written by David Anglin

Daily Creative Writing Practice - She Placed Him Down (Short Story Version)

Daily Creative Writing Practice - She Placed Him Down (Short Story Version)

My practice of short story writing...
Warning distressing content

She often wondered why she never fought him off more, why her arms didn’t pump into action and scratch the pupils from his eyes. Or at least rake long nail streaks across his handsome face so that bloody trails would show the world his true ugliness. While for her, his ripped flesh would be her defiance. Her defiance in that she’d never submit never give into a monster who feels he can take whatever he so pleases, no matter the purity of it.
Before she’d let that happen she’d go toe to toe, man to girl, in a complete slug fest that would leave both their bodies a battered mess and though she’d be in great pain she could live with it, as at least her dignity and inner sanctuary would remain pure.
She wished to high heaven that she would have been as an Amazonian warrior queen. Strong, powerful, fearless. Who when the time came, proved her strength proved her worth.
But when the time did come she fell weak, no bloody streaks, no bloody slug fests, just complete silence. Complete submission. All she’d been was quiet, not saying a word, the first time, the time after and the countless times after that.
She simply absorbed his kinetic energy inside of her. Stilling to quiet its bubbling heat on eruption. Stilling to quiet her thoughts of I hate you when he kissed her upon her lips as if they were in a relationship which housed a holy union.
She resided in no house of the lord. Where she lived had been a house of hell, where a demon disguised in the flesh of man was able to plant its corrupted seed into her untouched womb. Growing into a vicious seedling that kicked violently upon the walls of her young stomach flesh.
She’d bowed over in agony from every time it kicked, when her mother was there she’d ask what’s wrong, but she’d shake her head, lips sealed in anger, fearful of his glare. She was unable to confide the troubles of her world to her own mother.
Though she had tried once but was fobbed off as a sleepy imagination. But waking up to having her knickers moved was no imagination. It was the live action film to a waking nightmare.

The quiet of the night was broken by the cough of a little baby. Her flashes of recent memories dispersed further into her active synapses, cutting further agony into her already troubled mind.
The night was cold, no place for a young girl, no place for a months old baby, as if in agreement, a great gust of wind whipped up from nowhere. Its power slightly rocked her, causing the alarm to shriek from a parked car isolated within the lonely realm of Whipps Cross hospital.
Though cold she refused to look down, as to look down was to humanize a monster created through hers and his unholy deeds. It coughed again and the ice of her heart expressed itself through an uncontrollable tear. Its gentle cough turned to shrieks of fear, as its innate survival instinct kicked in and requested help in the only way it knew.

The baby took a long gasp than shrieked a piercing cry of fear. She was here to dump it, to dump the monster on a wicked world that she’d known as life. But though she fought, she couldn’t block out its howl for help, as each high-octane cry pierced the walls of her stoned heart. Driving to action the innate motion that a mother must protect her child no matter the cost.
She remembered the first time it had called for her, the midwife had placed the tiny baby into her unwanting arms. She’d looked down but could only see, 'him.' She’d pushed him back. Back towards the midwife, but the midwife held firm, holding her arm lovingly as she gently pushed the baby back and not knowing why she allowed for the baby to be guided back to her and for the crying monster to suckle upon her breast.
She’d cried in agony when it had clamped its gum around the softness of her flesh, each suckle for life's sustenance from her milk only increased her agony, only increased her hate. For her, it felt as if her world was one of constant pain. Pain from a man and now pain from a boy.
A boy that if she so allowed to, right now would continue to gobble greedily upon her breast, with no regards to how she felt, to what kind of pain it put her through. She’d had enough of this, and had finally decided that tonight’s the night that it all ends. If her actions meant that when deceased she meets an eternity of hell than so be it, as her life had already been hell. It would be the same fryer just a different pan.

Her heart refroze in the chill of a still building night wind. 3am, the time of night associated with witches and ghouls, guess that’s why she was walking around as she’d now joined the ranks of the walking dead. She placed one foot in front, then the other and then the other. Each step taking her further from destinies responsibility, each step taking her further from the sorrowful cries of a little baby boy, who somewhere deep within, knew he too was being abandoned to a vicious world.
At least with his crying, someone would find him she thought, at least with his crying he could be found by someone with a heart to love him like he needed to be loved, as her innate furnace of love had long been splashed by a bitter cold soul.
If only she’d been allowed to grow as a normal girl, allowed to laugh wholeheartedly like how the girls at her school did. Her teachers always said she should interact more, to not be so quiet and withdrawn, but how could she interact with people she had nothing in common with. She didn’t know happy days, she knew eventful nights, fending for herself, as her mother abandoned her for long shifts, and he’d arise as a snake, slithering towards her endangered egg.

