The journeys of Snappy Turtle. – A Children’s Story.

Crackle. My head feels the heat as my shell falls apart. I push my flippers to the sky, my little body breaking free. I lay on my stomach and go ‘tap tap tap’ across the gritty sand. ‘Tap tap tap’ the sound echoes among the beach. My tiny friends and siblings rush across to the foaming sea. Many hands reach down, trying to scoop us up by the dozen. Blocking the glorious sunshine, some become lost in their way. My tiny friends and siblings start to vanish as the darkness grows. ‘Splash!’ flippers kick up and down as I make my dive into the waters, thankfully escaping such hands.

“How warm the water is!” I feel the current swishing with me. “I can see!” I open my eyes in the water, surprised there is no stinging feeling. I paddle with my flippers as fast as I possibly could, now becoming fearful of what lies within the ocean. Green moss and black seaweed hold their arms out, waving in peace. The tide overpowers my delicate flippers – I lose control.

* * *


‘Swish… Swish…’ I wake up on a smooth, black rock. The sounds of a close tide kiss my ears. I wiggle my sleepy flippers, then take a good look around the area. Green Palm trees sway happily back and forth, some leaves falling from the much taller, more green trees. ‘Swish… Swish…’ The sounds of the trees and the sea mix together, like the foam and the sand. I slide down onto the cooling surface, the foam tickles my flippers. “What a lovely place the tide took me to!” In joy, I swim about, dipping my head down in the shallow waters. Coral and seahorses where in my view.

Although I was happy, I missed home. The home where mother lay her eggs and father supported her. I saw a friendly looking seahorse and asked him of my were-about. The Black seahorse, Dash, told me I was in The Seas of Taiwan. I asked him if that was in the north of Japan. He called me silly, then explained that Taiwan was close to the Land of Dragons. Dash said that there are mighty, big, red dragons that swoop along the streets, then fly high into the sky at the darkest point of night, to go back home. (That made Snappy remember his family and just how much he missed them. Usually, Turtles part from their mothers and fathers before birth, but stick with their siblings. Turtles don’t just have one, two or maybe three siblings like you may do. Turtles have about 50-110 siblings. Snappy has 82).

Dash could see in my poor, little eyes that I wanted to be with my siblings. He offered me to come travel around Taiwan with his family, but it didn’t feel the same. His siblings all spoke an odd language that I couldn’t understand, so that didn’t help. Dash told me it was Taiwanese. On our journey through the ocean, I lost my control once again. Dash and his siblings tried to help, but it was all no good.

A sharp, stinging feeling ran up my left flipper. I fully opened my eyes to see a nurse, a turtle at my aid. She wore a little nurses outfit along with a smile as she bandaged my flipper. She said hello and smiled even brighter when she saw I was awake. She asked where I was from and how I ended up here. After telling her my story and how I ever so wanted to see my siblings, she whispered into my ear: Make your way to Thailand once you are well.



I do not usually write children’s stories. I wrote this after I had two night terrors the same day. My farther and I started talking about turtles as a way to ease me back to sleep. My father came up with the name Snappy. He also was the one whom birthed the idea of Snappy going on journeys, and being from Japan. In the morning, a few days later, we looked up sea currents and the Pacific ocean water current, as I wanted Snappy to end his journeys in Spain. To me, Snappy takes a siesta in Spain was a brilliant idea for the finishing story. Maybe he goes to Portugal, too.

Sweet Dreams.

RoyalBluue©. A.b.R.©


Infinity dreams award.


Awards on WordPress are something I only became aware of a few days ago. They seemed cool and fun to be apart of – but never did I think I’d be doing this so quickly!
Firstly, I must say a thank you, to mikiren for nominating me! It’s the first time I’ve been nominated for anything here, so it is a big thank you you’re receiving. Secondly, the name of this award is ever so lovely. [What odds, that I have only just awoken from a nap, huh?] The name makes it feel that little more special.

I’ve had many dreams; some stay and others go. A bit like people. As this award is about sharing your dreams and what you wish of life, It’s my turn to share. I hope you enjoy!

