She realized too late, after thought had returned and her lungs refilled, that he might have been The One. The problem was, he was a stranger and gone, the moment another cruel moment courtesy of her introverted, demisexual self. In an age where rushing meant falling behind, she struggled with trust, with sorting through emotional complexities until it was too late. ©May 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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