Autobiography

The amazing story of Raven-Wolf, filled with mythical creatures and powerful magic, unfolds within the imposing walls of Domicile aka: Castle-Rock, a testament to the power of fantasy.

Hang on tight; a completely unexpected turn of events is about to leave you speechless. We should be skeptical of the narrator’s account given by her questionable reliability.

I begin this account of my survival, not as a mythical phoenix rising from the ashes, but as a human being who has overcome the extraordinary challenge of surviving a double stroke.

In 2016, I started my time at Georgian College; on “General Arts and Science–Liberal Studies Foundation”. This was before the double stroke that transformed my life. Started my first year, double stroke interfered with completing my undergraduate program in the double stroke interfered with completing my undergraduate program in the “Creative-Writing, ghost-writing, copy-writer, Freelance-Author,” I feel ready and excited to restart my life living to the fullest to Never Giving Up.

My academic achievements are a grade 12 diploma with 75% Grade-point value, and a 77% in College Business English. I am eager to learn about the specific journalistic fields that capture your interest and your rationale for selecting those particular areas of specialization within the profession of journalism.

Historically, a core function of journalism has involved the in-depth coverage of crimes and the spectrum of criminal activities, providing crucial information to the public about these events and their societal ramifications.

A master of suspense, this individual possesses the unique skill of creating murder mysteries which are not only intriguing but also keep readers on the edge of their seats.

Photojournalism is a unique form of journalism that leverages the power of images to tell stories and convey information in a way that traditional journalism often cannot, adding a visual layer to reporting.

Within the field of mythology, this writer’s substantial and impressive body of work has garnered them considerable honor and widespread respect from their peers and the wider literary community.

Blending the commonplace realities of city life with magical occurrences and supernatural phenomena, urban fantasy is a genre of fiction you may find exceptionally interesting.

Fantasy literature provides a portal for readers, enabling them to transcend the boundaries of reality and become active participants in extraordinary adventures and fantastical escapades within richly imagined worlds.

I’m completing my first novel this rainy evening, enveloped in the comforting warmth of the fireplace.

The evening in Castle Rock held an odd quality—the waves unexpectedly surged and calmed, making for atypical weather.

My identity: I am Raven-Wolf, a High-Princess of the druids-Blood Hunter, Cleric, with long, vibrant blue-green cascade of my hair flowed down my back, a stark contrast to my pale skin and the striking purple-hour-glass eyes that glowed with an almost ethereal light. Clothing; I move with a graceful coldness, an aloof and imperious air, a subtle chill emanating from me that keeps others at a distance. I’m a “Creative-Writer, ghost-writing, copy-writer, Freelance-Author,” whose articles on criminal psychology often leave me pondering the complexities of the human psyche; the tap-tap-tap of my keyboard is the soundtrack to my investigations. This involves a lot of time spent immersed in the detailed world of case files, their contents both intriguing and sometimes disturbing, interspersed with interviews, each conversation a chance to piece together the truth.

Something strange moved before me, causing me to freeze, though I quickly reasoned it was just my imagination running wild—I’m the sole resident the abrupt ringing of the telephone broke this eerie silence.

The mysterious phone call I just received had me reflecting on how much my life has changed, and as I hung up the phone, the thought of it brought a little smile to my face; I realized I’m not in Kansas anymore.

The sudden awareness of another’s presence pierced my fragile sanctuary, leaving me feeling vulnerable in my moment of quiet escape.

Through the room danced a playful gust of wind, its movement causing the lights to twinkle merrily, as if they were fireflies celebrating a secret, hidden and known only to a select few.

Awakening to the dying fire’s last flicker, a sense of unease washed over me as an unusual quiet filled the air, settling deep within my bones; this eerie silence was broken by the abrupt ringing of the telephone, causing me to jump and subsequently trip as I scrambled to answer.

Following the conclusion of the telephone conversation, I added a small amount of wood to the fire to dispel the chill in the air, as that significant phone call was a task assigned to Raven-Wolf.

Having put down my phone, I excitedly began packing, ready to embark on an adventure and a trip that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

Amid packing, a strange feeling of unease washed over me, a feeling I tried to suppress; however, the branch of my oldest tree scratched the window, causing significant damage, and then, out of the darkness, appeared a long-lost friend.

Raistlin’s background displayed characteristics consistent with vampires or monks. The physical presence or demeanor of an individual. He was a striking figure with jet-black hair flowing to his shoulders, ripped jeans highlighting his muscular frame, and eyes that glowed an almost otherworldly orange.

Having had to postpone my trip, I busied myself with preparing a spread of snacks, attending to the crackling fireplace, and happily engaging in pleasant conversation until the late hours of the evening approached.

In a hushed whisper before their departure, Raistlin advised Raven-Wolf to be wary, explaining that his intuition sensed danger and that the situation might differ from their plans, a warning that Raven-Wolf always took seriously.

Upon waking from a dream, or so she thought, Raven-Wolf discovered a scroll tied with a map that revealed a safer route lying beside her.

In my haunted house, the day’s eerie vibe was noticeable, even to Raven-Wolf, as the story unfolds. In my haunted house, the day’s eerie vibe was noticeable, even to Raven-Wolf, as the story unfolds. With sleep still clinging to my senses, I attended to the fire, aiming to take the chill from the air and put the kettle on for breakfast, just as my one true friend, Hoots—my white owl—stirred from her nest and joined me.

Today, I set my sights on a new adventure where the wind blows in another direction; then, a current swept me and Hoots—my white owl—into another time and space.