Writers are thought of as strange, solitary creatures. Many of us spend more time with the characters in our heads instead of real people, including me. 47 more words
via HUGE NEWS: Writing Contest and Upcoming Writers’ Mastermind Group! — Christa Wojciechowski
Are you interested in being a guest blogger on This Writer’s Life? You can blog on anything that’s writing related for example- How you plan your writing time How you fixed a writing problem How you create characters or plot your stories Doing research Staying motivated How you got published Each post can include […]
via Guest Bloggers for September and October — This Writer’s Life
Then your dreams are not big enough. Dream bigger!
I’ve been without sleep for over a month. My dreams are scaring the S*&! out of me.
I’m ready for some Paranormal Short Stories to read. Send me some names so I can research them and find a good read while my dreams are keeping me up.
Posted in ancient Egypt, Book Marketing, Book Reviews, Bookworm Stuff, BWWM, Contests, Current Events, Eternal Traces, Evil, Free reads, Life Lessons, Love and Romance, Multicultural Romance, My Short Stories, Paranormal Phenomena, Paranormal Romance, Paranormal Wednesday, Poetry, Shonda Brock, Short Fiction, Short Shorts I Loved, Stay Inspired, Uncategorized
innocence ghosting we skipped the crown humming flew away it was later that her face turned pale she said, there is no truth let her be sixteen eyes open might just as well’ve be closed her face ghostly pale and so it was ~kat A Black Out Poem for Manic Monday Three-Way Prompt inspired by […]
via innocence ghosting – Manic Mondays — like mercury colliding…
Are you struggling to find your voice? Normally, your creative ideas flow like the Nile River, but since tensions rising in the news and the workplace has become the new proving grounds for work-alcoholics has left you exhausted. Your creative waters are still and there are no ideas on the horizon.
Well, that’s me too, as well. (No pun intended to the movement).
My paranormal romance voice starts with….. On an exhausting night after working 14 hours which completes my workweek with 62 hours. I noticed a stranger glancing my way. I was wrong, he was reaching past me to grab the last gallon of orange juice with calcium and no pulp. My son is going to be pissed. How romantic was that?
I was drinking my coffee this morning and I remembered back when days were simpler. I was at a bar with friends for a quick cocktail before dinner reservations. After I ordered my drink I saw this bottle on the shelf, Writer’s Tears.
I didn’t try it then, but I wondered what kind of day would you have to have to order a drink called Writer’s Tears.
I’m not selling it, nor am I encouraging you to drink, I just remembered how interesting it was.
Stay Inspired My Writers
Posted in ancient Egypt, Book Reviews, Bookworm Stuff, BWWM, Contests, Current Events, Eternal Traces, Evil, Free reads, Life Lessons, Love and Romance, Multicultural Romance, My Short Stories, Paranormal Phenomena, Paranormal Romance, Paranormal Wednesday, Poetry, Shonda Brock, Short Fiction, Short Shorts I Loved, Stay Inspired, Uncategorized, unreturned love, What if?, Women of Color, Writing Tips
Tagged books, learning, short stories, writing
Congratulations to the Cursed Love Flash Fiction Writing Contest winner.
Good and Honest King by Aurumsella!
Dark and beautiful, she dances through my dreams. I’ve seen her every night since I was twelve.
Each and every night I dream of her perfection. I dream of her curves and of her hair so long. I dream of her limbs, and of her movement. Of her lips. Her eyes.
I love her.
I love her with a passion cannot be overcome. I love her with desperation. I love her with all my heart so strong it leaves no room for anyone, for anything else. I have eyes for only her.
I was the prince of my land, and my father was the king. Now I am king, and have been for some time. My father died when I was twenty two.
I have ruled this land for almost twenty years now. Hope to rule perhaps for twenty more. I should like to think that I have ruled it well.
When I die, this kingdom is gone. My cousin Louis will inherit the throne after me. This land will be annexed to his much larger kingdom, for I have no other heir. I have no children.
I have never wed. Have never even bedded a woman. For no one else could ever do for me but she, and her I cannot have. No man ever could. This love is cursed.
My father hired her to dance for his son the prince upon my twelfth birthday. He had heard her beauty extolled. He had heard her dance be praised from here to heaven. He wanted to see her with his own eyes. He wanted to experience her dancing. So he hired her.
He hired her to dance for his son the prince. He summoned her to court to dance for me upon my birthday.
Little did he know he was condemning me to forever dream of her, to live my life alone. Little did he understand in hiring her he cursed his kingdom to be lost.
My father did not know she was Belleform demon when he hired her. Once he understood just what she was, what he had done, it was too late. She had already danced for me, and I was cursed. Cursed for all eternity.
This is what a Belleform does: she curses the one for whom she dances to forever dream of her and only her. I was my father’s excuse to see her dance, and thus the curse did fall upon me, and me alone. A boy of only twelve who had never known a woman, never would.
All others who watched her dance were safe. Mesmerized by her beauty, yes. Mesmerized by her dance, yet unaffected by her curse. They were all of them able to forget her over time. Everyone but me could overcome her.
Once he understood what he had done, what had been done to me, my father spent the rest of his days in futile pursuit of the demon. She collected her pay before the performance, disappeared soon after dancing.
He looked for her all over. She could not be found. He sought her to undo what had been done. She only laughed inside my dream.
I have loved her since I saw her just the once. Have loved her ever since she danced for me. Have dreamt of her each night.
I’d like to think that I have done my duty. Have ruled this country well. It’s hard to tell, though, whether or not I have.
There is no real love inside me for my land. No love for my people who live here all their lives. There is only a sense of duty. For my love is reserved for her.
She alone is my reason for living. The dreams I have of her each night my only comfort.
I love her. I love her with every fibre of my being. I love her with all my soul.
When I die, my kingdom will cease to be. I myself shall go on yearning. My soul shall long for her though all eternity.
I only hope that I have been in spite of all a good and honest king.
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