She had a best friend once, someone she should have loved, for they'd shared hopes and dreams and everything in-between. She had a best friend slip away, the dear friend she'd held, whose tears she'd caught, whose hope became naught. She had a best friend who survived, her life reawakened in the eleventh hour, a friend she rediscovered in the mirror looking back through her tears. ©September 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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