~echoetty
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The Great AuthorThe Great AuthorThe Great Author
I once knew an author many a years ago. He was the author, his brilliance amazed the world. He wrote one novel after another. He was bound by no genre. His pen flowed across the page effortlessly in a seeming endless dance. He wrote of other worlds like he walked among the people he wrote about. Like he lived their lives and practiced their way of life. He truly was a master, but the unfortunate thing about it is that he never liked anything he ever wrote. Out of all the worlds he wrote about of all the characters he brought to life he didn’t like any of them. Of all the praise his books have received
by ~echoetty
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Y la Sangre de Abel cubrió el altar, y olía dulce mientras ardía.
Pero mi Padre dijo:
"Maldito estás, Caín, quien mataste a tu hermano. Como yo fui expulsado, así lo serás tú"
- El libro de Nod, la crónica de Caín
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