Crypt Keeper December 28, 2011

So deep, I’m screaming inside

Emotions under control

Whose? Not mine.

 

 

This is my story

Listen.

 

 

Shadows made of laugher, voices without breath

She feels them, her skin crawls, so close to where she rests

Her eyelids knitted, or glued, so she cannot place the sounds

Terror, wanting, ploughing, unbound

Trapped in the abyss … heart battering against her breast

 

 

Enclosed, it’s a cave

No, a hole in the ground

Her coffin, her grave

Blackness, unfound

 

 

It can’t be real, this cannot exist

Alone in his crypt, she yearns for the mist

And the cold air above her, dank and unclean

She wishes for capture, aches for what had been

 

 

Digging, she struggles, digging till she bleeds

Crimson drops mimic tears on cold, porcelain cheeks

Without pause, she fights harder, the taste of moss invades

Her consciousness flounders, pushes, fades

 

 

As if in a dream, her coffin is torn

Open

What is this?

She rises, Unborn

His departure … His scent … on the stagnant air it hangs

Open, drowning, thorns pierce her soul, sharpest fangs

 

 

Buried in his crypt, a ghost in his world

On wavering legs, she stands, unfolds

His graveyard

She cries out, darkling … sad, haunted girl

 

 

His essence caresses her, as the blade from a knife

She wanders, swirlsdancescrawlsstops …

Just Stop

Her freedom is in sight

He holds the door open, smiling

Angel

I shall never …

Traded her soul, stranger, battle, forever

 

 

A ghoul in his land of bones and bloodshed

A spirit above them, those others, long dead

He keeps her in his crypt for life, for all time

There are other worlds than this

But she shuns them, foolish, knowing of her crime

 

 

Sometimes they watch her bleed

Scornful, anguish fills their tone

Furious remorse, green light bathes her every turn

Foolish child

What they would give to be reborn

 

 

But still she dances, drifting through his catacombs

At times he creeps beside her, wavering touches, warm lips

She bends like a willow,

Never leave, only This

A haunt in his graveyard, forever seeking his kiss

 

 

Loves so hard, loves till it tears, rips her apart

Her soul is

Forever His

 

 

Crypt Keeper

He knew from the start.

Subliminal Messages December 27, 2011

I feel like writing, it probably won’t

Be

Any good, you’ll probably

Turn the page

 

Maybe if I make you laugh you’ll stay. But I’m not very

Funny, so … maybe I’ll try to make you

Feel, instead. But aren’t you fed up of so-called

‘Deep’ poets? Roll your eyes, listen anyway. Because they’re so

Serious

 

I want you to stay

For you

So maybe I’ll buy you something. Only then you’d feel obliged. Well, you would!

I’ll just keep on, then. I might find

A Secret

That makes you look up

Then I can write about that and you’ll stay

 

I just feel like

Writing

About Something

Find something to keep your interest, for a while

 

Maybe I can make you

Smile

If I carry on for long enough it’s inevitable that I’ll…

Oh, I don’t know.

I guess I’m trying way

 

Too Hard

To talk about something when I’m not even

Thinking

Of anything

 

There are emotions in my head, pictures but

I can’t

Draw, so I can’t show you.

I want you to stay

 

Listen to my poem. It’s not

Perfect

But maybe that’s what you like about it.

You’re still reading, after all.

“Taken” – A story inspired by It and other Stephen King tidbits :) December 19, 2011

Taken

If God is omniscient and omnipotent then he knew about this, but still he let it exist.

 

“If He knows then He doesn’t care, because this shouldn’t be, and we are damned. Oh, we’ve gotten it so wrong.” Susannah didn’t believe in reality anymore. Not in the sense that there’s something solid, logic in cohesion with life. Seeing, comprehending; things that you could understand, could Know.

 

Her reality was now unintelligible, and she had lost all concept of time as a continuum. She was Nowhere, her faith torn clean and consumed entirely. A strong Catholic in her former life, Susannah had erased all religious concepts from her mind. Blackly, she stared, trembling, smirking unsettlingly but without realisation that she was doing so. A line of saliva dripped down her chin and she made no moves to wipe it away.