Dream No.1: Go to Jannah!  If you’re a Muslim and this isn’t your dream, I’m worried! Going to Jannah would be beyond amazing. Knowing I lived my life how God sees fit? That my good deeds overpowered the bad? Oh yes, yes, yes! It’s a dream anyone would have. To be in Jannah and meet Mohammad and Adam and Jesus… [Peace Be Upon Them] it’d be the best thing ever. To stand in front of my Lord and for him to tell me I did good… What more could I need in the next life?

Dream No.2: Be as close to God as possible.  A dream that I do ever so hope becomes a reality. Even if the dreams and wishes below don’t come true, I’ll still be very pleased with my Lord. I wish to be seen as a great Muslim in the eyes of God, as his view on me is what counts. [Something as a side to this: to be able to pray on time!]

Dream No.3: Live in [Lisbon] Portugal.  Still I am unaware of what drags my mind to Portugal. Maybe its the nice Portuguese men [Keeping it Halaal] …or the language. I would like to learn Portuguese, as at the moment I know only little scraps. I can say small sentences like Eu sou uma menina… Eu veste um camisa… But that really is not enough. I’d love to have a little apartment with a good view and be there with my future husband. [Oh, how cringe worthy this is already.]

Dream No.4: Become a published writer.  Improving my writing skills will get me here, I believe. I’d love to have a series of Children’s Books, and to have a book~collection of poetry. I wouldn’t want to be worldly known, nothing like that, but make enough money out of the works, and to know my Children’s books are making some child sleep better at night.

Dream No.5: Meet my Mother.  This last one is a bit of a personal one. It’s something I’ve been putting off for too long, so I do think it is something that is in need of doing. Meeting the woman whom birthed me, having a long conversation with her and telling her all about my life’s journey. My curiosity would love to know what she’s been up to as well. I feel like now that it’s out there on the internet, and will be read by others, I am more likely to do so. What’s the point of having a blog if you never get a little personal, anyway?

I nominate Kim881 and The Drunken Jukebox. I do like their writings. Going onto WordPress and seeing lovely poems is all calming, so make sure to check them out. Thank you for reading!

⬜️Another World⬜️

A world that is different from my own. A world where it’s dark when seen with my eyes, a world where nothing has to make sense. I stand in shallow waters, ripples form around my legs. The ripples stay young, although I stay still. It seems as if nothing lies ahead of me, yet everything to come will change me.

Water drips as I stand onto the platform. A white, slim, glowing platform. Only heading in one direction, I continue walking forwards. The sound of bells ring as ripples are formed by a nothingness in the water. The water that surrounded all. As I come to the end of the path, a beam of light hits me. A round room is formed. Walls pale, glass thin, a girl sits on the mirror like floor. Her white hair kissed the ground, eyes lost in the reflection. See looks up to see my brown, dark eyes, and in shock, she peers through. Her silver eyes scream – they scream as they pull me in. The rooms distorts and breaks, causing my body to plummet. I fall softy onto a mirror. A mirror so intriguing, I place my hand upon. Sinking through, I feel new, I feel lost from my inner self. The world around me, becomes unknown, the world around me, becomes a dream. I breathe in the water. The water that drags me deeper.
I breathe. I breathe in a perfume of musk, followed by the smell of roses. I see the path in front  of me. A garden of white roses bust from out the water. I step upon the path, which crackles at my welcoming. I walk ever so slow, the sounds of the path failing for a life time means nothing to my ears. I walk to find… the girl.

She jumps and leaps, with a bit of a weep, and raps her arms around me. A kiss on the left, a kiss on the right, my cheeks become like fairy dust. She takes my arm. She takes my arm and places my hand upon the mirrors of floors. The mirrors flip, whilst she smiles, her laughter of insanity numbing my soul. As she sits on top, it seems, I have become…

Her reflection. My hair grows at the speed of sound, becoming whiter than snow. My eyes, O my eyes, become of a red – like hells fire. I have became a reflection. A meaningless thing of this world, a reflection to be seen by none. I look down to see… My world.



