Prophecy Six Blog

Sharing My Unedited Writing Experiences & Life Experiences.


May 2016

4 People You Run Into With Odd Coloured Hair

Recently I coloured my hair turquoise. To give you the exact colour ‘atomic turquoise’ by Manic Panic2e803b9c63c7922c4269f0ac6c7d9219

When summer comes around I do one of two things:

1.Colour it


2.Cut it all off

Since I’ve already cut all my hair off I was only left with the option to colour it.

Most years I go with the lightening of my hair to a blonde or a dirty blonde but for a while now I’ve been wishing to colour my hair something wild. With the recent trends of people colouring their hair all colours of the rainbow I thought I would give it a go.

Heck, why not? I don’t have a job yet and if I get work all I need to do is colour it again. So, I embarked on the two day journey of colouring my hair blue.

First I needed to find the right bleach to whiten my hair. Couldn’t find the stuff in London to my surprise so we – Mr. Canuck and I – drove to St. Thomas where with luck we found all the products I needed for this little experiment. I got home and bleached my hair, following the instructions and hoping I didn’t just make the biggest mistake of my life.

Once that was done I waited 24 hours before putting in the Manic Panic. I wanted to have time to let the colour sit. The next day when I could put aside two hours I put the colour in my hair, slapped on a shower cap, and waited two hours. I spent the time playing Civ V and The Forest. By the time I had built my log cabin in the middle of Geese Pond I was ready to wash out the colour.

At this point I washed my hair out with ice cold water to keep the colour in and gave myself a brain freeze… but it was worth it. The result was amazing.turpic.jpg I felt like a mermaid when I saw the colour and I couldn’t stop smiling. For years I had wanted to colour my hair crazy and now I had.

For the first day or so I was caught off-guard whenever I saw myself in the mirror. For 25 years I had had natural coloured hair in various shades of brown… so seeing myself with Smurf coloured hair was surprising. I liked it – so don’t think what I wrote there was me regretting what I had done. It was just strange and at times rewarding to see myself in the mirror. It felt like I had completed some life achievement but it didn’t prepare me for the reactions I was going to get.

Now, I had kind of psyched myself up for the worst of it as inside my head I was thinking only the worst would happen. My outside self appears to be very optimistic but my brain is a jerk with all those dooms day whispers and doubt demons I’ve mentioned before. I’m glad for those demons as it made most of the reactions entertaining, or at least educational.

For those of you interested in colouring your hair a unnatural colour here are some of the reactions you may get from people.


At the bus stop I received several compliments from giphy1people. I got those who became obsessed with the colour and couldn’t believe it was possible to get it so bright. Others considered what I had done to be ‘so brave’. While others said it complimented my features or really showed my ‘style’… which was news to me as I didn’t know I actually had style.

These were the people that helped boost my confidence and make me feel comfortable about taking the plunge with colouring my hair bright turquoise.


These are the folks that will play 20 questions with you without warning.

For example: when I was leaving the employment centre the other day I was questioned by a nice woman in the elevator. I didn’t mind the questions but it prepared me for the others at the coffee shop or clothing stores who were soon to do the same.

Expect questions like:

What did you use?

Did you get it professionally done?

Is it permanent?

How did you get it so bright?

Why that colour?

Do you colour your hair like that often?

What made you decide to colour your hair?

What does your boss/ partner/ parents think of your hair?

These are normal questions and if you answer questionsthem in a friendly/ respectful manner they usually will leave you alone. I find answering questions to be educational and helpful for people and if they are asking you questions chances are they may be interested in getting their hair coloured that way as well.

The ages of the folks that have questioned me are usually older in age between 30-60. I also had a pre-teen ask me what colour I had used but they had cotton candy hair, which I really want to try out next. 😛


Now not everyone is going to compliment you or question you about your hair. Like I mentioned above you will have those that don’t like what you’ve done. I hate to state that usually these people are of an older generation but the one’s that turned their lip up at me or deliberately crossed the street to avoid me were seniors.

