Chained in a dungeon deep under ground, kneeling in filth on a moss covered stone floor, I was restrained by rage. Wrought iron manacles clasped around my throat and wrists. They restrained thighs and ankles. I knelt there, knees raw, neck thick with vulgarity. Even in the black of my cell, my vision was crimson, infused with a fury I could not quench, control, or understand. Perhaps the shackles were the make of someone else, but I donned them, loathing the world every day.
Then one day a bird chirped, waking me from the peace of slumber, the only time internal tantrums did not fill me. I could see the sun, and it was warm on my face. The shackles were shed, scattered across the stones, and I was no longer restrained. I was freed on that morning when I walked out of the open cell. God be good, God be graceful, a cell I shall never return to, nor set eyes upon, again.
Fantasy Writer and Cartographer
Speculative Fiction Author
Fun, fantastical escapes
"Before the sea she stood, still as a statue but for the wind rippling in her loose lavender-grey dress and toying with her black hair - it billowed in the salty breath of the ocean like a flag of defiance."
The gentle musings of a madman...
Author of science fiction and fantasy stories, choosing to write the stories that he would love to read.
a place for a little bit of everything
Follow along with the hijinks of an emerging writer
A blog on the struggles of writing coupled with everyday life.
A classic daily devotional
My journey to being the beauty that lives inside my dreams...
We create worlds you can only imagine.
A hodgepodge of thoughts, ideas and the reality of life.
Natalie. Writer. Photographer. Etc.
"Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar" - E.B. White
Learn skills, make money, be awesome
I have people to kill, lives to ruin, plagues to bring, and worlds to destroy. I am not the Angel of Death. I'm a fiction writer.