My Bucket List

In January my dad died. It really is the most heart-breaking moment I’ve ever experienced and it’s still devastating. The gap he left in our lives will always be there.

It did show me one thing. Time is short. So why waste it? A few years ago I came up with a list. All the things that I wanted to accomplish. It got put on the backburner but now it’s more important than everything. I know that my dad wouldn’t want me to dwell on the pain and sadness losing him makes me feel. So I wanted to share it with you all. The five things that I want to accomplish this year.

  1. Go to comic-con. I’m a huge geek. So the idea of going to comic-con would be perfect. My dad used to say that I’d make a good Oswin. So I think going as her would be nice. I can do something more complicated the next time I go.
  2. A tattoo. This is something I’ve wanted for awhile but considering it will be on my body for the rest of my life, I want it to be perfect before I commit to it.
  3. To dye my hair one random colour.
  4. To learn how to drive.
  5. To run 10k. I first started to run at the end of January. I’m doing a survival run in August and my dad had just died. I needed something to take my mind off of it. Writing wasn’t cutting it. Photography, my dad gifted me his camera and lenses, was still too personal. My brother is running a half marathon and I couldn’t be prouder of him. To my  surprise I found out I enjoyed it to. To the point I added in a Race for Life run in memory of my dad.

Thanks for visiting my blog.


Tuesday Tease

Good morning world 🙂

Every week a group of writers get together, find suitable pictures and write 200 words about it. This is the first one on this site. Please make sure to visit the other pages below by clicking the link.

Halloween night on the spooky meadow. Abstract holidays backgrou

Halloween night on the spooky meadow. Abstract holidays backgrounds

She ran until the sound of the modern world disappeared. Cars were replaced with birds. Exhaust fumes faded to the smell of wild flowers. She skidded to a stop. Twigs broke under her feet. How far had she run? She didn’t think she’d been that far in the wood before. Her grandmother had warned her. Never run without a destination in mind when you run into the woods. You never know who you’ll meet. Her lungs hurt in her chest. Her eyes raw from tears that she swore she wouldn’t shed. Her grandmother had told her stories about the wood. The fairy circles. The creatures that called it home. The spirits. At the time she’d ignored her words of warning but now? In the quiet of the wood how hard could it be to believe in something more?

She held her breath as she walked deeper into the wood. Leaves of warm green brushed against her face. She didn’t feel scared. No, a part of her felt like she’d found home. A true home. It didn’t make any sense. It had just been a long day. College. The funeral. Who could blame her for wanting more?

“Hello Isabel.”



Photo #1


Hello from my corner of the world.

I have a lot of things in common with my dad but things are complicated or terribly simple however you want to look at it. Anyway he plans on giving me all of his camera things. There is a lot of stuff there and now it’s all about finding the time to take pictures,  which is something I do a lot more than write these days. I’ve taken maybe three hundred so far in two weeks. The first few were terrible. My dad suggested I read the manual, which I didn’t do until a week had passed.

Then I talked to my dad and what can I say, when I hear it from him it sinks in.

Go figure.

So anyway I went for a walk today, a little off the beaten path and took some pictures. Found some rabbits who didn’t want to play for the camera. Then I ended up heading to work. We have a little magpie problem so I got a picture of the handsome bird. I plan on taking more tomorrow, I’m going to my dad’s on the train so look for a black and white landscape on the blog.

Writer’s Block

As you can tell from the title I have writer’s block. I have started a few stories but nothing has been clicking. It all honesty it’s like I’ve forgotten how to do it.

I enjoy writing. I can’t imagine my life not doing this but something hasn’t been clicking for awhile. I put a lot of pressure on myself but I guess some things just take a lot more out of me. At least the house is tidying. I found some mould and cleaned that. All the laundry is done. Coffee consumed. I have a lot of possible stories to work on. Looming deadlines and all that. It’s currently raining, hell that’s perfect writing weather for me.

So why can’t I write?

