These College Days – A Day in Marrakesh

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Hello Readers!

May I just say Happy Easter, I hope wherever you are in the world, you are having a lovely time with family and friends celebrating the resurrection of Jesus and of course enjoying good food, chocolate and easter eggs!

Today I wanted to share with you a little something from my travels. On my journey over Spring Break I traveled to Marrakesh in Morocco as well as Venice and it really is a strange and magical place. On one of my days in Marrakesh the group of ladies I was traveling with and I had quite an eventful day. I recorded it in a sort of long poem/creative non fiction piece that I like to call a murmuring so here it is. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

 

(As always this is my original work and all copyright goes to me. No stealing please)

 

Marrakesh Murmurings

(Created on February 29th 2012)

“Fatima cous cous”

Echoing calls of Arab men

Monkey’s on chains

Snakes dancing to silly tunes, their true power and bit pulled from their bodies

 

Push further and further back

White fades to tan

A very good price, that’s what he’ll sell you

 

In the darkest corners are the best men

Decent prices and smiling faces

Eager to help

 

Push back again

Back towards the square where ladies force henna upon me and fruit sellers make the amazing stuff

 

Towards the mosque

Smoke and gasoline swirl around my throat

Bike rushing behind me

Watch that foot or I might just lose it

 

The horn screeches from the roof and a haggard prayer fills the square

I hear no love in his devotion, just duty

 

Only duty

Is a nation filled with duty better than a few filled with love?

I think not

 

Get lost again

Leery stares from unwanted admirers and grunts from covered women

 

The jolly tourist police man finds us and guides us in French

I do my best to hear him

Four, six, and phone is what I hear

 

Understand?

Turn at the phone?

Go ten minutes?

Wee!

 

Merci becoup I grin and he hands us the proper shiny maps we’ve been waiting for

A palace in ruins greets us, only to have its doors already shut

Oh well, just try again tomorrow

 

I hope you enjoyed that little journey through Marrkesh and Morocco. It’s one of those places that you really have to be there to feel its energy and vitality however I do hope my murmurings gave you a glimpse into it. I will be posting a video soon about my travels. If you like my travel writing please let me know, I love hearing your responses to my work and if you haven’t already be sure to follow me on Twitter @gracehatton

Until next time, be blessed, stay strong and never give up!

God Bless,

Grace Hatton – Amazon Best Selling Author

P.S I had an idea for a post end of world novel where the youth are controlled by a singular government and a rebellion rises up to take down the corrupt government and free the youth that have been captured. That is a very vague description but what do you think? Let me know!

 

London Diaries (Awake Early in the Morning)

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Hello!

I just got back from Spring Break but I wanted to keep up with my London postings so here is another poem! You’re excited aren’t you? I actually didn’t write this for class but I wrote it in the wee hours of the morning when I was traveling on a coach back to Leeds for the weekend. As always enjoy, let me know what you think and remember its my original content.This one is called Awake

 

Awake, Awake

O great city of slumber

 

Shake out your aching bones and dust of last night’s mistakes

Your little worker bees buzzing about before the crack of dawn

 

No traffic or confused foreigners, yet

Just the ones that make your heart beat and blood flow

Bus drivers, street cleaners and underground workers

 

I’m a visitor here

Not one to be seen at this ungodly hour

I’m a night owl after all

 

But the morning crows are all a flutter

They are content here

 

Awake, Awake

 

Prepare for another day of feet pounding against your skin, yells in your ears and pigeons in your veins.

Awake, Awake

Your slumber is done

Hopefully you enjoyed that little bit of my creative writing, it is really odd seeing London in the morning versus in the middle of the day. That’s why I wanted to write this poem. I also just posted my second London diaries video, its in another format than my first one so let me know what you think.

 

London Diaries Episode 2

 

Click the link above to see the video. I hope these snippets about London are enjoyable for you and give you a unique insight into this great city.

Until next time, be blessed, stay strong and never give up,

Grace Hatton

www.gracehatton.com

These College Days – The Love Affair Between An Art Student and the National Gallery

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  A painting, this painting (Ulysses deriding Polyphemus by J.M.W Turner) made me cry today. It’s the first time that’s ever happened to me, but I couldn’t help it.