Unnerved people are the one’s that will likely change to become insulters. They’re the people for whatever reason find that it’s their duty to let you know that you’re appearance has bothered them in some way or they somehow become the fashion police.

For example:

There just might be a time where wfdlzo9someone comes up to you and says, “You have such a pretty face… why ruin it with such an ugly hair colour.” Which – by the way – happened to me in a Starbucks…

This will bother you. Don’t say it won’t. Insults will always bother some part of you even if you are an emotionless drone. It is in our nature to want to be liked and when we aren’t liked it hurts. You will think that maybe you made a mistake with the hair colour. You will think that maybe you should colour it back.

But I’ll tell you right now, this is what you should do… which is what I did.

Smile, say ‘Thank you. Your opinion has been noted.’ Take you frappe-latte-chino-vente thing and continue on with your life. At the end of the day it is your hair and you can do what you want with it. You didn’t colour it for other’s enjoyment or to bother people. You coloured your hair for you… so don’t let their insults do more than give that initial sting.


I found this happening at restaurants or on public transit. You catch someone looking at you and they look up at the ceiling to not get caught looking at you. alq8x_s-200x150

First I wait until they try to look at me again, smile at them and then turn my attention back to what I’m doing. I don’t care if you’re staring. I know my hair isn’t a natural colour. It is normal to stare at someone that doesn’t fit inside the normal box of society. If you want to stare at me go right ahead; this only becomes a problem if you stop staring and start insulting me.


If you want to colour your hair do it. It is hair, it grows back. As long as it makes you happy that’s all that matters.

If you are interested in a detailed step-by-step tutorial on how I coloured my hair and what products I used/ use to maintain my lovely turquoise locks let me know in the comments. I check them regularly and don’t mind sharing my beauty secrets with the world. 🙂


Today Marks My 700th Resume

To all of you who have been following me since the beginning you know I’ve been struggling to find work. This is one reason I haven’t been able to work on the blog or even my book writing at the moment. You know for me stress = lack of writing mood for me.

I know I’m lucky, blessed, whatever for the situation I’m living in right now. I’m in a good position with a partner who supports us and works hard doing so. I’m thankful that it is so easy for him to find work being in the tech field.

Still that doesn’t change the fact that I am not so lucky with employment. I’ve struggled finding work all my life and why would it change now. The point I’m trying to make is I do not have to work but I want/ love working.

I love the social aspect working gives me. I love the challenges work forces me to face and most of all I like the money I get. I’m sure I’m not alone on the last one.

This is why I’m so fracking frustrated with how messed up the world is right now. It isn’t that my generation isn’t wanting to work… it is the fact that we can’t find work. Or, at least are having a terribly frustrating time trying to find work…

Many of my friends and myself are educated. We are more educated than the generation before us, with more debt, and no opportunity. We were told to go to school, get a degree, and get a job. Most of us followed those instructions, racked up debt we will never be able to pay back, only to be told that we expect too much and we should be thankful our parents are willing to put up with us living in their house. I know I’m lucky… I’m one of few that aren’t sleeping on my father’s couch… but can we please admit there is a youth employment issue in this country – nah – this world?

If you don’t believe that then here’s my graduate unemployment adventure:

January 2015 I posted on my cooking blog (COOKING CANADA) that I had reached 400 resumes.

I had graduated university with a BA (English) and BEd, was on the Dean’s List, took a Medical Terminology course, was trained in Mental Health First Aid, safeTalk, and IPad/Apple products in a teaching setting, along with a crop load of other things at the ready to break into the working world. I had working experience with being a Digital Photo Lab Technician, Sales Intern, and Tutor (paid and volunteer). I had my years of volunteering with youth clubs, the Student Ambassadors (a university based group), and volunteering with camps in my home town. I even mentioned my volunteer service reward for getting over 500 hours of community service and volunteering with the town since the age of 11. My resume was checked by professionals, double-checked by hr experts, and triple-checked by working professionals that hired people for a living. My resume was changed, shaped, and polished for each job I applied for. I was bright eyed and bushy tailed. I was excited to be free of the education institution and thrilled to be becoming an official working member of adulthood.