 

Pictures of before, when being alive had made sense lumbered blearily through her mind, and she clung to each one as though if she focused hard enough she could enter into the memory itself, escape this place. Escape the thing that sat amongst the nothingness, observing her silently, wetly.

 

He’d been a nice, normal guy. He had a nice, normal smile. He’d taken her on a lovely evening out. But he was gone now. Instead, there was this … Other.

 

Susannah had met him at the gym whilst cooling off at the juice bar after her regular workout session. She’d noticed him looking at her, that nice, normal smile on his handsome face. Not something she wasn’t used to. After all, she was an attractive woman, nothing extraordinary, just a pretty face with a good physique. Her eyes were her best feature. They burned an intense green, set off perfectly by her dark complexion and auburn hair. She didn’t think she would see her own reflection again, and even if she did, she didn’t think she would recognise what it was looking out at her.

 

“I was a normal girl,” she sighed to herself, hoping he’d hear her and start talking. Normal. That word kept running through her mind as she reminisced, yearning for it.

 

He’d approached her as she sat reading a magazine and sipping her Soy banana smoothie. Startling her, he’d excused himself and asked permission to sit down. They’d had a long conversation then exchanged numbers. He asked if he could see her again and she’d agreed to a date the following night.

 

His name was Victor. “Had been,” she said now. She didn’t know his true name. “No, couldn’t be Victor,” she let loose a hysterical giggle, “Too human!”

 

He’d taken her to a French restaurant across town. After dinner they’d taken a walk in the park. Not something she’d normally agree to, but it was a bright night and the moon was beautiful. She remembered how the stars had reflected in his eyes, as though he had mirrors in his face. “Silly girl, I should have guessed, hmm, somehow.”

Perhaps it had been his delicate touch as he held her hand, or the way the breeze seemed to run its fingers through his dark hair and make it bounce in the light. All she knew was that she had felt at ease with him.

 

Then he had started to run. First a jog, still holding her hand, surprising her but making her laugh, stop kidding around! He’d turned to her, grinned a grin that had too many teeth in it. Her good humour had faltered, she told him to stop, alarm shadowing her tone now. He had turned away, ignoring her, and picked up speed.

“Were we flying?” she asked the apparition. Again, no response.

 

He hadn’t stopped, just moved faster until the trees were a blur and the stars were blinding in their brightness. His face had stolen the light of the moon and he’d glowed with cold flames.

 

Then they had crashed; only it was hard and soft together. “The air gave around us. We were…”

           

Pressed through, tugged from the other side. Speed of light. The park was gone, the city, the world. She saw a shimmer as she forced a look over her shoulder, then it was gone into the abyss. His laughter was deafening and she’d screamed without vocal chords. She couldn’t feel her body anymore, and for a moment she thought that was gone, too.

 

“What are you?” she murmured now. She couldn’t raise her voice. The thing in front of her tittered maddeningly. That sound was so full of glee and boisterous knowledge that she felt like screaming and tearing her arms off to get away. There was nothing physical holding her however, nothing she could see or even feel. Yet she couldn’t move.

 

He was old, she knew that much. Old beyond imagining and powerful in ways the human mind couldn’t decipher; something she could feel, or perhaps he had sent that knowledge. Here, something to chew over while your life comes to an end. When he spoke, she wished she hadn’t urged.

 

“Do not waste your time, for it doesn’t exist in this place,” insanity, glee at his-its-own joke, “so you see, you cannot waste it!!”

 

It tittered again, longer and with more delight than the first time, a broken, chittering sound similar to that of a weasel. It was then that she realised he was mad. Time beyond count, perhaps before time as she understood it, that was his age and had robbed him of all sanity.

 

“W-hat is it you want me for?” she stammered, marvelling that she still possessed the ability for speech. She guessed that soon he would remove it as well as her mobility.

 

The answer came fast this time, “The curtain between our worlds is unravelled; my world is dying, I am the last … and I need to build. Your world was the closest, and so I came.”

Susannah didn’t get a chance to ask more, for he sent her an image of his meaning that tore her mind apart and blinded her permanently.

 

But still, she saw. Her world, his; no females left in its universe. The last had shrivelled; extinct. “The walls grow thin,” she murmured, weaker now. Build again … an army.

 

No more females in his universe, they were gone.

