Crafter of the Mine Kind

It was a quiet Christmas morning for a certain girl and her family in the southern United States. They were unwrapping presents and enjoying each other’s company in general — nothing out of the ordinary, really.

But after no more parcels remained under the stout fir — and ribbons and bits of paper littered the floor — the father, with a mischievous look on his usually placid visage, rose from his chair and approached his daughter. “One last gift,” he said, and he pulled out of his pocket an object of otherworldly material about the width of a Saltine cracker. “I’m sure you know how it works.”

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~~Story Time With Dekreel~~

I’m not very huge on writing.

I’ve written enough, and hung out with other writers enough, to understand the pain of writer’s block, the despair of killing a character you like, the frustration of editing, etc., but I’ve never gotten far enough to experience most of these things myself.

Today, I came closer to being a passionate writer than I have in a long time.

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