March 2013
4 posts
detox to retox: iwasterrified: Ultimate Writing... →
iwasterrified:
Ultimate Writing Resource List
volari:
the-fandoms-are-cool:
a massively extended version of ruthlesscalculus’ post
General Tips
Joss Whedon’s Top 10 Writing Tips
Getting Out of Your Comfort Zone
34 Writing Tips that will make you a Better…
February 2013
1 post
3 tags
The Tenant
Loretta O’Malley was not a lonely woman. She reminded herself of this every morning, when the first beam of sunlight peeked through her window and kissed the sleep from her eyes. On this particular summer day, she rested a few minutes before rising from bed and making her way to the kitchen. As she carefully sliced a grapefruit in half, she inwardly rejoiced at the singularity of her actions....
January 2013
1 post
untitled
I think I’ve gone over the details of that summer in my head a million times. It’s like trying to remember a dream, I can grasp parts of it but it just keeps fading away. Every so often, a little memory triggers another and I fall back into it like a trance
Read More
February 2012
2 posts
Prologue
Dying of grief. An expression I had always correlated with pity - three simple words that I had perhaps taken too lightly. I did not perceive it as substantial, rather a feeble excuse for women who were either too lazy or too weak to move on. Love was an asset, a luxury even - but it never was a necessity. Air was a necessity, one needed air to breathe; but love? Love was never an essential to...
Lavendar
There is a musty smell emanating from the book, an odor mingled with the faintest hint of lavendar. The scent belongs to meticulous flipping of pages that are both crisp and white. It belongs to each and every book nestled in droves in the bookstore on the outskirts of the seaside village. But the faint scent belongs especially to the worn romance novel, long ago rebound from usage. It belongs to...
November 2011
5 posts
painting part 6
August 2nd
Bare fingers sought the milky white stone that rested in the hollow of her collarbone. It was difficult not to become distracted by the cool exterior. She lifted her gaze, glancing up through her dark eyelashes at the crisp sky. She smiled to herself, carmine red and beige sienna for the dark pink sky and a contrasting goldenrod for the glowing sun. Her hands found their way from the...
painting part 5
July 23nd
Michael Sullivan was frustrated, mostly with himself. He figured it wouldn’t be very hard to find his unusual friend in the small village, so he hadn’t bothered to suggest a place to meet. It had all seemed very logical to him, how could he not bump into her? But now, after scouring several shops, the crowded market and asking countless strangers if they had seen her, it seemed...
painting part 4
July 22nd, 1941
Her slender fingers trailed across the woven canvas, mentally comparing the textures. She paused and turned halfway, her eyes resting on a canvas she had missed before. It leaned on its side, against the dark wooden chest filled with an assortment of paintbrushes. She carefully slid the canvas towards her, sizing it up and finally deciding that it was just right. Her creamy...
painting part 3
July 21st, 1941 Noon
“Good day to you too Miss Eliza,”
“It was a pleasure to see you again Mr. Baker”
“Yes I will be sure to pass on the message to Annie”
“Don’t forget to tell Caroline that I say hello”
“I’m sure my father would love to do a portrait of your daughter Mrs. Seymour,”
The rosy cheeked woman smiled in gratitude and Liadan gave a small wave before slipping through the...
painting part 2
July 20th, 1942
“Miss Liadan, how are ye on such a fine mornin’?” a genial smile softened the creases of his weathered forehead.
Her slender legs slipped over the stool gracefully as she hoisted herself onto the smooth cushion. A real old fashioned ice cream parlor, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her dark pink lips curved into a smile, the chipping blue walls and faded photographs nestled...
October 2011
2 posts
the most beautiful smile you ever saw
to be continued
painting
July 19th, 1942
Gentle brushstrokes danced across the surface of the once white canvas, smearing the haze of blues into greens and depicting a miniature of the salty sea. Slender tanned fingers grasped the worn wooden brush, embedding layer upon layer of colors. The fine bristles caressed the canvas and created the illusion of depth. Inspiration had been evading her for quite some time, but now...
