She closed her eyes, closed her senses. It was too late, too late to un-hear the tension where tension oughtn't have been. His rigid smile strained to build a bridge, to span the truth with fabrication, her heart wanting to believe the illusion. A fault trembled beneath her feet, a reminder that his words were spoken, her trust was broken, her self-respect was secure. ©September 2017, July 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.