The room you enter is lit by a source of light that you cannot see, but a pale green glow surrounds everything. In front of you a single heavy wooden desk where a lady sits engrossed in a book. Around her stretch endless rows of towering book cases, reaching into the distant gloom. 'Excuse me' you say. She doesn't look up. 'EXCUSE me!' you try again. 'What?' the woman demands without looking up. Her tone is off-putting, but you continue nonetheless. 'Is this the library?' She deigns to look up with a scornful glance. 'No dear, it's a cabbage. A bright big blue one at that.' Her gaze immediately returns to her reading. 'So you mind then if I just look at the books then?' you ask, surprised at her manner. She looks up properly for the first time and you are amazed by the complete look of scorn in her eyes. 'Read the books? Read them! Oh no, you don't read them! What kind of place do you come from where they actually READ the books? It's proposterous! The books are perfectly fine until people come along touching them, looking at them, waring the pages out with their eyes. Please leave them where they are.' You cannot hide the astonishment you felt at her reply. In silence you decide to ignore her warning and walk off down the nearest row, quickly disappearing from sight. The librarian smiles only slightly, not even bothering to raise a questioning eyebrow when a terrified reaches her from the direction you walked in... Hi, I'm 16 and I live in Leicester, England. If it's decect fantasy - I will read it. Unfortunately I have no idea about the quality of what I write. Please don't forget to check out the fantasy and fan art galleries. And please, please, please comment! It helps to satiate my need for attention.

Queen of the Morning

Both these poems are written about the Morning Angel image, but they have slightly interpretations. So I thought it appropriate to post them together.

Axe Happy

I have to say that the tone was greatly inspired by reading work set in the Warhammer universe, though not actually set in it.


The oldest story that I wrote - it's about six years old. I don't know whether the historical references are accurate - I couldn't be bothered to check.


This poem's about a feeling of change as a creature of the night stalks it's prey. It could be a werewolf or a vampire - take you pick.

Prince Monologues: Kraken

Just working my way through some myths and fairy story situations here. Anyone got any suggestions for who should complain next?

Strange Webs Part 1

Several years old, but one of the better ones I did. There are more parts to follow, if not necessarily an actual ending. But please tell me what you think before I blindly post all of it.

Prince Monologues: Dragon

Think the complaints about stereotypical princes might be turning into a series.

Prince Monologues: Princess

Inspired by another poem I read slagging off princes.

Prince Monologues: Queen

One highly put out queen, who can't seem to get rid of those pesky kids - and no, I don't mean the Scooby gang.