Shake and totter, she did, a three-legged stool balanced on two legs, both those legs strong, both legs steady, neither self-compassion. Shattered, she was, tipping dangerously towards self-infliction, fearing the imbalance, dreading the spiral again, bracing for the inevitable pain. Survive, she would, for the balance required was never beneath, but within, close at hand, waiting for her to understand. ©March 2015, August 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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