Letters To Myself

Book cover made by Movellas user Lily Anna!

*Completed standalone YA novel approx 57,000 words*

Winner of Nanowrimo 2017!

Seventeen year old Morwenna is struggling as a student in her school's sixth form. On top of that, she has to deal with a creepy house nearby with mysterious visions, her Mum expecting a baby and exploring privately her sexuality and identity. When things get rough at home, she decides to leave and start afresh but at what cost? Written in a mixture of diary entries/letters, poetry and prose, Letter To Myself tracks the life of a young girl over the course of a single year.

Only edited for spelling and grammar mistakes, plotline has not been edited. Suggested readership is 15+.


7. 7.

Dear Myself,
Half term was one of the times at the start of the year when everything you’ve been through in the first few weeks slowly but surely starts to sink in. This morning for example as I woke up and prepared to grab on some clean clothes and cook some breakfast, my view cast across towards the piles of notebooks with sheets of handwritten paper sticking out at the sides. My summer plan of stocking up for Year 13 hadn’t materialised and for the first time since GCSEs, everything I had worked on for hours was out of order and not in the way I had planned my teachers to see.

Apart from the general tasks around the house and revising for tests and looking back over notes, not much really happened. My Mum’s birthday came first and she was woken up by the neighbours once again having an argument over their patch of land. As a young person, you really don’t want to be influenced by grown adults swearing and telling them to go to hell and stay there in the pits of flames. But Damien who had also woken up due to the disturbance and with messy bed hair, laughed at the visions of flames. Just wait until you start your Religious Studies unit Damien and then, you will learn everything about heaven, hell and the creation of the world.
Dad had cooked a delicious full English breakfast for all of us which Mum had the delight of sitting back in her bed, relaxing herself and propped up against lots of pillows. Between mouthfuls, she opened birthday cards that had been sent through the mail and the small stack of presents. Damien got her a nice mobile phone case since Mum’s current one had somewhat disintegrated from being handled a lot. I had managed to get her two small things: A butterfly necklace and a voucher for beauty products at a shop in the city that she loves visiting every once in a while. For the occasion, the sun shone but there was no heat I could feel across my face or skin, a deceiving image of weather I felt.

Mum chose to go to a nice shopping outlet for her birthday which was about an hour’s drive away from ours. The traffic was busy but not slow and definitely not dangerous. When Dad has to drive to a client’s house in the next city along for ours, he brings back horror stories of near crashes and speeding drivers, loud sirens and swearing, lots and lots of swearing. On arriving and parking up, the first stop for everyone was the toilet (sorry Diary, this is important details OK?) and decided to pair off to shop and look around. Me and Mum I’m glad to say did have a more pleasant time looking for clothes and baby items for the nursery than the trip into the city. After just a few of the stores, Mum’s movements were once again starting to look slow and almost too painful to bare. Sitting down in a café with her, sipping something to drink was a good idea to distract her from the painful swelling.

On finding a café, deciding to be brave, I ordered everything that we wanted. Speaking to total strangers at times is absolutely terrifying and the amount of courage I need from inside me and trying to build it up takes time. But once the order went through, I felt super proud of myself which I don’t say too often. The only scary moment was when I had to try and carry the tray containing the cakes and drinks over to our table. However, a customer was nearby and so helped me to handle that situation well. Mum then waved out the café window towards my Dad and Damien who were luging big bags around which one of them contained two footballs that obviously were going to have been purchased by my brother.

All of us tucked into the treats that lay in front of us, mouths watering and I had to stop myself from yawning as the loud conversations I could hear from all around me were starting to cause a headache. Mum then grabbed her handbag and offered me a mint and placed around her neck the butterfly necklace I had given earlier on to her, still staring at how bright and shiny the blue gemstone were. I had chosen well since blue is myself and my Mum’s favourite colour. After this, not much extraordinary really happened apart from all the way home when Dad put on the radio to hear the football scores and due to the lack of a solid signal, most of the time, all you could hear was a distinct buzzing noise like a loud bee. The volume fluctuated so much in just a few seconds that everytime the shouting of the commentators got loud, Mum would let out a little scream making the rest of us laugh.

Damien had his athletics event at a local University yesterday which only me and Dad went to (Mum woke up feeling really tired) and seeing my brother who is relatively small compete against teenagers who were six foot tall, I could imagine just how daunting it was for him. Overall, our family isn’t really that sporty. I don’t mind sitting back and watching sports but trying to learn how to play and master them is a whole other ball game. He competed in long jump, javelin and 200m across an entire morning of heats and finals. I would say that Damien is competitive but then again, I really don’t know who isn’t. After a few nightmare throws of the javelin, he focused on his best event: Long Jump. I see Long Jump more as an excuse to build sandcastles in the sand pit that the athletes jump into but on the screen and one of the volunteers filming him, the look on his face showed a strong sense of concentration and strength as he raised in the air his hands to get the crowd watching the events to clap.

I witnessed him take a slight pause before running forward, one of his trainers touch the springboard and flying for what to me felt like an eternity but actually, it was only a few seconds. Clapping began to pick up from the stands around me and Dad as Damien watched his jump again on a replay. You would think that he had done enough to make the final after that jump but sadly, that wasn’t to be. Damien walked away empty-handed and not in any finals. As both him and Dad had a private prep talk, I went outside to text Mum and make sure she was OK at home.

I think one of the most important life lessons for everyone is that if at first you don’t succeed, then don’t let that failure put you off from trying again. One day, I know that my brother will walk away with a place in the finals achieved or even a medal to display proudly in his bedroom but Diary, it goes to show that if you have passions, then you should embrace them and not be shy to talk about them. I have to tell myself that I shouldn’t feel ashamed that I write in this book or like to write other things. It’s my life and what I do with it that counts.
Until we meet again.


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