Lilly.VB

United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland

Hi! I'm Lilly and I love writing and talking to people about their or my work! I also like pancakes, rain and reading :) Any feedback is always appreciative on any of my work, I think my writing style varies quite a bit but I hope you enjoy it!

Message from Writer

To answer a common question I get my inspiration from observation of myself, other people and usually day dreaming :)

Published Work

Writing for Children Competition 2020

A Penguin Poem

Tom and Tony were penguin brothers
Closer than any penguin other
They were getting excited for the festive season
For a very good reason
 
They got the best gifts every single year
Their parents worked hard to spread Christmas cheer
All the presents would be shiny and new
Wrapped up nicely inside their igloo
 
But this year, not long before Christmas day
Tom turned to Tony to say
“We should get something special for mum and dad!”
“Yes!” Tony said and thought harder than he ever had

Tom gasped "What about those shells that shimmer?"
"They're down deep, but we're good enough swimmers!"
Tony sighed, "Tom you don't have your waterproof feathers"
Tom huffed "Well, we should definitely get the gift together"

But every gift they thought of, just wasn’t right
The two penguin brothers stayed up for most of the night
Until finally Tony realised and gave a shout
“I know just the person to help us...

A Penguin Poem

Tom and Tony were penguin brothers
Closer than any penguin other
They were getting excited for the festive season
For a very good reason
 
They got the best gifts every single year
Their parents worked hard to spread Christmas cheer
All the presents would be shiny and new
Wrapped up nicely inside their igloo
 
But this year, not long before Christmas day
Tom turned to Tony to say
“We should get something special for mum and dad!”
“Yes!” Tony said and thought harder than he ever had
 
However, every gift they thought of, just wasn’t right
The two penguin brothers stayed up all night
Until finally Tony realised and gave a shout
“I know just the person to help us out!”
 
“That man at the North pole, he’ll know!”
Tom nodded happily and they decided to go
So, the brothers marched in the cold wind
They waddled out with heads down, very determined
 
The brothers...

Think

Think.
 
Rack your brains and think. You’re in the situation that requires your brain to be at its fastest. But you start to question what you’re even trying to think about. Confused cut-up thoughts wrongly present themselves to be barely considered before collapsing and failing. All you’re trying to do is focus. Focus. Focus. Focus on what? Now you’re focusing on focusing which is the opposite of what you need to focus on.
 
Think.
 
Your breathing is hitched with your heart inexplicably beating it’s fastest. You can feel the blood surging in your veins, making your hands tremble involuntarily. You hold them down yet the tremble simply travels; travels to your arm forcing your whole shoulder to shudder without will. On top of this you feel your hands tremble, they’re getting clammy. Not sweaty, they’re not giving off visible moisture, but just that feeling of warmth and they stick to everything around you.
 
Think.
 
You’re...

Open Prompt

Office Man

I entered the office. I sat down at my chair, hearing it squeak just the same as it always did. Surrounding me were the shelves, stacked with folders and files. I dumped my satchel, in the same spot, slurped from my coffee, from the same mug and checked the time, from the same clock. I reached the for the first folder with a thick wad of paper wedged inside and began.

Signing, checking, reading, editing.

I kept with the mind numbing task; fill out the form, check and edit, sign the bottom, sip coffee. Repeat, repeat, repeat. My focus drifted and a haze floated over my brain, my surroundings started to ripple. I shook my head and gripped my pen as I started to be pulled away. I stared at the dotted line just willing myself to put pen to paper. But even as I stared I could feel it happening, I could feel my will give way. 

I closed...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

A Spoken Word

Its hard to say a spoken word
When often they are not heard
Often to action we are spurred
Screeching, screaming
Words seem absurd 
But what do we learn?
From destruction and death
From medal earning
For taking life through spurning and hurting

Only that we can.

That we can kill
That we can cause famine and ill
Till bodies lie still

Words can hurt too, don't get me wrong
But they can motivate, create, breed hope from hate
Before it's too late
Before we've forced ourselves into a dystopian state
A better world we'll make
Before our hearts ache
For those who were victimized and traumatized 
And the deaths that get generalized 
The innocent who get despised and chastised
And the cruelty that gets disguised. 

So maybe its better to have a spoken word
But one that get's heard
Allows opinions more than actions
Less rash reactions

Then we can protect
Take action that is measured and correct
All...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2017

A Spoken Word

Its hard to say a spoken word
When often they are not heard
Often to action we are spurred
Screeching, screaming
Words seem absurd 
But what do we learn?
From destruction and death
From medals to earn
For taking life through spurn and hurt

Only that we can.

That we can kill
That we can cause famine and ill
Till bodies lie still

Words can hurt too, don't get me wrong
But they can motivate, create, breed hope from hate
Before it's too late
Before we've forced us into a dystopian state
A better world we'll make
Before our hearts ache
For those who were victimized and traumatized 
And the deaths that get generalized 
The innocent who get despised and chastised
And the cruelty that gets disguised. 

