She imagined him sometimes, the laugh he shared, reminding her his life was hers, that she mattered to him. Her closed eyes summoned him, his hand to her cheek, his gaze holding her in an embrace for an extra moment with love. Her body surrendered to the illusion, her feet moving to silent music, her skin warming to passion's promise as he whispered to her and danced. ©December 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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