I hear the stories my books tell, all the different stories I hear.
Each one carries a new way of life.

Those of witchcraft and wizardry tells stories of magic, spells, and potions. Carrying the many whispers of witches and wizards, warlocks and giants.

Those of angels and demons tell of epic battles and fallen angels. The cries from the battlefield as heaven and hell clash call out to me.

Those of vampires tell of monsters that only come out at night, with cold touches and bloodlust. Of temptation and desolation.

Those of forbidden love tells stories of love lost and found again. Of happily never after's that carries broken promises. And soon the tears from the heart broken begin to match my own.

Those that tell of innocence lost, yearn to be consoled and heard. So that perhaps they're not alone and that their pain is shared. With the possibility of a silver lining.

I hear my books calling for me, I hear them loud and clear.

Each book yearning to unleash its story, welcoming me with into its world with open arms

(a.d)