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Author David Wiley

~ Author of science fiction and fantasy stories, choosing to write the stories that he would love to read.

Author David Wiley

Tag Archives: Indie Author

Book Review: Bright Needles by Anais Chartschenko

19 Wednesday Apr 2017

Posted by David Wiley in Book Review, Books and Reading, Indie Author Spotlight, poetry

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Anais Chartschenko, Bright Needles, Emotion, Indie Author, poet, poetry

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Title: Bright Needles

Author: Anais Chartschenko

Published by: Self-Published on March 19, 2014

Pages: 58

Blurb: Bright Needles is uncompromising poetry. Myth is mixed in equal measure with gritty realism.

My Take: Uncompromising is right. The poetry in much of this collection is raw, unyielding, and is enough to break even the hardest of hearts for the young girl who experienced so much pain and hurt to the point where numbness set in.

My own expertise in poetry is not among modern poets, but this small collection is packed with what I found to be quality poetry. It evoked emotion, whether pain or rage or straight numbness. Raw talent drips through verse after verse, line after line. The reader also hopes, after reading this somber collection, that pouring these words out helped to provide a sense of healing and closure to the situations described.

It is clear, by the end, that Ms. Chartschenko is a poet to watch and her newest release, The Weightless One, should prove to be an excellent and unique read because it is a novel told in verse. Her talent in verse is apparent in this collection, and I fully expect the same talent shining through in that versified novel.

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Book Review: Priceless Treasures and Ghastly by Thomas Olivieri

05 Wednesday Apr 2017

Posted by David Wiley in Book Review, Books and Reading, Fantasy, Indie Author Spotlight

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Book Review, Halloween, Indie Author, Priceless Treasures and Ghastly, Thomas Olivieri

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Title: Priceless Treasures and Ghastly: A Slight Collection of Hallowe’en Tales and Miscellanea

Author: Thomas Olivieri

Published: October 25, 2016

42 Pages

Blurb: THESE days, Hallowe’en is a night of ghosts, celebrated by people who can longer believe in them, a day of tricks, treats, and twilight. A night when — sanctioned by custom — the proudest and most willful child politely begs for candy at strangers’ doors and the most docile child transforms in a monster. It is a day to celebrate neither the carven pumpkin nor the illuminating candle, but rather the shadows that they cast, and the unseen things that flit about them. Perhaps it won’t be this way for long — it is becoming increasingly commercialized and is losing its uncanniness as it moves away from the days of All Hallows and All Souls — but it promises to remain so for a while yet. The night of ghouls, the night of saints, and the night of penitents make an uncomfortable arc — they stand for three aspects of life that don’t fit in very well our society anymore, but will always remain part of us. The stories, poems, commentary, and images in this slight collection have been designed to return you to those strange old times. They are not particularly horrific or terrifying — rather, they are uneasy, uncanny, and gently unsettling, harkening back to the folklore of fairies and saints, knights and dragons, mead halls and castles, masquerades and Hallow-Mass gatherings. We hope that you find them whimsical and off-beat. We hope that you find them unusual and bizarre. We hope that you have a Happy Hallowe’en

My Take: This was a great little collection of flash fiction and poetry that revolves around a Halloween theme. Each addition in this volume, whether written or illustrated, helps to add to the theme that seeps through the collection. It is definitely a fitting volume to be read during the month of October, something I was unfortunately unable to do. However, it really evokes the holiday’s theme well.

As with every collection, some stories really shine more than others based upon each individual’s taste. They are all great to read and interesting in their own way. There are some darker tales, such as “Snakes and Cigarettes”, and there are those which dip into genre fiction, such as “Kings and Saints and Knights”. With such a small volume, and the short length of each inclusion, you will find yourself flipping the pages quickly until you reach the end. In fact, the biggest complaint I had was that it ended far too soon. A longer piece, or a few more shorter pieces, would have been a welcome inclusion.

This is definitely a volume worth reading through, and Thomas Olivieri is an author worth keeping your eye on. I am confident more great fiction will appear under his name in the future.

 

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Book Release: The Weightless One by Anais Chartschenko

31 Friday Mar 2017

Posted by David Wiley in Book Release, Books and Reading, Indie Author Spotlight

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Tags

Anais Chartschenko, Book Release, Indie Author, poetry, The Weightless One

The Weightless One by Anaïs Chartschenko is now available on Amazon!

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After a party changed everything, Miranda loses her appetite. She is placed in an eating disorder treatment program, where she must be brave enough to face the truth she was trying to bury.

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Anaïs Chartschenko is a poet, singer, and artist I’ve had the pleasure of knowing for some time now. The Weightless One is her third book of dark, gritty, and honest poetry.


Anaïs Chartschenko hails from the Canadian wilderness. She has come to enjoy such modern things as electric tea kettles. Her published works include two collections of poetry, Bright Needles and The Whisper Collector as well as a novel in verse, The Weightless One.

You can find her on several social media platforms, such as Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Amazon, and YouTube— and none of them are boring.

