Scarlet, the Huntsman and the Wolf

Tonight as a change to my usual rambling about crap, I decided I’d share some of my writing with you instead.

This is NOT for the faint hearted, it’s a graphic sexual retelling of little red riding hood, and the wolf will be making an appearance, you have been warned!


Scarlet, the Huntsman and the Wolf



Scarlet stood in front of her dressing table, a large mahogany beauty that filled the cramped space. She smiled to herself as she brushed out her long blonde hair, letting it tumble free around her shoulders. Adjusting her breasts so they almost spilled over her tightly fitted red bodice she winked at her reflection. She threw her cloak over her shoulders fastened the silver clasp and raised the hood, hiding her appearance. At twenty-two, she was a beautiful woman who knew the power of her body.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs of her family’s small cottage, she retrieved a wicker basket of baked goods her mother had prepared. “I’m going to see gran,” she called out to anyone who was listening.

“Make sure you’re home before dark and stick to the trails,” a soft but warm voice responded.

Rolling her eyes at the warning she received every time, Scarlet left the house. She had no intention of keeping to the pebbled paths, and even less of actually visiting her gran. It was the huntsman, with his rough hands and stubbled good looks she planned to seek out.

As soon as the trees obscured her from view of the cottage, she loosened her cloak, revealing her milky flesh to anyone who might care to see it. She was only sorry the soft ground of the woods made heels impossible; her flat pumps didn’t show her legs to their full advantage in her opinion.

It wasn’t long before she heard the steady thunk of an axe splitting wood and knew she’d found her mark. Adjusting her ample chest once more, so the pale pink surrounding her nipples was just visible, she crossed the long grass to where the sound came from.

The huntsman’s trained ears heard Scarlet moments before he saw her, and what a sight she was. It wasn’t the first time he had seen her. The last time had been by pure accident, but it wasn’t a meeting he would soon forget. He taken her up against a tree, quickly and roughly, the gashes in his hands from the bark has taken days to heal. She’d loved every minute, as had he, but this time he planned to savour her.

“Well, well.” He smiled. “A young lady like you shouldn’t be alone out here. You never know who’s lurking… or what they might do to you.”

“So I’ve heard, Sir. I must remember to be more careful.” She returned his grin and didn’t slow her steps towards him. When she was just centimetres away, close enough to taste the delicate perfume she used, the axe dropped to the floor and the huntsman’s empty hands grabbed Scarlet’s waist.

Pulling her body into him, he kissed her hard. His tongue probing her mouth roughly. She returned his kisses with equal fervour, she was not as sweet and innocent and she liked to portray. Within moments the huntsman had her laid on the ground beneath his weight and was pulling at the laces on her bodice like a starved man about to be fed.

Moments later Scarlet’s unhindered breasts were exposed to the cool breeze, her nipples hardened at the sudden chill and the huntsman groaned at the sight. His fingers pulled and twisted the erect flesh, making them harden further still and causing Scarlet to writhe beneath him. Kneading one breast roughly, he took the other in his mouth, his course facial hair scratching against the skin, turning the smooth white a rosy red. He bit down on the tender flesh, softly at first then harder. Scarlet bucked and moaned, pushing herself into his face. His nails scratched at the perfect skin, and the huntsmen took a moment to marvel at the red tramlines left in their wake. He moved his lips to the other breast, teasing the nipple between his teeth, pulling it into his mouth until it was as hard as his straining erection.

Keeping his mouth at her sensitive breasts his hands roamed downward, her midi skirt already pushed up to her waist with the bucking of her hips. His harsh fingers soon found the sopping wet panties. Grinding his palm against Scarlet’s sex with all the force of kneading bread she moaned loader as he bit down at the same time.

Sitting back on his laurels the huntsman admired the sight beneath him. Her legs opened wide, the smooth pussy was clearly visible through the now see though underwear. He tore the material from her body and pushed her legs open wider. With one hand on her chest, he pinned her to the ground, the other explored the hot wetness that waited for him. Her clit was as hard as her now reddened nipples he would have sworn it vibrated with need. Pinching the tiny bud between his fingers his mouth found her breasts again and sucked at them hungrily.

He took his time, rubbing, pinching and flicking at her aching clit while teasing one nipple then the other. The more she moaned, cried and bucked the firmer his touch became. If she liked it rough, he was more than happy to oblige. The callouses on his hands only increased Scarlet’s pleasure, the tough skin excited her most delicate area.