So maybe its better to have a spoken word
But one that get's heard
Allows opinions more than actions
Less rash reactions

Then we can protect
Take action that is measured and correct ...

Open Prompt

Office Man

I entered the office. I sat down at my chair, hearing it squeak just the same as it always did. Surrounding me were the shelves, stacked with folders and files. I dumped my satchel, in the same spot, slurped from my coffee, from the same mug and checked the time, from the same clock. I reached the for the first folder with a thick wad of paper wedged inside and began.

Signing, checking boxes, reading, editing.

I kept with the mind numbing task; fill out the form, check and edit, sign the bottom, sip coffee. Repeat, repeat, repeat. My focus drifted and a haze floated over my brain, my surroundings started to ripple. I shook my head and gripped my pen as I started to be pulled away. I stared at the dotted line just willing myself to put pen to paper. But even as I stared I could feel it happening, I could feel my will give way. 

I...

My December Competition 2016

My December

So it's December, we're at that funny point of the year when you realise there isn't much of it left; good or bad you're oddly astounded by the pace of how fleetingly fast it's gone. You recall and remember everything this year held, and wonder what on earth could the next year have in store? Personally, I start to attempt to savour this year's flavour, which I never manage. Sometimes I sit back in December and notice how I could just stay here and let time wash over me instead of pushing it further back. I revel in old photos and wish to remain in those faded times. Yet the continuation of time carries on, as it does constantly. Then I'm finally pushed into the New Year whether I want it or not..... and as I experience it, I take new photos and so the cycle begins again.

Here is, my December.   

My December means I leave for school with...

Unnamed

Purple

The pale colour of the sky entwined with pink as the sun sinks down in its last hours. The fragrant smells of lavender as you wonder through a field. The wild blackberries plucked from bushes, sweet and tangy. The whisper of the wind through the trees and your hair. The colour that brings you back to your childhood, running freely without a care. The deep colour of blood when you’re not careful of brambles. For when you mysteriously find yourself awe of the nature around you. The colours of your creative ideas blooming as the wildflowers do. The colour of your dignity when you can go outside on your own. When you have independence and wisdom. But it darkens as you find frustration. It’s not the colour when you find responsibilities. Not when you have to go running back home.

Speech Writing Competition 2016

Light and Dark

There's so much dark in the world.  

Suicide rates, war, murder...I won't continue because I don't need to, it's not like anyone is blind or deaf to the darkness that plagues the human existence. I mean, we can't ignore it, it's so important to be knowledgeable and be aware of the dark issues in the world. 

But what about the light?

I feel like we are always so engrossed in the negative points of life we almost shut out the positive. For example in 2015 Cancer Research UK raised £635 million and over 40,000 volunteers gave up their time. Every year millions of pounds are collected by millions of individuals together to fight this disease. 

Also did you know that now ten different species of animals have been saved from the brink of extinction? All we see are endangered leopards and melting ice caps. But if you look it up, the grey whale, African Savannah elephant and tigers in...

Just a rant

Someone asked me recently, 'what's your biggest regret'? Despite the open question I came to an answer quite quickly. it's based off a personal experience but for this purpose I'll put it into broad terms. I let someone who's opinion was very important to me see a couple pieces of my writing, their response was overwhelmingly positive and that was a great memory. Every now and again I'd get their opinion and it was always nice as they were so supportive. A little later on I found out certain circumstances made it so that person was no longer going to directly be in my life. I was a little sad at this but realized I could stay in contact by giving them my email address. The person seemed very happy and sadly left soon after. I didn't have their email so i had to wait for them to email me. So I waited, and waited and waited. That was four...

Anxiety

It's 3am
She's up again
Thoughts whirling
Stomach swirling

Cold glasses of water
Staring to deter
The brooding dark
Making it's mark

Curled up in tissues and tears
As the dark jeers
Glowing screen, stinging eyes
Sick of seeing no replies

Pure exhaustion saves her
Stops the stomach stir
But the dark laughs in spite
It'll be back, tomorrow night

Enumeration

Five things my friend Alex has said

-"Do you think it'll hurt if I hit my head with this book?"
She then did and did hurt herself as well as take off some of her foundation, which was left on the book...she was not pleased. Me and my other friend, however, found it hilarious.

-"Start world domination with me??"
I responded: "Sure"

-"DUDE I'VE GOT A FOLDER, ITS GOT RINGS AND EVERYTHING"
This was later followed by "I've never had a folder before".

-"I feel like my hearts been ripped from my chest and thrown on the ground then tore to pieces by dragons"
This was her response to the season finale of 'Supernatural'

-"You should write about me"
...
 

