5 Photos – 5 Days Challenge Day 5 – Serena’s Bubble Monster


I am currently taking part in the 5 Photos – 5 days challenge after being nominated by Annika Perry from


Here is my photo and writing for Day 5.


I’ve had this photo in my mobile phone for ages. Why did I photograph my foamy bubble bath ? I was astonished at how big this foamy bubble bath had become, and as you can see it had quite a distinct shape. I’m glad I did because it became quite a stimulus for this little story below.

I’m ending the five day challenge on a light-hearted note, here’s my cheeky story of Serena’s Bubble Monster!!!

Serena’s Bubble Monster

Serena turned the tap on full blast. The candles flickered creating a relaxing ambience. Serena poured herself a large glass of wine, and gulped it down in one big glug. Then she poured another. Continuing in the same vein she tipped the whole bottle of her favourite scented apple bubble bath in. No half measures. Not tonight. The bubbles grew and grew until they resembled a very large foamy marshmallow, the aroma reminding her of the imagined scent of a delightful apple orchard.

Serena was very hungry and would have been tempted to eat this apple marshmallow feast if she wasn’t certain that it was made out of soap. The white bubbly marshmallow spread out in a most peculiar way, whipping around like an enormous candy floss generator growing bigger and bigger. Boy her low blood sugar level was getting to her! Serena tried to turn the tap off but it seemed to be stuck. The water just kept on coming, gushing out faster and faster. Serena dashed around the bathroom, desperately looking for something to grip the tap with. In the process the towel that she had secured around her body nearly fell off. She found a hand towel and tried turning the tap off again. Still no luck. If the water wouldn’t stop it would start to flood the house, and this foaming marshmallow bubble would keep on growing and growing.


Serena sensed this was beyond the scope of her normal realm of experience. She couldn’t google this. In desperation she shouted for her husband but he didn’t come. He must have fallen asleep in front of the TV,  been listening to loud music, or gone to the pub without telling her. That sounded more likely. Ugh. Men!

She shouted again, and this time, she got a reply, a response she wasn’t expecting.

‘Stop shouting can’t you see I’ve got an important job on. You’re agitating me, and agitated bubbles make for an agitated fellow, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that!’

The bubbles could talk? How peculiar!  They sounded like a gush of water you might hear at the end of a very long ride at your favourite water park.

This fountain of exploding bubbles waved his soapy arms about in distress, sending little clouds of foam tumbling in all directions.

Serena gasped. The bubbles were frothing and foaming and getting more distinct by the minute. The bubble creature was now the size of a little man, who appeared to be frowning.

“Oh, stop it! Will you stop it! Just for a minute, please, Mr what can I call you?” shouted Serena.

“I’m forgetting my manners, do accept my apologies, my dear, I’m …… Mr. Fuming Bubble Monster,” he replied with a soapy frown.

This was the last straw, Serena found herself on the verge of tears. It had been a particularly stressful week, she had run up a huge phone bill, been involved in a minor accident, and had a row with her husband.

“Stop creeping me out, Mr Fuming whatever you are,” she cried.

“Creeping you out, heavens to soap suds, I’m just teasing! Come now, can’t you take a joke? How could a Bubble Monster be creeping you out? I’m just made out of hot steamy water, and friendly bubbles!”

Serena saw her mistake, really it had been an overly stressful week. “Now that I look at you more closely I don’t think you look frightening, but I’m not sure what you are. You’re flicking bubbles everywhere, and if you keep this up you’ll flood my house.”

“I don’t flood houses, well not often, only when I’m very cross. Today I’m in a good mood. I loved your apple bubble bath by the way, what a lovely smell, so fresh and inviting. Lovely candles too, just what the doctor ordered, Serena, you have a great taste in bubble bath. I love your name by the way, Serena, very Serene. It’s just about good enough to eat, oh, not you, my dear, your bubble bath. I feel like a new, improved Bubble Monster now. I needed that so much, and lots of hot water, it’s so important, you’ll see, just one second,” the bubble monster  reached over with his foamy hand and turned the tap.

The tap groaned, and shrieked as if it was in terrible pain and then the water stopped.

