Who was she without life, purpose, or her identity? The sense of self she'd fought so hard to find they wanted to bury. Breathe, she'd breathe, she'd let the haters fade away, she'd remember all she'd done, all she had, and the voice she'd found. In the mirror, her identity stared back. In her words, her voice said, she had a purpose. In her exhale was the sound of her life. ©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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