Yet, I got nothing.

Nothing from the school boards (public, catholic, and private) I applied to. Nothing from the organizations I applied to and the tutoring organizations either. Nothing. Notta. Zilch.

It was when I applied for my 200th job application that I decided to try my own thing.

I started a tutoring business that didn’t go anywhere. I had one student who’s grade point average went from a D to B+… but that was it. I knew at that point I needed something… anything.

I applied for a position with a call centre… not my first call centre I applied to… and to my surprise they called me for an interview. I started working for them after impressing them in the interview. Went through training and made some good friends but none of it prepared me for the phones.

Lack of experience, lack of support, and the ‘interesting’ customers I had on the phones drove me to panic attacks and becoming physically sick during my shifts. When everyone else was getting old ladies I was getting the angry person blaming me for the service they forgot to pay for. People at the centre knew I had a bad customer by the sound of my ‘teaching voice’, where I apparently became zen and used my hands a lot. I even surprised my team lead when he hooked up to my phone during one of my calls. He complimented me on my professionalism after the call and told me he would have lost it if he was the one answering.

Unfortunately I take my work personally and my health took the hit so I had to go. Even if that meant I wouldn’t have a job in the end and I had to deal with the stress of resume making again.

Yes, I said stress because there is.

If you write resumes every day as unique as the jobs you’re applying to and no one calls you back it’s stressful. You start hearing that voice in your head saying that ‘you aren’t worth the time’, ‘you’re a failure’, ‘you aren’t good enough’, ‘what’s the point of applying, they aren’t going to hire you’. Those thoughts make it hard to keep motivated. They wear you down and when you write about 199 resumes only to get no reply even with the call centre experience on that page showing you’ve got something after school… you begin to believe those voices.

It was at this point I went to an employment councillor who helped confirm it wasn’t me. She felt terrible that she couldn’t find me work. Every week we would sit in her office and fire off resumes/ cover letters to job posts. Every week I could see her getting disheartened that no one was giving me a chance. Her answer was: I was over qualified and too accomplished for my age. She also believed I came across as intimidating in job interviews because I hold myself in a more mature manner than others my age, which surprises people.

I never thought any of those were a bad things. My parents pushed me to strive in my schooling, get involved in my community, and be dedicated to my work. They taught me manners and to respect others. When the heck did those values become a bad thing?

Any ways, after a while she and I decided that a placement was the way to go. That’s how I ended up with my last job. I liked the office work and the people. I loved the small family business feel and how close it was to where I lived. Eating lunch on the steps and looking out at the highway was the highlight of my day. I even spent my lunches working on my first book on the picnic table in the hot summer sun or sitting in my car watching the planes take off from the airport.

The work was repetitive and it took time to learn the processes but I felt appreciated there. I worked there for eight months before we had to relocate to London for Mr. Canuck’s work. I was happy to be moving closer to my father but at the same time I wasn’t looking forward to trying to find work again. I had finally found my place of work that checked so many boxes but I was forced to leave it.

Now, here I am… three months living in London, Ontario with one job interview that led nowhere and zero prospects. I’ve reached 700 resumes as of today and will probably write 700 more before hearing from someone. In the mean time I will have to try and force myself to write… force myself not to feel guilty for taking a break from job hunting to try and enjoy life. I love southern Ontario. I love living closer to family. I just hate having to be back looking for work… again.

I just have to ‘keep trucking’ as my father would say and hope that someone is willing to give me a chance.

Writing Prompt: Didn’t See Me



Merely A Human


I looked around the room.

Every coloured eye was glowing back in the flashing lights of the underling club. I was an idiot to think bring Royce to this place was a good idea. He was a mere rat in a room full of hungry cats now that I had the moment to think about it.