“How did you manage to do that?” asked Serena, her forehead creasing with confusion.

“Bubble magic. Next time you run a bubble bath, remember my motto: Bubbles are magic, and magic must never ever be wasted.”

“Oh, now I see, you’re cross with me for emptying the whole of the bubble bath in.”

“Of course, I am, well said,” said the bubble monster as he started to slowly dissolve, his foamy body disappearing one bubble at a time down the plug hole.

“Hey, don’t go,” said Serena, dashing forward as if she was about to catch him.

“Sorry I’ve got to rush. Shame really. Tut Tut my soapy radar tells me someone else is up to bubble mischief.”

The Bubble Monster shook his soapy head, sending specks of bubbles everywhere.

The Bubble Monster began to shrink in size. Soon there was nothing left of him but his neck, chin, and his head, all of which were resting right by the plug hole.

‘We’ll meet again, my dear,” replied the Bubble Monster, his words barely audible, as parts of his head  started to disappear.

“When?” asked Serena.

The Bubble Monster had to race to answer, his words speeding up, faster, and faster.  “Soon. I’m sure of it. Buy more bubble bath. Light more candles.  Atmosphere is everything. Don’t use it all, but don’t be stinggggy.  I’ll check. Take care, Serene Serena. Have a nice bath…..     YIKES…….G O O D B Y E EEEEE…………”

He managed one final lop-sided grin, and a mischievous bubbly wink, and then he was gone.

© Marjorie Mallon 2015 – aka, Kyrosmagica.
Words good or bad, are my very own!

Now for the rules of the challenge:

‘Post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo.  The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose.  Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.’

Today I would like to nominate:https://ladyleemanila.wordpress.com/

I hope you might like to join in this challenge and I look forward to seeing your post if you do.

Well, that’s me I’ve completed the challenge. Here’s the links to the previous posts if you’ve missed them:





Thanks so much for dropping by. Please feel free to leave a comment, I’d love it if you do.


Bye for now!

Marje @ Kyrosmagica  x

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5 Photos – 5 days Challenge Day 4 – The Green Cap Man Meets A Sticky End


I am currently taking part in the 5 Photos – 5 days challenge after being nominated by Annika Perry from


Here is my photo and writing for Day 4.


This photograph seems to have triggered something quite peculiar in me, which is really strange if you consider it is a very nice looking photograph of a sweetshop.

Anyway, apologies to the shop owners – This is no reflection on their shop which I hasten to add is awesome. And to the random stranger  I photographed, no doubt you had a nice day and nothing strange happened to you, and I’m sure you’re not a Grandfather, please forgive me!

Warning: This short piece of writing is a bit creepy, in a tongue and cheek way. I’ve no idea why this ended up like this but anyway, hope I don’t give you nightmares!



 The Green Cap Man Meets A Sticky End.

A man in a pastel green cloth cap walks by oblivious to where he’s standing. His name is Archie. Archie is a School Lollipop crossing guy.  He likes to wear bright colours, in his job this is a necessity, but some might say that he will regret wearing what he’s chosen today. That jaunty cap was a bad idea. Archie is about to cross the threshold but he doesn’t know it. The threshold looks innocuous, it’s just a crossing, a long black and white liquorice pole with a yellow bonbon on top. The shop’s exterior windows are hot pink cerise, everything on display is magnified, there are gigantic love hearts, enormous lollipops, massive angry birds, huge chews, and all manner of mouth-watering sumptuous delights.

