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And Now For Something Completely Different


That's right, Olivia's back!

She's going to do a MONTHLY post - so look for her next one on December 2 - and boy, amd I looking forward to seeing what she brings us next time.

In the meantime, enjoy this month's post.


- Kendra


To follow Olivia:


Introduction:

Hi, I'm Olivia, and I'll be sharing my writing with you here! Who am I? Well, I am an avid reader, writer, and aspiring editor in the book world! I am the editorial assistant for Thin Veil Press, Black Thoughts Editorial Services, and the Florida State University English Department. There has always been a desire lingering in me to write and share my words with the world, but also to help others enhance theirs! I hope you enjoy my funky, whimsical words. Stay authentic to yourself, always.


Back in the library, where shelves with direct writings still somehow lingered with secrets, the sizzle of nauseating power pulsated in my throat. Ever since the quite opposite divine interaction with Tedith, the hunger for power displayed through the amount of pages I read in a day.


Looking for words on power and nature, the collision of nurture and man in the enchanted forest, for all the books out here in this library had twists to their stories, all including Mother Nature as their goddess and the forest as their homebase. Anyone who did not have the mind of a peasant such as I would easily assume that there was nothing beyond this forest.


Even I let doubt trick me sometimes.


But the forest was true, and so was the outside world. The border between the two is drastic, but Tedith announced and emphasized how blurred that line will become if power does not hold its reign.


Also known as me. If I do not hold on to my reins.


So the sweeping electricity of want and desire to rule this forest that I capsized and turned into my own jungle book leads me to crisscross in the middle of this library every morning, afternoon, and night, hoping to find some way into divinity that Tedith could not offer me. Family ties are gone, everyone in general gone. The only interaction left being the rustle of neutral leaves and sounds of doves responding to the library’s windchimes.


On the fifth fortnight of isolation, revelation struck harder than that last lightning bolt with the man. It has been three years since my uncle led me into this place, and one year since I last saw him. It had been months without seeing or hearing from Tedith, and yet even though he was closer in distance of time, he felt more like a figure of my imagination than anything. Like a notion of familiarity that led me to this exact moment.


I sat in the middle of the room as books lined the walls floor to ceiling to the point where they looked crooked if I stared long enough. I stared so long at pages of euphoric novels and references that the words engraved into my eyes and I saw them dancing like ghosts up and up to the ceiling. Then the books started flying, and I knew I was going delusional.


But the words faded after looking away from the pages long enough, and the books did not. They continued to sweep from shelves and flutter their pages like wings so delicately to avoid snapping their spine. My smile seemed to make them flutter faster, my doubts casting them back to their pages on shelves.


My mood depicted how vibrant these books flew. My demeanor would lead to destruction. Was I magic? Or was I proving the ability to control elements and items just as Mother Nature does every second of the waking and sleeping day?


This posed a question that stirred all the books awake and cracked half of the shelves… is the world magic then if Mother Nature serves such a validity of purposes that expose themselves as sorcery of elements?


The questions only make it worse, but the questions make my divinity purer. Help me to believe I am too magic.


I stood from the feeble position on that bohemian rug and lifted my hands in the air as if the novels dated thousands of years back were my choir. Oh how can I defend sanity if all of static history floats in the electric power of my palms? There was no need for support from anyone anymore, nor a need to have a mentor breathing down my back. People come into my life as seasons and lessons, but no one is meant to stick.


Mother Nature has no friends, but she does have one person which I learned that night as I stepped outside to be greeted by a sudden appearance of plush moss paths towards the garden beyond; I am Mother Nature’s daughter.

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