 

That laugher again as it registered her comprehension. Susannah felt her own sanity become a distant stranger. The human race had never known, though He had, and just watched. “Oh, but He doesn’t care.”

 

“No, he cares, but not for you. You weren’t his intention. A … mutation, yes, that’s you! Your breed was a plan gone wrong.” He spoke the words nonchalantly, sending her images still, a grin with too many teeth. Far too many teeth.

 

Ironic laughter bubbled in her throat. She pointed her head at where she thought he might be, felt him towering over her, “You speak of mutation – take a look at what you are!”

 

One last jab, human arrogance; how stupid of me. She listened as it rose off its haunches, mewling idiotically as the images continued to appear against her will. Taking her eyes was his private joke, for now she had none to squeeze shut. As it smiled at her with one of its many mouths, the others grimacing, frowning, dribbling, grinning with Victor’s mouth; grinning like when the running had begun. She shook with laughter as it pulled itself closer, then her voice was finally stopped as it caressed her with one of its thorny hands.

 

The world went red, fragments of what had been pierced her flesh, and she sobbed without a voice. She saw her people fail, her race begin to fester, decay, grow deeper as his scent became everything. The last thoughts of her mangled mind were barely registered, but still they came,

 

“How terrible that this is how it will end.”  

 

             

           

 

Inspired by Anne Rice’s amazing writing! A little dark, and romantic :) December 17, 2011

Battle

 

Something strange, a faraway chime

Something changed … darkness takes a hold of time

Lets me glimpse

Just out of sight

Something beckons

So I begin to write

 

He stands in the shadows

Rain obscuring his face

Thunder claps … odd

No lightning takes its place

And no wind billows

Just the rain storming down

As though heaven was weeping

The Demon wears a crown

 

I cannot see save for a bleary silhouette

Shapes form and fade, monsters come to feed

Torturous fear, but I take a step

A dove flutters its wings and falls

Into an endless black death

 

A warning, perhaps?

Or an omen to run

They creep ever closer

Touch my flesh, wetness, death

Blinded, I leap, the sky above parts

Unbridled passion, terror in each breath

 

The rain disappears

In its place a flame-shaped heart

 

Twinkling song, teasing charms, the dove rises

Cocooned within his arms

The Demon cowers and roars

I don’t let him go

Watch the monster as he screamed and fled

Defeat, nothing to show

 

I’m lost amidst his sorcery

Enchanted by his light

Delirious with sensation…

Do not fix this, let me fight

I feel my chains breaking

Shed them like a caul, find again my sight

 

Open the next chapter

 

Together we take flight

 

Alfred Noyes – The Highwayman. One of my absolute favourites! December 17, 2011

Alfred Noyes (1880-1958)

The Highwayman

PART ONE

I

THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,     The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,     The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,     And the highwayman came riding—                       Riding—riding—     The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

II

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,     A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;     They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!     And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,                       His pistol butts a-twinkle,     His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

III

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,     And he tapped with his whip on the shuters, but all was locked and barred;     He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there     But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,                       Bess, the landlord’s daughter,     Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

IV

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked     Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;     His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,     But he loved the landlord’s daughter,                       The landlord’s red-lipped daughter,     Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

V

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,     But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;     Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,     Then look for me by moonlight,                       Watch for me by moonlight,     I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

VI

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,     But she loosened her hair i’ the casement! His face burnt like a brand     As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;     And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,                       (Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)     Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.

 

PART TWO

I

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;     And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,     When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,     A red-coat troop came marching—                       Marching—marching—     King George’s men came matching, up to the old inn-door.

II

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,     But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;     Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!     There was death at every window;                       And hell at one dark window;     For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

III

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;     They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!     “Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her.                       She heard the dead man say—     Look for me by moonlight;                       Watch for me by moonlight;     I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

IV

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!     She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!     They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,     Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,                       Cold, on the stroke of midnight,     The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

V

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!     Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,     She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;     For the road lay bare in the moonlight;                       Blank and bare in the moonlight;     And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love’s refrain .