There by one of the standing tables was a group of vamps drinking their bloody mary’s and eyeing up the guy that I was no responsibile for. If I didn’t care so much I would have left him on his own in a place like this, but something about this guy had grown on me like the mould in the corner of a gym bathroom.

I didn’t like the fact his partnership was causing me to work around what I would normally do. It wasn’t like I could hide him here. Most in this room relied on scent to hunt and they liked the jelly meat suits of humans over their veggatarian diets of donar blood.

“They don’t look that weird,” Royce whispered, drawing my attention back to him. He stood beside me, his eyes looking over the room. “I was excepting…”

“Bladerunner? Night of the Living dead type shit?” I spat, rolling my eyes.

Of course he’d think that. The upperlings always had their wild imaginations. They painted us out to be monsters and sure some of us were but not all. Some of us were just like those mortals that controlled the city above. But, it was harder to explain that than just letting his little monkey brain come up with his own explaination.

“Stick close,” I growled. I pulled him to my side, wrapping an arm around his neck. “If anyone asks you’re my food.”

He smirked, nodding his head as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

Royce was handling this whole underling thing better than I had thought. Most humans would have been panicking or would have tried getting away. This guy didn’t do that. He kept his cool and pulled in close as if I had put him under some kind of trance.

Pretty close. Smells nice. Freaky glowing eyes. 

I wanted to laugh at his thoughts. They jumped between me and the room. Not that I was going to let on that I could hear them. He was a monkey, letting his hormones control his mind until something caught his attention pulling his thoughts from my scent to whatever.

The eyes of the patrons watched me more than my partner. Their looks of confusion and up turned lips of disgust made it obvious our presence was ruining their vibe. That was fine. I rarely spent time in places like this any more. They could think whatever they wanted about me. I was here for information.


There came a hissing from behind me as a red eyed vamp stopped before us. Her eyes danced over Royce, while she licked her lips. This creature must have sense Royce’s heartbeat and smelt the sweat that stained the collar and pits of his shirt. She slinked closer, sniffing the air.

“Piss off,” I snarled, pushing the vamp back as she hissed. “He’s mine.”

“No one own’s a upperling sweetheart,” the vamp hummed, moving closer again, “not in this place.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling Royce closer. He was a head taller than me and if I was in the upper level he would be the threatening one. Here he was nothing. He was just food.

“Do you know what I am?” I growled, lunging forward to wrap my fingers around the vamps throat. “I eat pests like you for breakfast.”

“And what, that male there is your dessert?” she chuckled.

I let her throat go, stepping back to wrap my arms around Royce’s waist. He was stiff as a board, unsure what I was  doing but he knew better than to cause a scene in a place like this. I ran my fingers up his button shirt, loosening his tie before peering back at the vamp.

“He’s nothing but food,” I whispered. Royce placed his hand on my back, looking at me with his charming smirk. “Merely a human.”

The vamp hissed, storming off into the crowd as I let Royce go. His heart still raced as he averted his eyes from my glance. His face was flushed as he breathed through his nose.

“It’s all right, Royce. You’re not the first human to fall for me.”

Is she serious? Must be a joke… should I…

He laughed, shaking his head. The flush in his cheeks brighter than before when I didn’t join in his moment of embarrassed humour.


Suffering From Millennial Mouth


When it comes to writing something out I come across as being much older than I actually am. I take my time to think of what I’m going to write and how I want people to portray what I’m going to say. My style, my voice in writing in very different from the actual words that come out of my mouth.

When I type out a story or a blog post my brain forces the words I’m typing through a filter, allowing time to pass between what I’m thinking and what is typed at a fair pace that allows for a smooth transition of fingers to words to happen. I work hard to get what I want to say across to my readers and I absolutely love conversing with a variety of people I would have never met otherwise.

Now, as much as I sound well educated on my blog and present myself in a mature manner through my various social media accounts – in person I sound nothing like how I type.

I like to call this part of me the ‘Millennial Mouth’. When I write in proper sentences on here, using proper words, and most times proper grammar – I speak like I have never heard words before.

