• The Writer

    Hello! My name is Laura, welcome to my blog! I write weird stories, collect dragon plushies and stay up too late with my nose in a book. I am a wife, mom and child saved by grace. My hope is that you find encouragement here or at least a smile or too.
    God bless!

  • “Now go, write it before them in a table, and note it in a book that it may be for the time to come forever and ever.”
    ~Isaiah 30:8.

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    August 2009
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  • Quotes

    We have come from God, and inevitably the myths woven by us, though they contain error, will also reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal truth that is with God. Indeed only by myth-making, only by becoming 'sub-creator' and inventing stories, can Man aspire to the state of perfection that he knew before the Fall. Our myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily towards the true harbour, while materialistic 'progress' leads only to a yawning abyss and the Iron Crown of the power of evil.
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    "The only just literary critic," he concluded, "is Christ, who admires more than does any man the gifts He Himself has bestowed."
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    “Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisioned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!”
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    "Writers who see by the light of their Christian faith will have, in these times, the sharpest eye for the grotesque, for the perverse, and for the unacceptable. To the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures."
    ~Flannery O'Connor

    You write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what’s burning inside you. And we edit to let the fire show through the smoke.
    ~Arthur Polotnik

    Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.
    ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

    "There are forms of insanity that condemn people to hear voices against their will, but as writers we invite ourselves to hear voices without relinquishing our hold on reality or our right to control."
    ~Writing Fiction by Janet Burroway

    Christians have sometimes been suspicious of stories, because they really can influence you. If you read the Twilight novels once a month for a year, I think you'd be a different human afterward—and not a sparkly one.
    ~Nate Wilson

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Stephen of Scarborough (Part Two)

I grasped the bars with both hands, gave them good shake and listened as the steel rattled. I moved my hands to the bars that stood beside the door hinges and shook them again. The door rattled louder and the bolds trembled. A half grin curved up one side of my mouth, this would be easy. Retrieving the leg iron I placed its cupped edge against the top of the bolt. Setting my feet firmly apart and bracing my arms, I pushed up on the iron head. Ever so slightly the bolt slid upward. Putting more force into it I pushed again. This time the bolt slid out completely and fell to the floor sounding a high pitched “ping” as it hit the stones.
“How you be doing that lad?” asked my neighbor.
I glanced at him from over my shoulder, “Magic.” I repeated my bit of “magic” on the two remaining bolts, and swung the door open.
Turning to face the old man and other prisoners I raised my hand and bowed dramatically. “It’s been a delightful time gents, but freedom calls.” I stepped out of the cell and ran down the dark corridor. My footsteps echoed across the stone floor causing me to slow my pace to a quiet trot. Suddenly from around the next corner came the hum of voices. The sounds reverberate off the stone walls, magnifying in the dim hall as they bounced back to me. I stopped, trying to squeeze myself into the shadows. A light moved down the corridor, its halo drawing closer. My heart rose to my throat, the only place to go was back to my cell and I would never return there. Still clutching the leg iron, I tossed it from one clammy hand to the other. If I used it I’d only get one strike. Steadily the light and the voices drew nearer. Swallowing my beating heart, I readied myself for whoever would turn the corner.

Leave a comment


  1. Daniel

     /  August 31, 2009

    MAGIC!!!!!! 😀 XD

    *wants more*

  2. Sir Emeth Mimetes

     /  September 4, 2009

    Yes, very good. I never cease to be amazed at how you pick just the right things to describe. Keep it up!


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