Maybe I’ll figure it out or I might just end up wishing for it to be different. I know people change but I refuse for this to be the thing that does. I’ve been writing for years. I don’t want to change that.

Cogs in Time 3: Steampunk Anthology

Please welcome  Michelle Cornwell-Jordan onto my blog as she talks about her story in the Cogs in Time 3 anthology 😊

RELEASE DAY October 07th, 2015



***99 Cent Anthology Release*** Cogs in Time Volume Three Take another turn in the cogs! Gear up for an adventure with the first two anthologies. Cogs in Time: Set

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Anthology Contribution


by Michelle Cornwell Jordan

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Book Release Party

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My short story Dymphna’s Dance At The Twilight Circus included in the Steamworks Ink Publishing’s upcoming Anthology Cogs In Time 3, is a Steampunk Circus tale with a horror/paranormal bent. The story is set in my dystopian world of Athol which had been featured in previous works such as my self-published Race For The Moon novella and The Others, a short story included in Steamworks Ink’s anthology Tales of The Fairy Volume 2:Steampunk Fairies. It’s set in a Western setting where I focused the tale based on the Victorian Circus.

I loved the gritty eeriness of the Victorian Carnys’ and thought it a perfect setting to tell the story of a young dancer with the ability to soothe the tortured souls of humans, as well as draw their basest natures to the forefront. In the story my main character Tristan a.k.a. Trouble and his friends come across tickets enabling them to gain entrance into the special performance where Dymphna’s Dance forces each to face the their truest natures and in doing creating life and death challenges for each boy!

I conducted on-line research as well as gathered information from hardbound resources such as Crime And Criminals In Victorian Kent by Adrian Gray and What The Victorians Did For Us by Adam Hart-Davis. Using tidbits such as the Velocipede which is the forerunner of monowheel, the unicycle, the bicycle, the dicycle, the tricycle and the quadracycle. Here is where I gained inspiration for one of the characters “Pedal Walker” which plays a significant role in the story!

Although research and these other elements were included, steampunk with the robotic Security Clown Bots and Monkey Droids is what Dymphna’s tale is all about!:)

Check out the excerpt below!

16+ New Adult

“Awww wat a purdy face,” the Dolly said as she rubbed her body up against mine. Her breasts strained at the cheap material of her dress and looked as if spillage would happen at any minute.

I flinched at her touch, hoping to avoid further contact. “Um, no. I’m okay.” I pushed the woman away as the scent of perfume and body odor assaulted my senses and caused my stomach to churn.

“Ahhh, it’s yurn birthday, ain’t it? I can show yer a right good time!” she said as she moved close again and gyrated against me.

Disgusted by the desire that flared alive in my body, I closed my eyes, attempting to shut out the greedy cravings that hounded me daily.

Opening my eyes again, I could see the others watching in amusement. I took a deep breath to steady myself and said, “Go!” I pushed her again and felt ashamed when she stumbled backward, looking surprised.

The prostitute regained her footing and anger flashed across her face. She straightened her dress and looked down at my pants with a smirk, and I quickly placed a hand in front of myself in a feeble attempt to hide my body’s betrayal.

She snorted and said, “Yer wouldn’t be no good anyway!” She spat out a glob of spit that landed near my shoe, glanced around our group with a lipstick-smeared sneer, and flounced out of the alleyway, careful not to let the bally see her.

“Awww yer such a meater. Just a wimp, Trouble!” Bae howled with laughter, slapping his thigh, which caused him to lean haphazardly on the pedal walker. “I knew he wouldn’t go through with it! I called it. Right, Gripper?”

I watched as my supposed best friends got a kick out of what they liked to call my “delicate condition.”

Gripper snorted and shook his head as he raised a tattooed hand to scratch his cheek with an uneven nail, and then continued counting red and gold Atholrus bills as he said, “Watcha waiting for, Trouble? Yer an aright looking mug, I s’ppose. I mean, not as purdy as me,” he chuckled, “but enough to get half dem Judys itching for a taste!” He shoved the wad of bills into his back pocket.