VI

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;     Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?     Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,     The highwayman came riding,                       Riding, riding!     The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

VII

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!     Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!     Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,     Then her finger moved in the moonlight,                       Her musket shattered the moonlight,     Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

VIII

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood     Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!     Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear     How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,                       The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,     Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

IX

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,     With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!     Blood-red were his spurs i’ the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,     When they shot him down on the highway,                       Down like a dog on the highway,     And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

*           *           *           *           *           *

X

And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,     When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,     When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,     A highwayman comes riding—                       Riding—riding—     A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

XI

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;     He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;     He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there     But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,                       Bess, the landlord’s daughter,     Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

 

Story-poem, fans of Twilight will like :-) December 17, 2011

Blood Spell

 

Blood stained eyes

Tear drops ruby bright

He watches the sun sink

His last ever light

Burning soul pounding

Chest heaves with pain

He was given a gift of darkness

Acceptance, his shame

 

He closes shimmering eyes

A new existence begins

Every breath took in shadow

The night forever set in

 

A choice was made

He turned away

From having a soul…

Hell doesn’t welcome his kind.

He hears a call

Though nothing moves the dark

Aborted, fabric between worlds unbinds.

 

His master finally beckons

A voice

Unearthly

His tears stop falling

Insides twist, squeezing, exquisite pain

 

The Other holds her, head falling back

Dressed in silk and satin

Blood flowing black

She opens glazed eyes

Locks her gaze on the devil’s face

The monster reflects off her beauty

His shock mirrored perfectly … a silent scream

A sharp surrender

He bends, caresses, her innocence fades

 

Lost, forever

Realisation hits, catastrophic

The last of humanity departs

And he places iceberg lips upon icy flesh

Inhales, so deep, sees a lake

No clarity, hot crimson flows

A jet black reason, his future grows

 

Hovering, his master laughs, criminal joy

His child learns the trade

A game with just a beginning…

 

A life of longing, of lonely nights

He wakes with the stars, and sleeps with the light

Eternity was a promise he wished to behold

Now he screams in despair

He cannot feel his heart beat, his blood will run cold

Forever is a long time to spend with oneself

Insanity travels closer

Something snaps

Demon, incubus, changeling

 

His future is clear, he has a purpose now

Oceans of mortal blood begin to boil, begin to flow

A hole in a black heart, more darkness pressed in,

They will pay with what he stole

Eternal life

His work begins.

 

Deeper – Short Horror/Thriller January 8, 2011

My garden is my own sanctuary. I come here to be alone and tend my lovely plants. Right now I sit by my flower beds, digging a hole for a new plant I had purchased from the garden centre.

I can’t get it out of my head, what just happened. My own family, how could they? She came home at three’o clock in the morning. I was waiting for her, of course. My only child, it’s natural for a mother to worry. She’s just sixteen but you’d think she was in her twenties the way she acts. A respectable girl doesn’t date at her age. Shouldn’t. I’ve told her constantly, but she doesn’t listen to her mother. Daddy’s angel. She won his heart the second she took her first breath in this world and from that day on I remained secondary to her.

I’m not bitter. I love my husband but he just doesn’t understand what it is to be loved less by your own daughter, for her to not value your opinion or take your advice. That’s why I had to take a stand this time.

Not again, I wouldn’t let her get away with it this time. Last time was bad enough, I actually caught her, in the most unholy of embraces with a young man who doesn’t deserve the respect I give him in referring to him as such. I’m a reasonable woman and I love my daughter, but this just can’t carry on. So I took immediate action.

Oh, can you imagine the shame it brings to a family when their child is behaving with such unladylike manners? You couldn’t possibly understand. I was right to do it, for her sake.

I’ve never hurt my child, never laid a hand on her. Quite the opposite really, I’ve showered her with unwanted affections, I’ve given her the world. But she only wants what her father has to offer. Sometimes I wonder…

The hole is big enough now, I think. Maybe I’ll just dig a little more, just in case.

Where was I? Yes, she came home much too late, hours past the curfew I allowed. Her father was in the family room watching the news. Something about a shoot-out in Australia; ridiculous how people resort to violence for no reason. Anyway, she stood there, smiling at me.

I asked her what time it was and casually she raised her hand and glanced at her watch, then nonchalantly answered my question. It was three am. You were supposed to be home by midnight.

She didn’t care. She was going to see her father then go to bed. No respect at all for me. I wasn’t letting that attitude slide again.

I told her to sit down, she wouldn’t. Instead she spit out some disgusting profanity, again not minding her manners. I looked at her clothes. She wore almost nothing, I could see her skirt was almost too short to cover her properly. I couldn’t stand it anymore.

