• 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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    February 2010
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    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 Fifteen)

“Gainsborough,” William said pointing out the smoking chimneys peaking from the horizon. 

“Good,” I said, “The sooner we reach a proper bed the better.” 

William turned and looked at me, “How’s your leg?”

I took three steps, using the crutch as a cane, “Fine, a bit stiff and sore, but that will pass in a few days.”  William nodded.  It seemed like forever ago we mad land off the shore of the Humber River and began our long walk to Locksley.  We had been following the River Trent for several days and now a town on the horizon was a welcoming sight. 

William sighed and ran his hand through his hair, “A bath would be nice as well.  Come on then, we should be there by night fall.” 

The sun was nicely set by the time we reached the sanctuary of Gainsborough.  Few towns’ people were about as we roamed the streets in search of an inexpensive tavern.  The place was so quiet you could faintly make out the sound of the River Trent flowing by.  We stopped in front of an inn and looked up at the sign.

“The Rose and Crown,” I said aloud.  “Well?  Are you going in?”

William pushed open the door.  Warm air smelling of bread and roast pork greeted us.  I took in a deep breath and my stomach growled.  I pulled William to an empty table by the huge hearth and we sat down, basking in the warmth of the fire.  A bar maid scurried over to our table,

“What can I get you gentlemen?  We’ve just taken a pig from its spit at the fire and have some exhalent wine.”  She smiled at me, her green eyes reflecting the fire light.  Green eyes.  I smiled briefly and looked away.

“That’s sounds just right,” William said, “Bring a couple of meat pies as well.”

The maid nodded and left for the kitchen. 

“Don’t forget a room for the night along with those meat pies,” I said.

William grinned, “Not to worry, I won’t let me stomach interfere with your soft bed.”

“Thank you,” 

“So… Locksley.  How long has it been since you left?”

I gazed into the fire, “Six years, give or take a few mouths.”

“Will your father…”

“Don’t bring him into the conversation I was just beginning to enjoy myself.”

“You’ll have to face it once we get there.”

I nodded.

“Have you figured out how?”


William ran is hand over his face, “Then this is going to be more interesting than I thought.”

“Or a very short trip.”

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Leave a comment


  1. Daniel

     /  February 15, 2010

    Locksley.. B-) 😀

  2. Nairam

     /  February 16, 2010

    Hmm…*has an interesting thought…*


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