Natasha L Scragg, 9/11/2026, The Power of Fiction
The fuel, fury and addiction, stupendous depiction. I’m magnetized; my nose buried in vellum sheets. Varied, the construct of complicated simpletons located on cliffs, near harbors, with their ghosts; misdirecting guideposts. The injection of crafty twists; flying ink insists you sink deeper into its thick. The turn of pages, a joystick. Wanting to finish the story; feeling’s transitory. Compose a series, Author, please! Your book ended with tease. I’ll have eyes on antagonist, tea with protagonist, follow breadcrumbs and red herring, and choose to be daring. T h e E n d
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