History Alive

Doctor Hippocrates'

I’m the main healing man
Father of medicine, I’m grand
Accomplished much in my life span
Can heal you doin’ a headstand
 
I said human liquids are linked to seasons
No one else had natural reasons
They believed in charms ad chant
Proved them all wrong #bants
 
So let me set the settin’
I heal by purge and blood lettin’
See you humours are out
They all gotta be the same amount
 
I hear you ask ‘what are these humours’?
Let me put to rest the supernatural rumours
Its black bile, yellow bile, blood and phlegm
Surgery is a last resort I condemn
 
Even now doctors take my oath
In my books historian engrossed
No can step to me
The mighty DR HIPPOCRATES

Flash Fiction Competition 2016

Morning at Holly's House

"Holly!"

Holly groaned from her morning position on the sofa and reluctantly paused the TV.

"Yes Mum?" she yelled, eager to get the conversation over.

"Can you upstairs and talk to me please?"

The worst answer in Holly's perspective. It meant her Mum decided she'd watched too much TV. Holly sighed switching the TV off. 

She lightly ran up the stairs to just outside her Mum's bedroom, she stepped in to the room and froze. 

Her Mum was sat on her bed calming staring at Holly. Next to her was a figure holding a gun to her Mother's head. 
 

Mysteries Abound

What We Don't Know

Actually this isn't so much what 'we' don't know. More what I don't know.

-What I'm going to pick for my A levels
-What university I'm going to go to
-Where that copy of 'Lord of the Rings' went
-Why my bedroom is always a mess
-Why I get anxiety
-How to help my depressed friend
-Where the pair to that sock went
-What I want for my birthday
-What film we should watch
-If I'm going to pass all my exams next year
-How I am affording to waste my time writing this list instead of working to solve these mysteries

One thing I do know

-It's good to not be a know-it-all
 

Enumeration

Five things my friend Alex has said

1) Take a walk-Depending on your lifestyle and area you live in, the amount of walking can differ. If you don't walk much then consider taking your normal route that would be on a bus, car or train by foot. You'll often find different shops and streets you miss from day to day. Or if you have a pet and do often take walks, research some new places to takes walks and have adventures. Often this is refreshing from the dull paths you're used to taking.

2) Research your area-Think about this like you're a tourist finding fun things to do whilst staying somewhere new. You might find that there is fun fair or circus you never knew about! Read up on the history of your town too, you could find out how it became the place you know it to be. This should change your perspective of your hometown and therefore create a new understanding!

3) Try a new...

Collected Wisdom

Music

Pretty much everyone has a music taste. Even if you don't listen to music that much chances are you still hear music on the radio, in films and on TV. One the methods for getting started with a piece of writing that I use, is to use music. 

Find a song you feel strongly about, those feelings can be positive or negative (although you may have to listen to it a couple times so maybe pick a song you like!) Then after maybe a few listens of the song....start writing!

You can listen to the lyrics properly and create a story around what you think they mean or any characters mentioned. Or you can just write about the vibe you get off the song. And it doesn't have to be one song either, you could listen to a full album or a couple songs and fit them together. Once you've finished a draft you can build on the characters and...

Open Prompt

Office Man

The rain was pouring, soaking in to the freshly dug up earth. Judy stood in a long black coat, her tears falling in time with the rain. 

 Staring at the headstone she quietly started singing "Baby, come home" 

Rain drops fall off her open coat and tears off her pale face. Then as she finishes her song she starts to remember back in September when the city was silent on a night like this. He was in his car, trying to find peace of mind.White highway lines zipped past as the ringing in his ears increased swallowing up his whole mind. Now they were here, she started her song again pleading for him to come home.

Her love for him was strong despite the fact she had questioned his love for her. She bitterly remembered thinking she was only with him so he wasn't alone. Sometimes she had wondered if even he knew if he loved her, now she just wanted...

Monologue

Inside a Psycho's Mind

It all started with my Grandma dying. I know… morbid right? But as I was surrounded by my family crying and sniffing at her funeral…I realised I wasn’t. I ignored it and just carried on in my boring lifestyle as an accountant. Then I read a book, ‘In Cold Blood’, I loved it. I read it over four times in a row re-reading the gruesome details of the murders.
 
So I picked up more and more books similar to that filled with killing and blood. I started to become more aggressive when a book wasn’t bloody enough.
 
I started drinking, first once a week, then weekends, then Fridays and weekends until every night I’d come home to rely on alcohol just to keep my mind steady. Then it was before work to get me warmed up and awake.
 
One day my boss called me in. I knew he was going to fire me, or ring the police,...

A Messy Mind

So I'm a writer. My mum this morning took one look at my 'working space' and said "This place is a tip, don't you want to be working in a professional, clean space?"