I’ve heard my art professors talk about shedding a tear upon looking at a certain piece in a certain place, but I never thought it was truly possible until today. Indeed I thought the idea of crying at a painting was darn right silly.

However today sitting in the National Gallery in the heart of London I simply can’t help it.

I cried partly because of the pure beauty in the work, such vibrant and stunning colours bursting forth from the canvas. Such detail on the ships, the way the vapors of paint swirl and twirl together make my heart ache.

Partly because J.M.W Turner is one of my favourite artists in the entire world of art history and the fact I can see his work in the flesh at the National Gallery in London is astounding to me.

But what really gets me is the fact a man over a hundred years ago bled and fought with a canvas to unleash the vision he saw in his mind. When J.M.W Turner was creating the piece he could probably find the weaknesses of the piece, find what he thought needed improving but he presented it to the world none the less. And over a hundred years later I sit staring at his work, longing to escape to the world Turner created with his brush.

Longing to jump into the water and swim towards that crystal sunset. People of all nationalities and tongues sit in this national gallery yet they are all enthralled by this and other paintings. It doesn’t matter if we speak twenty different languages, the emotions and display of J.M.W Turner’s soul is clearly seen on this canvas and transcends language.

In another room, down another gilded hallway I stare at Van Gough’s Sunflowers and again I’m enthralled. It’s another painting that all people of all languages can enjoy.

That’s why I adore art, that’s why I call myself an artist and why I want so desperately to complete my degree in art.

Art inspires wonder, joy and yes even tears. Art reminds me of the beauty this world has to offer regardless of the strive we may see around us. Art is hope, hope for a better tomorrow and an artist can create that hope, seal it on a canvas and leave it in the world, waiting for some twenty year old art student like me to stare at its beauty in the National Gallery and shed a tear without even truly knowing why.

These College Days – Tired

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  Hello!

Is December stressing you out already? Well I feel the same way. So I decided to start my These College Days series where I will post snippets of things I’ve written in class as well as general thoughts on the college expierence. Here is what I wrote while I was supposed to be writing my final essay for my non fiction class.

“My bones ache with the memories. Memories of your touch. Memories of a time I can never regain.

The void is enveloping me like a black cat digging its claws into my flesh. The past merges with the present and the organ resting in my ribcage longs for a moment of quiet and peace.

History repeats and I cannot forget. Despite the achievements and purpose resting in my soul the most basic need returns. The need for a moment.

I cannot run and I cannot wait. I rest in the impasse waiting. Just resting. My fingers curl around my destiny and hold on like a lifeboat in the stormy seas.

The waves beat against me and soon the darkness will take over. The strength I felt in the beginning is waning. No more certainty for me.”

I’m coming into my last two weeks of the semester and it is a mass of things to do, fun to be had and general confusion. It’s my belief that the impending doom of finals week is what causes years of stress to surge through a college student’s veins. To me that is unhealthy but hey I didn’t create the system. So my advice just breathe and hold on to what you can to keep you grounded if you happen to be a college student like me.

Until next time, be blessed, stay strong and never give up,

Grace Hatton

http://www.gracehatton.com

New School, Same Problem (Truth Unknown Snippet #2)

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Hello Wonderful Readers,

First of all I want to say thank you so much for your comments and feedback on the first snippet of The Truth Unknown, it really does mean the world to me. I’m so excited that people are responding to what I’m putting out into the world.

I will be sharing the next snippet of The Truth Unknown in this post but if you get a minute you should head over to www.youtube.com/gracehatton and watch my thank you video. I just hit 500 subscribers and I want my next video to be a challenge video so I need your suggestions! Head over to my YouTube page, watch the video and give me some suggestions 😀

Now, for the main event. Here is the next snippet of The Truth Unknown.  That being said, I want to stress that this is my original work and as such belongs to me. All copyrights, licenses, and permissions are reserved by me, Grace Hatton. If you steal, trust me bad karma is coming your way.  As always, let me know what you think and I want to see lots of comments. Oh and I started this snippet with the last line of the last snippet, since it’s the continuation.

