“Their lovemaking could be beautiful, the grace and passion they poured into one another’s body drowning out their surroundings. Hot whispers of “forever,” “someday,” and “freedom” would fill their ears and trick their souls into believing.” (page 9)


With the mantra of “better late than never” stammering away in my heavily medicated brain, I proudly and belatedly bring you Day Two of The -Forsaken- Blogs.

Applause would be greatly appreciated at this point.

My morning has been less than ideal, shall we say. So excuse me if I psychotically cling to any positive feedback the universe sends my way today. I will try, however, to keep any gratuitous tail-wagging on my part to a strict minimum. Believe me, nobody needs to see that.

Moving right along…

Six thousand miles of separation. In The Torch Forsaken, that refers to the distance between the U.S. and southern Brazil. In my own life, especially on days like this, that seems to be the distance between my life and normalcy.

Six thousand miles.

Squint and hop on my toes with all of my might and I still can’t even catch a glimpse at something so far away.

At this point in my life, what do I pray for at night? That I never know what six thousand and one miles of separation feels like.

Yeah, on days like this I just cling to the ground and  hope not to be shoved any further away from the sun than I already am.

So, please excuse the dirt under my nails today. I’m a stubborn bitch who sure as hell is going to hold her ground.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe Stowe