Canva goat

Crescent

United States

A person who likes to read, write, draw, craft, and game
A person who is willing to struggle for what she wants
A person who loves her family and friends very much
A person on WtW

Message from Writer

I am a peer reviewer. I won the November 2018 Novel Writing Competition for the Best Peer Review.

While I sometimes peer review things randomly, if you want me to peer review one of your works, please drop a comment on one of my published works (I would love it if you read my work too!) stating which piece you'd like feedback on, and I'll be happy to peer review your piece. :D

I'm part of the Corner Writing Club on WtW. Peer Review Assignments Black List is for when I complete my peer review assignments, but my partner does not by the deadline:
Nobody yet! :D

Published Work

Novel Writing Competition 2018

The Second Admiral (Excerpt)

Peraphone laughed and slammed the flagon down, making the makeshift barrel table jump from the newly cleared deck. Rum sloshed over the mug, splattering onto the alcohol-logged table.

How wonderful! Doubles again! The Fiend must be feeling generous today if her consecutive wins were any indication. She swiped the gold pieces from the table and downed the rest of the rum, letting it spill onto her loose russet hair and leather jacket, soaking her white undershirt.

Her crewmen shot her approving looks; some let their eyes drop to where the shirt still soaked up the rum. She grinned, wolfish, at Tamin, her Quartermaster. He looked exasperated—brows pinched, lips parted—as he rolled.

Six and one.

“Dammit.” He growled, took her flagon, and frowned when he realized there wasn’t anything left but the dregs.

Crowded around an untidy table, wind tousling the sails, her hair—she cared little for the alcohol, the paltry bets.

“Anyone next?” Pera raised her brow at her crewmates,...

Novel Writing Competition 2018

The Second Admiral (Excerpt)

Peraphone laughed and slammed the flagon down, making the makeshift barrel table jump from the newly cleared deck. Rum sloshed over the mug, splattering onto the alcohol-logged table.

How wonderful! Doubles again! The Demon must be feeling generous today if her consecutive wins were any indication. She swiped the gold pieces from the table and downed the rest of the rum, letting it spill onto her jacket, soaking her white undershirt.

Her crewmen shot her approving looks; some let their eyes drop to where the shirt still soaked up the rum. She grinned, wolfish, at Tamin, her Quartermaster. His muscular shoulders exhibited the tails of what she guessed were whip scars. The Kurtnese wyvern tattoo that was hiding beneath that billowing shirt was a brand. A slave before a sailor. He looked exasperated—brows pinched, lips parted—as he rolled.

Six and one.

“Dammit.” He growled, took her flagon, and frowned when he realized there wasn’t anything left but the dregs.

Crowded...

Novel Writing Competition 2018

The Second Admiral (Excerpt)

Peraphone laughed and slammed the flagon down, making the makeshift barrel table jump from the newly cleared deck. Rum sloshed over the mug, splattering onto the alcohol-logged table.

How wonderful! Doubles again! The Demon must be feeling generous today if her consecutive wins were any indication. She swiped the gold pieces from the table and downed the rest of the rum, letting it spill onto her jacket, soaking her white undershirt.

Her crewmen shot her approving looks; some let their eyes drop to where the shirt still soaked up the rum. She grinned, wolfish, at Tamin, her Quartermaster and left hand. His exposed, muscular shoulders exhibited the tails of what she guessed were whip scars. A slave before a sailor. He looked exasperated - brows pinched, lips parted - as he rolled.

Six and one.

He growled, took her flagon, and frowned when he realized there wasn’t anything left but the dregs.

Crowded around an untidy table, wind tousling the...

Personal Essay Competition: Making Change

No Child Truly Believes...

“No child truly believes they will be hanged” is the opening line of epic fantasy novel Red Sister by Mark Lawrence. Can one not also say that no smoker believes they’ll get lung cancer? That no drunkard believes they’ll drown until he’s choking on his own vomit? In both cases, I’m sure the experts can pull fancy statistics from their caps and tell us the death tolls or probabilities. I’m sure there are people that’ll give you crazy fractions on how likely a school shooting is. What child truly believes they will be shot?

The security dog had come barking up the hallway. Students normally carried their book bags everywhere they went. Today, everyone had to abandon their book bags outside. It was as if the bags were precariously-leaning dominoes, ready to spill the pills. I was in the chemistry laboratory, scribbling on about thermochemistry or gas laws. When it was all over, my book bag remained zipped. The entire...