So I made her sit down. I don’t believe it was wrong. She had to be disciplined.

I can’t stop digging.

And I see the blood now. Oh yes, it comes back to me now. I can see it, my hands are crimson with it, mingling with the dirt from the flower bed. Her blood, my own.

Her father heard the screams. She shouldn’t have screamed, she was purged of her sins in that moment. God surely must forgive her now that I cleansed her soul.

My husband stormed in and saw her, ruby now blending with her black satin, making it stick to her. Repulsive, she looks so beautiful when she doesn’t wear such clinging garments. He couldn’t take his eyes off her for a moment, but then it dawned on him and I knew he understood.

Yet he chose her, again. Took her side against me even though I was right!

I don’t remember too much after that, only that he held something in his hands, pointing at me, telling me to get away from her. My own daughter! Get away? I was helping her. How could he? I didn’t move. As I said, I had to take a stand. I continued with my work.

The hole is much bigger now. How long have I been digging? The sun is beating down on me, much too hot. But still, I can’t stop.

He wasn’t used to being defied, my husband. He didn’t take too well to the fact that I wasn’t going to stop. So he tried to hurt me. Tried to hurt me when I was being a mother to a child who never wanted me. Jealousy always gets the best of us in the end. He couldn’t bear what I was doing, didn’t want me to. But I couldn’t fathom why he’d disapprove, except jealousy.

Darkness. But how? It’s too hot to be so dark out. Yet it is, I can see the moon! The stars are out and the night is so clear.

What is that? I see light, blinding suddenly! It’s in my hole, it looks like … but how could this be? Surely I couldn’t have dug so far as to see … what am I seeing? I can’t begin to contemplate … no! It’s too much, the light hurts my eyes.

And something is looking at me. Male, perhaps, but I can’t possibly specify its gender. Too far away. He looks straight up, and then seems to grin.

I look away hurriedly, afraid. What is taking place, happening to me?

Pain suddenly, spreading across my chest. I look at myself and all I see is a river of colour. The blood consumes me.

The thing down there, in my hole, it’s rising and with terrifying speed. Its face is suddenly inches from my own. When it touches me all becomes clear.

I think I understand now.

Down to the darkness and to the blazing light. Down into my flower hole.

I must have been wrong.

City Profile – Cardiff November 24, 2010

City Profile – Cardiff

 

Cardiff is a dynamic location with a solid heritage, making the capital city of Wales one of the number one choices with both tourists looking for a stimulating weekend and students on the hunt for the ideal university city. There’s more to Cardiff than meets the eye and you can be assured that you’ll be met with a succession of surprises, if you’re up for searching them out that is. Here’s a short guide to get you rolling on your journey, best brush up on your Welsh though!

Welsh pride reigns supreme in Cardiff, and spills out onto the playing fields of all kinds of sport, from rugby to ice hockey and football! Sport fanatics will enjoy cheering on the successful Welsh teams and getting caught up in the lively atmosphere. Besides great spectator sports Cardiff offers varied options in adrenaline pumping adventure activities especially designed to push your limits. If you feel brave enough why not take a daytrip to Margam County Park and conquer the exhilarating Go Ape obstacle course, where zip wires will have you flying above the treetops! Or, if being up in the air makes you feel queasy then choose to stay on solid ground and have a go at paintballing, quad biking or go-karting! Cardiff also has lots of leisure centres and gyms available for you to keep fit at, as well as plenty of beautiful countryside to go cycling or walking around.

The perfect chill-out zone, Cardiff Bay offers a modern waterfront entertainment metropolis. In its heart you’ll find Mermaid Quay, which serves up a delicious blend of funky bars and chic restaurants for you to hang out at whilst enjoying the captivating scenery across the water. You’ll come across original boutiques selling unusual items that’ll jazz up your wardrobe, shiny gifts for those hard-to-please friends, plus a dazzling health & beauty spot to polish off your look before those big nights out, meaning that Mermaid Quay is a primary dwelling for the best in quality leisure time.

Shopping in Cardiff’s city centre, you’ll come across all the regular high street stores on Queen Street and at the Capitol Shopping Centre as well as one-of-a-kind boutiques and independent stores aplenty at beautifully designed arcades to be found around the centre. Total shopping bliss!