When Archie takes that step, it happens, he wasn’t to know. Nobody seems to notice. Everybody is way too pre-occupied. It’s Saturday and the shop is flooded with busy. The shop assistants are pricing up items on tills, or replenishing stock, and parents are keeping their children from putting too many sweets in their bags, or their mouths! The childrens’ alert eyes pretend that they don’t see Archie’s foolish move, but of course it’s a sugar coated lie, and they do nothing to stop him. To them it’s as if he has always been there. The children think Archie’s rightful place is right here. Grandfather Archie with his pastel green cloth cap holding a huge packet of yummy sweets. He’s encased in the window now, his foot raised slightly as if he’s about to move forward. The movement is a hint of his former ebullient self. He’s a well-placed mannequin, no doubt the display artist would have been proud. Archie can’t take another step, he’s stuck, but at least he’s up there with the other award winning display items. Poor Archie, he’s now blind, deaf and dumb. But it’s no Who concert, no Rock tragedy, he’s not Tommy. This total loss of his senses lasts only a moment. His finely tuned sense of smell returns to him first. He’s surrounded by the most profound aroma of sweetness. Forever. Then it hits him. He can hear children laughing, giggling in their childish way, but don’t let it fool you. The sound is loud, over inflated so many times he’s almost sure that a pumped balloon is about to explode in his head. Archie’s vision begins to return. His eyes are wide, and startled looking. His vision is impaired as if he’s been looking through a sugar coated lining, now fast becoming a growing telescope of fear. The joke’s on him, his false teeth chatter. Nothing else moves, his lips are still, stuck together with layer upon layer of candy chews. He can’t speak. His throat is stuffed, with blasts of popping candy.

© Marjorie Mallon 2015 – aka, Kyrosmagica.
Words good or bad, are my very own!

I hope you might like to join in the challenge and if you do they are as follows:

‘Post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo.  The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose.  Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.’


I look forward to seeing her posts.

Thanks for dropping by.


Kyrosmagica xx


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5 Photos – 5 days Challenge Day 3 – Wi Fi Red Phone Box Dating!!!


I am currently taking part in the 5 Photos – 5 days challenge after being nominated by Annika Perry from her blog: https://annikaperry.wordpress.com/

Here is my photo and writing for Day 3.

Well, when I saw this Red Wi-Fi box it took me back to the days of red phone boxes, and this kind of inspired this little piece of flash fiction:


Wi-Fi Red Phone Box Dating.

Fifty, Fifty, Fifty, Fifty. Fifty. Five times, that’s enough. I don’t want to be reminded about my age. I’m going to the gym, hanging out in all the cool roof top vistas, and sipping gin and tonics in the sun. Who knows? I might even end up raving in a nightclub somewhere. I’m fascinated by this little red box. Apparently these used to be red phone boxes, how quaint!   Nowadays these red boxes house Wi-Fi hot spots.

It’s tiny. Dark inside. There’s a light switch, click. If I touch this button I wonder what will happen? My hands tremble as my fingertips linger over the device. I give in to temptation. Oops, someone’s knocking on the door, wanting to come in and share my Wi-Fi dream. I wonder if I should let them in? What will he be like? If I don’t find him appealing can I lock him out with a key? Or would that be too cruel?

Then my babbling thoughts are thrust into a hasty retreat as I hear the sound of his voice.

“Hi, I’m Pete,” he says. I can’t see him yet but his voice is promising, nice.

“I’m Liz,” I reply.

“This is different,” says Pete, stepping into the box.

“Yes, it certainly is. Wi-Fi dating. A box of dreams,” I say smiling.

“It’s all new to me,” he says, but his eyes look away.

“Yeah, me too. The red box crew got it more or less right, the roof top vista, overlooking Cambridge city centre looks wicked, and I don’t mind a gym session, but I’m not too sure about the nightclub.”

“Maybe that’s an optional extra, you could opt to press shift?” replies Pete raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I may do. But maybe we should be adventurous,” I suggest waiting to see how he will react.

“Yes why not. I’m up for an adventure.”

I’m beginning to flirt. I remember the signs.

I like that a lot.

“And I’m treating you. I’ll pick up the tab,” replies Pete.

The word tab cuts it dead, and so does treating you. I’m not some sort of invalid. Two slices threaten the circuitry of the red box dream.

“There’s no need,” I reply my voice rising shrilly.

“Don’t worry I don’t possess that key, the one you’re worried about,” his eyes twinkle in amusement, flickers of blue, green, light.

I sigh. “That’s a relief, I wasn’t sure if all my requirements had been noted. How thoughtful of you to say.”

“It’s my pleasure,” his cute accent sends my mind reeling.

I forget all about the tab gaff.

A smile lights up my face as if I’ve pressed the page up and page down key and the smile doesn’t quite know where to stop. Where will it end? Which key will we end on? End, Home or Shift? At least I don’t have to worry about Control (Ctrl.) I don’t want anyone controlling me. No. Not after the last one, the one I had to delete. Fast.

