Before I Talk Myself Out Of It

I’ve been thinking. Shocker, I know. But I’ve been thinking. I speak of my writing a lot. But I’ve never actually shared any of it with you. I’ve posted a couple of poems, which have been received very well. I’m very grateful for that, I am, but the cold, hard truth is that I am not a poet. Publishing a book of poetry will probably never be a thing for me, though every now and again I really enjoy writing a poem.

Okay, but not I’m rambling and I think it’s just an attempt to stall before I talk myself out of what I’m about to do. I decided that I wanted to share some of my writing with you, but I couldn’t decide what to share or how much to share or if it was safe to throw my hard work out there and on and on the list goes. So today I opened up a document on my computer and just started writing. And though I’m not entirely sure where the story is headed, though I’ll be a total writing nerd and gush over how amazing it feels to have a story flowing out of you and in the back of your mind you’re coming up with a million different plot points, I am really enjoying writing this so far! Maybe someday it’ll lead me somewhere amazing!

So, without further ado, please allow me to share the paragraphs that came from my creative juices today. Please enjoy them and feel free to comment!

Strength comes in many forms. There are times when the strongest thing is a tear, or an embrace. And the hardest thing is never death. Many things were worse than death, many things were much harder. These were lessons she learned at a very young age, folded away neatly in the shelves of her mind like the books she read from. She saw these words penned across her mind in bold, black letters. They were perhaps more real to her than anything.

“Don’t forget.” She would whisper to herself, so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear it. It was a simple reminder in the blackest of times, and indeed, times seemed dark then. Vivid images flashed across her mind when she least expected it. Memories of friends and family, all of them long gone. For them, death had been an escape, not something terrible. She only wished she could forgive them for sacrificing themselves to save her. For what she had to offer, she still didn’t know.

After years at the sanctuary, years of learning, she still could not harness her gifts properly. She was still more of a hindrance than a help. And they all looked at her. They had since her arrival, so many long days before. But then they had been looking at tattered clothing and tangled hair. Now they looked at her in different ways. Some in confusion, some in open hatred. Why could she not figure it out? What good had saving her been if she was no closer to helping than she had been then?

Messengers from the Duke had long since stopped coming. It seemed that even he had given up on her. She could hardly blame him. A slip of a girl with only rumored abilities was at the very least a desperate thing to count on. And now, years later, it seemed a childish fantasy.


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