Additional places to wander:

Website: http://anaischartschenko.weebly.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15387157.Anais_Chartschenko

BEWARE: Anaïs is suspected of actually being a fairy-in-disguise.

Other Books By Anaïs:

The Whisper Collector

Buy Bright Needles

Interested in Anaïs music?

Buy Howling at the Moon: Live from my Living Room

Buy Immigration

Excerpt from The Weightless One

 Reasons I Have To Stay

I was signed in,

I have no choice.

They tell me

My heart is failing.

They tell me

When you starve

Long enough, your body

Starts to eat your muscles.

Your heart is a muscle. It becomes

Your unwilling dinner.

They show me charts with

Low iron, low this and low that.

They tell me I need to take this

Serious.

But it doesn’t seem real.

All that is real is my sudden

Total lack of control, total

Forced surrender, it feels

So broken it can never be

Fixed-

I can’t agree to any of these

Things. Not even when I

Feel my heart forget a beat.

Not even when I’m hooked

To machines.

Reasons I Should Get To Leave

I don’t count calories.

I don’t weigh myself.

I don’t obsess over models.

I don’t exercise.

I don’t take laxatives or

Diuretics.

I don’t make myself

Throw up.

I don’t care what you think.

I think for myself.

I’m not this, I still have

My period.

Okay?

 

Little Fish

 We lay in a tight row

Like sardines,

Wrapped tight in

Blankets and thick

Fuzzy pajamas

Getting our blood

Pressure checked

Lay down, and close

My eyes to the other

Girls’ gossip, they

Try to include me,

But I have nothing

To say in the morning

This is a strange torment,

Laying so close to the others

Trapped between laughter

And the talk of having to

Drink ensures or not,

Of having to go to an

Increased nutrition plan,

Of family therapy sessions

Coming at the end of the

Week.

 

Doll

 Kara began

Pulling out

Her hair

Extensions

Bundles of

Blonde lay

On the floor,

Her lion mane

Alopecia found

“I’m sick of

The lies!”  She

Twisted her

Face up her

Hands knotted

In hair

“Where did this

Come from?

I didn’t grow it!”

We watched

In horror

We watched

Unable to

Look away

From her

Transformation

Underneath she

Was so small

Like a fragile glass

Doll,

Her features too

Large for her head

Her hair was only

A few inches long

Thin dirty dishwater

Blonde strands like

Weeds dried out

In the sun

She smiled

She laughed

She burrowed

Her face in

Borrowed hair

And

Cried.

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Book Release: Maharia by Joshua Robertson

22 Wednesday Mar 2017

Posted by David Wiley in Book Release, Books and Reading, Crimson Edge Press, Fantasy

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Tags

Book Release, Crimson Edge Press, Dark Fantasy, Indie Author, Joshua Robertson, Maharia, Thrice Nine Legends

Maharia Synopsis

In Valor There Is Hope!

Branimir has remained hidden from the enemy, withholding the cursed dagger from their erroneous hands. When a stranger arrives, and offers the chance to end his never-ending battle, Branimir sets off for the City of the Gods for answers. Now, hoping his faith has not been misplaced, Branimir undergoes his darkest adventure yet. He can only trust that he has the courage to survive the truth.

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06W5NG5VR/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1487769958&sr=1-1&keywords=maharia+fantasy+epic+dark

**The first book, Melkorka, is on sale for 99 cents and the box set is also available now.
Melkorka Buy Link (99 cents)https://www.amazon.com/Melkorka-Kaelandur-Book-Joshua-Robertson-ebook/dp/B00R7CMJ4O/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Box Set Buy Link (5.99) https://www.amazon.com/Kaelandur-Box-Set-Thrice-Legends-ebook/dp/B06X9PX68K/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Author Links:

https://www.twitter.com/RobertsonWrites

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJoshuaRobertson

http://www.robertsonwrites.com/

Author Bio:

Joshua Robertson is a bestselling author in dark fantasy. Robertson is a Licensed Master Social Worker, who received his degree from Wichita State University. He has worked with children and families for the past fifteen years in a variety of unique venues: a residential behavior school, a psychiatric treatment facility, and the child welfare system. He has functioned as a supervisor, an educator, a behavior specialist, and a therapist during his career. Mr. Robertson has presented trainings for hundreds of professionals and military personnel on topics that include child abuse and neglect, human trafficking, strengthening the parent and child relationships, and the neurobiological impact of trauma.

You may recognize him as the dude whose dragons were said to destroy George R.R. Martin’s and Christopher Paolini’s dragons in a very biased Twitter poll. His first novel, Melkorka, was released in 2015, and he has been writing fantasy fiction like clockwork ever since. Known most for his Thrice Nine Legends Saga, Robertson enjoys an ever-expanding and extremely loyal following of readers.

He currently lives in North Carolina with his better half and his horde of goblins.

 

Excerpt 1:

Branimir’s heart jumped at the thought of leaving Gaetana. He spun around and rose to his feet. Adamus faced him, beard hanging to his chest, and blue eyes wild with excitement. Witigor, a head taller than the Ariadnean, joggled his head in agreement, the overhanging flap of his ridiculous brown hat bouncing over his brow.

