• 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 2019
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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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His Blood (A Story for Good Friday)

No, that’s can’t be him.  How can that be him?

The crowd thronged around me.  Hundreds of people were pushing and shoving, trying to get a clear view of the procession moving up the street.  I stared at the man being driven along by the whips of Roman soldiers, the weight of a crosses beams pressing against his bleeding shoulder.  I wanted to rush in and set him free.  I knew the sting of those whips, knew the humiliation they brought.

How could they be doing this to him?  What had he done?  A lump formed in my throat, I tried to swallow it, but it wouldn’t yield.  What had he done?  He saved me.  Me, a bitter slave, he had called me by name.  He had done the same for so many others.  Why?  Jehovah why?!


I turned and looked over my shoulder.  Laurel was trying to get to me through the crowd.  I forced my way to her.  Once I reached her she took my hand and pulled me away from the crowd.  The throng continued to move up the street.

“Dafydd, it’s him isn’t it?” She looked up at me, tears glistening in her eyes.  Those eyes, not long ago they were clouded and couldn’t see.  Now she stared up at me, her eyes clear and whole.

I nodded.


“I… I don’t know.”

“Can’t we do something?”

I shook my head.  “Come,” I squeezed her hand.  “The people have moved on, if we don’t hurry, we will miss him.”

Laurel gripped my hand and let me lead her up the street.  We passed through the gate and stared at the sight that met our eyes.  Golgotha, the place of the skull. The Romans preferred this spot for their executions.  It was outside a city gate, on raised ground where everyone could see.  The people were gathered around the hill, I could hear women wailing.  Admits the calmer of voices and the wails of the anguished the strike of a hammer rang out along with the cries of a man.

My stomach knotted.

We made our way up the hill.  As we neared the top Roman soldiers heaved on ropes and three crosses rose up, each with a man nailed to the beams.  Laurel pulled me to a stop, covering her mouth to stifle a cry.

There he was, Jesus, the master, hanging there, dying.  No!  My own eyes filled with tears and I feel to my knees.  Jehovah no!  Laurel knelt beside me, her body shacking with sobs.  I raised my eyes and gazed at his altered form.  His body was so bloody, his face so torn, I hardly recognized him.  Could it really be him?  Maybe it was all a dream, just a terrible dream.  A crown of thorns dug into his skull, a mocking sigh hung over his head, “The King of The Jews”.  It was real, all of it.

A group of robed priests stood not too far from where Laurel and I knelt.  I glanced at them.  They’re faces were stoic.  What did they think of the injustice they had caused?  An innocent man was dying before them, and they just stood and watched.  I knew the blood of the master was on their hands.

I clenched my fists.  Before, I would have cursed them, wished hell to fall on their heads, but now, now I pitied them.  I looked back to the cross, his cross.  He was the reason the hate was gone from my heart, and now he was dying.  They had killed him.

Someone shoved by me.  I fell forward, catching myself before my face could slam into the ground.  My hands landed in wetness.  I raised them, staring at me palms.  Blood covered my hands.  I looked down at the ground, a trail of red spread from where I knelt to the cross where Jesus hung.  Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Dafydd?”  Laurel looked at me.

“His blood… His blood is on my hands.”


Scribblings Videos: Stories Behind the Stories

Hello all!

I am planning on making a series of promotional videos for Scribbling, where I talk about the personal stories that inspired the stories the book.

Before I get started, I have a question for all my readers:

What story or poem in Scribblings would you like to hear the story behind?

Is there a piece that stands out and speaks to you?  Are you curious to know where that story came from?

Comment and let me know!

Coming Soon!

Something is coming!  Something exciting!


My very first published work is being release this March!  Self-published through Lulu


Scribblings is a collection of illustrated short stories, poems, (and some little extra pieces).  The book will include popular stories such as Angel Wings, By Morning, a piece from Stephen of Scarborough and many more.  Also poems such as A Little Imagination and Caught in a Cave-In.  Scribblings will also feature never before seen stories written by ours truly. 

The beautiful cover art and illistrations are done by Garret Maytum of Standing Strong Art.

I am super excited about this book and I hope you are too. 

Keep checking back for updates and look for it this March!


Angel Wings

My fourth short story for Fiction Writing Class.  The assignment was to write a story inspired by a song.  My inspiration was the song “Angels” by Owl City.  (You can listen to it here.) 

