tossed upon our violent seas...
Welcome to my homepage. My name is Liz, more commonly known as runtransatlantic on fictionpress or europop92 on livejournal. Just a warning: if you know me in real life, I won't speak with you about the material you find here. That being said, feel free to contact me at any of the links I've provided should you be interested in learning more about me or my writing.
I rarely use capital letters in my rambling, so after this paragraph, I will be switching back to how I usually write (save for my novels, of course).
and if you happened to stumble across this page on accident, i suggest that you explore a bit. perhaps, you'll find something that you otherwise didn't know existed, and it will be some sort of happy surprise.
a plank just washed ashore by the tide, a kind of braille:
26/7/10: all the pages of this site are working except for the 'more' sections of my chaptered works. they will be up and running soon, as well as some new sections of the site that have yet to be announced.
But she wasn’t magical. She didn’t feel that magic they all saw – she felt crumpled, squished under the weight of the title, of the pedestal they lifted her upon. She was human, just like any man. Only her body was curves, an empty vessel. And that somehow made her divine in their eyes.- The Fire Walkers
you were a blurry motif - the ocean beneath a transatlantic flight. & they were stars fallen from beyond the sun's reach, glittering on the bathroom floor - white. & if i look down, out my submarine windowpane, i realize i'm as high as the constellations scattered among the clouds - found. & when this place crashes, wish upon me? because we both need a little magic to just be.