Sulanna stilled them with her hand. “What about Dorofej? The Stuhia has not survived this long simply to stay captive in a dungeon. Are we to continue to trust that he will find a way to escape?”

“Tis a thought I hope to be true, Sulanna,” Adamus said, “though the odds are not favorable. I am not proposing we attempt to free Dorofej. We simply cannot stay here much longer. Besides, if Dorofej does escape, he can always find us with that thing he does.”

“Klukas,” Branimir said. “Yes. He can find us in the shadow world.”

“Oh, here we are again, talking of this mysterious, all-knowing man called Dorofej.” Wit grimaced, pulling the sleeves up on his shirt. “The man might as well be a god, the way you speak of him.” Wit’s eye twitched. “Still, you are correct on this matter. The Stuhia can find anyone in Klukas if they have come across them before. Their gift of scrying supersedes the skill of the greatest oracle. He would be able to find you no matter your destination, I assure you.”

“Oh. Are you suddenly an expert with the Stuhian people, Wit?” Sulanna mocked, twisting her mouth with suspicion. “Funny you have not said a word of them until recently.”

“Well…I have read Tom Flitter’s Mystagogical’s Forlorn Folio and Colin Turney’s Unchanted and Unequaled.” Wit crossed his arms, leaned back like he had taken a blow to the bits, and then wobbled his head back and forth in disbelief. “Do you not know I have access to every book in the known world, Sulanna? I would have been reading about the dragon people long before now if I had known anyone cared to know about them. But you three keep your tongues wrapped so tight, I would not be surprised if you did not have any tongues at all. I don’t know how you expect me to help.”

Branimir stuck out his tongue. “No one asked for your help. We asked for one book on ancient religions, and here you still are—”

“Yes, I remember. The Compendium of Infernal Light by Emrys Trudgeon.” Wit widened his eyes. “No other man could have gotten you that little treasure. If you don’t want me, I can be on my way.” He stomped the back of his foot against the earth, indicating he had no intention of budging. “You know, it is not everyday someone asks about a text not highlighting the Lightbringer.”

“Czern’s breath. You mustn’t go anywhere,” Adamus said, angling an eyebrow at Branimir.

Sulanna flashed her teeth, chiming in, “Indeed. Your input is always welcome, but our business will remain our own.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Wit said, nodding his head again with enough momentum to bounce his hat. “And I don’t mean to pry, but anything you need to know, I can find.” He winked, pointing at Branimir. “Don’t get me wrong. The Kras have wicked memories, but none are as old as books. None can know how their minds have twisted their words over time.”

Excerpt 2:

Again, the bearded Kadari and Beryl tightened their hold on his arms.

With a flash in her eye, Kveta pulled aside Branimir’s cloak and pulled the dagger from the belt. Kaelandur stayed hanging from its sheathe around his waist. She barely looked at the copper blade, twisting the iron dagger in her hand. The sharpness of the weapon gleamed in the firelight.

Her free hand grabbed his shoulder roughly, balancing her weight to keep pressure off her bandaged leg. “Should I wedge this in your leg, your eye, or your dear, little bits?”

Beryl’s blithe snigger robbed the air from Branimir’s lungs. “Why choose only one?”

Disbelief and horror seized Bran, his timorous lip quaking with realization. He twisted against the Kadari holding him, hardly budging.

He dared to break from Kveta’s ghastly expression to look at Falmagon. The twisted smile under the Patrician’s mustache screamed of gratification. After Harrowhal, he realized how far gone Falmagon truly was. He once thought Falmagon, at least, considered himself decent, but nothing was left of the Highborn Long-Walker.

Nothing could have readied Branimir for the shockwave of pain riddling through his body as Kveta speared him with the dagger. He reacted at instinct, thrashing violently against the two Kadari holding him hostage, his wail causing the very flames of the distant fire to waft. He could not pinpoint where she struck him at first, only knowing the pain surged from beneath his belly. The heat of the immediate wound was only diluted by the warmth of the thick blood flowing down his slender leg.

He moaned. Tears descended from his cheeks with heaved sniffles, snorting his slick snot back into his nose and off his upper lip.

Kveta twisted the blade, grating the sharp edge against his femur, isolating the dagger’s location. Branimir blubbered softly, catching the saliva on the edge of his tongue, hatefully glaring at the Kadari woman.

He gagged in effort to keep his throat from closing, gasping for oxygen. He needed to breathe. He had to shake away the abysmal pain. Inhaling the metallic odor of his own blood, Branimir gazed to Falmagon and exhaled the bitter thoughts flooding his mind. “I will kill you! I swear it! Marheena will leave you broken and deformed!”

Excerpt 3:

Branimir could not guess how much time had come and gone since they entered the gate and started up the never-ending staircase. Not only did the sun stay at its apex over the City of the Gods, giving constant warmth and light in every crevice, but also something kept his stomach from hunger and his body from exhaustion. Every time his foot lifted and fell, his body seemingly had forgotten he repeated the same movement a hundred times before. In the beginning, the mundane climbing had been a game; but after a couple hours, he lost interest in playing. He stopped counting the stairs after reaching the thousands. Yet he felt no aching in his back, legs, or feet. Bran supposed he should be thankful for being away from the snow and wind on the mountain pass, but the monotony was wearing on him.

