The World Was An Awfully

After All, It's The Librarian's Sworn Purpose To Bring Books Together With Their One True Reader.

The Prospect Of An Early Death Sits Differently Upon Each Person. In Some It Gifts Maturity Far Outweighing Their Age And Experience: Calm Acceptance Blossoms Into A Beautiful Nature And Soft Countenance. In Others, However, It Leads To The Formation Of A Tiny Ice Flint In Their Heart. Ice That, Though At Times Concealed, Never Properly Melts. Rose, Though She Would Have Liked To Be One Of The Former, Knew Herself Deep Down To Be One Of The Latter.

Had Any Poet Adequately Described The Wretched Ugliness Of A Loved One Turned Inside Out With Grief?

She Felt Like A Fictional Character Who'd Escaped The Book In Which Her Creator Had Carefully And Kindly Trapped Her, Taken A Pair Of Scissors To Her Outline And Leaped, Free.

I Simply Love Writing Good Stories, That's My Passion.