written by David Anglin

Daily Creative Writing Practice - Dragged Spear

Daily Creative Writing Practice - Dragged Spear

My practice of bringing depth to simple sentences...

He Dragged The Spear

His eyes were focused, absent from fear. His gaze held high with pride. Steady as he locked eyes with that which wished, to take away all.
He felt the wind pass by, giving a slight chill to the majestic sunset as the grass swayed in harmony, as if in equilibrium to the movement of the gentle wind.
The field was vast, like the sky it too was hued in different colours of the spectrum. The parts were the setting sun was at its highest, had the green of the field alight with a golden glow. While the darker parts of the sky blossomed in violets, pinks, and blues. Hiding crimson puddles that splattered the grass.

His senses were heightened. Sharp to the upcoming battle. His mind was keen, calculated in its approach. His body though, felt little twinges of pain, little jolts defying his grace, trying to set seeds of doubt, in a body which in times of his life had gone toe to toe with beasts. Literal beasts who tried to force there will on to him. But his mindset was to never allow another man to force their ambition on to him. He would always be victorious, battering his will into the crumbling remains of there thick skulls. Skulls that were thick as they never heeded his warnings. That he'd defeat them. That he'd defeat all those who stood in the way of his ambition. Because was he not king. Was he not the provider of the nation. The feeder of the sick. The shield against mankind's streak of evil intent. Battle after battle. Time after time. He was victorious. He had scars across his face, chest and back to give proof of his victories, but each victory came with a great price.
The loss of his loved first son, the kidnap and torture of his dearest mother. Yes, the price had been high but he did it and continued to do it for the nation, for he was king!

His thoughts darkened, how dare this young pretender challenge him, did he not know what he stood for. That he stood for hope for the meek that he stood for justice for the timid. For that was why he was king, to be a beacon of hope a living example that good men still existed within this world of evildoers.


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He felt a surge through his body. As if mother nature herself had heard his pleas for strength. Pleas to defeat an opponent who was mighty in stature. His younger self would have felled this young pretender in one swoop of his mighty spear. But time had worn down his battle-hardened body. Father time himself had no sympathy for even the greatest of kings or the mightiest of warriors. But he cared not, he'd spit in the eye of father time, just like how he'd spat in the eye of Willie Black Eye. Before ripping the eyes from his forehead proving to everyone that Willie Black Eye was a mere mortal like everyone else. A mortal who bled and could be killed just like all things on mother earth.

He felt another rush of strength course through his veins in electric like propulsions. Goose pimples peppered his skin as he readied his self for the last swing that would end the long bloody battle, for better or for worse.
He heard the terrible song of the crow as it darted by and felt the last beams of the sun as it set for the day leaving in its absence darkness that would grip the kingdom.
But he smiled. He smiled because for the first time he appreciated the beauty in all things. The beauty of quiet moments, the beauty of simplicity, devoid of overthinking devoid of overdoing.

He looked again at the monstrosity of this young pretender and decided there and then that he'd rid the world of all evils. That he'd vanquish doubt from the seedlings of new leaders, that he'd bring courage to the hearts of men whose job it was to talk with truth even when scared to do so, as at its core he now knew the world to be beautiful, but sometimes a reminder was needed.

He gripped the handle of his long spear. Dragging it across the grass as he ran at full pelt towards his destiny. Running full pelt towards his ultimate calling. With a mighty rush, he raised his arm aiming to separate the head from shoulders. To separate body from mind, then mind from soul.

He let out a smile. What a beautiful world. He was... king.

When We Were Kings... 



About The Writer

In my day to day work, I've spent close to 10 years working with some of London's most extreme young offenders. Working with them tirelessly in trying to create real opportunities for them, while trying to bring stability to the chaos that can be their world at times. I don't even call this work, as this is something I love doing, and thankfully my passion for it has helped many of these young people into much brighter circumstances.
If you'd like for me to give a talk to your class in regards to the issues that surround these young people or require consultancy for dealing with these young people then please feel free to get in contact.

Publications In Media

Made In Shoreditch Magazine 2018

Waltham Forest London Borough of Culture 2019

Waltham Forest London Borough of Culture 2019


Speaking Presentations

UCL University Of London - Institute Of Education February 2019
Course entitled Criminal Journeys: The Individual and the Environment run by Prof Jane Hurry and Dr David Maguire. I Gave an in depth talk to students on the issues surrounding young people involved in crime.

The Royal Borough of Kensington & Chelsea Black History Month events - spoke on my organisation and how we help troubled young people reach there full potential please click here

No Knives Better Lives
Knife crime meeting held by Redbridge Youth Councillor Hannah Chowdhry please click here to view

Youth Violence Conference
Sat on a panel for City Gate's serious youth violence summit please click here

The Royal Borough of Kensington & Chelsea- Unison Fundraiser for Black History Month
Recited one of my short stories as part of the event please click here to view


In partnership with Waltham Forest London Borough of Culture event, won a grant out of 160 applicants to put on an artistic event called Red Light Busking click here

My creative blog on fatherhood www.daddieslovetheirdaughters.com 




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Words and Art. Art and words. My stories will make you laugh, will make you cry. Provoke anger, cause distress. But most importantly my tales will get you thinking in hopes of bringing around real change...?

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