• 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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  • 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

Stephen of Scarborough (Part Twenty-One)

After a very long wait.  Here is part twenty-one! 🙂

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Stephen,” Marion stepped back onto the balcony, holding a six foot long yew bow.  The flax bow string was pulled taut between the top and bottom nocks, just waiting to be drawn.  My hands seemed to move towards the bow on their own accord, itching to take hold of it once again. I recalled the days spent in target practice, releasing one arrow after another.  I went to take the bow but Marion drew back a step, taking it from my groping fingers.

“Stephen,” She looked straight at me, her dark blue eyes searching my face.  “There, there’s more.”

I frowned, “More what?”

“More, news.  The Sherriff is threatening to take our land if we cannot pay the debts and as I told you, father is nearly bankrupt so…”  She paused.

“What is it Marion?”  I stepped up to her and laid my hands on her shoulders.

Looking up at me she said, “Father has engaged me to Hugh de Gascur.”

I released her and sprang back, “A Norman?”

“He is very wealthy and will help father to…”

“A Norman?!”

“Stephen, please.”  Marion moved towards me, “Father had no choice.”

“But you do.  How can you simply accept this?  You, of Saxon and Welsh blood agreeing to marry a Norman?!”

“You’re forgetting something Stephen,” Marion’s gaze bored into me like two streams of fire.  “A drop of Norman blood runs in both our veins.  No matter how hard you deny it, it’s there.”

“A drop,” I huffed, “A drop from a great-grandfather who died in the first Crusade, thousands of miles from home.”  I snatched the bow from Marion. 

“A drop Marion, is nothing.”

Marion glared at me, “Be gone!  The both of you!”  She turned on her heals and fled inside.

“Well,” William said coming to stand beside me.  “Now I see the family resemblance.”

“We’re leaving.”  I pulled the bow over my head, letting it rest on my shoulder.   

“Where?”

“Back to Sherwood.”

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3 Comments

  1. Daniel

     /  June 23, 2010

    Gah.. I want to know more!!! (aka.. you have me hook, line, and sinker on this story. 😉 )

    Reply
  2. WOW – part 21? Have you ever considered… posting everyday? 😉 Wednesdays just come too slowly… 😀

    Reply
    • storygirl308

       /  June 24, 2010

      I could post more throughout the week… just depends on if I have time. We’ll see. 🙂

      Reply

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