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Charlotte Collins

United States

Yo, I love to write, act, read, sing, sew, and dance. My favorite is writing. Writing stories, blogs, songs, and all kinds of fun stuff. Helping out at my church is also a love of mine. A few fandoms: LOTR, HP, PJO, Eragon, Supernatural, Disney, etc

Message from Writer

Helloooo. Please enjoy my creations and feel free to provide constructive criticism, your opinions, or just state something you can relate to! Love all who give support. If you want, you can ask me to review your work as well!


July 11, 2019


Not sure if I'm actually going to write a bunch to go with this, but I have an idea forming for a kind of book, but I need hecka feedback so Imma post the prologue here. Enjoy, or don't. I don't really care all that much. If you do like it, let me know. 


Living alone here brings some comfort. Of course, it occasionally gets rather lonely. But one thought that keeps me going is that safe in here. By myself. It is better than being out there.

Out there, where the world has gone to ash and ruin. Out there, where people steal and kill and hurt their friends and family for the sake of survival. Survival. Such a tedious word. A term for life. We don’t live anymore. We survive.

Only if our lives hadn’t been reduced to the ravenous, instinctual, primitive mindset of a pack of wolves. Yet, not even a pack, because doesn’t a pack mean family? There is no such thing anymore. Only cold, harsh individual survival.

And yet, as I mull over these thoughts my mind goes to home. A warm, fire lit, cozy home. Where the air smells like cherry pie and cookies. Where the fur rug is the best seat, right in front of the fireplace. Where laughter rings out and sounds like tinkling bells and gongs, whose deep sound penetrates the air and resonates for long after.

Home. Someplace destroyed long ago. Someplace I will never see again. If not for my treason, then for the sake of peace. For how could I stay at a crumbling, ruined ring of stone, longingly remembering what it once was and who I once had with me.
No. I cannot go back. Even if I can escape this wretched, dank, cold, wet hellhole, I would never be emotionally or mentally strong enough to go back.

And even after deciding upon this rather intelligent decision, I cannot help but feel an ache in my heart, where some small seed of hope still longs for the rich happiness of home. Of family. Of friends. Of love. A longing for something better, no matter how hopeless my reality really is, and no matter how impossible it is that my wish might come true.


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  • July 11, 2019 - 2:36pm (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Catlover

    That was such an enjoyable read. I would love to see more! :)

    3 months ago