The night was as it always was, captured in wishes, yearning for a miracle to deliver more than wanting, more than a tearful holiday begging for a self that was right, not wrong. She came in a dream of angels, a space between whispers. "Take heart, little one, for I am you one day, the self in your mind, the truth not captured in mirrors, the true self realized. ©November 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.