“You would think,” he said, after several hours, “with all the magic in this place they would find a quicker way to the top. I bet the Svet’s gateway takes them straight to the top of the peak.”

Alyona ambled along behind him, responding with a dull tone. “Close. You arrive on the seventh tier, near the temple.”

“Nine Lands. And no one thought to put one of those gateways at the bottom of these stairs?” Branimir asked, gazing at the rocky wall on either side of them. He was certain a dragon could fit on the staircase without discomfort. Which did not matter much, considering the dragon could fly to the peak of the mount.

Tyr held the smile on his face, climbing besides Branimir on the right. “Bah! Can you imagine when we go back down to leave? I bet we will lose our minds going back down these stairs.” Tyr swung is giant arms back and forth as he climbed. Branimir hardly noticed he had six fingers anymore. “How about if we were to arrive through the doorway up there? And then, when we went to leave, we were faced with this? At least, we know, right?” Tyr rumbled, peering over his shoulder for an instant. The bottom of the winding staircase could no longer be seen. “I might consider flinging myself down the steps, or simply lying down and rolling. Maybe the gods will spare me if I crack my head.”

Alyona’s dry tone answered the unasked question. “No, they will not.”

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Book Review: The Sound of the Stones by Beth Hammond

01 Wednesday Mar 2017

Posted by David Wiley in Book Review, Books and Reading, Christian, Fantasy, Young Adult

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Beth Hammond, Book Review, Christian Fantasy, Indie Author, The Sound of the Stones, Young Adult

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Title: The Sound of the Stones

Book One in the Shattered Time Series

Author: Beth Hammond

Published by: Beth Hammond Books (January 3, 2017)

2nd Edition

Pages: 371 (Paperback)

Blurb: Nephilim, aliens, gods – They’ve been called by many names, but when Frankie stumbles onto an ancient book, the truth about the past reveals a more startling reality. What she reads about Ashra and the powerful Krad race makes her question her place in this world. The birthmark on her arm begins to burn as she reads the book, the birthmark that looks eerily similar to the symbol on the first page.

In Ashra’s world, the oppressive Krad race use crystals to hold humans hostage. Unknown to the Krad, Ashra has the gift to manipulate crystals. Keeping her power a secret becomes more difficult by the day. The time to rise up is now, but standing up to an entire race seems impossible. Then strangers bring a message from a land she never knew existed – Ashra is the one they’ve all been looking for.

Frankie and Ashra are separated by fiction and reality, but in the end the barrier shatters. The ancient book about the past holds the future, and Frankie is the key.

My Thoughts: I do not usually begin with my biggest disappointment, but I feel compelled to do so. Frankie is hinted at, in the blurb, to be the one holding the key. She is the character you first meet for about a dozen pages, and then she completely disappears until the very last page, which simply has her stop reading a book and there is a voice on the wind. I would have greatly enjoyed seeing her more often, giving her a scene from time to time to break tension, to remind the reader she exists, and to allow her to develop more for the reader. Consider how they did something along those lines with The Princess Bride, as that is what the ideal would be. I waited and waited for things to return to her, and it never happened.

Apart from that one complaint, I have nothing but praise for the book. The characters were enjoyable, even though it took some time for their paths to finally cross. The history of Ashra’s world, and the inhabitants in there, were imaginative. I smiled at every Biblical allusion in the tale, something I hadn’t expected but certainly delighted in finding within the pages of the book. Tension has built, the main characters are heading to a new place, and the villains are undoubtedly closing upon them. This is the page-turner sort of book that will keep you up past your bed time. The sort of book that you suffer compulsion to instantly purchase the next book in order to see what comes next.

If you like everything resolved at the end of a book with a pretty little bow, you won’t like this because it demands that you pick up the next book. Because the resolution doesn’t really resolve anything, but rather makes promises about what awaits these characters in the next book.

If you enjoy Young Adult, Fantasy, or Christian Fantasy books then you won’t want to miss this one. The only burning question that remains, now, is when that second book will be available for us to purchase.

