Not thinking writing. What comes out? Maybe your theme?
Once, I told myself, I was a mighty sword (through my pen). I took my sword and struck it into a broad trunked tree that cast golden leaves down on me from time's home base, the seasons. I struck so hard the sword stuck, and I could not withdraw it. I waited there in the golden rain for a prince to save me and my salvation. But he had gotten the the wrong information, a dodgy map given to him by the villain of my life, whose name was Chodolake. Chodolake waited nearby, wondering if he might take his chance at raping me. But I was old and he loved youth; I was safe at last.
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Compliments of the Author: Debbie Bumstead