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About the author
Riniel
Novel: Desecrated.
Genre: Fantasy
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About Riniel

Location: North Carolina

Age:16

Website: http://stainedpages.wordpress.com

Favorite novels: The Lord of the Rings, The Scarlet Pimpernel, The Space Trilogy, Wuthering Heights, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, The Scarlet Letter, The Great Gatsby...

Favorite writers: J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Agatha Cristie, Charles Dickens, Jules Verne, P.G. Wodehouse, Lemony Snicket.

Favorite music: Instrumental, classical, celtic, screamo, indie, symphonic metal, gothic

Non-noveling interests: Graphic design, music, dreaming, sketching, reading, literature, theology, politics, debating...

Joined: Octubre 24, 2007

This Year: Official Participant

NaNoWriMo History:
'07

NaNoWriMo posts: 0

NaNoWriMo buddies: 3

 

Brief Author Bio:

I'm Steffi, I'm 16 years of age, and words have brought me pleasure since I can remember. Whether reading or writing, I love words, adore words, I enjoy the way they sound across my lips, the way they hold and bind ideas, the way words can convey so much...
And yet in some cases, not enough.

I'm a romanticist, a poet, a dreamer of dreams, the girl with the thorn in her side...
And a lover of the thrills of nature. The stars my glorious God has splayed the sky with...the scintillating light across the water's wave's...

My own lines are frail and weak. They fail to convey what I wish to say, and inspiration oftentimes evades my fingertips, despite my constant attempts to grab it and bind it to my will. So often I despair at my own words.
But I attempt, I'll clasp my pen all the same as I simply could never give up. This is how I'm formed, this is who I am...
I'm a captive.
And will always be.

Synopsis: Desecrated.

Gone. Dead. Their bodies lie in pools of rain, blood and tears; the crescent is lost and marred by groping hands.

Has Hope turned her face from this defiled land?
Or does it exist yet...
A flower amid the ashes, pale petals smeared with black...

In the times of bleak and dark, the smallest beam seems all the more clearer, the most fragile of the stars shines the brightest set in the black expanse of the sky.
And so they will cling with fragile fingers to hope that ever wanes...
For what once was vivid in beauty is now decayed and left to Death's cold kiss. The pure has been torn down form her lofty skies and left, broken, bloodied, desecrated.

Riniel's Writing Buddies

Caladria Napea
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Manwathiel
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Ricochet
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