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Book Review: Anaerfell by Joshua Robertson & J.C. Boyd

20 Monday Feb 2017

Posted by David Wiley in Books and Reading, Crimson Edge Press, Fantasy

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Anaerfell, Crimson Edge Press, Indie Author, J.C. Boyd, Joshua Robertson, Thrice Nine Legends

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Title: Anaerfell (A Thrice Nine Legends Novel)

Authors: Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd

2nd Edition Published: January 2017 by Crimson Edge Press

312 Pages

Blurb: Drast, cunning but reckless, is on the hunt for admiration. Tyran, calculating but tactless, is in search of affection. Bound by a friendship thicker than blood, the two brothers have been hardened by their father’s ambitions. Drast and Tyran are forced to set aside their own hopes and dreams during their struggle to fulfill their father’s desire for immortality. Now, the two will face skin-switchers and dragons, ultimately leading to a final clash with Wolos, God of the Dead

My Take: This was an interesting foray into a gritty Dark Fantasy novel, and this was a book that was deserving of placement into that subgenre. The actions of the characters throughout the book, while psychologically understandable at times, make it a struggle to cheer them on, much less care whether they succeed at their task to defeat Wolos, the God of the Dead. There is a lot of evidence throughout that Drast and Tyran have been molded into who they are by their father, who is abusive and power-hungry, which leaves the reader questioning whether the actions of the two brothers are their own fault or if the blame should fall squarely on the shoulders of their father. This is a question that really forms the core of this novel, particularly being explored in the second half of the book.

There was a point, about halfway through, that I had considered setting this book aside and not finishing it. The brothers had both crossed a line that I felt put them into nonredeemable territory. It was tough to pick it back up, but the second half of the book redeemed the rough middle. While neither brother really ever got back to the point where I could cheer for them as protagonists in the tale, it really explored what drove these two brothers to the point they had reached. There were times when I was mad at them for not taking the way out when it presented itself. They could have redeemed themselves completely by taking those choices. But their choices at that point are understandable enough.

The writing by Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd is quite masterful. It carried me through some of the rougher patches in the book, allowing me to press on even when I found myself loathing the characters and their choices. The magic system is inventive and has a good balance to it, forcing the user to lose years of their lives through its use. This is not quite as unique like Allomancy in Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series, but it provides a very real consequence for using, or overusing, the magic in their possession. It is a system that certainly fits the story and the world that they crafted.

As a whole, I am excited to read more stories that take place in the Thrice Nine Legends setting. J.C. Boyd’s Strong Armed was a great entry point, having been short though dark in itself and the questions it forces the reader to grapple with. Ultimately, if you like a fantasy tale that forces you to reflect on some tough questions about human nature, this book will certainly fill that niche for you. If you like grand worlds and interesting settings, or unique magic systems, this book will not disappoint. If you love to read good, quality prose this book will be a nice fit. There are many positives to be seen. When it comes to the violence and actions it can best be compared to Game of Thrones so if you have been able to handle reading, or watching, that you should be just fine getting through the darkest parts of this book. And you will agree, at the end, that it was worth reading.

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Author Interview: M.T. Thomas + Flash Fiction Story

09 Thursday Feb 2017

Posted by David Wiley in Book Release, Books and Reading, Sci-Fi

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Alien Invasion, Author Interview, flash fiction, I'll Rescue You, Indie Author, M.T. Thomas, Sci-Fi

Welcome! Please tell us your name and a little bit about yourself.

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Hello! My name is Michelle Thomas, also known as “M.T. Thomas” and I am the author of the book “I’ll Rescue You” that you can find on Amazon or at Barnes and Noble as a paperback or on Kindle and Nook as an ebook.

I enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach…just kidding! 😉 My true passions range from all forms of art, to church and family, and to science. I am a Medial Laboratory Scientist by day and an author by night. I have two daughters and a wonderful husband whom I’ve been with for 12 years.

What motivates you to write?

I’ve always wanted to write. I had a couple poems published back in the day and planned out my novel years ago but never had a chance to write it down. I was a double major at the University of North Dakota, majoring in Medical Science as well as Music (I play 4 instruments, 5 if you consider a 4 key Euphonium different than a 3 key Euphonium).

Between 2 majors (one requiring 6 semesters of Microbiology, 4 semesters of Chemistry, 2 semesters of Biology, 2 semesters of Hematology, 2 semesters of Immunology, and a few other “ologies” that you don’t care to hear about), many concerts (I once played for an audience of 12,000 people and I have performed twice on TV), a job at a bio analytical research center as a lab assistant (the lab experience helped me land a job after graduation), and a husband and baby at home who deserve as much attention as I can feasibly give them, there was no time to write anything not homework related (there was also no time to sleep either, I literally lived on coffee and once worked a 36 hour shift)

I always thought, “I’ll write my book right after graduation! I just have to make it till then.” However, right after graduation, I started my new job and we began building our dream house. Again, there was no time. After our house was built and I became comfortably settled in my job, I became pregnant with our second daughter. It would be another 2 years before I felt I had another moment to breathe and actually think about my book. Now, here I am, 5 years post-graduation and I have finally written the story I came up with 10 years ago.

I am motivated by sheer desire to finish what I started so long ago and hopefully continue on after the finish line to write other books.

What is the title of your most recent book? Give us a brief overview on what the book is about.

ill-rescue-you 

   My book is called “I’ll Rescue You”. It’s a science fiction story that takes place 40 years after an attempted alien invasion which also happens to be the present day. I have 3 main characters, one of which is an alien villain whose eyes are opened to the fact that he may be on the wrong side. My readers will follow along as he goes from thinking that he is a hero to realizing that he is, in fact, the bad guy.