This story is loosely based on an event in my life.  The sound of the wind pounding against the window during storms always terrified me.  I knew that God had angels around me, so I would have tea/pizza parties with my guardian angels and that helped me calm my fears.  I like to believe they played along with, someday I’ll get to ask them. 🙂    



The indications reveal, that few of us realize life is quite surreal.
So if you’re dying to see I guarantee, there are angels around your vicinity.
Owl City

For Elliannah

Ellie buried her head under her blankets, trying to block the sound of the roaring storm.  Wind hammered against the house, shaking the oak tree outside her window until it shuttered as if freezing in the fall wind.  Ellie peeked out from her downy hiding place and gazed at the bedroom wall.  Shadows from the dancing branches skipped across the white surface like a swarm of dark fairies throwing themselves to the storm.  As another assault of wind crash against the window Ellie threw herself under her quilt, trying to block out the elemental battle.  She hugged her stuffed puppy close to her heart.

“Don’t be scared Puff-Puff, it’s only wind, it can’t get in,” she whispered in the dog’s ear.  “It can’t get in…” 

Her little heart beat wildly.  She hugged Puff-Puff tighter as if the stuffed creature could keep her safe from the raging gale that wanted to come through her window.  Ellie squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in Puff-Puff’s fuzzy body.  The storm raged on, the wind throwing strike after strike against the house.


A sweet voice whispered, competing with the wind and drifting to the frightened child. 


Ellie opened her eyes and looked around her room.  She could see no one.  Her night-light flickered for a moment, its little glow winking at her in the dark.

“Hello?”  The little girl said, still gazing around her room.  The night-light blinked out. Ellie shivered.  She could still hear the wind raging outside, but the sound seemed distant now. 


The voice echoed in from the window.  Drawn by her child curiosity, Ellie slid out of bed and tiptoed to the window.  Light from a street lamp filtered into the bedroom, illuminating the floor and white walls. As she padded across the floor her bare feet sank into the thick carpet and her night-gown twirled around her ankles.

Ellie crawled up on her window seat and peered outside, pressing her palms against the cold glass.  Down below shadows of the oak tree casted by the yellow street light danced on the lawn.  Ellie watched the leaves blown by the wind skip and twirl in the air.  They looked like feathers blown about by the breeze.  One drifted up to her, sailing towards the window to press its soft veins to the glass.  As it traveled, spinning in the air, it changed, becoming a brilliant white feather.  A blue glow surrounded the feather and like a stone sinking in water, it passed through the window. 

Ellie moved away from it, sliding to the floor and watching intently.   The feather drifted down until it came to rest on her carpet.  Ellie leaned towards it, not sure what to do.  Still curious, Ellie crawled towards it on hands and knees.  She stretched out her little hand and brushed the white silky object with her finger tips.

As she fingered the velvety plume a laugh, like that of bells suddenly danced into the room.  Ellie jumped back.  The feather flashed white and they whole room filled with light.  Ellie covered her eyes, burying them in her hands.

Someone touched her head.  Ellie looked up and met the gaze of a woman with silver hair and golden eyes.  

“Hello Ellie,” she said smiling down on the little girl. 

That voice, Ellie had heard it calling in dark.  Ellie started at the woman.  She wore a gown of pure white that shimmered whenever she moved.  Her whole body shimmered as if lit from within by some unseen radiance.  Behind her stretched a pair of white wings haloed in a blue glow.

“Are you an angel?”  Ellie asked.

The woman laughed, “Yes.  I came because you were afraid of the storm.”

“Oh,” Ellie stood up, Puff-Puff tucked under her arm.  A big grin spread across her face.  She had a real angel in her bed room and she had an idea. 

“Do you like tea parties Angel?”

Angel smiled, “Yes, I do.  Do you?”

Ellie nodded and reached for Angel’s hand.  “Come with me.” She lead Angel to a little table set with a tiny porcelain tea set.

“Here,” Ellie said, guiding Angel to one of the little chairs.  Angel tugged in her wings perched on the edge of the offered seat.  Puff-Puff sat on the table.

As Ellie poured some imaginary tea she looked at Angel’s brilliant wings.

“Do all angels have wings like yours?” She asked.

“Some do, every pair of angel wings are different in some way.  No two are alike.” 

“Do you like pizza?”


“Great!  I have some, and chocolate chip cookies, they’re my favorite.”

“Mine too.”

Ellie put an imaginary slice of pizza and a chocolate chip cookie on hers and Angel’s little porcelain plates.  Angel smiled and took a bite.

“Mmm, this is the best pizza I have ever tasted.”

Ellie grinned.