Now fair enough, yes it is a tip, however that is how I work. I roll in to my chair and slump down low. I sift through papers and books strewn across the desk before slinging my headphones either round my neck or on my head.I pull on a hoodie left there from last night and begin writing. I actually like having my mess surround me, my leftover kitkat wrappers and dietcoke cans inspire me. Don't believe me? What do you think brought me on to write this piece? 


A big blank surface would leave my mind in the same, just because it's clean doesn't mean its good. A messy desk is a messy mind but a creative one at that.

Unexpected

It was raining.

A girl rushed up her front garden path to the house. A looming house on the corner of a busy road, the windows were dark and spotted with raindrops. Colourful plants lined the path but they were being drowned as the rain built up slowly in thick mud and soil. 

The girl was soaked, her hopeless umbrella whisked away in the wind and her smart school uniform now dripping. Her cheeks were red as she peeled a piece of wet hair stuck to her face. She clung on to her dark blue and white backpack that was slung on to one shoulder as she fished out her key and jammed it into the lock of the front door. She checked the time and cursed slamming the door behind her and pelted up stairs. She passed one floor and went up one more staircase to a landing with two bedrooms and an office.

Not bothering to even go...

Imagine This

Imagine This

Imagine this.
A young boy born in Medan, Indonesia.
His Mother dies when he is just five years old.
His father moves him to Holland and he grows to become a engineering student at Delft University.
At just seventeen years old he is taken by the Germans to design planes for the Nazis.
During a bombing raid he escapes and gets a train back to Holland. 
His Father is told there are no survivors. 
He hides in a basement of a  church terrified to be caught again.
He meets a girl who brings him food everyday, they fall in love.
Once the war is over the boy walks back to his home town to tell his Father he's alive.
He then treks back to the girl's town and they get married, they have many children and grandchildren. 
The youngest of those grandchildren writes their story.
Imagine that.

Anger is a short man

Anger is a short man, with a red suit and tie
Piggy eyes, a short tempered guy
 
Confusion is an old man who makes every light go dim
Bewildered, staring at everything around him
 
Happiness is a small girl with big eyes
They are as blue as the sky where she flies
 
Jealousy is an old woman haggard and hunched
A guilty dress that is creased and bunched
 
Excitement is a young boy with white hair and clothes
Never stops running, never slows
 
Sadness is a girl in a frayed black dress
Sat in the corner, trapped in a whirlwind of distress
 
Fear has a black robe and milk coloured skin
It stays silent slowly drifting, fingers sharp as pins
 
No matter, where you are, how you are one is in control
Throughout you life as a whole
 
And no matter what you do they are always there
But emotions are nothing...

The New Man

Night had settled on the small seaside town, a ghostly moon watched over as wispy clouds trailed by the navy cloak of the sky. Lights were glowing through windows from cosy houses and cottages. The constant calls of seagulls had been silenced as the birds nestled, folding their wings and bowing their heads. And the creaking forest swayed in the gentle wind posing no threat to the town.
 
The shallow wash of the ocean breathed in the night, blowing its salty spray softly. The dark waters pushed upwards as arms of water reached up the wet sand only to be pulled back again.
 
Across the waters, up the hill, the lighthouse stood proudly spinning the yellow light across the horizon. Long beams of light danced further out to sea, they glided off the peaceful ships bobbing in the harbour left by sleepy sea men.
 
Through the forest and up the grassy hill it had sat for years....

Day 90

Red. White. Black.
 
My mind was blank.
 
I awoke with a start. I was lying on cool grass outside. Instantly I was on my feet, aching with invisible cuts and bruises. I could smell fresh soil and feel the dampness of the morning dew that had soaked my shirt.
My shirt.
It was a white t-shirt, ripped in places and flecked with red. I also wore black jeans ripped at the bottom also flecked with red.
My shoes were dark blood-red trainers. I stared at them as a faint memory flickered in my mind but I couldn’t grasp it before a headache clenched my head. I groaned falling to my knees as my ears were ringing and the pain subsided. Breathing in the morning mist that gathered round me; I glanced round to see I was in a bare circular garden. A brick wall completely encased it. There was small gap lead by a brick path. This path...

Historical Fiction Competition 2016

A Life for a Life

I started running. My mind flashed back to my mom crying at the kitchen table as the rusty mail delivery van came, rumbling and coughing, up our dusty path. She damned Vietnam for killing innocent people of our country. She praised America for fighting the Vietnam force but then damned them for dragging her boy to fight. I remember looking into the mirror into my own icy blue eyes; trying to imagine myself as a soldier. It all seemed so far away and unlikely.
 
But there I was, nine weeks later.
 
I stumbled round another thick tree panting heavily; I leant against it wiping the blood that had splattered across my face. The image of half my general’s body ripped from his legs after being hit with a grenade, screaming and bleeding, was burning into my brain. All of us had scattered from that sight, desperate to get his cries for us to leave to stop ringing in...