We rounded the corner after leaving the alley and followed the growing crowd down a dirt path. Lights beckoned us to the multiple red, yellow, and blue tents anchored in McGruyer’s Field. The chime and tinkle of carnival music filled the air, and from the tents, the scent of roasted meat and vegetables drifted to me on the evening breeze. My stomach grumbled, distracting me from thoughts of Fiona.

I shrugged, not sure how to explain that I wanted to wait for the right girl. That’s a lie. I’d found the right girl. Well, a woman—a married woman, Fiona Ramsey.

“Awww, guys, let it go! Will ya? It’s not a big deal!” I said, irritated with being called out.

Bae said, “Really? Nothing to be ashamed of? Think how it feels for us to be friends with the feller who’s still a virgin at nineteen. No, sumthin’s gotta be done. I know yer all hot for that…”

He paused when I gave him a pointed stare. “We don’t need to mention her.”

He smirked. “Yer needs to get over this. Yer can’t keep sniffing after some married woman as if she’s a heifer in heat. It’s not right. Yer shoulda let me set ya up wit that Ladybird. Betcha she’d make yer forget yer problems,” he hooted, and his voice echoed, causing many heads to turn our way.

Bae hopped off the two-wheeler and grabbed me in a headlock. We broke into a good-natured wrestling match with Gripper laughing on the side watching us. Just then, a carnie security bot rolled over, dressed as a clown to match the circus theme. The steel features and black orb eyes peeked out from under the eerie clown makeup and curly yellow wig that sat slightly askew on its head.

We broke apart when it stopped in front of us.

“Please desist. Please desist! Quiet please. Please quiet!” it said before turning to head back to the entrance.

“Yes, sir!” Bae gave a mock salute to the bot.

“Ssssh, Bae, lower your voice. I ain’t going to the brink because of you tonight.” Anger tainted my words as I dusted off my leather pants and shirt.

Bae followed my example, but before he hopped back on the pedal walker, he reached down and picked up a stone, throwing it in the direction of the bot. The rock, thankfully, fell short, although the robot stopped and turned towards us. He gave a blank look in our direction and headed back towards the main entrance.

“Bae!” I hissed.

He ran a hand over his short, red buzz-cut hair, chuckling while he climbed back on the two-wheeler.

I shook my head and said, “Really? And as far as embarrassment goes, who are you guys to talk? At least I worked this summer. What have you done, huh? Bae, I’m surprised you have money to pay for me to get laid. But you should use it to fix that.” I pointed towards the pedal walker. “You’re so lazy. How many times have I said to fix the damn Penny? One of your front wheel spokes is bent, and there’s a dent in the steam pump, so it won’t work either.”

I watched as small thin streams of steam puffed sporadically through the brass pipe attached to the back of the bike. I’d been on him to get it fixed, but like with everything else, he never got around to it.

“If you’d fix the steam casing, then you wouldn’t have to pedal!” Aggravated, I tried keeping my voice low. I knew I shouldn’t let their jibes get under my skin.

The other boy grimaced sheepishly and sniggered. “I’d get the money from Gripper.”

Still irritated, I turned to my other friend. “How did you get the tickets? They cost a nice chunk.”

Shrugging his shoulders good-naturedly, Gripper said, “I had a new snide come in. Good stuff. Stolen from only the best houses. Got a good price on the market for the whole kit. And the tickets, I found them in a dandy’s office in one of the houses I rolled. I mean, I knew yer birthday was coming up, and we’d all wanted to go. So I thought, hey, why not? I couldn’t resist nabbing them on the way out.” He chortled.

I stopped. We were almost up at the bally’s stand, and I turned looking at my friend, my mouth hanging open. “You stole them?”

Bae had started walking beside the pedal walker, pushing it slowly as beads of sweat covered his forehead. “Ssssh. Hey, cut it, guys! Don’t want that freaky bot coming back, yer guys. Keep it down.”

