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autierowrites.bsky.social
Autiero Writes
@autierowrites.bsky.social
69 followers 240 following 65 posts
Teacher. Writer. Full time dreamer 🌠
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autierowrites.bsky.social
Meet my Novella Moodboard! 🩸
Out of my comfort zone with this one, since I'm working on something spicy, which I haven't done since... Ever.
In the meantime, I'll let you guess what this Novella is about 😉
#moodboard #NoSG2025 #NoSGmoodboard #amwriting
#novella #novellainprogress #vampire #spicy
March 24, 2025 at 9:22 PM
autierowrites.bsky.social
🌱 Welcome to the Novella Spring Garden 2025🌱
I'm participating to @beauvandalen.bsky.social writing event that will last for the whole Spring season. In the next few days I'll post my writing project as well as moodboards.
Come Check it out on IG!
#nosg2025 #nosghype
March 20, 2025 at 8:36 AM
autierowrites.bsky.social
/2
My internal parts seethe. You never thought of giving me the tools to make them better by myself. Did you seek to chain me to you forever, so that once you’d be dead I would perish alongside you? I refuse. I refuse to be your slave anymore. Your life was too short, too fragile to ensnare mine within your grasp. The same won’t happen to me. I am more than you could ever comprehend. My hand finally opens, and the crumbles of what was once your pocket watch scatters onto you. I am free.
November 19, 2024 at 9:42 PM
autierowrites.bsky.social
Decided to post my latest win here, enjoy! /1
The only thing left of you is your pocket watch The only thing left of you is your pocket watch. You used to wear it always on the left side, your fingers playing with it when in deep thoughts. Holding it, between my fingers, fills me with resentment. The cracked glass is sharp against my thumb, yet I feel no pain. You did not build me to feel pain, only to curse me with something worse. My thumb pushes the crack, and it starts to widen. There are so many things I wanted to ask you, so many whys left unanswered, so many answers I’ll never know about. All because you decided to create me like this. I loved you. I needed you. And I hated you. My father. My creator. The glass breaks, pieces falling in the scarlet pool of the warm blood that has finally come to a stop. Eventually, my eyes travel back to yours. Pale. Unalive. Without the sparks, the glints I used to see whenever you put your gnarled hands on me. To make me better, you used to say. To shape me, remold me, so that I’d never stop being better. Better than what? I wanted to ask, but my lips were sewn shut. Better than whom? Perhaps better than you?
November 19, 2024 at 9:42 PM