Memories crashed her brain with painful pulses as she wondered out a loud ‘what type of mother abandons their child.’ Lightning struck her soul, realization dawned on her. Forcing her to wrap her arms around her chest as it threatened to concave from the tightness she now felt, as without speaking she’d answered her own question ‘mothers like her.’

Looking over her shoulder, she looked to him, the darkness of night distorted her vision. The blur from tears clouded her sight. But her mind's eye saw and remembered. Remembering the very first time he’d ever smiled at her. How his whole being seemed to just light up anytime she came into his vision, and how his light seemed to fade anytime she stepped away.
Though he knew not how to say it in words his love for her was eternal as she was his world and she remembered that he too was her everything.
The stone of her heart had never been meant for him but was for the real monsters of the world who roamed, looking for victims young and trusting from innocence.
Well she wouldn’t be a victim no more and she wouldn’t allow for her son to be a victim, she’d never leave him, she’d always be by his side. As a mother, eternally in love with her son. She ran to him and lifted him with a kiss, the bundles of thick quilt wrapped around him, warmed her as much as the sight of him rewarmed the ice of her heart.
Though she knew it would not be easy she walked towards the exit and towards the long road to recovery with her son held snugly within her arms. He cried no more as his innate sense for danger was quelled by his mother's love, he chuckled at her in gurgled blurs, and she kissed him upon his forehead giving him an even tighter embrace.


Please click on the images above for more info

“Is everything all right? We heard a babies cry”

She turned startled, noticing the blue ford focus driving slowly next to her as she came close to the exit of Whipps Cross hospital and the junction for Whipps Cross Road laid ahead of her. Within the car were an older man and a younger woman. Playing gently in the background were Christian hymns of worship, "I see the stars I see the rolling thunder" she recognized the words as a song her mother would play when at home bringing life to the usual silence of her Uncles house.

She answered the woman in the passenger's side, noting the silver cross laid around her neck, “Yeah we’re fine thanks.”

“Ah ok, well you do know that this time of night is no hour for a young girl like yourself.”

“I know” she replied, “I was just out for a brief walk to help him sleep.”

“I know, but you really need to be careful, especially with such a beautiful baby, what's his name?”

She hesitated to answer “Look don’t worry we’re harmless, this big lump over here is my husband Patrick, we were just coming back from a christening party that went on way too late.”

Her husband Patrick giggled at this “Yes much too late, but very nice to meet you, young lady.”

The young woman continued, “and my name is Penny.”
Melanie thought it strange that the couple seemed to be dressed so casually for a Christening, but the attempts of the woman to soothe her fears had worked there magic so her guard normally held high, fell.

“I’m Melanie and this is my son Jerry.”
As if rehearsed the couple said, “nice to meet you.”
“So where are you heading to Melanie? Is your home close by.”

She hesitated, not knowing whether to tell a lie or to tell the truth, that she’d traveled from Leyton.
She chose the lie, “yeah, I’m just around the corner really.”
Giving a knowing look Penny looked her directly in the eye “are you sure?”
“Erm yeah, yeah." she stammered
“Look," she soothed "we’re not going to get you into any trouble, but I just want to make sure you get back home safely. Like I said this time of night is no place for such a beautiful young girl. Let us give you a lift back home, we have plenty of space.”
Putting on a half smile Melanie said “no that’s alright I’m really just around the corner”
“Ok if you insist, but what we’ll do is at least call the police so that they can escort you home as I just don’t want nothing happening to you.”
“Er no please.” Her heart jumped, as she knew calling the police would only invite more trouble for her, social services would be called in and she knew if they found out the identity of Jerry's father, then she'd be taken from her mother.
“So what should we do than honey,” Penny asked
“Ok if you guys could just drop me to Leyton.”
“Leyton.” The woman seemed shocked “I thought you lived around the corner?”
Melanie went quiet.
“Look its ok, we’ll drop you to Leyton, we just want you and the beautiful baby to be safe.”
Taking a deep breath to sink down the gut feeling of unease she had, she walked around the little blue fence and opened the door to the Ford Focus. Sitting down on the back seat passenger side with Jerry held firmly in her arms.
The car made a u-turn and headed back towards the entrance, turning left on to Whipps Cross road.
Her husband sat in the front humming along out of tune to the hymns played on the stereo;

Amazing grace, How Sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found
T'was blind but now I see...