When I’m with an older crowd of people my brain forces the filter in front of my mouth and I can communicate properly. That’s the same with work… I’m a great communicator when it is needed of me.

tumblr_inline_nliyk9icz61qjcstiBut if I’m standing at a bus stop or hanging out with my friends at the mall, my words become atrocious. I sound like Google translate gone wrong, yet it amazes me when those of my age group understand me. I can cut out words from a sentence, or create compound words that aren’t really compound words and those around me understand. I can speak in sounds and use like a lot, which in turn has those I’m with communicate the same way and I understand them.

We are modern-day Neanderthals with cellphones, speaking a language that would make those older cringe… but somehow I am still understood.

It baffles me sometimes but at the same time I understand how it happens. Language is an ever changing fluid thing. New words are added to the dictionary every year. When I was a kid saying ‘cool beans’ was the thing and now its ‘on fleek’. When my grandparents were my age their words were ‘bee’s knees’ and ‘cat’s meow’. Every generation adds to our language… and as much as I feel that what I’m speaking is butchering the English language it is actually moulding it for the times.

We don’t speak or write the same way as Shakespeare. Actually, Shakespeare was a creator of many of the words were still use today. Not many of that time actually spoke the way Shakespeare wrote and with the language growing if was language innovators like Shakespeare that gave us the platform to build from today. jhw8hgc

So, yes, I speak terribly most of the time but the words I speak reflect the generation I’m part of. I don’t mind that, since one day the words I’m speaking with be replaced by so many other words. My language will be outdated and I’m fine with that. At least the language I’m typing is more of the mature universal tone that will live throughout the ages. 🙂

Little Robin


Little robin in my tree

Tilting its head and watching me.

Its body bouncing on the limb

Sun’s a setting and daylight dims.

Little robin fly home and rest

Cuddle up warm in your nest.

Tomorrow will bring a brand new day

And your branch will be here for you to stay.


Saw a little robin sitting outside my window in the tree next to my apartment. It was watching me type away on the windowsill. Every time I looked at him he would tilt his head. This poem – although not one of my best – came to my mind and I wanted to share it. The picture isn’t mine. I wanted to take a picture of him but all I had was my cellphone and the resolution of the pictures were carp. Yes, I typed carp on purpose so don’t correct me. I’m trying to lessen my swearing in my life so that translates to more creative swearing in my blog.

Anywho, that is all for now. 🙂

Child of the Light, by D.M. Wiltshire: A Review

The wonderful Marian Thorpe wrote a review of my first book, and I have to say I was both surprised and pleased with the rating. Thank you, Marian. 🙂

Marian L Thorpe

Child of the LightChild of the Light is the first book by indie author D.M. Wiltshire. Falling squarely into the fantasy genre, Child of the Light is set in a well-realized world, Gaitan, where north and south have been at war for generations. Cael, the prince of the north, is suffering from an agonizing illness that is beyond the knowledge of the Master Healer, Caldor. The answer may lie in the medical knowledge of the province of Morza, but in one searing moment on the night of the 200 Year Moon, Morza – and all her people – are destroyed by a flash of light: a judgment from the gods, or a celebration gone horribly wrong?

When Caldor and his friend Foe go to investigate, they find two things: the healer Naygu’s book, hidden, safe, and written in a language Caldor can’t read, and the footsteps of a child, leaving the devastated city…

View original post 333 more words

Basic Book Covers

As some of you may know I’ve been publishing things on Wattpad since yesterday and I’ve already put up three stories.

One is Book 1 of the Prophecy Six Series. The second is the unedited version for Book 2 of the Prophecy Six Series. The third is a book I’ve been hemming and hawing about the last couple months on what to do with it. Since I don’t want to use the real covers for my Wattpad account I’ve made my own from photos I’ve taken over the years. I decided I would share them with you.

sundown  wattpadcoverbook2  titlepageforgenius

If you wish to explore any of these stories further CLICK HERE or on the cover that interests you!

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