Mardra
Profile
I am a writer. It’s not my profession. It is who I am.
I am constantly striving to create something better.
I appreciate this environment of encouragement and advice – Thank you for being a part of the positive.
Groups
Mardra hosts Vanishing Points and is a member of "Exceptional Ekphrasis", Buyers Club, Cards For Sale (Must have writing on them), Castle Magic, Drive By Shooting, Fantasy Art, Feminine Intent (LIMIT TWO IMAGES PER DAY), Flash Fiction, Happy Hour, in-between, The Greatest View in the World, The Red Writing Room, The Word Tree, United States and Writing Workshop.
Journal Entries
When Goodbye is Forever
Posted about 1 month ago.
Don't wait up
Posted 6 months ago.
Mothers Day - Indulge me
Posted 6 months ago, 1 comment so far.
On the ground shortly
Posted 7 months ago, 7 comments so far.
Writer's Blech
Posted 8 months ago, 1 comment so far.
All in good fun
Posted 8 months ago, 2 comments so far.
Mardra - in another language
Posted 9 months ago, 8 comments so far.
Now What do I do?
Posted 10 months ago, 2 comments so far.
Fortune Cookies and the New Year
Posted 10 months ago, 2 comments so far.
Selective Service
Posted 11 months ago, 4 comments so far.
Writing
The Guardian
The love of others commissions a guardian angel. / I have met these angels away from their post because sometimes the resolve of a boy can weaken.
Fear
Once fear tastes power or sees the strength of persuasion, it grows. Once the snake is fed, it develops poison.
The Queen's final journey
The wind whistled through the branches. “I cannot answer my friend, because there is no answer.” The King nodded into his palms. He knew this.
Three - A Woman of Strength
Magdeline took the infant. She moved her fingers across his tiny muscles; she felt his ribs; she noted the color of his skin and the depth of his breath. The Prince did not cry.
Why do I write?
The endorphins of the addiction give me the texture, enable the distorted visions, and find the purpose in tragedy.
One - Peter
The aroma was thick enough to be swallowed. An acquired taste: a roomful of old men, smoke, and a bottomless barrel of ale.