Indulging in a little bit of Welsh culture is simply done in Cardiff. Take time out to visit St. Fagans History Museum – a magnificent open air attraction where you can literally walk through time and experience how life was in past centuries! What’s more, you’ll be able to enjoy traditional shows and festivals throughout the year and live it like you were really there. Oh, and it’s totally free! Art fans will feel right at home in Cardiff with the vast selection of galleries and studios boasting masses of historical, contemporary and cultural works; check out the modern Martin Tinney Gallery for a look into Welsh art.

Music lovers will feel right at home in Cardiff, as the city is well known for its high quality entertainment factor. The Millennium Centre puts on a variety of cool shows, from West End plays to Hip Hop gigs, so there’s truly something for everyone. As well as this epic venue, you’ll discover that Cardiff has a wealth of intimate locations for smaller gigs and concerts, such as The Globe which stages loads of independent acts through the year.

Cardiff’s nightlife is nothing short of legendary, and students are spoilt for choice, with oodles of great pubs and bars to chill at as well as awesome clubs for major nights out. Glam is a stylish and futuristic venue, spread out over two levels with comfortable lounge areas, cool bars and discount drinks. One of the trendiest clubs in Cardiff, it hosts big nights, celebrity DJs and huge live acts on a regular basis. Tiger Tiger is of course known across the UK for its revolutionary student parties, quirky themes and down-to-earth crowd. They offer exclusive VIP packages for those special occasions, plus seriously cheap beverages and an awesome soundtrack each and every night! Big raves are to be found at Liquid on various nights of the week, blasting all the latest tunes plus NUS discount and drinks offers galore!

As a student, half the fun is in exploring your new city and discovering for yourself the places that’ll be foundation to your university memories. Cardiff just so happens to be the ultimate city for that experience!

City Profile – Manchester November 24, 2010

City Profile: Manchester

Welcome to the capital city of the North! Manchester is famous for its hospitable environment, eclectic style, celebrity visitors and (of course) Manchester United! So it’s no wonder students have made it a favourite when deciding where to go for university. If you aren’t afraid of a challenge and feel up to jumping right into the deep end then this is the place to be. You’ll need street smarts and confidence to tackle this metropolis of wonders, but it’s guaranteed to be a journey you’ll never want to forget.

When it comes to retail, Manchester is the busiest shopping district outside of London. The Arndale is an enclosed mall which holds all the high street brands, and then some! Sitting along Market Street the centre is buzzing with life and is great for spending a leisurely afternoon after lectures. In the middle of the main square you’ll find a brand new scene each weekend; sometimes it’s a Moroccan market, at other times a music promotion, so there will always be something new to entertain you.

TIP: Visit the nearby St. Anne’s Square at Christmas time, where the most amazing Christmas Market appears as if by magic!

 

The Northern Quarter is home to the artists, musicians, film makers and designers of the city, as well as a primary student location. Situated between Piccadilly and Ancoats,  the Quarter’s warmth and brightness will instantly enclose you within its magic and you’ll be transported to a universe knitted out of vintage clothing stores and decorated with independent book shops, art galleries and boudoir-esque bars and cafes, all playing to a soundtrack of original music from funky retro vinyl shops. You’ll meet lots of unique characters as everybody has their own trend and isn’t afraid to express themselves in this care-free neighbourhood.

TIP: Check out Affleck’s Palace for endless fun.

The Printworks is a great place for day and night entertainment. It’s the perfect escape from the rainy Mancunian weather; everything is included under one giant roof! Here you’ll find the Odeon Cinema, as well as fantastic restaurants, bars and student-friendly clubs like Pure and Entourage, who throw unimaginable themed parties and consistently book popular performers to keep the masses entertained.

TIP: Book a Karaoke booth at Tiger Tiger for an original party experience. 

 

You’ve probably heard of Manchester’s Canal Street, or the Gay Village as it’s often called. Here you’ll find an open and accepting atmosphere, and that goes for whether you’re homosexual or otherwise! The clubs are open to anyone who’s up for a fun night out, though the village does offer two all-girl bars for those who are after something a little more specific!

TIP: Check out Manto or Alter Ego for a great night out.

