Stepping into Stories, One Word at a Time
"She gasped. It had been a long time since she'd felt his blood magic in her veins. Qadir rarely healed her. He did not believe in mending minor injuries- especially not the ones she suffered because of her own "rash" decisuons. The magic was an unpleasantly cold and prickling feeling beneath her skin, one that... Continue Reading →
"The building sloped away like a smooth chalk cliff to the street far below. The cars parked there looked like those matchbox models you can buy in the five-and-dime. The ones driving by the building were just tiny pinpoints of light. If you fell that far, you would have plenty of time to realize just... Continue Reading →
"I’ve been thinking on your situation, vague as it is to me, and I can’t help but wonder if more people are lonelier than either of us will ever know. Maybe lots of people are walking through their days, lonely as can be and believing no one understands what it’s like. That’s not a very... Continue Reading →
"But I believe in love, you know; love is a uniquely portable magic. I don’t think it’s in the stars, but I do believe that blood calls to blood and mind calls to mind and heart to heart." 11/22/63 by Stephen King 11/22/63 has been on my shelf for quite some time. I knew I... Continue Reading →
"A cloud of butterflies had engulfed the broken train in the night. The train crawled along the tracks, a wounded, dying beast, and the butterflies hit the broken windows and burst inside and fluttered along the corridors where blood-soaked carpets lay ruined. The Kid and the Stranger were holed up in the enigneer's cabin and... Continue Reading →
"My name means fairy tale, which is fitting for the daughter of a storyteller who was once the North Wind. I was born in the winter in the midst of a howling snowstorm, sheltered from snow by a reindeer-skin tent and the fierce warmth of my parents' love. My mother laughed and my father cried,... Continue Reading →
Of Worlds Forgotten 