Another main character is a half-human girl who must rise above the prejudice she faces every day from humans who hold a deep hate for the aliens. She gets kidnapped by our alien villains and her whole-human half-sister joins a group of humans who set out to rescue her. The sister is my third protagonist. She is utterly ordinary and completely relatable to any reader, and yet she must overcome obstacles to rescue her big sister.

I intend it to be the first book in a trilogy so there are a few questions left unanswered and an ending that leaves room for the next two installments of the story.

What makes it unique from the other books out there?

One thing that comes to mind is the fact that my story takes place post-invasion and the humans won the first war. Usually, alien invasion stories take place during the actual invasion while people are learning for the first time that they are not alone or, if they take place after, the Earth is destroyed and people are struggling to survive.

I wanted my characters to start off in a world that already KNEW aliens existed and that they were a threat. I wanted it to be a somewhat fair fight where the humans of Earth know what they are up against and are rushing to prepare for another war with the aliens.

Another thing that makes “I’ll Rescue You” unique is the many illustrations. It has over 30 sketches throughout its pages to draw the reader into my world.

What is the title of your current work-in-progress or the most recent manuscript you’ve completed apart from your most recent book? Would you mind sharing what it is about?

I suppose I have already shared a bit about it. It’s the sequel to my most recent book. Its title is “The War to Come” and it will answer some questions raised in book one as well as introduce a couple new villains that will make life a lot more difficult for our protagonists.

You seem to keep yourself busy. How do you stay sane?

A lot of prayer. Whether you are religious or not, you would be surprised how much a quick “God help me” actually works in any type of stressful situation. Not to mention, if you have time, prayer is so relaxing, like meditation if you are into that sort of thing.

How often do you write?

While I am on break at work and the hour before my kids and husband wake up in the morning. We live on a hill outside of a city where we have a beautiful view of the city lights at night below us as well as the stars above us. One of my favorite things to do is sit at my picture window with my coffee and lap top, while the whole house is quiet and the sun hasn’t risen yet. This is when my writing truly comes to life.

What famous author would you compare your own writing style with?

None. I am a poet at heart (it is where I got my start, after all) so I try to make my narrative as poetic as possible. I love to use play-on-words and repeat the same word with a different contextual meaning in the same paragraph whenever possible (example: “the eye of the storm caught my eye, its gray iris reflecting my own”). It makes my writing stand out, at least, I feel it does.

Who are five of your favorite authors?

Wow, there are so many! Daniel Handler (also known as Lemony Snicket) is my favorite. His handle on irony is genius. J.K. Rowling is another favorite, call me stereotypical but she is a talented writer. Lucy Maud Montgomery, she wrote Anne of Green Gables, a series filled with a surprising amount of wisdom. If you haven’t read it yet, you should because it’s a good story that may actually make you a better person after reading it. Speaking of reading books that may make you a better person, I also enjoy Joyce Meyer. Her books are the only “self-help” books that I enjoy, mostly because she writes the same way as she speaks, with a sense of humor and clear, yet laughable, analogies. Cassandra Clare is another favorite. Her strength comes in her ability to create such interesting characters with amazing histories and yet they are still relatable.

What are you currently reading?

George Martin’s famous series commonly known as “Game of Thrones” but the actual name of the series is “A Song of Ice and Fire”.

Time for some quick questions:

 

  • Favorite Quote? “Health nuts will feel stupid one day when they are lying in a hospital bed, dying of nothing.” – Author unknown

If you could be one character from your own writing, who would it be and why?

I would be Belle. She is slow to anger and quick to forgive. She has her priorities straight and loves others more than she loves herself.

Finally, what advice would you give to other writers?

Focus as much energy on marketing your book as you do in writing it. Also, be willing to accept criticism and make changes to your book if you are out-voted by your critics on any particular subject. Remember that you want other people to buy your book so you can’t write a story that only YOU like.

***BUY LINKS***

Paperback:
https://www.amazon.com/Ill-Rescue-You-1-Thomas/dp/1539670252/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1485955706&sr=8-2&keywords=i%27ll+rescue+you
ebook:
https://www.amazon.com/Ill-Rescue-You-M-T-Thomas-ebook/dp/B01N3SCE1H/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485955706&sr=8-1&keywords=i%27ll+rescue+you
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ill-rescue-you-mt-thomas/1125581268?ean=2940157266561
Exclusive Flash Fiction Story
I offered her the chance to also write a flash fiction piece based on the idea of someone setting foot on Mars for the first time and something doesn’t go as planned. Here is her piece in response to that:

Do You Trust Me?

    The stars, they’re in a different pattern. I’m 225 million kilometers away, forging a new path for human kind on the planet Mars, making the biggest breakthrough since the moon landing, and yet the stars are all I can think about. I’ve had the constellations memorized since I was a child. Fascinated with outer space, I would dream of being an astronaut someday and my dreams carried me here, to this moment in history. I’m here, and yet, I dearly miss the constellations. It’s funny how you can stare at something you knew so well, such as these very stars, and yet, find them completely unrecognizable at a different angle.