Caressing her soaking folds with his fingers, he slipped two inside her easily. He wasted no time thrusting them in and out of until she bucked beneath him wildly. He showed no mercy as he abused her pussy, roughly bringing her to the brink of orgasm. He slowed his thrusts teasing her g-spot until her excitement shone between her thighs. Her breath came in short gasps and the huntsmen knew she was close. He withdrew his fingers and she cried out in frustration, writhing on the ground, desperate for release.  Seconds later when he slammed three fingers inside her, her cries turned to screams of ecstasy. Scarlet came heavily, soaking his hand and the grass beneath them.

When her sated body finally stilled on the ground, the huntsmen pulled free his erection. Pushing his charges legs open wider with his knees, he buried himself fully inside Scarlet in a single thrust. His wait had made him harder than she remembered and she raised her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. He slid in and out of her wet sex smoothly building towards a climax for both of them. As his drives became deeper and faster he bit down on her breast until she exploded around him and his seed was spent inside her.

They lay on the grass breathing heavily, their bodies worn and sleepy. Such was her comfort with her own body Scarlet didn’t even try to rearrange her clothes to cover herself. Despite the coolness of the breeze, the sun was warm on their bodies and they dozed side by side.

Half-asleep Scarlet was startled to feel something hot, wet and rough against her pussy, not sure if she was dreaming or awake she allowed herself to succumb to the feelings it evoked deep in her stomach. Only when her brain registered the snores of the huntsman did it occur to her that the warm wetness was too rough, too long and lapping at her swollen pussy too deeply.

Hardly daring to look down a scream strangled itself in her throat when she saw the shaggy head of a wolf between her legs. Trying to scrabble backwards away from the animal she froze when it looked up at her. Baring its teeth it growled throatily, then licked its wet muzzle. Terrified, Scarlet was unsure if her legs would bare her weight, and even more unsure of what the animal would do if she ran. She carried on trying to inch backwards, twigs and small rocks digging into the flesh of her buttocks.

Almost four feet away, she was convinced she could escape, just a few more feet and then she could make a run for it. The wild creature had other ideas. Springing forward it pinned her to the ground, its paws on her chest, the thick claws digging into the round flesh of her breasts. She cried out in fear, and thanks to the remaining sensitivity of the huntsman’s ministrations the lash of arousal. The animal held her to the ground and dipped its head between her legs once more. Hungrily lapping at the juices flowing from her pussy, the mix of both her and the huntsman didn’t deter the animal. Its long rough tongue licked inside and out. Long drawn out strokes against her pulsing clit, then short sharp stabs deep inside her.

Despite her fear and revulsion, Scarlet felt her pussy moisten once more; it knew no difference between what touched it, only that it ached for more. With no idea what else to do, she lay her head back on the grass and closed her eyes, widening her legs she saw only once choice. Enjoy what the creature did until it bored and she could escape.

The wetter her folds became the more the animal seemed to enjoy its task. Its attentions focused on her opening, lapping each drop of juice. Probing deeply inside her for more. The long tongue seemed to reach parts of her no one else ever had. The roughness drove her body to shake and gasp.  Opening her eyes, Scarlet was shocked to find the huntsman not only watching, but also pleasuring himself at the same time.

“Help me,” she whispered to him.

Not even breaking his grip or stride, he continued to masturbate to the sight before him. “There’s no stopping him, girl. Be good, and he’ll leave you be when he’s spent.” Grinning the huntsman moved toward her. “Might as well enjoy the show. Open your mouth, there’s a good girl.”

Doing as she was told, Scarlet allowed the huntsmen to push his member past her lips; she sucked at him hungrily while feeling her orgasm building. She tried not to gag as he forced himself deeper into her mouth, he was pulling her legs open wider, almost painfully so. The wolf’s licking was becoming more frantic, less controlled and Scarlet feared what might come next. As uncontrolled as it may be, the wolf had a habit of lashing out at her overly sensitive clit so she almost burst many a time. When her orgasm finally erupted, it was as though the wolf became crazed. It licked and nipped at her opening, trying to taste every drop of her come. When he forced his tongue further inside her, his teeth grazed her clit so she exploded almost instantly again.

When the licking stopped, the huntsmen too pulled away.

