Rachel

I have an idea for your frola book how about you do a chapter where instead of Mary getting married to Francis he courts Lola and Marry gets jealous of them. 

Hello my lovely readers ^-^ I just wanted to say a quick thank you to you all as I've just reached 200 followers! Your support is always so encouraging and I really love all your comments. Thank you all again x.

He waited until their goodnights had sung through the halls of the house. Till the moon, bright and grey filtered through his open blinds. He slowly removed the blankets that smothered him and walked to his wardrobe, hardly taking note of his messy hair or the pale skin that poked out of the holes of his pyjamas. Meticulous to a fault he had already picked his clothes out - a navy blue hoodie with black jeans. He dressed himself in complete silence, his mind a static television set, the connection only a thin veil. 
          
          The latch of his window was cold against his skin and he braced himself for the chill of the wind to hit his skin. His hands were white and shaking and fuck was he really doing this? The answer revealed itself as he opened the latch, as if someone else. With one final breath, he leaped out the window, recalling the mess of handwriting he scrawled on a post it note - there’s nothing for me here.  
          
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          Just a little thing  I was working on. I did leave some stuff out cause there wasn't enough room on here but what do you think? I honestly have no idea but I kind of like it and I don't know if I should make it a short story or not? Let me know your thoughts.

Hello everyone! Here is the prologue to my new coming of age story. I'm hoping to have weekly updates so please let me know what you think before then. Thanks x. https://www.wattpad.com/story/101584195

Hello! So I guess this account has been on a small hiatus for a bit but I'm ready to continue sharing my writing with you all. I have a few projects planned but I'd like to know what it is exactly you liked to see on here, in terms of short stories or novels or fanfiction, what have you. Comments would be much appreciated x.

Heroes. Tragedies. A sun that burns. Eyes that are actually portals. Write me your wildest dream. Could we make it a reality? A question posed in the dark. Forgot who I’m talking to. Run for the fun of it. Forget how to breath. For a second all is quiet in a land defined by noise. And lights. Those searing lights. Drums continue to beat while I twirl in my garden. This is the golden age. Is that why everything feels rusted? Fingers tap in boredom. Watch them lift and fall, a piano now at my fingertips. Please just go on. Oh no. Does this sound dumb?  Keep going, I say. None of it matters. Typing is all I hear now. It really does sound beautiful. A song itself, representing the cogs in my head turning. Death looming over me, over us. Hold me while we tumble. My own heartbeat drives me mad. Does any of this matter? Just let the dream fill you, everything will be okay. Doesn’t matter that growing up is necessary. Could be my everything in a land of gods and monsters. It’s pretty and slight and this and this and this. Frightening me into submission, leading me on my own mission. Words, words, words, Tumble and fumble. So clumsy in this brain. My friend’s that sometimes annoy me with all their complexities. Must learn this language that is so innate yet so foreign. I can do it. Or so I say. Does the end result really matter if I believe wholeheartedly? I think I know the answer but riddles were never my forte. Forte. I like that word. I sing and sing and go on and on. Have you noticed that? The constant theme in all this? I go on and on. Forever until I stop.

Tagged by the talented @do27cs (amazing series over on her account which you should totally give a try) to give you twenty facts about myself.
          
          I tag: @Jane_Inkspill, @Hummingbird_15, @hateloveyay123, @goosee123, @domake, @ohmysenpai.
          
          1. My myer briggs type is an INFJ. 
          2. If I ever feel a bit out of sorts I tend to write until the page is filled. That, or I read.
          3. I want two tattoos when I'm old enough, both on my wrists. 
          4.  I have a secret place in my room to store little things that people give me (letters, birthday invitations, etc).
          5.  If I attended Hogwarts I would be placed in the Ravenclaw house.
          6. I have this weird fascination with parks and gardens.
          7. Part of my dream is to visit Paris and London. 
          8. Pretty much love anything under the branch of humanities.
          9. I love candles more than I care to admit.
          10. I think my love of stories developed when I was a child since I constantly read and watched all sorts of fairy tales and legends. 
          11. I get overly attached to fictional characters.
          12. Hummingbirds are one of my favourite animals (along with ferrets).
          13. Took me years to find out that my favourite type of music falls under the indie genre. 
          14. Cookies will be the death of me.
          15. Dead Poets Society and Titanic are my all time favourite movies (and I will always cry with every watch).
          16. Studied French for three years and a part of me regrets not carrying it on.
          17. Sweaters and dresses are easily the items of clothing I wear the most. 
          18. Currently watching Supernatural and love it.
          19. I almost always fall in love with the star-crossed lovers trope and the tragic hero archetype. 
          20. I really want to read more comics, particularly of the superhero genre.
          
          Thanks for being interested enough to read all 20 of those and I hope you now know me a bit better ^-^

Fear - a personification
          
          I’ll be laughing (quite heartily, mind you) when I see you. My laughter stills, the chill in the air settles on the nape of my neck. You smile.
          
          You go on to explain that it’s been a while and that you’ve been wondering how I’ve been. You’ve missed me, it would seem. I nod politely, not wanting to show how truly afraid I was. But of course that was silly. You could always see through me.
          
          It’d been a few days since that visit. It was a sunny Tuesday when I was courageous enough to show people my work. I would watch their faces every now and then, try to make out what they thought of it. You call that art? You whisper. I could feel your breath on the side of my ear. I feel a blush creep up my neck, making its way onto my cheeks. Then the others would look up with expressions of bewilderment, commenting on how much they liked it. Of course I thanked them but not until I stumbled across a few words, not sure if I really believed them.
          
          An usual interaction between Fear and myself would often play out like that. It was on the rare occasions when I couldn’t take its snickering or petty comments any longer. I’ve heard that some people shout at it, scream until they no longer can. But I took a different approach. I told it a tale. One about its cousin, the one it couldn’t stand to be in the presence of. I told it about Hope. I continued to say that I much preferred it’s company to their own. This didn’t change anything at first. But when Hope started to join me on my daily activities, Fear couldn’t take it any longer. And so it left.
          
          -
          
          Hello my dear readers! If you just read all of that than I thank you. I personally like posting little writings this way but please let me know if you'd prefer a book dedicated to things like this rather getting a notification.

@WriterPayne039 You're very welcome :)

He had told them that he would meet up with them. Somewhere along the way their paths would intertwine and nothing would be said of the matter. He would walk along the street, dressed immaculately, practicing lines and improvising with himself. The thoughts of what others would think of him distracted him from a more pressing matter… He would take no notice of how the moon shone that night against the dark sleet of the sky. He would ignore the prickling of his skin when his mind would even slightly wander. This would prove to be his fatal flaw - he took introspection as his enemy. 
          
          /
          
          What was that, you may ask? Well it was a small snippet of something that I'm working on. If all goes to plan I should publish the beginnings of it in a couple of weeks.