A blast of wind slammed against the window.  Ellie dropped her plate and it clattered to the table top.  She rushed into Angel’s arms.

“I don’t like the wind.”

“There is no need for fear Ellie.  I am always here, watching over you for someone who loves you very much.”  Angle wrapped the little girl in her wings.  “Do not be afraid.”

Ellie nestled into the soft feathers of Angel’s silken wings.  Soon she was asleep.  The wind forgotten, her eye lids sagged and she slipped into slumber.

When she awoke the next morning she was in her bed, Puff-Puff beside her.  There was no sign of Angel, but when Ellie went to look out the window, she found sitting on her window seat, was a white feather.  She kept the feather, holding it close whenever there a storm hammered at her window, but Ellie no longer feared the wind. 

The End


As a rare treat, (and since I don’t really have anything else to post, 😛 ) I’m going to post a series of pieces from stories that were never finished.  Most of them were going to be shorts, but the inspiration to write them sort of died.  Comment and tell me which one is your favorite, and whichever one gets the most votes… well, you’ll see. 😉


Robin of Locksley: (Part 2 for “An Outlaw in the Making”)

“Ouch!”  I stumbled back as Will’s wooden practice sword bounced off my right shoulder.  Will laughed,
“That’s three points for me.  What’s the matter Robin?  Have your reflexes decided to take a holiday?”

In answer I swung my own wooden weapon in two tight circles, and brought it down, Will blocked.  I spun his sword around, slid mine down to his hilt, then jerked it out of his hand.  It went flying to the side, landing with a clatter on the smooth stones.

“Touché,” I pointed my sword at his chest, a half grin spread across my face.  Will lifted his hands, raising them to the air.

“You win,” he slapped my arm, “Nicely done.”

“Here, here!” said Allen who sat leisurely in the shade. 

“Here, here yourself, why don’t you come here, and see how it’s done,” Will commented.

“No thank you Will.  I’m comfortable where I am.”  He crossed his legs, placed his hands behind his head and leaned against the stone pillar.

“Come on lazy!”  I jumped forward and thwacked Allen across the legs with me sword.

“Ouch!  Bad form Robin.”  Allen leaned forward and rubbed his legs.  I grinned,

“What’s the matter?  The great Allen-a-dale doesn’t want to challenge Robin of Locksley?”  I said pretending to pout.

“You can put it however you like,” Allen folded his arms across his chest.  “It’s too warm and I don’t feel like being bashed around at the moment.”

Love Conquers All

I flung my pencil on my desk then wadded up the paper I had been writing.

“That sounds like I’m a princess locked in a tower pinning for a knight in shining armor.”  I tossed it in the trash.  My best friend Alex looked up from her text book.    

“It’s better than what you said your last one sounded like.”

“Great, I’ve gone from an orphan Annie, to a love sick princess.”  I stood and walked to the window.  Outside my neighbor was mowing his lawn and the hum of the mower drifted up to my window.  Alex moved to a sitting position on my bed and chewed the tip of her pencil.

“At least you don’t have to turn it in until next week.  You have plenty of time to work on it.”

I went back to my desk and sat.  “It’s a dumb assignment anyway.  ‘Write a paper about what you think love is’”. I repeated what the teacher had said.  “Okay, not that easy.”

“Normally you don’t have a problem with writing assignments.  Mrs. Jones just mentions the words ‘writing assignment’ and your mind starts spinning with ideas.”

I shrugged.  My computer chimed, making me jump.

“What was that?”  Alex asked.

“I have an e-mail,” I pulled up my inbox.  “Figures.”

“What figures?”

“Mike and Elise can’t come tomorrow night.  They’ve already ‘made plans’”.

“Well,” Alex closed her text book.  “It was just a dinner.”

“Ya,” I scoffed, “Just a dinner to celebrate my eighteenth Birthday.  Forget it, if it’s not important, it’s not important.”

“I’m sure that’s not what they think.”

“It’s how they act,” I pulled out my history book and began studying.

*     *     *    

Alex threw her Algebra book on the floor, “Uh!  I hate math!”  I closed my own and looked over my shoulder at her. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“Really?  Only Einstein would know this one,” She cleared her throat.  “A girl runs at a constant speed for T minutes to run M km. How long, in seconds, will it take her to run N km if she runs at the same speed?  I’ve reread it so many times I’ve memorized it!” 

I laughed, “How about a break, I can’t wrap my mind around a problem either.”

“Fine by me,” she stuffed the text book and her doodle covered notebook into her backpack.