I had no idea how I saw the things I did or what they meant. All I knew was they were making me crazy. Heath Hill was supposed to keep me in line, but even the strictest boarding school in England couldn’t protect my from myself. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. I
slowly pushed open the large, dark, heavy oak door. My name is Anna Moxley and this is my story, well the beginning of it anyway.

Chapter 1

New School, Same Problem”

The cold stone walls of Heath Hill boarding school have been called many things throughout the years. Some say they contain the secrets of the world, or at least the secrets of a majority of well
bred English, Scottish and Welsh students. I slowly traced my fingers over the cold stones; to me these halls were just cold and hallow hallways in another boarding school meant to keep me imprisoned. I heard through the grapevine that Heath Hill was a haunted place, a place where spirits who could not rest resided. I wondered if that were true.

“Anna Moxley” a sharp shrill voice suddenly said. I turned to see a tall thin woman with thin red hair and a fierce scowl rushing towards me. That wasn’t all that I saw. I saw a thick black vapor, a clouds of sorts wrapped around her body. Most people would never see that vapor but I did. It was dark and twisted around her body like snake. Since my mother’s death I had been seeing people’s true nature or at least that’s what I thought it was. Some people were surrounded by light, but most were covered in darkness. The worst part of my ability, if it was such a thing, was the fact I could feel the darkness. It was as though the darkness seeped from them into me. The darkness somehow made fear seep into my bones and it seemed to take a hold of my heart. I hated being around people because of their darkness and the longer I was near the darkness the worse it got. That was the real reason I got kicked out of other schools, because I couldn’t stand to be around people.

“You’re not in class!” the red-head scolded me. Her thin lips grew into a frown.

“Sorry” I mumbled.

“Ms. Moxley I’m not sure if you’re other schools let you get away with this kind of thing, but Heath Hill has strict rules and regulations. Being two hours late for your first day of class is a clear violation of those rules. Now follow me to the Head Mistresses office and you can hope for an easy punishment”

 I had only been at Heath Hill a few days and I was already being sent to the head
mistresses office. It was a great start to my career at Heath Hill.

“Fine” I smirked.

“Follow me!” she scowled. She turned and her high heels echoed on the stone floor. I slowly walked behind her, the further away I was the slower my heart beat became and the easier I could breathe.

After walking through various hallways and up a flight of stairs we arrived at the Headmistresses office. Once again an oak door greeted me apart from this one had the words Mrs. J Beatrix etched into the wood. I wondered how long she had been Headmistress. The red-head knocked on the door and a quiet voice said “Come in”

“Go on then” the red-head snapped. I quickly walked into the office, the sooner I was away from the red-head the better. I stepped into the office and looked around. It was a dark drafty stone room with stained class windows. The office looked as though the medieval ages had lost all its
useless trinkets in one room.  Unreadable Latin books lined the shelves along with the various medieval trinkets. In the middle of the room stood a large wooden desk and grand wooden chairs sat on either side. A small grey hair woman stood facing the windows. Her back was turned to me and her arms were crossed.
“Have a seat”

I quickly sat in one of the wooden chairs. She slowly turned around and I sighed a breath of relief. To the normal person Mrs. Beatrix looked quite terrifying with her steel-blue gaze, frowning thin lips, tight black dress and her silver hair in an extremely tight bun. However, I knew she was perfectly harmless. For unlike most, Mrs. Beatrix had a stunning light attached to her instead of the darkness.

“So, why didn’t you check in straight away?” she demanded.

“I got distracted” I said quietly. I decided to focus on her eyes since her light was unbearably bright.

“Miss Moxley you’ve been here a few days now. You’ve been caught wandering the halls
and your teachers say you have trouble interacting with the other students” Mrs. Beatrix said as she pulled out my file from an old steel filing cabinet.  I said nothing, this wasn’t my first boarding school and I knew no one who knew how to deal with me because no one saw what I saw.