Ignoring Bae, I said, “I can’t believe you did that. You’re such an arse.”

Gripper’s gray eyes flashed. “What are yer, my mother? I was tryin’ to do sumthin’ nice for yer.” He stopped and looked at me with a hard stare. Normally easy-going, when riled, he could be as deadly as a rattlesnake.

But I didn’t back down. “You know there might be some kids missing out! This show only comes through once in a moon. Just I feel bad, that’s all.”

My friend frowned and shrugged, apparently not seeing the point of fighting over the issue. He started walking ahead, his hands in his back pocket with an effortless slouch, while Bae and I caught up. We’d joined the crowd at the bally’s stand, where an older man dressed in trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt, and pinstriped vest stood on the platform. His top hat rode low, almost to his eyes. He walked to the microphone.

I heard Gripper quietly say, “Take a look at the ticket. They weren’t for no kids.”

I glanced over at him as he stared straight ahead with a ghost of a smile on his lips. I reached in my back pocket, pulling out the ticket Gripper had slapped into my hands when arriving at my house earlier in the day. It looked worn and creased at the edges, but still said clearly: Good for One Admittance to The Greatest Show Side-Show and Carnival. A Special Invite: Twilight Midway Feature of Dymphna’s Dance.

I paused and re-read the ticket. It couldn’t be! I’d heard about the Greatest Show every since I was a kid, tales of exotic animals and the newest steam invention exhibition. My Grandfather also told stories of a beautiful girl’s dance. I’d heard other stories as well—darker ones, when spying on my brother. He and his friends blathered on trying to one-up each other with anecdotes about the girl who danced with monsters.

Fear and excitement coursed through my body at what lay behind the tent door. Best birthday gift ever. The thought flickered through my mind while I pushed away the guilt of how we’d gotten the tickets.

The bally started his pitch as I leaned over and whispered, “No, definitely not for kids.”

We laughed, and as I shoved it back into my pocket, I looked over to where the clown bot stood holding a bunch of balloons. It handed one to any small child brave enough to come near. I’m not sure what caught its attention, but without warning, it glanced up and pinned us to the spot with its black glare.

“It’s watching us. No, it’s watching me,” Bae said in a low voice, sounding nervous. But just as quickly, he laughed as if everything was normal, although he eyed the robot across the lane.

I started to protest and to tell my friend just to forget the bot, except, when I turned my head, I saw it glaring at us while letting go of its bundle of balloons. It lifted its arm, pointed in our direction, and smiled, showing rows of sharpened steel teeth.


Michelle Cornwell Jordan Author Picture

Michelle Cornwell-Jordan is a New Adult/Young Adult Author, who enjoys writing Paranormal, Dystopian and Dark Fiction. She is also the producer (and one of the Hosts) for the online radio segment IndieReview Behind The Scenes Internet Radio.

New Contract

Good evening from the UK.

It’s been a long time since I updated last. In truth there hasn’t been much to say. I’ve been working hard at the day job in a different department to cover someone’s trip out of the UK. This week I’m back at my normal job. 19 hours instead of 22 and I’ve also got a freelancer job which ends on Wednesday.

But back to the point, the contract. A call out went out from Steamwork Inks, the publisher who released Heartless. They were looking for stories for their popular Cogs anthology. I have to admit it hasn’t been easy to get my muse in gear. I write under two names and my alter-ego has a lot more stories out but that’s a different story for a different time.

The Escape is a prequel story to Heartless. You don’t have to read either of the stories  first as both work on their own.

Sneak Peek at the Prologue for Moon


Nobody would describe me as the perfect daughter. Good girls didn’t get thrown out of three perfectly good schools. I freed the school hamster in one. Got into a fight with a boy in the second. Accidently blew up the science department in my last. That one had been a complete accident. I poured the chemicals from vial one into vial two and boom. My father had me out of that school so quick my head spun. One minute I’d been in the headmaster’s office. The next I was in a car and on my way to Scotland.

