She remembered. In that moment, she remembered. Part of her brain had urged her to forget, but she remembered anyway. Pieces at first. Fragments. A gasp, a tear without a home. What no one should recall, returned. To help heal a long ago child's hurt, she remembered possibilities, dreams, self-compassion. She remembered to live. ©August 2017, June 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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