I mainly write poems. I also believe in magic. And more than anything, I believe in God almighty. I also KNOW that it is perfectly okay to believe in both, for God created magic just as he created all other things.
People today don't apreaciate the Earth, and I'll probably say so in many of my fics.
Picture this:
Beeches and Oaks and Northern Pines, all hundreds of years old. The sliver sides of the leaves stirred by an owl. The moon reflects itself in the clear waters of an ancient creek. Raccoons and Possums are scurrying about in percimmon trees and groves of mountain Laurel *which it is nearly impossible to make grow this far south*. A Red Fox takes her babies food while albino skunks amble on thier way. A badger is just poking his head of the den. Two White fauns run across your vision in front of an ancient Hart, more wonderful than anything else you could hope to see. Flowers bloom under your feet, magical ones that don't dissapear until early December. A bobcat yowls in the distance, and bear tracks line the creek-bed.
Now imagine this: A wasteland of red dirt. Tree stumps bigger than your kitchen table dot the landscape. White footed gun holders, and antlers on the wall. You can't keep the coons out of your garbage. You have to even switch water supplies, your well is polluted from all the contruction.
Which one would you choose?