T. M. Hobbs
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T.M. Hobbs lives in a small town in Northeast Texas, with her
husband and son. She has always enjoyed reading stories with a
strong romantic undertone and now has discovered her own voice
through writing fiction.
For her, writing is a way of traveling to places and times that
would otherwise be impossible to touch and feel. She has found
the ability to create new characters and form their lives
rewarding, and it brings her a feeling of accomplishment.
Through writing, she has found she not only feels better about
herself, but she also has a great sense of satisfaction knowing
she has created something others can enjoy, which makes her
very happy.
Ms. Hobbs had her first short story, "Crystal Tears Forever,"
published in December of 2010. "Crystal Tears" has also been
featured as a part of the Fantasy Paranormal Anthology Volume
One.
Her first novel, Wings of Fate, was published in March of 2011
by TWCS Publishing House.
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Elissa seeks sanctuary among the forest veil
from a cruel stepmother, until she finds herself lost and alone.
The shadows stretch long and ominous around her. She finds
comfort in a stranger's voice; the voice of a man who sought
shelter from the world in that same forest.
The days pass and a friendship develops that blossoms into
something much deeper. Elissa, however, has never seen her
friend's face and quite possibly never will. Charles has hidden
in the forest for good reason, and even though his feelings have
grown for Elissa, he fears they can never be together.
Excerpt
Word Count: 4100
Pages to Print: 17
File Format: PDF
Price: $2.99 |
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| Excerpts |
| Voice
of the Forest |
My story begins at the beginning, or I should say the beginning
of what matters most. I entered the great forest of Toshan near
my home, as I often did, to escape being belittled by my
stepmother on days when my father had to work away from our
cottage, which was nestled at the edge of the forest.
Father was a brave and noble man, but he knew not what sort of
woman he had married. For me, it was difficult to understand how
he could love a woman who could be so cruel to me.
Often, she would scream at me; once she even lashed out at me
with her broom, muttering cursed things about me, saying I did
not deserve the love of my father. So I made myself scarce, more
often than not occupying myself with fantasy and pretend
friends. That is until the day I encountered someone; unlike the
images which danced in my head, this someone spoke to me.
It was late, and I let the time get away from me as I sat under
a large tree reading an old book of stories I had found at the
cottage. When I stood to make my way back home, the sun had
already dipped below the tree line, and the forest was darker
and more menacing than usual.
I stood still for a few moments, trying to regain my bearings,
but in every direction I looked, there was nothing but long,
black, forked shadows. I closed my eyes for just a moment and
took a deep breath. I heard the faintest of whispers, which
caressed my ears and offered me comfort.
Upon opening my eyes, I looked around, but the source of the
delicate whispers was nowhere to be found. The voice became
clearer, however, and I noted that it was that of a young man.
As it came closer to me, its deep, rich tone filled me with
rapture in a way I had never known before.
“Who is there?” I asked, and waited for a reply.
“Do not be frightened. Have you lost your way?”
“Yes, I have. I live in the cottage at the edge of the forest,
and I must find my way back there.”
“Then listen to the sound of my voice, and I shall lead you
home,” the voice replied, and I was compelled to obey. I
listened carefully and focused on the rich, lucid voice, letting
him lead me home.
When I neared the cottage and could see the dim light through
the remaining trees that skirted my home, I turned and whispered
an offering of thanks to the mysterious voice that had been so
kind as to aid my return to safety.
The next day, I returned to the forest and sat upon the dried
moss near the brook, which gurgled melodically as it snaked its
way through the trees. I had not brought a book with me today,
but rather hoped I might have a chance to hear the voice—the
voice from the day before.
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