This is a snippet taken from a short story I am working on. It is spooky and creepy but incomplete as I am editing it right now.

A poetry collection, of sorts, where I take old poems I wrote as a teen and try to save them as an adult.

Looking back at my reading list, giving vague reviews and showing my favourite paragraphs to those who do not want these books spoiled for them.

Looking back on my reading list, giving honest reviews, and talking way to much about plot and character development; while also showing my favourite lines.

My attempt at a screenplay. An adult returns to a childhood summerhouse—which scarred them, though they can no longer put a face to the entity which chased them out of the house—to put a face to the memories.

A little poem to start off November!

The shutter of the viewmaster matches the closing of my eyes, a terrible was to view memories. Rapid and without context, only a still in time.

A gift is waiting to be opened.

A letter from a student of Alchemy to the Headmistress.

It has been a bit since I’ve worked on my blog, so I thought why not try WIP?

A thrilling tale about an abandoned child who was taught to never be weak.

The cosmos judges, the town’s apathy creates collision, the self remembers.

What does summer feel like to a dead dreamer?

Hopefully a pinned post about scheduling future posts.

A loose blog post about writing advice from writing and how streamlining your consciousness into writing can produce results or they can result in ramblings.

The best and worst ideas come to you in the small moments before you are fully awake.

“A lair should have no legs… wouldn’t you agree, Lord Hamlet?”

A little poem inspired by a Youtube video I watched yesterday about giving parts of yourself to care for someone you love who is sick.

Healing after a loss takes courage and fur.

This is not the person who you cast to play you.