The mirror bares the ugly truth to all

How greed consumes a heartless selfish soul

Whose turned their back on four strong beating hearts'

For looks and wealth, worth more then those of blood.

A clear toned portrait hangs from family tree,

Reflects a ghostly image now for seen,

But with each day that pass, the mem'ries fade

And pretty soon, forgotten, be your face,

And change of name makes better to forget

And rid this nightmare, hoping to awake.

The cold brisk wind blew south, whistling 'whoooh!' over the western isles. Its moorland landscape surrounded by red, white and purple bell heathers and soft sent of coconut tantalizes my senses.

In folklore, red heather is blood, stained from a clan who died in battle while, white worn as a lei, which i wear, protect those from violence.

Goosebumps covered my chilled spine as an apparition of Jack the giant killer appeared twenty metres away. He briskly runs towards me with his axe. Wanting to run, fear captures my body as jack raises his axe to strike me. He vanishes.