This is a page dedicated to my fiction and poetry. I ask before you go any further that you take none of this as your own or without asking me. This is my heart, my soul, my sanctuary from reality. Everything I write is a piece of me. A well known phrase, "Writing is like standing naked before the world" come to mind.
Now, about me as a writer. I have written stories in my head for as long as I can remember. . . although I would credit that I started writing in 2nd grade. I finished my first story in 7th grade - titled "And the Wren Cried No More". Now, I look on it as mediocore. But it was written by a 12 year old. My first story, "Project Alpha", was published in the anthology Paths of Imagination in Autumn of 1994. My second story, "The Choice", will be published this Summer in the anthology Dreams of Yesterday by the same publishing house. If you're interested in purchasing a copy of either of these. E-mail me, and I'll send you the info.
Today, I eat, breath, and sleep writing. I feel uncomfortable if a pen and piece of paper are out of reach, because I've lost some of my best ideas by being far from them. I hope you enjoy these writings, and if you have any comments, criticism, or suggestions, feel free to E-mail me.
Tell Your Mom You Love Her - here is one of my older stories. It's about a year old. It's also the first piece of mine that was truly nonfiction.
Lady Death - This is one of my most recently completed story. It's about a young woman who is married to a dictator in a marriage treaty. . . trite idea, but add the fact that she could actually love him? Take a look.
Hover - This is a bit experimental, and I'm not exactly sure of the meaning behind it. A big part of me is in this story, and I have a feeling that it's not finished yet.....
Loki's Eating KnifeMy Newest Story. I wrote it for my fiction writing class and decided to play with the Rennaissance Faire setting. I hope to revise it soon, so it may change in a bit. :)
This first poem must speak for itself. I think every person will see a different meaning in it and you must look very deep to find it.
An endless earthquake ripping the land
The shivering of a child in the cold
The shattering of a vase of glass
The tearing of a piece of paper
The fall of a stone in a pond
The footprint in the sand
These are the sounds of a heart breaking.
Now what would a unicorn homepage be without a unicorn poem?
Gentle as a maiden's sigh
relaxing as a lullably
life unknown to toil and chore
She doesn't live here anymore
A breeze as soft as griffin's down
ivory worn as a crown
but I shall morn her evermore
She doesn't live here anymore
This is a poem about Hope and life... and the way people are.
And you shall have no dominion...
You show me a world where Hope
Lies dying in a gutter
Drunk with lies and measuring her rope
Your words shall hold no power
I could never belive your lies
I will stoop to help my fallen one
I shall run ever from your spies
You cannot control me
You can't hold me to this lost place
You can't grasp the brightest star
You daren't look upon her face
No, you shall have no dominion
I'll not let Hope lie here
I'll not let her make a noose
I'll not let her live in fear
For you have no dominion...
I am haunted by a ghost
This ghost - it doesn't have a face
It walks the pathways of my soul
Though it doesn't know this place
It captures lonely shadows
And pulls them to my mind
Cloaking me in demons
I wouldn't normally find
I don't think it knows the torture
It hands to me each day
I think it's lost and lonely
And wants to know the way
I think that maybe its trapped
by it's own lost and fleeting dreams
I don't think it can remember
The sun's warm and radiant beams
But it torments me with thoughts
It teases me with doubts
It burns me with uncertainty
So deep in me, it can't get out
Drowning me in sorrow
That wasn't meant for me
Turning faith into helpless screams
For the fragile soul it doesn't see
I don't think it knows I'm here
Inside this body too
I think it's desperate and frightened
Unsure of what to do
I think that maybe it's blind
Not seeing the pain it carries
I don't think it feels my prescence
As it hands me to Charon for his ferry
Yes, I'm haunted by a ghost
With a longing to be free
This uncertain, frightened shade
Is the hopeless part of me
Feel free to E-mail me.
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