"He's behind you!" There was an edge to El's voice. It was Charming's cue but she said it to me, our eyes meeting under Daisy's drooping lashes. Tom! I'd assumed he'd had backache earlier - common when you're playing the rear. But if it was him she'd beaten off? Well he'd struggle to run away now.

Silver patches rise like ghosts on the path ahead. It's the moon, she thinks. But it's also the trees. They know death. Have grown twisted following its progress across the graveyard. Their branches lift on a breeze she cannot feel. It whispers though. She starts running. It's her name #WriteCBC

At first she'd feared the chirruping would give her away. Now only silence filled the drawer and it was deafening. Daylight revealed the sad clump of feathers inside. So tiny, so fragile. It reminded her of herself, except freedom hadn't come too late for her. She must never forget that. #writeCBC

#writeCBC Good omen: he has red hair like my first crush. Bad? He's in short sleeves and the rain's made an angel tattoo on one smooth bicep weep. As he hands me the bag, he smiles. Decision made. I slip my stolen scrap into his fingers. Soft, warm, human. His eyes widen as he reads my note: Help.

The house conspired with my Aunt to put visitors in their place. I had to bow my head to enter but the walls inside were impossibly tall. Salt greased the windows; the glass tasted of tears. Where the view drowned me, the stubborn house held its face to the spray, kept its watch on the sea #writeCBC