“Are you ready, girl?” he asked.

“For what?” Scarlet’s eyes widened at the wolf in front of her. It was moving forward, standing over her body, its huge cock, erect and like nothing she had seen before. Bigger than any mans, it was twice as thick and the base thicker and rounder still.

“He’s going to fuck you. Do not struggle those teeth could tear you apart. And so could its dick.”

The animal lowered its hindquarters, trying to stab itself inside Scarlet. Missing it barked in frustration. The huntsmen obviously dying to see the girl fucked by the wild animal came to its rescue. Holding her legs wide and shoving his jacket under her hips to raise them, he guided the animal into her waiting pussy. Despite his large girth, there was no gentle easing into her. As soon as the animal felt itself touching the wetness, it plunged in deeply. Scarlet screamed out as the animal stretched her pussy wide. Her lips ached with the force, her thighs screamed in protest. Within seconds, the animal was pumping itself inside her furiously. The pain of being stretched so wide was soon forgotten by Scarlet and the fullness inside her touched every sweet spot she had. Her body rose to another orgasm, and another after than in quick succession.

When the animal finally came, that too caused Scarlet to erupt herself, the hot seed jetted inside her, spilling out she was full. When the animal pulled out, he paused only a second before running back to wherever it came. Scarlet’s body ached with the roughness.

“Well my girl, you were a lucky find,” the huntsmen said. “Now my turn to finish off, then you’re coming home with me. I’m not done with you and I’m hoping he’ll be back for more as well.”

As the huntsman buried himself in her soaking pussy, Scarlet couldn’t help but hope for the same, only she hoped he bought friends too.



Never let someone bring you down

Something got me thinking tonight, not really BDSM related but relationship related, as I have kink relationships, you lovely lot can have my musings.

The end of a relationship can hurt, sometimes it tears you apart, others it just stings. The thing I’ve been soul-searching for recently is why it hurts. That I would guess varies by relationship and the nature of the break up. Here’s my theory though, when a relationship breaks down it does so for a reason. A party being unfaithful, whether physically, emotionally or just too reliant on the world of cyber sex, people grown apart, addictions or behaviour related disagreements.

All completely separate issues, but with one thing in common, when one of them destroys a relationship, was that relationship ever worth any fighting in the first place? Love, trust, mutual attraction build a relationship, be it one of lovers, kink or friendship, but when it breaks down everything is called into question. One party invariably ends up asking themselves “What was the point, wasn’t I worth it, was I ever loved”. A fact I’m just learning is, maybe there was no point, maybe to them you weren’t worth it, and maybe they didn’t love you, but somewhere someone will.

If someone leaves you feeling that way, you are worth better, because no one who loves you would ever make you doubt your own worth. Someone who makes you feel that way, will be full of excuses, it will never be their fault. They claim they can’t put their feelings into words, cant find a way to express themselves, in actual fact they just  couldn’t be arsed.

This week after a shitty break up and shittier relationship, i dusted myself down, pulled up my big girl pants and said no way, you don’t treat me this way anymore. It’s amazing how a shopping spree, a new hair cut  and a few compliments (okay I had a lot today my hair looks awesome it would seem lol) can put a spring back in your step.

I realised someone out there will love me, will show me that everyday, never make excuses and always make sure I know just how much I’m worth.Because that is what someone who cares about you does.

So next time you find yourself fighting and wondering what the hell for, remind yourself there is someone out there would fight for you, will show you what they and you are fighting for and make you happy every single day, even if not all day. Never settle for anything less, I sure wont be again.

Remember excuses are just that, meaningless words to try and convince you its your fault not theirs, its not your fault, it never was.

Vibrators, Butt Plugs and Shame

I recently joined a new sex toy website’s group of toy testers (good news for me and you as I’ll be sharing my wetness ratings later on 😉 ) and its got me thinking, why we choose the toys we do, why such a variety is available and the type of people who use them.

Even the stores we buy from are aimed at certain types of people, from high street conservative to online depravity. Personally I fall in to the depths of depravity, I have no need of a realistic vieny penis lookalike, I could find a Dom to service me in that area. Clearly though there’s a market from them, why do people want a rubber penis replica?

Is it that they feel it’s more acceptable, less depraved if it replicates the real thing? Is sex still such a dirty word that even our cravings have to be within certain boundaries? Is that why pink, glittery cute rabbit ears are so popular, so what we do with it seems less dirty?