For the real student village, check out Oxford Road (that one with all the uni’s!) and have fun trying out the dozens of different take-outs and diverse pubs scattered up and down the largest road in town. Get yourself to Rock Kitchen on a Saturday night or to Jilly’s on any other, and rock out to quality music before heading into town and discovering one of the hundreds of bars and clubs that Manchester has to offer.

Speaking of music, it’s almost a sin to not mention the huge scene in Manchester. The summer festivals, intimate live gigs and humungous concerts are sure to keep you busy all year round. Recent musical acts to grace the city have included Rihanna, Kaiser Chiefs and Lady Gaga, as well as the yearly Pride festival and awesome Mad Ferret drum n bass extravaganza. Just try and get your coursework done in between all the fun!

After you’re done partying, what could be better than a curry with friends? But forget take-away, jump on the bus down to Wilmslow Road and have a freshly cooked meal in a nice restaurant – yes, even at 2am! Known as the Curry Mile, this road in Rusholme is near to some of the most popular student accommodation, and is a great place to hook up and hang out at any time.

Transport is of excellent standard in Manchester; the free metro-shuttle makes it a breeze to get around the town centre, and frequent buses and trams will take you to new and exciting places, including the Trafford Centre and Salford Quays. Piccadilly train station is also within walking distance with direct trains to almost everywhere, so you won’t be lacking in new places to visit if city life starts to take its toll a little.

The Rochdale Canal Festival 2010 November 24, 2010

The Rochdale Canal Festival 2010

 

Besides the welcomed return of warm afternoons and the ice cream man, summertime sees the anticipated homecoming of festival season, and what city knows how to do it better than the northern metropolis of Manchester? Our festivals never fail to impress and draw in the masses, providing ample opportunity for everyone to get involved in heaps of new and exciting fun. Amidst these great events is a hidden gem if there ever was one in The Rochdale Canal Festival; an incredible week of unique pursuits with just the right blend of live entertainment, interactive workshops and outdoors merriment combined with the beauty of nature and dabbed with just a touch of history. Oh, and it’s all completely free!

Failsworth Basin is where it all takes place for one whole week every year. The Festival celebrates the 202 year old Rochdale canal, which runs from Manchester’s bustling city centre all the way through to the airy hilltops of West Yorkshire’s Sowerby Bridge. The canal undertook major renovations in 2002 when the site was restored, making it a pride of the locals as well as a serene and accessible location for a variety of leisurely activities throughout the entire year.

The first day of the Festival was jam packed full of lively action and stimulating eco-fun, including barge rides beside the Grassroots walking path, multiple arts and crafts tables (including face painting!) to keep the younger folk occupied whilst their parents and older siblings attempted to conquer the climbing wall, learned how to manoeuvre a Kayak, or tried their hand at an angling taster session. The Mayor of Rochdale also paid a visit to show his support for the event and even gave the art of Taiko Drumming a go!

I had a chat with some of the festival-goers, and was interested to hear that the event was a welcomed change from regular weekends, especially for some of the children in attendance. One grandmother informed me that her grandchildren didn’t usually get to play outside where they lived, so getting out in the fresh air and having a go at all the fun games on offer at the Festival was quite the treat! She also went on to say how appreciative she felt that the canal site had been restored so beautifully, and that she thought it had become the heart of the community, bringing people together in a way that hasn’t been achieved in recent times.

Other locals also confirmed their enthusiasm for the canal’s reawakening, some having been around since it was first built and thus were especially warmed that it had been restored from the “bombsite” that it was to such high standards. Well, I just had to agree with them; in the midst of a busy industrial location nestles the perfect destination for a weekend away from the noise and rush of the city. The setting is fresh and there’s a pleasant explosion of greenery, as well as pond life in abundance, and lovely clean stretches of water. All in all, it’s a great learning environment full of fun and action as well as “somewhere to go” as one friendly local put it.

Besides this great first day, the list of activities for the week was endless, and as the festival rolled on nature walks, wildlife discoveries and performance storytellers among tonnes more was served up to the throngs of happy locals and delighted visitors. A standing ovation for The Waterways Trust for putting on what turned out to be an exceptionally enchanting week and showing us all that there’s so much more to a canal than just water!