Six or so hours later I was in my new school. Well I say school, more like nunnery. My things ended up Mother Superiors office. I got an itchy uniform and a stern talking to. Everything happened so fast that I got the distinct impression this had been my father’s plan for a while.

Dear old dad. He certainly liked to think three moves ahead.

I never considered myself to be a very social person. So being surrounded by nuns and other girls as odd as me isn’t that much of a hardship. I kept myself to myself. They leave me alone. It didn’t stop them from trying to figure me out. I’ve heard the rumors. The theories about why I got escorted to the nunnery by a man in an army uniform. No one got transferred to St. Mary’s School for Wayward Souls in the middle of the year for being a good girl.

A part of me actually liked the theories they came up with. A thief. A delinquent. The daughter of someone important being spirited away because she embarrassed her family. I was all three to one extent or another. I could have just told them. It wasn’t some big secret. The black sheep of the family. The one who went off the rails when her brother disappeared.

That’s me.

Dad hadn’t mentioned how long I’d be a resident in a place so remote it didn’t have an internet connection. I knew that if he had his way, I’d have grey hair before I saw any signs of civilization. He packed me a few books but my collection was in the office. The place had one book but I wasn’t planning on reading it. I kept lots of things hidden away between the sheets. Things I’d probably need at some point. I was just lucky that dad packed them. Not that he knew what was in them but still it could have been worse.

I had ways and means to get out.

I might not have been very forward about myself but I’d picked up some information about the girls. A lesson handed down by dad. All ways be aware of your surroundings. The blonde, Alison, was a makeup artist. She’d brought her things with her but like my stuff Mother Superior took them. The tall brunette with a nose like a pig had a drug problem. The little redhead had a case of the light fingers. I’d actually watched her in action. Her technique was good and she used distraction. I could still show her a thing or two. Not that I planned too. I’d serve my time and leave at the end of term. My parents couldn’t keep me here forever.

I fidgeted on the sofa as my skirt rubbed against my legs. The heavy fabric made my legs itch. The white blouse with its rounded collar wasn’t much better. The only redeeming part of it was the socks. Knee-high with blue and white stripes. If the nuns found out I liked the socks they’d probably take them away from me. God forbid that I found anything fun or interesting in this place.

I curled up on the sofa. My arm on the armrest, my hand rested underneath my chin. The volume on the television was just loud enough for me to hear it. The reporter wore too much lip gloss for me to take her seriously.

“The people behind me are taking part in a monthly event. An emotional plea for runaways to get in contact with their parents. This month the number of people reported missing has double. People are worried and demanding answers. The police are also talking about enforcing a curfew and a city wide search for the missing children, all between the ages of sixteen and eighteen.”

“Rachel, can you turn that down? You might have finished the Math’s assignment, but we haven’t.” The voice pulled my attention away from the report. A girl, Daisy, with dark hair cut into a bob glared at me from the desk. She broke the stare first. I’m about to reach for the remote to turn it off when I stop. A man has just stepped into view of the camera.

For a second I couldn’t breathe. I leaned forward to get a better look at him. Tall, dark hair and little rough around the edges. Startling blue eyes stared at me through the screen.


Good Morning World

It’s Wednesday in the UK…yeah that probably means a lot of different things for different people. It’s Hump Day. The weekend is one day closer. My son is at school. My partner is at work. I’ve spent the morning filling out the blasted w-7 form, a joy for all writers who write for a US publisher. After that I have to get into my work uniform and head off to the day job.

This will be the third time I’ve applied for my ITIN number. I’m really hoping that third time is the charm. It’s really put me off from writing since all of my publishers are based in the US and I was having such a hard time with it.

Today I found a website. A step by step guide by a fellow writer.  D.G Torren. Here’s the link When it comes to forms I’m very much a visual person. I need to be able to see what someone else has done for it to sink in.

Now all I have to do is figure out what’s wrong with the printer and then send this all off.

Wish me luck?