Every so often Melanie could have sworn she caught him giving approving looks in her direction, while Penny was now stone-faced as she sat looking directly ahead and the couple that before seemed friendly and talkative, now was quiet.
They came to the roundabout of Whipps Cross, doing the left would have taken her towards Leyton and towards home, but the husband flew across the roundabout taking the right as if heading up towards Epping. The gut feeling that she’d suppressed for so long came at her in a wave of nausea that heated her insides, as she knew she was in grave danger.

“Hey guys, you know to take me to Leyton, you need to go left on to lea bridge road.”
The couple didn’t respond, the man simply carried on humming along to the hymns of the lord.
“Leyton's that way!” she screamed in frustration, frustration at her situation, but more frustration at herself for being so naïve, time and time again she’d be shown not to trust adults, when would she ever learn she thought. Tears streamed her face again. The bond of mother and son as two connected souls awoke Jerry who cried with discontent as he had an innate knowledge that all was not well with his mother, so it meant all was not well with him.

“Get that bloody baby to shut the hell up!” the man talked with quiet menace.
“Its alright Jerry, shh, shh, please be quiet for mummy.”
Try as she might she couldn’t get Jerry to quieten down and the breakneck speed the car was now moving at as it headed up towards Walthamstow waterworks wasn’t helping the situation. She knew she’d have to make a decision quickly as she was fast heading to becoming a headliner for the Waltham Forest Guardian. 'Tear Away Young Mother Two Bodies Found.'

The thought of this made her cry harder as she didn’t want to die like this, alone and forgotten, body used once again, by another man who felt he could do with her as he pleased. While for her son she didn't even want to imagine what kind of horrors the twisted couple would put him through. She had to survive as her alternatives were grim.



Paid The Cost - By David Anglin - To buy please click the image above or click here.

Slowly she searched the insides of her tracksuit for the thin metal that was deadly to touch. She knew the weapon well, thin lines of red marked her as if a passage from some unholy book, her book was engraved in blood, each line marked as a taking of innocence. Her book of flesh, her story to an unknowing world teaching of an unholy union, between man and girl.
Her book of pain was one she'd kept to herself hiding it from all others though today, to protect her son, she'd introduce the worst chapter from her autobiography.
Quietly she reached for her blade, which now felt empowered as if through the thin metal strip surged a power like none she'd ever felt before, but her inner self had a sense that what empowered the blade was each spill from her blood, as now captured within the blade was little fragments of her angered soul. She held the dark soul blade between her now twitching fingers. They stilled.
Like a cobra coiled in one focused position for hours, she lunged for the passenger's seat and cut the flesh of the woman's neck, drawing a pool of crimson liquid that caused the woman to yell in agony. The young girl read aloud a chapter from her book of pain. She drew back and sliced again and again and again slicing the neck flesh of the woman so that it was now as a criss-cross of red streams.
Her husband screamed in fury, pulling the car over to the side as he went to help his screaming woman, blood covered the insides of the car, just like how blood covered her blade holding hand.

Reaching for the door handle she opened the car door, carrying a crying Jerry within her protective arms. The man tried to reach for her, but she was now enchanted with a warrior spirit, that had a sole focus for the survival of her and her child. She sliced his reaching hand with a quick dip of the blade. The man screamed in agony and she saw her window of opportunity she ran from the car as fast as she could while holding on to her weeping baby.

