• 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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    April 2014
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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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Gray Skies – A Beginning


(Introduction for a new serial I hope to start posting on here soon.)

A gray sky shrouds a ruined landscape of twisted metal buildings that once stood high and proud. No sunlight pieces through the thick, ever percent clouds, casting the world in a premature twilight. A cold wind stirs up a gloom of dust, blowing it through the skeletal branches of a long dead tree. A lone figure steps from the shadows, stooping over piles of junk gathered here and there, rummaging through and putting whatever “treasure” may fit into a little sack they carry over their shoulder. The only sound is that of the wind, nothing else, and the occasional clink of metal created by the person sifting through the debris piles.

Then, the wind picks up and for a brief moment, the clouds are pushed aside and the sun breaks through the gray canopy to warm the face of the figure all alone. Glinting of the scraps and beams of a forgotten city, illuminating the places that once held life. The someone lifts their head, shading their eyes and looks up into the sky. As the suns warm fingers touch her face, she smiles. But in less time than it took for the sun to appear, it vanishes, and the world is once again plunged into a vale of gray and twisted metal.

Finished with her scavenging, the girl turns and heads back they way she had come. The ground is nothing but packed dust under her feet. She struggles along, but something catches her eye. She stops, bends down and peers at the ground. A tiny green shoot has found its way through the dry soil to search for the sun. Its one tinny sprout, so green, fills the girl with hope maybe, just maybe, there is still life to be lived and found out there.  The war hasn’t destroyed everything. 


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  1. Never Mind…. | A World of Scribblings

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