I am a part-time clerk and full-time dreamer and lover of stories.
I enjoy reading, television and movies, walking, wine, digital photography, and pets.
I have an interest in fantasy, history, mythology and fairy tales, and spirituality, along with science and science fiction. I’m more inclined to historical fantasy than “true history” and favourite eras include the Renaissance and Regency.
I’m a childfree asexual and enjoy reading and writing stories with childfree protagonists and asexual characters.
I’m based in the UK and write from a British perspective in British English.
When Mike yelled at her, “Stop hugging that damn cat, it’ll never love you like I do!” while she held Cinnamon close and kissed his nose, his purrs reverberating against her chest, he sealed his fate.
Anyone that jealous of her affection, anyone that hateful towards Cinnamon, wasn’t someone she could trust or love, definitely a Mr Wrong.
When Ben first came to her house and greeted Cinnamon with a smile, and Cinnamon pawed at him, wanting to be picked up, she smiled as Ben scooped up the cat and cooed at him; this one might be Mr Right.
I will clasp your hand in mine And never let go I will cherish the thoughts That flow from your mind Yes, I feel the love It encompasses my senses..I will walk beside you Through thick and through thin If your heart breaks, I will mend it so You never know-your heart ever broke You lead the way I will follow If you can’t walk […]
“I only kill monsters,” the Hunter says, refusing the handful of pennies the young girl in the faded dress is clutching.
Her eyes fill with tears and she persists that surely the reason he’s come to her village is to help her, reiterates that Mother’s new man is a monster, that he’s hurting Mother, that her eye is blackened and there are bruises on her neck like he was trying to choke her soul from her.
“I only kill monsters,” the Hunter repeats with a sigh as he walks away, but this much is true: neither he nor Mother’s new man were ever seen in the village again.
By George Potter If depressed by your age Remember the Sage Who by numeric twist Would thereby insist That at year Twenty-one (The age of great fun) A mathematical quirk Commences to work Stopping further addition From then to perdition. He said “Double your age, Then add an ‘0’ Divide by your age, C’mon,don’t be […]
Today’s poetry topic idea is thirst. A poet could write about: Being thirsty Dehydration An inadequate supply of clean water The idea of being thirsty, with, for varying reasons, undrinkable liquid available Quenching thirst Drinking liquids Thirst in survival situations Thirst as a metaphor Here is an […]