“Stop procrastinating,” I scold myself. My shaking hands fasten my suit over my shaking body. I’m about to be the first person to step onto Mars. The door to the lethal atmosphere surrounding my ship opens. “Here I go.”

The sand was softer and less dense than I had imagined.  As I sink slightly into the loose ground below me, my lips curl into a smile. “This is something to tell everyone at home.”

Lifting my eyes to a moving patch of orange sand before me, my smile disappears. What could possibly be moving below this ground? My heart jumps into my throat at the same time that a figure jumps from the sand. He is somewhat small, with a flat, fishlike head and webbed fingers but it is his eyes that captivate me, his very, very human eyes.

My scream echoes inside my helmet and I try to turn and run away but my feet have sunk into this cursed loose sand. I struggle and I fall; my shoulder scrapes against a sharp corner of my ship’s landing gear, tearing a deadly hole in my suit. Tears are running down my cheek and I can’t figure out whether they are tears of fear because of the alien, or tears of hopelessness because I now know for certain that I’m going to die. I feel the air get sucked from my suit, choking the life from me as it’s replaced with a gaseous air that burns my lungs.

At least I won’t die at the hands of that monster. I think to myself with a bittersweet feeling of defeat. I suppose this is equivalent to saying “well this can’t get any worse”; a figure of speech that seems to be followed by another stroke of bad luck that does, in fact, make matters worse. Likewise, it was as if fate responded  “oh really” and, with a smirk, had decided to betray me one last time.

The monster had disappeared back beneath the sandy surface, diving in like a fish into water, only to reappear beneath me, pushing me upwards into a standing position with its unnatural arms. My lungs hurt too much to scream again so I just stared, helplessly, at this alien through my kaleidoscope of tears.  He stares back and I hear a voice; a voice inside my helmet, not reverberated through it from the outside but one that’s INSIDE my helmet.  His mouth doesn’t move but I hear the words “do you trust me?”

The voice was obviously a hallucination due to lack of oxygen, but what was not a hallucination was the cold, webbed fingers that slipped into the tear of my space suit. Their touch on my bare skin sent shivers down my spine and, suddenly, I was alert. My lungs no longer hurt and my dizziness left me. Adrenaline can truly do wonders! After all, what other explanation was there?

The voice returned. “Do you trust me?” I thought of the people who made this suit for me, I had trusted them and look where it got me.

“Do you trust me?” The words echoed in the space surrounding my head. I thought of all the astrophysicists who had come before me, giants who’s shoulders I had stood on, fellow scientists who told me Martians didn’t exist. I had trusted them and look where it got me.

“Do you trust me?”  I thought of my superiors, the ones who bestowed this great mission onto my shoulders and promised that I would return a hero. I had trusted them and look where it got me.

Yet again, the voice repeated “do you trust me?” I forced myself to breathe in whatever toxic fumes were inside my helmet carrying the disembodied voice to my ears; I breathed out my own response into the unearthly air, hysterical beyond the point of caring whether the voice was real or not. “No! NO! No, I don’t trust you! …How could I?”

The human eyes staring into my own human eyes showed a hurt expression. A shadow of disappointment fell across his face ever so briefly, like a cloud passing over the sun. “Then you are not ready to be here.”

The world around me fell into darkness. The lack of oxygen must have finally caught up with me and caused me to pass out. I’m not surprised, I knew this would happen eventually; adrenaline can only last so long. I faded away, thinking about how my lonely corpse will forever be left in this sandy grave where no loved one of mine will ever be able to reach it.

I was surprised after all; surprised when my groggy eyes opened. I awoke warm in my bed inside my space ship. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, followed by a spasm of laughter. “It was just a dream! It was all just a dream.” I hopped out of bed. Today is the day! Today I become the first person to take a stroll on Mars.

I strode over to where my suit hung, ready to keep me safe from the poisonous air outside.  My breath caught in my throat, for a moment the oxygen rich atmosphere might as well have been replaced with the atmosphere of Mars because my shock prevented me from breathing anyway. My fingers reached out, almost unconsciously, and touched a hole that had been torn into the shoulder of my suit.

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Blog Tour: The Glass Thief by John Ryers

04 Wednesday Jan 2017

Posted by David Wiley in Book Release, Books and Reading

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Author Interview, Blog Tour, Excerpt, Indie Author, John Ryers, The Glass Thief

Welcome to the first of a string of January blog tours. I’m trying to stick more with signing up for tours where I either know the author through social media, or know the publishing company. In this case, it is the former. Check out the details of this great book, which just released on January 1st and made my list of ten books I’m excited about in 2017.

the-glass-thief-promo

AUTHOR INTERVIEW QUESTIONS:

 ABOUT YOU:

  •  Please tell us your name (or pen name) and a little bit about yourself:

My name is John Ryers and I write predominantly dark fantasy. I have written a few short stories in YA and Sci-Fi genres as well. I live in Ontario, Canada with my wife and twin daughters, and work as a graphic designer to pay the bills.

