Shores of white sand.
Voiceless, faceless figures
stand wavering there,
pale and transclucent
in fear and absence of
thought and wish.
Whatever they were; now
imprints upon the shores
of the isle of the dead.
Shores of white sand.
Voiceless, faceless figures
stand wavering there,
pale and transclucent
in fear and absence of
thought and wish.
Whatever they were; now
imprints upon the shores
of the isle of the dead.
(28. April 2022)
I'm a Scottish fool who wants to be an author, poet, musician and whatnot, but mainly an author. I'm sometimes known as "Scottish Chewbacca".
I started reading with Diana Wynne Jones, who is still by far my favourite author, and started writing with blurbs for imaginary books that, over time, I grew to want to bring out of my imagination and into the material world.
Be it prose or poetry, I love writing fantasy and I try my hand at science fiction or horror every now and then ― I hope you stick around to see what I write on this site, because I'm very excited to be here.
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