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Flash Fiction #1 π
Jacques was an empty man, head full of hot air, heart black with hate. His spirit didnβt like to make home in him, so it most often walked beside while the demons danced inside. His body was their vessel, their music the lies of a tongue in service to a mind driven by ego.Β Everyoneβs…
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World Building π
Most of my stories begin in my daydreams, sometimes itβs a struggle to know when to leave them βοΈ I love building worlds, imagination is one of the few places the mind can truly run free. I fell in love with books at a young age because of the wondrous places they took me to,…