She heard a car door slam and heard the thuds as the man raced towards her direction screaming profanities of just what he'd do to her when he caught her.
Adrenalin powered by fear is what took her across the road of Lea Bridge and into the forest that ran parallel to the road. Her mind said to run faster, but the effects from carrying her baby while still being only 13 herself had her legs slowing down in fatigue. She willed herself to keep moving, to keep running, telling herself that everything would be ok if she were to just keep moving. Her legs gave out on her and she stumbled over a tree root, sprawling to the floor head first while knocking Jerry from the safety of her arms and into the harsh terrain of Autumn's forest floor.
Her hands went to her face in shock, her eyes welled tears of distress. Just an hour before and she'd been willing to give her only son up as a sacrifice to the land of man, though now she was willing to fight off a legion of demons just so her young son could live and have the opportunity for a brighter tomorrow.
On her hands and knees raw from sharp twigs and leaves she scrambled towards him. He was silent, unmoving.
God, God God God, please God let him be alright, please God let him be alright. I'm so sorry just please let him be alright. She sent her quiet pleas to a quieter omnipotent presence.
She gently turned over her son, a small gasp left her lips as she saw the criss-cross marks of where the twigs had cut into his young flesh.

Please God, just let him be alright, just let him be alright. Take me if you're to take anyone, take me. As if in answer she heard the bellows of the man as he moved closer by.
"Jerry please" she called. There was no sound. She looked upon her son that was born from her womb, born from two spirits one dark, her light dimmed. But now she could see the potential of full light within him, she kissed him again upon his forehead.
"Jerry," she called, the omnipotent receiver to her earlier prayer, received her heart chakra glow and her son who'd been knocked cold, now sprung to life with a heart-piercing cry. She hugged her son with tears of joy.
Her celebration was cut short.

“I can hear you, little girl! Come to me and I’ll make it quick.”

Picking up Jerry she tried to run further, but her legs were tired, the emotional and physical roller coaster of the last few hours had her young body weak from fatigue. In a last ditched effort for survival, she crawled into the cold damp hole of a rotten tree root, its insides was an abyss of black shadows perfect for hiding a young girl and her younger boy. She settled in amongst the wet damp leaves, the smell of mother nature at her foulest invaded her nose, though she had no time to be offended by smell as she worked on settling Jerry so their location wouldn't be found by lurking evil disguised as a God fearing man.

“Please Jerry, please be quiet now," she whispered "I really need you to be quiet”
Her cries for peace went unheard as Jerry scared and fearful, screamed a high note of blue murder.

“I know you're close!” The man shouted, “it’ll all be over soon!” he added wickedly.
An idea sprung to her mind, one which would require for her to let flourish the maternal instincts she'd forcefully suppressed. She lifted the top to her tracksuit lifting too her white t-shirt damp with perspiration and Pulled down the cotton fabric of her bra exposing her breast.
With a moment's hesitation she stopped but remembered the importance of her future so brought her legacy to her chest and instantly she felt suction as Jerry drunk from her.
He instantly, quietening down, as he took long ravenous suckles, she was prepared for the pain but for the first time, none came. All there was, was a feeling of euphoria as her the young mother finally held a bond with her baby boy.


London Girl - By David Anglin - To buy please click the image above or click here.

Leaves crunched nearby, so close, that she felt as if she could reach out and touch death. And death walked with certainty from years of experience, it circled her tree home sanctuary. Stopping, circling, stopping again. Grim laughter taunted her, "come out little girl." Until she recognised the human mask of death. He peered at her as if staring into her soul. She saw his eyes flicker from left to right. She stayed still, Jerry was silent, sleep drunk from her mother's milk.
The omnipresence took a concern to her world and the laughing church man slowly backed away. He hadn't seen her, the abyss held her and her son well. From a close distance, sirens erupted the sounds of an emergency vehicle got closer and the man who just before had sung praises to God now cursed insults to the very same God. He ran off towards his car screaming "I'll catch you next time little girl."

She stayed put for ages, before falling asleep within her protective abyss while under the watchful gaze of a merciful Cosmos, she awoke hours later to rays of sunlight as they streamed through the bare branches of a cold autumns morning. She felt fresh, alive from having discovered a new found strength and determination that made life worth living.
She now knew she could get through all things, overcome any obstacle, as she now had a reason for becoming the best version of herself she could be. Looking down she mapped the face of her beautiful sleeping angle and made a promise to never put him down again.



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 



comments powered by Disqus

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...?

Sign up today to recieve:

  • Compelling real life stories delivered straight to your inbox!
  • Abstract art and thoughts influenced by my years of being around some of London's most elusive and infamous!
  • Thought provoking entertainment!

Subscribe to our Newsletter!

Ultimate Marketing Cheatsheet