No matter how dark the heart, a glimmer of hope must remain… or some
other such rot.
However you want to put it, this, I fear, is a fatal flaw in my writing.
While I can create incredibly vile villains with intentions wholly wicked and
methods incredibly obscene, I inevitably hide a kernel of, well, good somewhere
in their withered-up, craggy-edged souls.
Just as a very young Van Gogh once lamented to his brother Theo that he
feared he could never draw just landscapes because his brush would always find
something figural in the scene, I cannot write a night without the promise of a
day.
Pity.
Or is it?
*winks*
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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