E.B. Mahoney
Bio
Aspiring author, artist, and sleep deprived student. Based in Australia, E.B. Mahoney enjoys climbing trees, playing a real-world version of a fictional sport, and writing in the scant spare time she has left.
Stories (51/0)
Letters to the Long Nights
Not knowing definitively might be frustrating, but it can be answer enough if I let it. It is possible to have integrity, and be able to see the world from many perspectives. It is empathy, not lack of conviction. And if I am unsure, it is because I have not finished learning. So perhaps I will always be a little unsure. The day I stop learning is surely a grave one. Perhaps in death or some other dead-end of the mind and spirit. May such a thing never be.
By E.B. Mahoney4 months ago in Poets
Letters to the Long Nights
Perhaps that’s why I’m in turmoil. I should have spoken when I had the chance. Because that would have been me. Instead I held back. Because I feared being unwanted, and I feared pushing you away. And if it wasn’t fear of that, it was fear of making past mistakes again.
By E.B. Mahoney4 months ago in Poets
What roamed the Wildes
They said it was ancient. But only the Hesain of old knew just how far back the forest’s creation dawned. It was the kind of place that, once visited, was never forgotten. To the ancient blooded Hesain, it was sacred. To the humans and elven-blooded people of the realm, it was dreaded. Many a wanderer had been lost over the last decades of recorded history. Most only dared venture into the outskirts where it met with the plains of the Outlier horse clans. Mushrooms and other edibles could be foraged there, where it was safer.
By E.B. Mahoneyabout a year ago in Fiction