My brief time so far on the companies Facebook group has proved sex is in high demand. As is the desire for freebies. Posts are constant all day long, “when will i get an item” from people who signed up only 12 hours previously. When they do receive them, they seem incapable of writing real reviews that actually encourage the reader (or discourage), they beg for sex, then can’t manage to string a coherent paragraph together about why the toy is or isn’t any good. Could it be that it’s just too embarrassing to come out of the realms of secret groups and post the facts in all their delightful details where people might see it?

Well my friends, to do my duty in the war against conformity, I love my sex toys, the cute, the dirty, the depraved. I don’t care if it cost me a tenner or sixty quid, if it looks pretty or like something out of the black lagoon. I buy them to enjoy myself, to enjoy with a partner, I refuse to be embarrassed or ashamed of that fact. My favourite toy is a cheap tiny silver bullet, I swear the vibrations on that thing could give a jet engine a run for its money. I’m also not afraid to share that just seeing that silver orgasm giver in my drawer of kinkiness gets me wet.

The world of sex toys is huge, everything from vibrating wands, to nipple enlarging contraptions right up to fucking machines, so why do these high street stores not stock the racier items? They stick to standard, to the expected and those who dont know to go looking for it never find the joy of the expanding dildo. Even porn (assuming your watching the standard stuff) sticks to the safe toys, without searching specifically for BDSM/Bondage/extreme youll see a nice pink vibe with pretty bunny ears. Even within the world of sex, the good stuff seems to be a  closely guarded secret, that only the most kinky find out about. The very people who try and make pleasure a buisness are only willing to do so publically, if it’s conservative.

Even when the atrocity that is 50 shades of grey became popular, Ann Summers only increased their lines to satin blindfolds, and soft leather paddles. Where was the real stuff that BDSMers enjoy, the biting cuffs, whips that really whip, pinwheels (mine came from a craft shop btw! You can find sex toys everywhere with my kind of mind) and everything that makes kink wonderful.

Life is too short, too dull to be confined to a dull sex life, dull conversations and pretending we don’t love to get down, dirty and soaking wet. Here’s to the giant vibrators, the riding crops, the inflatable butt plugs, life’s pleasures and lets hope that one day we can enjoy all these things without shame.


KNKI: Is a BDSM dating site really a good idea?

Today, I discovered there’s a brand new app for us Kinksters, in the form of social media/dating site KNKI. So off I went to take a look. As a collared sub the dating side really has no interest to me. Yet when it comes to the profile section “Type I’m seeking” has no option not to be looking for a play partner.

Now first off while Facebook is pretty much the only social media needed for day to day life, (no one actually uses Myspace or Bebo anymore do they?) surely the likes of Fetlife is the only social media we need? Is KNKI just trying to fill a mobile gap Fet is yet to close? Fetlife really does cover everything, from bio’s to a list of kinks to more groups than anyone could ever hope to participate in. It also holds a wealth of information, covers SSC and RACK and encourages its community to be safe.

Now, a location based app goes into a whole different realm, were sharing where we are with god knows who. In a fantasy world that can be dangerous, there goes Safe and Sane. Do we really want some nutjob who thinks BDSM is tying someone to the ceiling while whipping them raw knowing where we are? We all like to think everyone who plays in the kink world is there to play by the rules, but the fact is this world just isn’t like that. All dating sites draw their share of time wasters, creeps and married men and women, but this isn’t any old dating, this is within the world of fantasy, a world where whips are wielded, cages are locked and chains clamped closed.

The biggest concern for me in regards to security, while perusing their premium page ($9.99 a month) the phrase “no blocking limits” caught my eye. So a user must pay for the privilege of blocking problem users from their page. This seems a poor way to make money and makes the site easy to abuse for those who wish to do so. Considering the first profile I viewed, of a young woman, stated “I want someone who will hit me and hurt me”, predators will crawl from the very foundation of this site and prey on the inexperienced, naive and down right dumb.

We’ve all seen that newbie on Fet “new and curious, no limits do what you want”. we all cringe and offer the most frightful experience possible that “no limits” invites, in the hope of making them realise what that phrase mean. Who will do the same on KNKI? Even if that user discovers what they’ve invited, the block option needs paying for. The fact someone even uses the above phrase is probably a good indicator that the app isn’t inviting a sensible clientele.

