A little bit about me: *(OwO)*

I Draw, a LOT

I love music, and often see it as a way to draw inspiration and escape.

I live in Alberta, Canada

I go to High School :D

I am a Vegetarian (not a vegan)

My Favorite food: Tim Hortons Double Double (Caffine and Sugar XD)

My Youtube: Bosmermage01

My Wattpad: OblivionAddict001

YOU KNOW YOUR AN AUTHOR IF...

you talk to yourself alot. (alot meaning all the time...)

you talk to yourself about talking to yourself

when you talk to yourself you often talk to yourself like you're talking to someone else

after uttering a profound piece of wisdom, you stare at the cookie in your hand with awe and say, "wow,this stuff is awesome for sugar highs..."

you live off of sugar and caffeine. (the two greatest things ever discovered!)

you'll check your e-mail every day of the week then disapear of the face of the earth.

when replying to a e-mail, you'll never actually address the point of it

you tend to collect bic stics off the ground like picking pennies off the ground.

no matter where you are in a room you never have to get up to find a pen/pencil and paper

the letters on your keyboard are wearing off

your freinds and family think that you have carpal tunnel syndrome

people think you have A.D.D.

you think it would be cool to have A.D.D.

you constantly start talking in third person,past or present tense

you start thinking about making lists like this and start giggiling for no 'apparent' reason

your freinds stopped looking at you funny for no apparent reason a loooooong time ago

and FINALLY, the one way to tell if you are a good writer: you failed english 101

(copy that into your profile if you fit one or more of the description)

"There's a difference between 'like' and 'love'. If you like a flower, you will pick it. If you love a flower, you will water it every day,"

Author Unkown.

"We can not learn without pain."

Aristotle

"When faced with a choice, simply toss a coin. It works, not, because it settles the question. But because, in that breif moment when the coin is in the air: you realize what you are hoping for,"

Anonomus

"Dawn is just a heartbeat away: Hope is just a sunrise away.."

Jeremy Soule (Fear Not This Night)

“No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.”
― Robert Frost

“Fiction is the truth inside the lie.”
― Stephen King

“Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.”
― Neil Gaiman

“The first draft of anything is shit.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“Being a writer is a very peculiar sort of a job: it's always you versus a blank sheet of paper (or a blank screen) and quite often the blank piece of paper wins.”
― Neil Gaiman

“If you want to really hurt you parents, and you don't have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country

"I'm not gay, but I wish I was just to piss off homophobes"

-Kurt Cobain

“Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a best-seller that could have been prevented by a good teacher.”
― Flannery O'Connor

“So what? All writers are lunatics!”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkspell

"Reality depresses me. I need to find Fantasy worlds and escape in them."

-Noel Feilding

MY STORIES;

It Is Only Fate:

Four lives, four stories, that forever will be changed.

IN PROGRESS

The Ballad of Summitmist Manor:

What happens in the dead of the night, by the hand of the Assassin.

One Shot, Poem, COMPLETE.

Promises To Keep:

The world of her dreams may not be as benign as she once believed

ORIGINAL FICTION, FIRST DRAFT

A poem just for you :) :

Whispered Darkness

I am,

am I?

My small voice trills,

sharp,

against the oppresive silence.

in the Din of Nothing

only

broken echoes resound.

Why?

Why are we?

Sanguine droplets

fall

in time.

An imaginary song

in this Void

Everywhere.

The ball jointed dolls

stare

their glassy eyes unseeing

their clouded minds, judging.

Unfair.

Their emaciated bodies

bent, starved and, raw

from the panthers

that in this jungle roam

that prey

and feed

devouring the weak.

All of them:

all whom break this delicate spider web spell.

They who try to speak,

by torn tounge

and brightened eyes

Leave.

Their words, unheard,

Resound in their heads.

Echo

untill nothing remains

but a whiff of perfume

an echo, of Whispered Darkness.