Before the night she died, she sat up late wondering at her hope for the future. The night before. Before she was thrust onto the table and her future bled out. Before her breath was stolen, she'd huddled beneath a broken wall counting stars through the smoke. The last night. Her last night breathing, before death fell from her sky. ©March 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.
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