The next issue for me, was protection of minors. When the app is started, it has no login, no pass-code, nothing. Now I don’t know about all parents, but now and again the bad mother I am gives her phone to a cranky 3 year old, or 6 year old to keep them quiet in the car, while I’m on the phone or one of the many times I seem to end up in the doctors with one of the four. Now while they may start off on a nice safe, educational game (Thomas the tank racing promotes co-ordination I swear it), the could soon end up browsing the kind of images that could turn a priest to kink. On an app such as this (especially seeing as I didn’t at any point have to confirm my age) I expect a tiny bit of protection.

As for the social media aspect… It’s not going to rival Fetlife any time soon. No status updates, no groups, no events. Effectively you can message who you like, follow anyone who pops up in your feed and look at all the pictures you want. Its’s not a community, its a perv paradise (and not the good type of perv). I hate to say it,I hope I’m wrong but within a year, I expect a news story, a victim and a KNKI user.

(ps for anyone who wishes to find me i can be found @angelitious on fetlife 😉 )



BDSM, Misconceptions and the Media

It occurred to me today, so many people have such wide and varied misconceptions about the BDSM lifestyle, and I couldn’t help but wonder… why?

What is it that makes people think a Dominant beats the shit out of His/Her sub? Is it an ingrained belief that anything that differs from “normal” must be dangerous and harmful? Do people grow up believing a firm and leading partner is abusive? Or is it just the wide range of literature that shows the lifestyle in a bad light?

Maybe the terminology itself is the reason people fear a lifestyle they don’t understand. Someone asked me, “So do you like being strangled?” The answer of course is “fuck no!”, but then they aren’t really referring to being strangled. They don’t know or understand the difference between some nutter trying to kill you and controlled, safe breath-play.

Some people really do believe that those indulging in a kink lifestyle wander round wearing gimp masks and defecating on each other. Now while these are real kinks for some people, they also aren’t the basis of a relationship or to everyone’s taste.

If someone says marriage to me, I could make the assumption its due to pregnancy, money, or just because a couple feel they have to. For the most part those assumptions would be wrong, except for that tiny minority. Its the same if I told a vanilla person I have been collared. they’re going to assume I get beaten, used, abused and degraded (maybe I do, maybe I like it), the real question is: How do we dispel these myths? We can’t the power of media fuelled thinking is too strong.

They aren’t healthy assumptions and they certainly don’t make life easier for the collared sub. Many a friend has faced awkward questions about the piece of jewellery around their neck, the questioner never likes being quizzed about their wedding night and whether they screwed ’til sunrise though. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m quite happy to answer questions by someone who is genuinely interested, I’m happy to educate those willing to listen. What irritates the fuck (i won’t apologise for that word it has to be said) out of me, is people who immediately jump to conclusions, won’t listen or try to google numbers for domestic violence charities.

I’m going off on a little bit of a tangent, however, lets get back to my point, WHY? Or maybe it shouldn’t be why do people have misconceptions, but why are kinksters portrayed as they are? Lets be honest, BDSM in the media is never shown in a pretty light, leather full-face masks, news stories about young teens killing themselves practicing auto-asphyxiation or worse yet and I hate this headline, “Murderer/Rapist/Psycho Viewed Violent Porn.” I will never forget one TV detective show that was searching the laptop of its suspect. When they came to his bookmarks, at the top of the list was one of my own favourite pornography sites (second and third were familiar too), now, bang, that’s it he’s guilty and the show concluded with his confession etc. I’m pretty sure pornography is for the most part, make-believe, it is a staged scene not unlike any other TV performance, many of the niche sites even carry large banners stating all actors are over 21 and all acts consensual. The biggest producer i know of kink porn even interviews its actors before and after the scene, and those interviews are shown before and after the good stuff. Any one watching this stuff, knows full well its just good fun, its not women snatched from the streets, or being tied up and gang banged by forty strangers. Psycho’s don’t want a detailed report of why the actress is doing this video, so they sure as hell aren’t watching

My theory on all of this? It’s actually quite simple, any safe, sane Dom/Domme knows the power is all in the hands of the sub. Therefore making the often, (stereotype coming up) “weaker” sex, the weaker person. A woman likes being whipped, but instead we must pretend it’s because she is weak, vulnerable, trapped, if we applaud BDSM we must give her the power.

