Gabriel's Tell A Tale Emporium

Christmas Eve dinner is one of my favorite events of the year.   Every Christmas Eve my family and I join two other families for a traditional Polish Christmas dinner.   I would be lying if I didn't say that all the traditional Polish food wasn't the primary reason that this is my favorite time of the year.   If I take a minute to stop and really think about it though a whole other reason to love that night comes to mind.   All of the families that come together that night all have one thing in common.   Each and every one of them is an immigrant to Canada.   Every single person at the table has helped one another weather the struggles that immigration presents since we all first immigrated to Athens, Greece when I was still a child.   We have all helped one another survive language barriers, financial problems, and the loneliness that eventually comes when we had to leave our homes in an attempt to make our quality of life better than it was.   These people are my

            I've always considered myself to be a creative individual but it has been only in the past three years that my creativity has really begun to flourish.   As a life-long fan of literature I finally decided to start writing my own stories.   At first my stories were only for self-entertainment.   Over the course of a year-and-a-half of writing I came to realize that I actually loved being the one to create the stories instead of the one reading them and searching for the next great story.   The few people that I have allowed to read my works all encouraged me to keep writing and to let more people read my creations.   This led me to create my own blog entitled 'Gabriel's Tell-A-Tale Emporium' and to use social networking sites such as Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr to spread the word.   After another year of steady writing and growing my writer's platform I began to work on a novel series and a book of poetry.   Though I am still str

Bloodlust: An Arrow Fan Fiction-Chapter 4: Brother's in Arms          Oliver reentered the world of conscious beings by way of an ice-cold blast of water to the face.   Blinking away the shock and the pain that coursed through his body he tried to stand up only to find his hands and feet securely fastened to the chair that he was seated in.             "Wake up Mr. Queen," Oliver heard a deep bassy voice say through the haze of his mind.             Looking up slowly Oliver saw a grim looking Bruce Wayne standing over him holding an empty glass pitcher.   Watching Bruce place the pitcher down on a nearby table and pull up a chair Oliver struggled to free his hands from their bonds.             "There's no use in struggling Oliver," Bruce said as he took a seat directly across from his captive.   "I tied those towels on your hands and feet pretty tight.   You'll just end up hurting yourself trying to get out.&quo