Dykopath – Preview

AN: I am so so excited to say that my first novel is now available for public purchase.
For now, here’s a sneak peek of the first chapter. If you like what you see, feel free to find the payment button below and support my work!

Chapter 1

I used to write songs. I don’t know when exactly I stopped doing that; it’s not like I woke up one day and decided to never write a song again, but one day was the last. I have a feeling it was somewhere between person eight and twelve, that’s when I noticed the numbness. You would think it would have come sooner than that, but I guess I held on to my one person too tightly, and for far too long. I suppose that’s a side effect of infatuation, especially the degree of infatuation with which I was poisoned.

* * *

We met at school – she was a friend of a friend and we had classes together, pretty soon we were good friends, best friends, even. Before I knew it, I’d fallen for her, while she was in a relationship with Rose, one of the other girls in our inner circle. Crap.
I thought I could just push past it, move on, act like it never happened but then Helena noticed. Of course she did: she was endlessly intelligent and my closest friend, and she could read us all like books.
One night, during a residential school trip to France, Helena and I were killing time in my room after dinner and she sprung it on me.
“You’re not straight, are you?”
“Yes, I am.” I spoke too quickly for credibility, damn it.
“But you fancy Amy!” She teased,
“No, I don’t!”
“Then why are you smiling and going bright red?” Helena grinned,
“Shut up!” I laughed, actively trying to bring the corners of my mouth back down.
The day after that conversation, during the end of trip dance (I didn’t go because I hated dancing and my awkward gangly body), Amy’s relationship with Rose came to a very sudden end, and all eyes were on me. The last thing anybody wants at an all-girls’ school is the attention of the entire student body. The scrutiny of teenage girls can be crueler than some torture methods.

 

Dykopath

Izzy Mehmet tells the tale of her first teenage romance, which takes a turn unlike most first love stories.

£2.50

 

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First of the Month

It’s not even one of those
Deafening silences
You hear (or don’t) so much about.
It’s more like
A muffled mumbling,
Constant,
Frustrating
Because it never makes its way
To the surface,
Never gets louder
And never dies out completely.
It’s like seeing everything in watercolour
But not in that
Pretty William Blake style,
But simply for the fact
That it’s so fragile.
It’s barely there
But at the same time
It’s there all too much.
It’s just an incessant
Irritation
Irritation
Irritation
You get stuck on.
Everything kind of fades
Even more than it already had
Because the only thing in focus
Is how fucked up you are
And how much you hate yourself
For the things you did or said
Last week,
Last month,
Seven fucking years ago.
Who knows which incident
Your brain will choose to fixate on today?
Who knows?
Who knows?
Who knows?
Unless I tell them
It’s not really all that clear,
Because “high-functioning suicidal”
Is a thing, you know,
And it’s scary to know
That at any point
If I lose my willpower,
Like I have done before,
I could just let go
And be
No more.
No more.
No more.