She'd tried it for awhile, living on other people's memories, other children playing in their yards, other parents holding their children tight. Those other recollections, though, carried her to other places best avoided, until she recognized the self-deceit they planted in her heart. So, she made her own memories, alone though she was, and she learned her own company was worth more than crying over lies. ©October 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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