RoyalBluue©. A.b.R.©


I stand upon the starting point of a pathway. A yellow stoned pathway, big enough for one. Walking along, the idea of looking back never hits me. Trees greener than ever seen before, to the left and the right of my sight. I carry on, heading up this pathway. Children play in harmony, running in and out of the gardens. As the path leads upwards, I see, what I was destined to witness. A girl, like me, stood with little expression. As I come closer and closer, I see the reality. We raise our hands, and touch… a paper thin barrier. Your words, so priceless… I hear all but none. 

The place 

We where in, I guess only God knows.

The words

You spoke, I guess only God knows.

As real as it seems

As much as I didn’t want to leave

I guess, only God knows.


RoyalBluue©. A.b.R.©


Nothingness is a common feeling. An emptiness inside, seeking a fulling. The days and nights pass, all like nothing ever happened. Time is worthless, days are worthless. It all means nothing to me, yet it’s all I am – nothingness. Clocks swish past, striking midnight before I can gain a feeling of realization. Then, the  cycle repeats. An emptiness that kills all motivation once lived. The feeling that life is all but a lie, something false within our minds. Disconnection sinks lower. Feeding from the inside, it becomes apart of me. Awaking in the night, never sleeping during the day. All inside the mind, it drags me through this play. The world is just like a mirror. Reflecting my thoughts, seeping into the bottomless pit.

The unbreakable mirror of dreams is all we are in.

The unbreakable mirror

that we’re all trapped inside.


RoyalBluue©. A.b.R.©

Postcard of China.

Fireflies tingled in my feet (;;) drifting me away. (;:;) up into the sky, (;;) O how the stars shine bright. (;:;) floating by the moonlight, (;;) feeling the air glide through my mind. (;:;) Stopping by a well known place, (;;) I take rest, (;:;) under your shade of protection. (;:;) If only everyday (;;) could be (;;) like this. (;:;) The postcard I keep (;;) in my chest (;;) a secret admirer my heart may be. (;:;) Longing for your Postcard, (;;) the postcard I will never see. (;:;) The postcard from China (;;) the postcard you’ll never send. (;;) The postcard from China, (;;) the one you’ll never write. (;:;) I long for your postcard, (;;) O the postcard (;;) that I will forever be awaiting. (;:;) The blood splattered postcard from China (;;) my heart forever keeps.

RoyalBluue©. A.b.R.©

⭐️☕️The Morning Coffee Of August.☕️⭐️

⭐️☕️The morning coffee of August.☕️⭐️

  Rain taps the roof tops, and bounces off the cars. (;;) Grey sky and clouds alike, the rain drips down to the floors. (;:;) stirring my newly made brew, the smoke hits the roof. Dimmed views of life, a grey covers all. (;:;) little greenery sneaks into the room, the heat rising despite such showers.

The morning coffee of August, became my favorite thing.

Rags rip and tear, coated caramel from the mud. (;;) Rags rip and tear, the same for families here. Many beautiful flowers, sold on a market (;;) flowers in bloom, and flowers still as bulbs. Many flowers sold on a market (;;) “where did baby Isha go?” 

The morning coffee of August, became my comfort zone.

Grass swishing past my feet, if only the air smelt as free as I did. (;;) running through the rain, my means of a bath most days. (;;) Drifting by, Little do I notice, the troubles that lay behind. (;:;) a shout and a scream, it seems, a flower has came to wither. (;:;) a shout and a scream, the next flower (;;) is me.

The morning coffee of August, became my forgotten past.

A foreign life, I had never known the truth to. A foreign life, I came accustom to. (;;) lined up flowers, new and withering (;;) stand and seek /(;;)// a saver. (;;) Brought one buy one, every flower, will soon meet it’s end. (;:;) Bulbs glowing bright in excitement (;;) “A new home! A new home!” (;:;) all but little (;;) do they know.

The morning coffee of August, became my only memory. 


Parts not used:

The heat of work, my friend collapses, (;;) “Just keep working, time is money!”

Many flowers sold on a market, many unaware of how flowers spoil (;;) when out of the mud.
Boys selling sugar, the type that dad likes. Boys selling sugar and medicine, I hope it makes daddy better. 
/(;;)// brothers face becomes a memory, brothers fate becomes a tale. (;:;) 

The morning coffee of August, just isn’t the same.

RoyalBluue©. A.b.R.©