Run. To run. Running. Oppression crushing, a step by step progression seeking sanctuary. Lifeless wanderer looking for life, her life, what it'd be to live without lies. Search. To search. Searching. Cradling self-awareness, carved staircase curling around truth denied. Each step eased where once it hurt inside, erasing the reasons she'd wanted to cry, to hide, to die. ©February 2022 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.