Jazz Feylynn Quotes

Jazz Feylynn Quote of the day

That did explain his sucky home life growing up but didn’t excuse the way he treated others. Was there childcare for abused werewolves?

I swear it looked like she wanted her words to slither around us and go out the door unheard.

No electricity, fridge, TV or game console. I guess changing from human was enough fun and games for werewolves.

His eyes forward didn’t deviate from the off-road trail, his chiseled jaw gripped shut during the ride. He didn’t release any sound of explanation until we arrived.

Yes, Dad collared me before I was even born. Nevertheless, he made me the one in authority of the collar and myself.

Keeping her in her roots of greenness.

Maybe it's a green thing or a wolf thing or a short-circuit thing. I don’t seem to know anything.

Her blue eyes glowed headlight red into my leafy greens. Those eyes were freaky.

We feel fighting for dominance actually shows weakness. It's much harder to hold back the wolf than to let it have free rein.

Being a werewolf, an alpha more so, isn't about being aggressive over others but controlling yourself, the wolf's wild virus inside my DNA, and emotions that comes with the beast.

My nerves did a jitter dance, stuck between two wolves.

Be careful. The conditions are treacherous with mud-sucking tentacles pulling shoes and socks into the murky bottom while smearing grime on those who passed by.

Was there childcare for abused werewolves?

My nerves did a jitter dance,

Fingers you, claws me, crossed hoping Dad sees it that way.

I got a whiff of minty fresh breath. Definitely not, what I'd expect from a wild wolf.

Now you're being ridiculous. If your mom changed into a carrot, I'd think she'd change back before someone ate her, werewolf or not.

Real women don't love the richest guy in the world they love the guy who can make their world the richest.

Looking deeper, I see not subjugation, but a tool of power to control my fate in the world of man that symbolizes my ownership over both my nature spirit and wolf-self.

Widening blood puddles spilled from suffocating death wounds.

One two, one two, Type a word or two. Arrow left, arrow right, Keep those fingers nice and tight.Keys up, Keys down, Move those digits all around.One two, one two, Type a word or two.

His eyes, if anything, gleamed even more bright, having found the treasure he sought.

His eyes never blinked or wavered from mine, encompassing me in a field of control.

Teachers' favorite color ink, splashed and dripped down his face a grisly reminder of mistakes bruising his life.

Tongue and hand tied, I was equally cut off and trapped in my own silent dark tomb.

The ink line drawing flowed the cursive journey, created on paper canvas that brought the story to life.

Twist a tongue, and tongue a twist how many twists can a tongue twister twist around the twisting tongue.

A spiritual journey is becoming what one has always meant to be-come and always was. One with God's Spirit.

The annihilating strokes slashed across my penned heartfelt words.

Miranda Writes: Anything you say or do may be used for or against you within a story by a writer

Butterfly upon my hand, A voice of wonder within my mind, not my own but the butterfly's.

I assumed this yoke would encase me as well as any another hobble. Only this one bound the mind.

My eyes hunger to read more books then time allows me to devour.