There’s a pause in the conversation, the system’s doing an update. I wait until it’s finished and then I check him out. Boy, this updated verson ticks all my compulsory Wi-Fi boxes, and more. He’s tall, dark and handsome. Not short, pale, bald and pasty. No need to press the up arrow or the right, left key. His proportions are perfect. He’s got an enhanced smile too, even better than before and he isn’t a day over fifty. In fact he appears a lot younger. A lot, lot younger. Twenty years younger. He looks like he goes to the gym. Regularly. So my hands stay well away from the delete key.

“I hope you’re happy with the update?” asks Pete, breaking into my thoughts. He frowns a little as if he’s not sure if  his asking is correct protocol.

“I am.” I find myself blushing.

His tee-shirt rides up a little, my eyes linger, on taut, well toned muscles. For a second or two I seem to have stopped breathing. I remember to breathe.

“Happy Birthday,” I say, with a grin, aware that if I don’t say something quickly my eyes will bore an exploratory hole through his tee-shirt.

“How did you know it was my birthday?” asks Pete.

I frown a little.

“It was a 50/50 chance I was right. These boxes are birthday dates sometimes.”

“Oh, yes I see. Silly me. The fifty slogan on the box, I’m being a bit dim,” says Pete, a flicker of anxiety crosses his face.

“No worries,” I say.

My frown melts. I can update again if need be, no cause for concern.

‘Happy Birthday to you too!”

“Thank you!” I reply with a smile.

“So you’re following the red box’s advice, no right clicks or left clicks? You’re going to the gym, then a drink in the rooftop bar, plus a night club?”

“Yes, might as well, let’s keep it simple. Would you care to join me Pete?”

“Yes lets, what a wonderful idea, I’d love to.”

Pete appears relieved, I notice his shoulders relaxing,  a moment ago they seemed to be hitched up to his ears. I suppose he must have been worried that his birthday was about to be blown out, all  fifty candles no longer flickering.

I press the escape key. He doesn’t sigh but I know from the expression on his face that he wants to. We leave the red box and step out into our date. I need a cool shot of alcohol, all this dating internet shenanigans makes me anxious. Who knows what may happen? But one things for certain, fifty is the new thirty. Maybe we might end up together in the love zone, or even find ourselves at home, no shift key required. Sweet.

© Marjorie Mallon 2015 – aka, Kyrosmagica.
Words good or bad, are my very own!


Article about converting red phone boxes to Wi-Fi spots: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/3110726.stm



I hope you might want to join in the Challenge and if you do here are the rules:

‘Post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo.  The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose.  Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.’

Today I would like to nominate Julia at My Red Page: https://myredpage.wordpress.com/to take on this challenge, if she would like to.

I look forward to seeing her post.

Thanks for dropping by.


Kyrosmagica x

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5 Photos – 5 days Challenge Day 2 – Kings College Sundial Clock Tower


I am currently taking part in the 5 Photos – 5 days challenge after being nominated by Annika Perry. Check out her blog at: https://annikaperry.wordpress.com/

Here is my photo and writing for Day 2.

I took this photograph one day while I was out in Cambridge, this sundial clock tower caught my eye. It’s part of King’s College, Cambridge.


Sundial Clock Tower

“What time is it Mimi?” asked Elouise, taking off her cardigan, and stuffing it into her over flowing shopping bag. An abundance of art materials peeked out the top of the bag as if paints, brushes, soft pastel sets,  sponges, and graphite pencils were about to escape. Elouise put on her sunglasses, and tucked her long blonde hair behind her ears.

Elouise glanced over at her friend Mimi who was looking up at the heavens as if she expected a response. The sundial clock tower of Kings College Cambridge was just within her line of sight. Elouise knew that Mimi had forgotten all about her question.

Mimi was transfixed, she often did this, just stopped, a paused film track.

Elouise didn’t bother to ask her again. Instead, she poked around in her handbag and pulled out her mobile.

“It’s lunchtime,” she announced.

Mimi still didn’t answer. It was obvious that she was in some private reverie and disturbing her would serve no purpose.

