Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns
Bio
"I was always an unusual girl
My mother told me that I had a chameleon soul
No moral compass pointing due north
No fixed personality...
...With a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom"
-Lana Del Ray
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Stories (47)
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Love Redefined
Fat Ugly, He’s too good for you. Tainted Troubled, He deserves something new. Sweetheart Stop! Redefine what’s true. Beautiful Sparkling, Listen to my words. Radiant Intelligent, Let my voice be heard. Kind Compassionate, Their opinions are absurd. Love Forever, In marriage we are bound. My Valentine, Eternity, we have found.
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns12 months ago in Poets
The Dragon. Content Warning.
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Though it flowed violently, it made no sound. Even the forest grew silent. The great oak trees, Kings and Queens of the wood as wild and untameable as the river and its Gods, made not so much as a whisper amongst themselves when the bitter autumn wind moved through their leaves, and swirled them in a whirlpool of nothingness to the forest floor. Howling winds had no purpose in our world that day. The unimaginable, grotesque silence terrified all. From the greatest warrior atop the glistening white rock hill where the palace shone like a beacon to those below, to the lowliest common child huddled in the gutter for warmth. Yet, it did not frighten me. For I had seen such things and known them once before. When my brother, the once King had disappeared, taken by a great terror sixteen years ago. Once, the Queen, my sister had been a great Warrior. Strong willed, defiant in her refusal to accept the place of meek and gentle woman that the society in which she was ensconced had demanded of her. She donned men’s clothing, cut her long jet black hair short and cropped it tight to her scalp. She lived as she was, not as they wished her to be. Men feared her and women respected her. By the time she vanished, there was little of that greatness left. There are things in our world, dearest reader, terrible things. Demons that can lead us astray with false promises and treachery. They roam through our minds to find our weakest points and they intertwine their smoke like lacy tendrils with our fears until they have control. Even the strongest of warriors can become their prey. For my Queen, these demons found their weakness in the form of the Dragons. The Dragons of my world are thick scaled, black like tar, and beautiful. Many seek these Dragons, not to kill them, but to chase them down, ensnare and conquer them. Each warrior who takes up the mantle of this chase believes that they will be the one to reign over the universe. For who could deny such an ultimate ruler? Who could deny one that conquered the dragons; the Hero imbued with such power would surely be undefeatable? These desires were never ones that I had shared. I did not understand the addiction to the chase, or the fire that seemed to rage in my sister's blood urging her towards what I could see was an inevitable and tragic end and yet, she could not stop. Her life as I saw it would be one wasted in armour, ready for a battle that she never had to begin, but chose to fight. I knew where she could be found when she did not return. Knew that she had caught the scent of a ferocious, scaled, winged beast and that this time, her great game may have come to its end. I searched for her as I had so many times before. In dank, dark caves filled with nothing but the horrors of this world and the soulless bodies of the victims Dragons had already claimed. On my journey I passed the place where I had once found what was left of the resigned, lifeless body of my brother, devoured by an entirely different beast, sent by entirely different Demons, but in a very similar fight. After three days, I came to the edge of my country, to the last and greatest Dragon’s lair. My sister's armour lay discarded outside the mouth of the cave. The sickeningly sweet smell of charred flesh permeated the air around me and I began to gag uncontrollably though nothing but bile would pass my lips. I tried to ground myself. To will my human spine into something made of silver steel instead of fragile white bone. When at last I could breathe normally again and the fear, the first I had felt in all of this, subsided, I began to run. This time as I made my way through the cave I kept my eyes staring straight ahead. I had had my fill of bodies and old ghosts. I ran until I found myself standing at last in the centre of a great cavern. Little fires burned bright in various places, illuminating the formidable soot black Dragon that lay sleeping, snoring softly, upon its hoard of mud brown gold. If I had not known it before, I knew it then. It had devoured her at last. Swallowed her whole and left nothing of the person my Queen once was behind. The Dragon had won, and now it slept, content in its victory. A grief I had not expected, tore through my body with such violence. I screamed; so loud that the dreadful silence ended, the river flowed forwards and the wind howled once more. My screaming woke the Dragon. His great head rising up from its resting place as two all consuming, obsidian eyes found mine and bore into my soul. I fell to my knees as screaming gave way to shattering sobs. She had come here to die. She had given up. Succumbed at last to her addiction. The Dragon did nothing for a time. Only looked at me with its unkind mouth almost turned up into a sneering smile. When at last I fell silent and the world around us had returned to its noise, the beast raised it's claw and with talons sharp as any sword, pushed a small amount of its hoard towards me. ‘Take it Princess. Take what I offer, and feel pain no more,’ a voice more horrible than ever I had heard spoke into the deepest recesses of my mind. ‘Take it and forget them.’ Slowly, I lifted what had been offered. For the first time I saw how easy it might be to think of nothing else and to want nothing else. I could leave everything else behind. ‘Long live the Queen!’ snarled the voice in my head as the Dragon lunged towards me. I threw it's offering to the side and rolled away, barely escaping fire, and snapping, ripping teeth. The beast retreated, expecting me to follow as I scrambled to my feet and for half a moment my treacherous body almost began the chase until my mind caught up. ‘No!’ I screamed, louder than I had even in grief. ‘You cannot have me! I give you nothing. You are nothing.’ The Dragon bowed its head. ‘This is not what they would have wanted for me. Their lives cannot be my life,’ I said. ‘Long live the Queen,’ it replied, except this time its voice was that of my siblings and all the horror was gone. I looked into the Dragons eyes one last time, before I turned my back on the beast. My spine at last as steel. I left that awful place forevermore, to begin my own reign. Refusing to let history repeat itself. Dedicated to my brother and sister; Who lost their battles with addiction and mental health sixteen years, 6 months and 4 days apart
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burnsabout a year ago in Fiction
The Grisly Game. Top Story - October 2024.
