Ever since I could first form words and hold a pen, I've been telling stories - from the sloppily scrawled tales about getting ice cream with my exotic pets to full-blown sci-fi and fantasy epics. To God be the glory for every word I write!
It looks like a monster. I've never seen something so fearsome, so sharp, so loud. Every line is sharp and jagged without a hint of anything soft. I get the sense that it's ready to devour me as soon as I make a single wrong step. And it's not forgiving, either. It will make sure I'm consumed.
Moths and Butterflies
Percy was having a rather lovely day. Several moths had flitted into his cavern in the early morning, seeking shelter from the light. That meant an easy breakfast for him, but he found that he was still hungry. He burped, sending out a puff of smoke. His stomach growled a little.