A man started chatting Mimi up, this wasn’t unusual, Elouise managed to hear his first words, not a very original opener. “Hi. It’s a beautiful sundial isn’t it? …..”

Elouise knew that was no way to get Mimi’s attention. A fog horn would be a better approach!  Mimi’s good looks, her perfect figure, long dark hair, and tanned skin meant that she was often stopped in the street. Random strangers came up to ask her for her phone number.  She could have been a model, except for one small detail, her height, she was a little on the short side. Mimi was petite in every sense of the word. If Elouise was to describe her she would say that her friend was a living artist’s portrait, a watercolour of exquisiteness, highlighted with brushstrokes of kindness.

Elouise knew that Mimi wouldn’t acknowledge the stranger. She was still stuck in pause zone, and there was no getting through to her while she was in that state.

The man continued in desperation, his words falling at her delicate ankles like tiny forgotten offerings.

Elouise turned her attention to a nice looking bunch of boys nearby, some foreign students, out for the day in Cambridge.

“What is that?” one of them asked, pointing at the clock tower.

“It’s a sundial clock tower,” replied Elouise.

‘Oh, it’s very fine.”

“Yes, it is. My friend certainly thinks so.”

‘Which college is it belong to?”

“King’s I think.”

“She’s like this often?” he asked gesturing towards Mimi with a grin. “She doesn’t seem to notice anything.”

Elouise sighed. “Yes often. She’ll come out of it soon. She’s in a private little time tunnel, eventually she’ll see the light at the end.”

The boy’s friends moved closer to him. They huddled behind him creating a shadow of shyness.

The boy laughed, his laughter chasing each of his friends’ individual shadows away.

“When she come out of it would you like to join us for a picnic. It’s a sunny day?” he asked.

The other boys stepped forward, “Yes please come.”

“Join us. We okay.”

Elouise was amused to see that the first boy pulled a face, and punched his friend on the shoulder. A friendly warning.

“We have baguettes and cheese, and drinks,” said one of the boys boldly breaking away from the scrum of uncertainty.

“Sorry, but no champagne,” said the first boy, with a wink.

Elouise smiled.

“What’s your names?”

“Bjorn,” the first boy answered.




“Hi Bjorn, Erik, Fredrik, and Maarten. I’m Elouise and my dreamy friend is Mimi. Where are you from?”

“Norway,” replied Bjorn.

At last Mimi turned away from the sundial and faced them. She appeared dazzled, as if she had been staring at the Northern Lights.

Elouise had to do something! Fast, anything to get Mimi back to the present, so she ditched her shopping bag on the ground. Some art supplies managed to escape the confines of the bag. The clatter of the paints woke Mimi up.  Elouise hastily picked them up, before they tipped out onto the pavement, and painted an artist’s impression of Mimi’s expression. Mimi’s face registered the boys first, and then her friend. This was so Mimi! Elouise gave Mimi their special signal for fit boys with fair hair and blue eyes, a quick almost imperceptible, double wink.

Mimi smiled. Mimi’s warm smile melted Elouise’s worries away. She was back! Mimi the watercolour painting was living in the moment again!

“A picnic that sounds fun. It‘s lunchtime. Of course we’d love too! I’m starving. And thirsty! Let’s stop at a shop and get lots of sparkling wine. Nice to meet you Bjorn, Fredrik, Erik, Maarten.”

The brushstrokes of her words tumbled out of her like warming rays of sunshine, lighting up each and every face with a smile.

Elouise shook her head, this was so Mimi. Always caught up in the moment, but secretly listening, and planning a sparkling picnic comeback!

© Marjorie Mallon 2015 – aka, Kyrosmagica.
Words good or bad, are my very own!

A link to the Gates of Cambridge Colleges: http://gwydir.demon.co.uk/jo/walks/gates.htm#trinityb

If you’d like to join in the challenge, and I hope you do, the rules are as follows:

‘Post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo.  The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose.  Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.’

Today I would like to nominate my keen photographer friend Olivia at Wording on a Whim https://wordingonawhim.wordpress.com/  to take on this challenge.

I look forward to seeing her post.

