart had slowed he gently brushed his fingertips over my shoulder. It was barely a touch, still I tensed. Touch was touch, no matter how delicate. His fingers remained still, featherlight, paused until I was ready to continue. Once more I told myself to stop being so foolish, I trusted him more than I knew I was capable of.

When I’d relaxed he continued, the gentlest of touches moving over my shoulder, a small, safe circle. Slowly, over the course of hours, he moved over my upper back. The touches never increased in tempo or depth, no words were shared, his patience extended to eternity.

The sun had long since set by the time he was gently digging his fingers into my tight muscles, slowly releasing them, one small inch at a time. For the first time I was truly relaxing under someone’s touch. I’d given up such hope long before, told myself I was too broken for such simple pleasures, yet there I was. In the end, the final stroke down my spine brought a smile to my face. A genuine smile. I’d done it, thanks to him. I’d hit a milestone, I was one step closer to a normal person.





12 thoughts on “Scars

      1. I realized recently that one reason I’ve struggled with finishing my own book has been that these demon and issues they struggle with are actually manifestations of my own personal struggles. But seeing how well you can use your own life to write such beautiful things really makes me excited to get back in the saddle and start writing today! I’ve been revising as I go and am currently on chap 8!

        Liked by 1 person

  1. What a truly beautiful and moving story. Thank you for sharing it with us, Holly.
    I think that you are always brave, with everything that you share. And you deserve to have that courage because your words are inspiring and deserve to be read!
    Thank you again for posting it. I am honoured to be able to read them and be inspired by them. ❀

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That was beautiful! I’m cheering for her for reaching that milestone. Often the small things in life – the simple pleasures, as she puts it – can be the hardest. I’m gald you decided to be brave, this was beautifully written!

    Liked by 1 person

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