“There was only one rule: Don't open the door.” I listened to Justin give the usual spiel for what felt like the four hundredth time this Halloween season, for the third year in a row to guests who had paid for the privilege of being lied .A. ll while I stood behind the bar preparing ‘eyeball martinis’ and tried not to roll my own eyes out of my skull. The pub wasn't even really haunted. I would have known. Never mind the fact that the ghostly ghoul in question didn’t exist, it had always irritated me that he was fundamentally wrong about the rules. When dealing with the dementedly deceased, or demonically disastrous, there are four rules. 1. Never open the door 2. If you do, remember to turn on a light 3. 3 knocks mean danger 4. Never make bargains or deals When the dead have been hunting you all your life, you learn the rules quickly. Though never quickly enough. The tour ended. We locked up. I made the dark and depressing walk to the Traymore family home, arriving just before 3am as arranged. Lawrence my long suffering confidant was there already, preparing. I ascended the stone steps to the front door and as I raised my hand to ring the bell, 3 loud knocks reverberated through the wood of the door ‘Don't open the...’ I cried out too late. Mr Traymore swung the door open and I felt the pain rip through my body as the spirit of the demon pushed through me. I held back a scream and collapsed into the hallway as the heavy door slammed shut; pushed by hands only I could see. The game had begun. Would this be the night my luck finally ran out? Would this be the night I died?
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burnsabout a year ago in Horror
Crystallised
I can smell the snow hours before it breaks free from the clouds. I always know when it is going to snow. My mother said there was a touch of the fae in our family, and feeling the snow was part of this fae magic. It was this feeling that had me walking through the silence of the village in which I lived at 3am on Christmas morning.
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns2 years ago in Fiction
Music That Moves My Bipolar Soul and The Playlist That Steadies The Pendulum
I have always loved music. My Mother likes to say that I could sing before I could talk and my daughter Rosaleen inherited that from me. Long before she could string a coherent sentence together she could sing the full score from Frozen. In my day it was Snow White. Rosaleen is like me in so many ways. She looks just like me when I was her age. She has my eyes, my nose and my whacky hairline with blonde curls that can't choose any kind of direction to fall in.
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns5 years ago in Psyche
The Witch's Familiar
**Warning, many, many cat pictures ahead** I keep joking that when I answer the phone from now on I'm going to say, 'Hello Clara's Supernatural hotline, how can I help? Press 1, for ghosts, ghouls and poltergeists. Press 2, for any and all demonic activity up to and including possessions. Press 3, for general enquires, and 4 for anything else. If you require a love potion please hang-up.'
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns5 years ago in Petlife
Naked Nightmare Becomes Reality
We've all had that nightmare. The one where you walk into your classroom and everyone starts to laugh because for some ungodly reason you've come to school totally naked, not even a sock to your name. Then we wake up in our cosy beds, sighing with great relief because it was only a nightmare. Yeah well my nightmare became a big old dose of reality when I found myself butt naked in front of about 20 of my peers from school.
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns5 years ago in Confessions
Move Over Enola Holmes, There's a New Sherlock Craze In Town
I love Sherlock Holmes. Not just the Benedict Cumberbatch incarnation, though let's be honest it is amazing, but everything about the character, the stories, his relationship with Dr Watson, everything.
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns5 years ago in Geeks
Me, Myself and I...and The Other Six
Most people who have Disassociative Identity Disorder, are just like everyone else. Is that a shocking statement? It shouldn't be but because of the way we are usually portrayed in the media, those of us who have a diagnosis of DID are perceived as deranged psychopaths who have other personalities that pop out every now and again completely unbeknownst to us and go on a what is for that particular personality, a demented little killing spree.
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns5 years ago in Psyche