Ridicule a man on his knees before a leather clad woman holding his leash, it’s easier that accepting this strong woman, is allowing her man to show his freedom, to step down from those macho shoes, despite the fact the control is in his hands. A man cannot — in view of the media — be strong if he bows to a woman, he is pitiful.

The media and literature that fuels these misconceptions, does so, so that it can keep the stereotypes alive. Women are weak and men are only real men if they beat their chests.

The Pitfalls of #Pitmad

Twitter pitch parties are a fantastic way to get your work seen by as many agents and publishers as possible- well in theory.

Assuming you can condense two years of work, 85 thousand words, a  little sweat, keyboard blisters and a river of tears into 140 characters, you then have to watch that feed. With only 3 pitches in 12 hours, post it wrong and you’ll be at the bottom of the feed before anyone worth worrying about see’s your hard polished pitch.

So you ignore your scheduled ‘tweetdeck’ pitches, and sit in front of the screen waiting for an agent to say they’re looking at the feed. You copy and paste, and then you wait, pray, cry a little and bitch at the pitches who have <3, ’cause we all know ours is better (dammit it better be).

When eleven hours in you haven’t had so much as a reply let alone a little love heart (dammit i miss getting my friends to RT) you’re ready to throw in the towel, and pitch that damn book into the recycle bin (see what I did there 😉 ). For some reason though the masochist in us never does give in, I think in some small way even the slap of rejection is a small pleasure, at least we tried.

The the ping of a phone, a new email, or the relentless refreshing of the notification page, tells us someone, somewhere has “liked” ( Twitter let it be noted i prefer “favourited”) our pitch. The skeptic in us then curses the idiot that didn’t read the rules and hits the button because they think it sounds cool. Only its not an idiot (well not always) it’s an actual person that has a tiny bio listing “agent” or “publisher”. Our hearts sing for joy and we praise the gods that our genius has been noticed. That query is composed, attachments added and sent off into cyber world the second we read the submission guidelines.

The problem is we probably should have read up on that little name a bit more. Is it a genuine agent? A publisher that thinks page 500 page listings on Amazon eBooks are the way to go? A vanity press? The fact that someone, anyone actually wants to read our work sweeps us away. Its all too easy to be smart after we get burnt being dumb.

Some of us know better, some of us will learn better when we get our fingers singed, and some of us (very sadly) submit just to see if our work sucks so badly even a vanity would reject it.

There has to be upsides too though right (other than being liked and signed by the best agent in the world if your that lucky (no i don’t want to hear about it if ‘ you, i’m bitter)), and of course there is.

When it’s all over, don’t just move on to the next pitch party, forgetting the one you worked hard on. Take a few minutes, check out the feed, follow writers you like the sound of, make friends, maybe find a new beta, but best of all see which agents were watching (if they announced they were), find the ones who liked similar work to yours. Convince yourself they just missed yours, and (after your research) check their sub guidelines and send it in.  What have you got to lose? The nail in the wall with your reject letters will fill faster taking you closer to that acceptance.

The way i see it, even the pitfalls… aren’t. We might not get what we hoped for, we might learn a valuable lesson, or just make a new friend. We will get something out of it.

Writing and Relationships

Writing often feels like a solitary task. Recently however, for me, its become something else. My partner and I share very different interests, he likes Xbox and Iron maiden, I like reading and pop music, but something crossed our interests together. Writing.

Not in the physical sense, sitting down and penning a novel isn’t something he wants to do, helping me build a plot however, he does. The last few nights we’ve sat up until the wee hours planning a novel, and that one novel has gone from a single, standalone, to a series, with input and ideas I could never have found alone. It got me thinking, how much do writers actually separate themselves from others?

Does writing really need to be something we do locked away in a room with coffee and nicotine?

Sure the physical writing might still be a feat we need to tackle ourselves, but the endless pouring over plotlines and staring at empty pages while we try and get over the block or past an irritating story point, is that something best shared?

A single mind is limited by its own imagination, but two heads together? Surely when you combine two imaginations, both with different thoughts and viewpoints, not only can you come up with something new, but something with unexpected twists, turns and a whole new beauty.

I cant help but think, it is time to stop living within the stereotype. No more closing ourselves away, locked in study’s and libraries, but time to share our passions with those we love, and let them feed our own creative energy. After all you don’t have to write, to create a story.