No one for her. Wasn’t that what they said, wasn’t that what they promised, from the day her heart opened until it should end? The words lingered. They had a way of dictating, a cruel promise that wouldn’t let go, and even when they let go they were self-fulfilling. Someone for her. It was in her written words, in her thoughts all the time, and when she leant it a voice it became something she’d heard. ©November 2020 Christina Anne Hawthorne
Christina Anne Hawthorne
Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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