Willena Allah

“London. “Look Olivier. Quite a sight isn’t it?” Commandant Auguste Angers stood tall in his stirrups as he pointed out the far distant dome of St. Paul’s. The bronzed roof of the cathedral was glistening in the sun during a brief break in the clouds. The commandant and his colleague and deputy, Captain Olivier Rougemont, had enjoyed a morning’s exhilarating ride in Richmond Park. The commandant was riding his favourite grey, Chloe, and Rougemont was on his boss’s second string, a chestnut Annette.”
― Mark Ellis, The French Spy

“You could just fall in love with me, then.” He leaned closer. “Problem solved.” 
“You first.” I huffed and moved away, pain seared through my chest—stomping out the warmth that had been so alive a moment before.”
― J. Rose Black, Chasing Headlines

“Journalism…is an unreliable aggregation of belief spaces.”
― Amy L. Bernstein, The Potrero Complex

“Alexandra Malkovic woke out of the nightmare that had bedevilled her sleep for days. She sat up, shivering, her heart thumping. For a few seconds she could not recognise her surroundings, then the outlines of the sparse furnishings of the room solidified in the faint moonlight coming through a gap in the curtains. This was her room in the house they had commandeered in Bihac, the city Tito’s Partisans had captured after a bitter battle a few weeks before Christmas – a battle in which she had played an important part. This was safety, an end to the long weeks on the march, sleeping on the hard ground, alert always to the sound of movement in the surrounding forest and the distant howling of wolves. So why could she not sleep in peace?”
― Holly Green, A Call to Home