viewbug photo contests viewbug photo contests viewbug photo contests
  • Maureen Stevenson



The words echoed through the air while the wind raged, and waves crashed the rocks, spraying my face with a cool mist.

The witch promised the spell would bring her back, but so far, only the elements responded. It has been a year since her death.

Digging in my pocket, I pulled out the stone ticket the witch had given me. Pure white, smooth, and flat,

I wiped my face and stood. Whispering the spell one last time, throwing it.

It skipped across the water nine times; she appeared calling to me, reaching out with her arms.

2 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


What kind of writer am I?

I am a sit down in front of my laptop and see what taps out kind of writer. As I type and things pop up, I jot down with pen and paper research ideas and character facts. When the typing has ended for