This page showcases materials created by Bookbite readers. Send your own work to info@bookbite.org.uk - or click the panels on the right to read more stories and poems
My Story
The following stories were entered in to our 'My Story' competition where entrants were asked to focus on a key event or a special moment in their life and describe it.
by Harold W A Nash
Sometimes when I lie awake I think of them. As they emerge from the shadows of my mind, I am left to despair and wonder, for I cannot forget them, those bright young men.
by Delyse Phillips
50 years later the scrunch of tyres on a gravel drive still makes me catch my breath. A car coming to a halt by the large double doors. Footsteps in the ample hallway, subdued voices disappearing into Matron’s office. Yes, they were here.
by Mrs. Patricia Drayton
There wasn’t much happiness in our house at the moment as Dad was having an affair. Mum knew and I knew, so there was never much conversation.
by John Smyth
One side of his face was scorched into a twisted whorl of the livid and strange colours that characterise burnt flesh. In my mind he was The Rainbow Boy.
Read the winning entries to the My Story competition here
The Letter I Wish I Had Written
In this competition entrants had to compose a letter they wish they had written to someone at some stage in their life and tell us what the letter might have changed.
by Audrey
Dear Burglar.
Do you think it’s funny I started a letter like this? Are you someone who even wants to think about the people he 'visits' to earn some money?
by Mike White
Here I am writing this through prickly tearful eyes, knowing of course that you will never read these words, be able to receive or accept my apologies.
by JoanMary
I think you were well aware of what was happening to you; you were terrified that the other students were looking at you and talking about you.
by E Williams
My children have always enriched my life and kept me going when your depression has hit an all-time low. You’ve never had children and have never experienced the wonderful bond between child and parent.
Read the winning entries to The Letter I Wish I'd Written competition here
Other materials
From the forum Poetry
posted by Trevor Headley
A few years ago my wife decided that she wasn't going to bake for Christmas so we decided to buy samples from different shops and see which were the best and then stock up for Christmas. After buying from a couple of shops this poem appeared. I've called it Seasonal Goodies
A werd in yer ear abaht them mince pies
Thad ar sittin ther wi' thad scone
The're not as gud as them last week
'Cos if they wer the'd all 'ave gon
We're geddin samples frae every wer
Te find owt which is't best
We're eatin' pies an puddins an cakes
An wen ther gon we'll start on't rest
Turkey - chickin - pheasant an goose
Ont' poltry we'r nah let loose
Taters. cabbige, leeks an' sprout
As long as it's cooked we'll eat owt
All this cos me mams not feelin so gud
An this year she's nod doin a bake
Way oo's gooin, if oo doesn't buck up
Oo'll goo in a bag an we'll give 'er a shake.
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reviewed by Mark Rickman
As the title suggests, falling leaves (if they can help it) don't land far from the tree but in this story of an autocratic father, married to a grasping second wife, ensures a far flung family and in Adeline's case, a lack of parental affection added to being blamed for her mother's death. All in all, this is a book in which the leaves are flung willy nilly, each leaf with a story of success or failure. Well worth the reading.
The Road Homereviewed by Audrey Tampkins
We read so much about negative attitudes to immigrants in the press but in The Road Home we are presented with all the difficulties of one immigrant adjusting to the English way of life and all the hostilities he receives. We finish the book by feeling sympathetic and ashamed of public opinion. A compelling read beautifully written.
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From the Poetry forum
posted by Madgeb
Love is forever
They walked by the water together,
Every few steps they stopped and kissed.
In the spring of their love the weather
Was kind when they met in their bliss.
Each day was a good as the last one,
Every month went by in a dash,
Their lives were completed with sons,
As the years flew by in a flash.
Now to walk by water is a struggle,
As pace after pace takes its time,
Days can go by in a muddle,
But there is still time for a sigh.
Remember, they walked by the water,
A lot has rushed by on the way,
Love still leaps in their hearts without falter
Together they promise love every day.
In their minds they still walk by water.
And kiss every step of the way.
Though now with a cane they may falter.
Love carries them through every day.
For more readers' poems - click here
Comment on Anna's top writing tips
by Susan O'Donoghue
Your advice on Messy Maps and Character Writing is wonderful! After a disappointing 'distance learning' writing course I felt that, in my mid-sixties, I had left it too late to pursue my dream of being a published writer. But after reading your advice I feel inspired to take up the challenge once again!
For more writing tips - click here
A letter to Bookbite
"Dear Bookbite
I do not know if you can call what I have written below a poem, but I thought that I would send it to you all anyway. You will have to forgive the spelling. I discovered about 25 years ago that I was dyslectic. For all those years I though I was just thick, and had the impression that most people thought that I was just that. And even now with spell check on this computer it does not always help, too many English words that mean the same thing, or I think they do - like their and there, saw and sore, berry and berry as in hat. And why oh why are there so many 'silent letters' - what on earth are they for? So I decided that if any wiseguy pulled me up over my e-mails or letters, I would just say "but did you understand what I said?"'' and if they said "…yes, but…" I would say before they could answer ''GOOD'' and just smile.
Yes it has been a little bit tuff having to pretend and bluff for so many years in order not to be called a dope. But in the end you have to find your own way and work things out for yourself which makes you use your brain. So I have had to teach myself everything over the years, and it really amazes me when people ask for my opinion on how to do something and tell me that I am clever - then I can't quite believe my ears.
Well hear goes - my piece is called, 'What do you do when your mum dies'"
What do you do when your mum dies,
What do you do when you can't help her anymore,
What do you do when you can' see her anymore,
but only have her memory and her picture - only her picture,
What do you do when she has gone and can't come back,
What do you do when your memory somehow starts to fade
due to your own old age
What do you do when you can't see her beautiful eyes
that always said It's OK when felt sad or frighten,
What do you do when you see her smile
and her voice that would always greet you because of her dementia,
What do you do when you can't touch her anymore and feel her and kindness enter your entire being
What do you do when can't put your arm around her but only can remember when you did the last time only to feel her bones,
What do you do when you can't hold her hand anymore and remember the last time
you did and it would not open because of her dementia,
What do you do when you are called and they say she has gone and you won't ever see her
again. What can you do?
What do you do when you look at her cold and empty body before you and you know that you can't do anymore for her ever again,
What do you do when you know she has gone for ever. What do you do?
Well there it is, it's what I wrote just after my wonderful Mum died seven years ago and I still miss her.
Regards Peter Day
