• 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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    January 2011
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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 Twenty-Seven)

I clutched my long bow as I walked out of Ieuan’s shop.  The first move in the game had been made, and I had a good feeling the rest of the pieces would fall into place very soon.

“Let me go!”

I turned, looking for the source of the outcry.  A soldier held a boy by the ear and was dragging him away from a leaky looking row boat. 

“Get your hands off of me!”  The boy thrashed around, yelling at the soldier as he was hauled across the dock.  The soldier slapped him.

“Be still!”

“Excuse me,” I stepped into the soldier’s path.  “What has this boy done?”

The man blinked at me.  The boy stopped squirming, just a little, and looked up at my face with hopeful eyes.

“He stole that boat,” he pointed at the row boat.  I glanced at it.  The pitiful thing looked like it could hardly float, let alone hold a boy.

“It was abandoned!  I didn’t steal anything!”  The boy protested.

“Quiet!  You took it from a nobles land without…”

I cleared my throat, “Have you taken a good look at that craft by chance?”

The soldier seemed taken aback, “Of course I have!”

“Then you know, for it is all too clear, that it is ready to sink to the bottom of the Derwent River.  If it had been owned by the person whose land it was on, then do you not think it would have been in better condition?”

By now a crowd of people had gather around to witness the spectacle and several of them were nodding their heads in agreement.  The soldier glared at me and threw the boy on the docks wooden planking.  Without a word he shoved passed me and disappeared into the throng.

I watched his retreating form.  I had wounded his pride.  Good. 

“You showed him!”  I looked at the boy as he scrambled to his feet.  The crowd began to break up and move away. 

“You should be more careful,” I took note of his sandy hair and light blue eyes.  “The Normans will find any excuse to be rid of a Saxon.” 

The boy scratched his head, “Aw, I could have handled him if it had come to the worst.  I have six older brothers that I wrestle with.”  He grinned as if this were some vast accomplishment. 

“Hmm,” I turned to walk away.

“Wait!”  The boy grabbed my arm.  “I’m Much, what’s your name?  Where are you from?  Is that a long bow?  Where did you…”

“No questions,” I placed my finger over the boy’s mouth.  “Go home Much, and keep out of trouble.”

He frowned, “I can take care of myself.”

“Then do so!”  Before he could say another word I sprinted into the throng of people and he disappeared from my sight.

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  1. Oooh, I like. ^.^ Much likes it too, by the way. 😛 He wanted me to say so.

  2. I like it Much. 😀


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