The boy looked around. The forest and lake were still. Before him stood the stone in which the fate of a people, the mythology of a nation, was written.
Gripping the sword’s golden hilt, he pulled it out and held it high.
"5 minute walks"
food, beauty, happiness.
A sailboat, a couple, and their little dog too.
Where your words matter.
Poems | England | Staffordshire | East Anglia | Northern Ireland | The Needwood Poems.
you may ask yourself, well, how did i get here
Christine Hanolsy, Author
The road to the forum is paved with good intentions.
Mostly unfinished stories primarily produced as a direct result of my association with the OC Writers Guild
A Clairvoyant Journey. One Life. One Quest. Find the Truth.
My Great Aunt Norah's wartime diaries, 1938-1948
Confessions of a Grammar Ghoul