You've Got Male Models

A 20-year old prodigy heart surgeon, Chris Cahill, did not expect to share her apartment (or her life) with two aspiring male models when she finally gains her independence. A story in the process of their interesting (and equally hilarious!) adventures of three different individuals living in the present.

JournalWords

I write on a whim, and somewhere along the line, I have collected journals full of phrases and ideas that I use to spark a story. Got any ideas, feel free to share them. How would you interpret a JournalWord?

I ADORE THEM ALL!

Gladiators, Bad-ass priests, Robots, Demons, Cowboys, Demon-Cowboys, Fast-food cashiers, Ninjas, Butlers, Pirates, Sailors... The list goes on and they all make me swoon! (We are instant best buddies if you feel the same, just saying)

Bless

Albeit reluctantly, Sarah finds herself with the responsibility of raising an angel after he crashes from the sky. Sci-fi, supernatural, and a little silly.

Mera

I'm a fiend. *cheeky smile*

Monday 7 April 2014

Queen Consort of Gloom

JournalWord: Storm

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The Queen Consort of Gloom is a leviathan of billowing cobalt clouds and vapor. Her face is obscured by her nebulous crown; curling over her taunt, pale cheekbones and sharp jaw.


Her shoulders are rounded, bony, blue in pallor, and hunched into her chest. They strain under the weight of her overcast headdress; neck elongated and exposed through the fog skimming over the top of her arched spine.


The mist lazily swirls over her pointed ears, crackling in the darker concentrations; building steam and smoke in its own condensed reaction. Her tracks are lazy under her skirts of dusty frost and vapor. They're unseen and soaking into the soil. She pauses her solemn trek through the mountains she towers, murky indigo lips, shaped like the clouds she reigns, sighing a puff of air that blows the snow piled on their peaks.


Like the goliath she is and with the thick air of a goddess, she freezes the landscape in a mixture of awe and horror. Successfully snatching back the breath of her spectators, she glares, her eyes dark and a storm in themselves.

::
 
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