Please do leave a comment. I love to hear from you.


Kyrosmagica x

Thanks for dropping by.

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Five Photos Five Days Challenge Day 1- Lost Dreams, Drug Oblivian


I’m currently taking part in the 5 Photos – 5 days challenge after being nominated by Annika Perry – Annika Perry’s Writing blog.

I would highly recommend that you check out Annika’s blog.

Here’s the link : https://annikaperry.wordpress.com/

Firstly, the rules are as follows:

‘Post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo.  The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose.  Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.’

Here is my photo and writing for Day 1.

This is my photo of the one of the locked gates of Cambridge University. Somehow my photo of this beautiful gateway inspired me to write a very sad piece of flash fiction. The mind works in very mysterious ways, well mine does anyway! Forgive me for putting a dampener on such a beautiful setting.


Lost Dreams

Heidi peered through the locked gate, in the distance she saw the neat manicured lawn, the suggestion of a life well lived. There was a brand new bike propped up against the wall facing away from the exit. Heidi wondered who the bike belonged to and why it had been abandoned by its owner. She sighed, climbed onto her own rusty bike and cycled away.

The next day she returned, but the bike was gone. Everything else was just as it had been before. Heidi stood by wistfully peering through the ornate bars. She saw a group of people coming towards the gate, a bunch of undergraduates no doubt. They opened the gate, and each of them seemed to individually register her presence with a quizzical glance. She wanted to stroll in, but she knew she couldn’t. If she did that would just make matters worse. They would see her as she was now, so she stayed outside the gate. Safe. Behind secure bars.

I know without any doubt that Heidi believed that she belonged within the walls of that forbidden garden. It wasn’t her fault, she’d say. Heidi’s downfall started at sixth form, everything started to slip. Leaving secondary school had seemed such a liberation to her but her departure should have come with a warning sticker. Beware: Sixth Form Can Seriously Screw You Up. To begin with the changes in Heidi were barely noticeable, but soon, the pressure built up. An outlet had to be found, a way for her to cope. She ended up at wild parties once a week, and when once a week wasn’t enough, every night became the norm. Then she started to experiment. Her motto became: it’s easy to anaesthetise yourself, pretend you’re okay, when you’re not. At first mum and dad didn’t notice but when her grades started to slip they woke up. Fast. Their perfect princess was no longer bringing home A’s the best she could do was a D, a D  with drugs, dangerous boys, and doubtful friends.

Of course the inevitable happened Heidi missed classes, came in drunk, she got kicked out of sixth form. No second chances. Then mum and dad did what they had to. They couldn’t cope, the stealing did it. I tried so hard to help, believe me I did.  We all did. I blame myself so much. We all do. Now Heidi’s lost. All her dreams are blossoming in that beautiful garden locked within sight but way out of her reach. She might be light fingered but she has no hope of stealing those dreams back. They’re gone forever. Who knows who she might have been? Where she might have gone? All she has now is dream words, I’ll be okay. A new false promise. Health Warning: Time To Fix Herself.

In my dreams I see my sister clearly. I picture envy. She’s leaning on that gate, but the gate isn’t supporting her. I see her ugly red marks, needle impressions and fingers shaking. She’s tugging at its unforgiving bars, raging, pulling them towards her. She doesn’t say a word but I can hear her pain, screaming. I can taste the loss in her throat like it is I who has swallowed the bitter pill of failure. I see her as she used to be, my perfect little sister, and I cry, cry because that is all I can do.  That is all I am left with. That gate is always locked.  The dream is never different.  Her hope lies crippled, planted like a false seed in that immaculate, well kept garden. Many view that ornate gate as a walkway to fulfil their dreams but it bars Heidi entrance, and reminds her of her own prison cell. Life.

© Marjorie Mallon 2015 – aka, Kyrosmagica. All Rights Reserved.

Today I would like to nominate two bloggers, rather than just one!

Lauren at https://courageisnotanoption.wordpress.com/

and Victoria Davenport at https://coffeewriterepeat.wordpress.com/

Thanks for dropping by.

Do pop by again soon, and leave a comment if you can, I’d love to hear from you.


Kyrosmagica xx

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