For too long it was a pain endured, a visitor to her room at night, a mirror for her steps when she tried to flee. They hadn’t locked him away, but they should have. They hadn’t erased her memory, but oh how she wished they could have. In the end that wasn’t her end, what she clung to deep within was her resilience, the self-esteem he’d fought to shatter. ©February 2021 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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