From crafting second-world fantasies to scheming crime novels to novice poetry; magic, mystery, music. I've dreamed of it all.
Now all I want to do is write it.
My IG: https://www.instagram.com/iamtiffanieharvey/
When They're Ready, Let Them Fly
Dear You, I cannot hold too tightly to my work. My poetry is an outlet used to shelve quick, fleeting thoughts and shallow, held breaths. My novels are commitments to people I may never meet but I do hope to one day inspire. My work is where I plant all the discombobulated jumble of ideas that have taken root in my head and water them until they blossom to their fullest. So, I release them in one sweet exhalation and create space for more enticing, enriching, energetic ideas that have chosen me to birth them into this world.
The First Flame
Fire ran fiercely through the forest. Thick bogs of smoke eradicated fresh air, suffocating any and all unlucky souls caught in its arm. Fleeing screams were gobbled up by the splitting sounds of trees cracking, breaking with heavy woes, and forced surrender.
- Runner-Up in 24/7 Companion Challenge
The Last Gift From My GrandpaRunner-Up in 24/7 Companion Challenge
7 A.M. — the usual morning lineup. The alarm sings and I snooze it. Several times. With my eyes wide shut, I fumble around in the dark for the only solid thing on my bed. Finally, my fingers curl around fine, rough hair, and my arm tugs it close. I can hear the air leaving his body as he settles in as my little spoon. While my alarm sounds again for the fifth time — it’s now 7:45 — he slings his head over my arm and uses it as his pillow. Not an upgrade from the plush throw he was laying on before I interrupted his beauty sleep, but a pillow nonetheless.
How To Make A Dad
Love is a precarious thing. It runs hot and cold and it hits us most unexpectedly sometimes. Love, real love, is unconditional. Very few things are comparable to a father’s love. One of those rare comparisons includes a homemade meal made by the man himself.