“However Miss Moxley I see something in you. Something you do not quite understand yourself and I am not the one to explain it to you. You, Miss Moxley are quite special and you have my
protection whenever the time arises that you may be so unfortunate as to need it” she said very seriously. I wasn’t quite sure what she meant. Why would I need Mrs. Beatrix’s protection?

So, there it is the next part of my novel. This was a longer snippet and I do appreciate your feedback.  The romance is on its way and the whole supernatural side gets explained in more detail as the story continues. If you like it, let me know and if you think there are points for improvement, let me know. Like last time, the more comments there are means longer snippets. Go check out the youtube video and please leave comments. I look forward to hearing from you!

Until next time,

Be Blessed, Stay Strong and Never Give Up,

Grace Hatton – Best Selling Teen Author

www.gracehatton.com

It’s Kind of Like Harry Potter Meets Twilight

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Hey Guys!

I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to write another post. It appears the responsibilities of being a full-time college student and business owner has taken over my committment to blogging. I sincerely apologize. That being said I wanted to share with you an expert from my Novel The Truth Unknown. It’s a fantasy type novel.

In my mind it’s kind of like Harry Potter meets Twilight. When I say that I mean there is a magical side sort of like Harry Potter and there is a love triangle like in the Twilight series. I’m super excited about Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 coming out so it’s only fitting that I should share this with you now 😀 That being said, I want to stress that this is my original work and as such belongs to me. All copyrights, licenses, and permissions are reserved by me, Grace Hatton.

Please don’t steal or adapt because like I said its my work and an expression of my soul. If you are a fellow writer you know how important our writing is to you and I’m sure you wouldn’t want someone stealing your work. If you’re not a writer just appreciate how hard it is to write a novel :). If you steal trust me bad karma is coming your way. That being said below is the expert, it’s the first part of the novel. So let me know what you think and I want to see lots of comments.

I’ve never really known exactly what was wrong with me, granted I did have a rather sordid childhood so maybe that was the source of my craziness. My mother was kidnapped by a psychotic murderer when I was five and even though they never found her body everyone knew she had died in the most brutal way. After that my father shipped me to my first boarding school. My brothers said it was hard for him to look at me because I looked too much like my mother.

The only problem with my dad’s plan was the fact I got kicked out of every single boarding school he sent me to. By my fifteenth birthday I had been kicked out of eight boarding schools. Most teachers agreed that was some kind of record.  According to all the counselors the only place left for me was Heath Hill. Tucked away in the English countryside the 12th century castle was supposed to frighten even the most ill-mannered child.

It was September 15th when my Dad dropped me off at Heath Hill. As always in England the sky was grey and wet. My dad’s green ford focus pulled into the schools grand driveway and I had to admit if nothing else the building scared me. It was far too big, grey and old. The towers seemed far two spiraled for their own good and green moss-covered the stones. In one way it looked as though it was about to fall down but at the same time it looked far too old to ever fall down.

The ford focus pulled past the wrought iron gates of Heath Hill, up the gravel path and finally pulled to a stop in front of the massive oak doors.

“Here we are” my dad sighed

“You know they’ll kick me out eventually I don’t know why you even bother” I muttered.

“Because I need you to be safe” my dad sighed, he always said that. Part of me thought it was because of my mother’s murder and the other part of me thought it was because of my apparent mental illness he wouldn’t talk about.

“I’d be safe at home, but don’t worry you won’t have to see me until half term” I smirked as I got out of the car.  I slammed the door shut and scowled at my Dad. He paused for a second, but then just like every other time he dropped me off at a new school, he turned the car away and drove away. I slowly turned around, the oak doors loomed over me and my heart started to beat faster. The truth was my bad attitude was just a front. I was terrified of myself and what I saw. I had no idea how I saw the things I did or what it meant.

So there is the first little part of my novel and I know right now there doesn’t seem to be magic or romance, but trust me it’s a coming. If I get great responses there will be more. Leave comments and let me know what you think. Feel free to give snippets of your work in the comments bo and I can give you feedback. Let’s make a little writers community.

Until Next Time,

Be Blessed, Stay Strong and Never Give Up

Grace Hatton – Best Selling Teen Author

http://www.gracehatton.com