A novel by Anne elisabeth stengl

“Hope is such a beautiful dream that dies a hideous death”

“Have you ever dreamed of one thing for so long, wanted nothing more than to have that dream fulfilled, only to find out that maybe it wasn’t what you actually wanted all along?”

Do you believe in Faerie tales? Do you believe in mystical creatures that guard the sin-black night and roam unseen during the glorious day; Or perhaps in tales of old songs sung by the moon and kingdoms burnt to dust in the flames of the sun; Tales of cities built on the foundation of legends that tell of dragons, jesters and faerie kings?

Princess Una of Parumvir has come of age to be married. She dreams of a pretty life full of romance, hope and love. Blinded by the charisma of her jester-prince, she looses her heart to flames and would only burn for eternity until love’s game -well played- can restore what she’s lost and saves her from the dragon’s eternal flames.

Book title: Heartless ( from the Tales of Goldstone wood series)

Author: Anne Elisabeth Stengl

Editor in chief: Ekanem E. Eniola

Spread love, spread my blog!

My love – Poem

I believed in love because you showed me I was capable of loving

I sat in your presence and you proved I was worthy to be loved

You infiltrated my dreams,

Corrupted my thoughts,

Spreading like a virus in my heart.

I love you.’ You’d whisper

Time and time again, convincing my poor heart that I was a gem.

I love you.’ I’d say in response, blinded by the mirage of your promises,

Intoxicated by the passion of your kisses.

Infatuation? Maybe.

But what really is the difference when a man makes you feel you can fly,

When you have placed me on a pedestal and crowned me your queen, your mother, your baby, your love?

My love. My cruel love.

You took my heart and replaced it with something I could loose.

Something I’d rather die than loose.

Your love.

Your love is like cold water softly running over hot coal,

Sweet and pure yet toxic and deadly.

You wrap your arms around me and I can feel your soul pressed to mine.

Your soft lips meet mine and your palms firm on my breasts I am putty in your hands.

You take me, making me one with you with each thrust,

Teaching me to sing your erotic melody composed of unharmonised cries of joy.

Oh my love,

Let this be our litany, that you might hold me as yours till I die.



Why wouldn’t you let me go?
You say you don’t want me.
I don’t want to hurt anymore
But that seems like it’s all you want from me.
You set me on fire just to watch me burn.
You let me love you just to watch me suffer.
You drown me just to watch me cry.
What do you want from me?
Why wouldn’t you let me go?

I needed beauty, I needed me

I feared to dream, to love, to sing

I feared to fly, to feel, to soar

I feared to sing the songs my heart bore,

Certain that I had no voice and my words were just too poor,

How dare I believe?

How dare I hope?

How could I have faith in a pitiful soul such as myself?

But you came and you sang my songs, drumming your feverishly sweet beat on my heart.

You came and you told my stories, fascinating me by my own genius.

With you came my voice, my dream, my love.

With you I could dance and be seen,

I could sing and be applauded,

I could speak and be awarded.

You praised me for all my substance and opened my eyes to see my worth.

My insecurities were consumed as swiftly as they consumed me.

My joy flowed forth as the waterfall; loudly and full of splendor in the light of my own beauty.

The beauty you opened my eyes to see.

The beauty I had shunned for so long for fear death.

But what greater death is there than this.

To thrust oneself into this demeaning abyss,

Losing yourself to darkness in the world and then embracing that darkness with open arms, without a fight.

The Orphan’s Story

Imagine a child; homeless and poor,

Her clothes; a tattered eyesore,

The surrounding cold biting elentlessly into her very thin skin.

She holds on – but to what?

Her teddy, Sally.

The once fluffy companion, her only ray of light through the crack.

What happenes when it is taken?

When – ever so cruelly – her hope dies and all that is left in it’s wake is an empty heart while her tears fall like the rain.

Lonely and unloved, she tarries her death.

Like a sweet daffodil to be blown away in the wind

The Pharisees pass without turning a hair,

The Levites ride past without seeming to care.

She waits.

Sitting still. Watching, crying, breaking and hungry.

Hungry for love, for warmth, food or maybe even faith!

Nothing comes, no one cares.

The good Samaritan, death might have forgotten her,

The Sergeant, Life thrust a wicked blow after another:

By his army of demons and legions, she is taken,

Forced open and tainted, too numb to cry

Life mocks her being an earthly hell while Death denies her his bliss, being a life beyond.

Her darkness is complete and her torment sure.

When shall our eyes be open to the poor around us? Stop your ears to the cries of the poor and you shall cry and not be heard also! Do not be the hypocritical Levite or the self righteous Pharisee. Do what you can once in a while and make some one smile!

Spread love, spread my blog!

Thanks for reading and if you enjoyed it – or not- feel free to leave a comment!

Editor in chief: Ekanem E. Eniola

Just me!!

So this is my first blog post. I asked myself many times why I wanted this blog and for a while I couldn’t really come up with a reason for myself. That made this post a lot harder to write but I guess it’s all because of how much I love writing and all the self doubt that comes with it: doubting yourself, your creativity and ability, then falling into this abyss of anxiety for absolutely no reason you can format nor express before picking up your pen and writing again. It’s a whole vicious cycle and I low-key enjoy it.

I’m Edima, a young Nigerian who loves to write among other things like eating and fashion illustration. I write poems, stories and – just recently – book reviews. I have written over 15 poems and just a few reviews That’s basically what my blog is going to be about, my works.

Don’t forget to follow and feedback would be very appreciated!

Find me on twitter @The_hollowgirl.

Editor in chief: Ekanem Edima.