The Spider’s Lair

“’Come into my house’, said the spider to the fly,” Bran whispered as he stared into the gaping, dark hole that served as a caves entrance.  “Well this is one fly who would rather not.”

The cave mouth stared out at him, a black hole waiting to swallow him.  From deep within came a sound like a great beast breathing in its sleep.  Bran drew his sword and, one step at a time, crept into the black cave.

An Outlaw in the Making

Hello there!  This is a short I wrote for a writing contest several months ago.  (It won second place!) 

Please read and enjoy. =

I sighted down the shaft of my arrow, crouching in the forest foliage, hardly daring to breathe as a deer slowly made its way into my target. My cheek twitching in nervous anticipation, I got ready to release the arrow. Twang! I let fly the shaft. In a matter of seconds it hit home and the deer fell. I rushed from my hiding place to the fallen animal, smiling to myself, proud of my steady hand.
     “There you have it Will,” I said turning to my man servant. “Will?” He wasn’t behind me as I had thought. Blast! I must have concentrated so hard on my tracking that I had failed to make sure he was still following me! I glanced around the trees, but he was nowhere in sight. Grumbling to myself I pulled my arrow from the deer and slung the beast onto my shoulders.

                    *                        *                            *                              *                               *                                  *                                *

     “Will, where have you gotten to?” I thought when I found the road but no Will. Just then the sound of horses could be heard coming up the road. A second or two later a carriage drawn by four horses came into view. I stepped further over to the tree line and out of the way of the pounding hooves. The carriage appeared to be passing me when the passenger suddenly called out to the driver and the vehicle stopped. A footman stepped down from the back, came round to the side and opened the door. A tall man with thick black hair and a curly beard to match marched out. His clothes were lavishly adorned and he eyed me with a pompous indifference.
     “Good day to you my lord.” I said, bowing slightly. “I seemed to have misplaced my man servant; you wouldn’t have seen him up the road would you?”
     “I wouldn’t have noticed him if I had.” The man said indignantly. “Have you been informed boy, that it is against the law to hunt deer in these woods?”
     “Really?” I said, “Then what, if I may ask, is that?” I pointed with my bow at a very large buck strapped to the carriage.
     The man’s eyes blazed. “That boy, is for the prince’s table.”
     “Then it stands to reason that this deer is mine. For if the prince feeds off the deer in these woods it makes no difference if his subjects do as well.”
     “That is where you’d be wrong.” He gave me a curious look. “You’re that young Earl of Huntingdon aren’t you?”
     “Yes my lord.”
     “I wonder why you did not follow the King on the Crusade as your father did.”
     “I would have my lord, but they claimed I was too young.”
     He scratched his chin. “I could change that.”
     I smiled, “You shan’t get rid of me that easily, and seeing how my father was killed at the very gates of Jerusalem, I have no desire to follow in his footsteps, so to speak.”
     “I suppose you got your haughty tongue from him.”
    “No, that would be attributed to my mother, God rest her soul.”
     He was about to reply but was cut off by a great racket in the forest. My smile widened as Will came crashing through the trees onto the road.
     “There you are!” He exclaimed upon seeing me. “I’ve had quite the time trying to catch up. You really need to…” He stopped, finally taking notice of whom I was with.
     “Glad you found me Will. Now if you will excuse me, my lord, we must be going.”
     “How old are you lad,” he asked as I turned away.
     “Seventeen, and a man at that,” I said holding my head high.
     “Mighty young to be tangling yourself up in trouble, and what if the sheriff were to come after you?”
     “Let him come I say. I know what’s right and what’s wrong. If he doesn’t like it I dare him to find me.”
     “Be careful what you wish for lad,” he said stepping back into the carriage.
     As the carriage drove off Will laid his hand on my shoulder. “Mighty bold Robin, don’t you think?”
     I shifted the deer and grunted. “These are interesting times Will. Richard should never have left England. If it comes to the worst, they’ll never find me. I know every in and out of this forest. I could live here for years without a soul ever finding my hiding place.”
     “How about you just show me a few of these “ins and outs” on the way back to Locksley. I could stand for a few of your short cuts. My feet hurt and my stomach says it’s past time for supper. I’m sure Allen must be wondering what’s become of us by now,” he added looking up the road.
     Laughing, I led the way back into the trees. “I shall show you some of my tricks Will Scarlet, but,” I paused. “Not all of them.” Then as fast as I could with the deer on my back I raced off, with Will at my heels and filling the forest with laughter.

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