  • Please provide the link to your social media:E-mail: john.ryers@gmail.comTwitter: @johnryers

Instagram: @johnryers

Facebook: www.facebook/com/jryers

Website: www.johnryers.com

  • How many books have you written?

The Glass Thief is my first novel.

  • Has any of your work been published yet?

I have had a couple short stories published in anthologies. You can find links to those stories on my website at: www.johnryers.com

  • If you have been published, did you self-publish or use traditional publishing?

The Glass Thief will be self-published. I see advantages on both sides of the coin regarding traditional or self-publishing, but opted for self-publishing in order to control my rights, cover art, interior design and marketing strategies. As a self-publisher, I can decide the when and where of how I promote my books and that sense of control is very important to me.

  • How old were you when you started writing? When did you know you wanted to be an author?

I knew I wanted to be a writer from a very young age. I wrote my first story at aged six (complete with amazing (not really) crayon illustrations). It was about my hamster and his inevitable death, and so I’m entirely surprised my favourite genre to write is dark fantasy.

  • What would you say motivates you to keep writing?

I need to tell my stories. I have to get them out of my head and onto a page. There are some I never show to anyone but myself, and some I feel have a message others might gain something from. It’s this creative form of communication that keeps me going and gets me through the days when the words are difficult to get out.

  • Who are some of your favorite authors?

My favourite author is John Green. It’s his style of writing that I felt a connection to and his books helped me find my own narrative voice. For a while I was floundering with a lack of style and voice and it was through reading his novel A Fault In Our Stars that everything seemed to click for me, despite him not writing anything remotely close to dark fantasy.

  • What is your preferred reading method? Why?

I like both equally, but if I had to choose, I’d pick a real book. There’s something about flipping from page to page and feeling the words in your hands that an e-reader just can’t replicate. But at the same time, I can’t keep a thousand books in my house but I can on my Kindle.

  • Do you write in first or third person, past or present tense, and why?

I prefer writing short stories in first-person past and longer works in third-person past. I’ve never really felt a connection to writing in present tense, though I’m not opposed to trying if the story would sound better using it. I also prefer writing a very close third and don’t really care to write in third-person omniscient.

  • Do you “always read” or do you take breaks between reading books?

I don’t always read, especially when I’m deep into writing, but I can’t go too long without picking up a book (or e-reader) because I find reading other people’s stories help recharge my creativity. I’d definitely run out of writing steam if I stopped reading altogether.

  • How many books would you say you read in a year? How many at any one time?

I’m also a very slow reader, sometimes only getting a single scene in before I crash for the night. I’d say 6-7 books a year is about average these days.

I can only ever read one book at a time. When I get into a story I like, I give it my full attention, and since my reading time is limited, I’d prefer to focus a single story from start to finish and really absorb what the author is trying to say. I also find switching between stories with different narrative voices to be quite distracting.

 

ABOUT YOUR CURRENT BOOK:

 

  • What is the title of your current work in progress or the most recent manuscript you’ve completed?

The Glass Thief is my most recent completed manuscript. I came up with the idea in late 2012 and finished final edits in late 2016. There were a lot of lessons learned along the way with this one.

  • What is your novel’s genre? Would you say there is a sub-genre? What makes yours different than other books in the same genre?

My genre is Dark Fantasy, and I’ve been told I could classify it under the sub-genre of Heist/Swashbuckling Fantasy. I think my narrative style makes it a little different than the usual dark fantasy tales. It is set in the middle ages but I use anachronistic language that borders on contemporary, and I also implement technology that didn’t exist during that time period such as magical firearms and a steam-powered suit of armour in one particular scene.

  • What inspired the current or most recent story you’ve completed?

I think I pulled the inspiration for The Glass Thief from my own past, in that, I was a very different person a decade ago than I am today. A lesser person so to speak. The Glass Thief is a story about betrayal and redemption, and I wanted to write a story that showed no matter what your past entailed, you always have the power to set things right, if you truly want to.

  • What is your target audience’s age, gender, etc.?

I’d say my target audience would be adults. There’s some pretty dark moments in The Glass Thief, definitely not suitable for children, but as for how old I’d draw the line? Who knows. There’s so much pain and suffering in the media these days that I don’t think anything in my novel would shock a teen audience.

  • Do you want to tell us a little bit about your story?

The Glass Thief is the story of Del Kanadis, a thief who’s made a name for himself stealing elemental glass throughout his realm, but who owes a heavy debt to the King of Fires. The King of Fires is fighting his own war and requires a certain relic to defeat his enemies. He tasks Del to infiltrate the village where they believe the relic hides, and steal it. So the meat of the story is essentially Del gaining the trust of the villages to find the relic, and then royally screw them over by stealing it.

ABOUT HOW YOU WRITE:

  •  How often do you write?

I write every weekday from 7am to 8 am. My writing time is very limited having 4-year-old twins to take care of at home, and so I get to work an hour early every day to get my writing in.

  • Approximately how many words do you write at each sitting?

It really depends on how I’m feeling. Sometimes I can break 2,000 in that hour. Other times I’m slogging through a paragraph or two before the hour’s up.

  • Do you do your own editing or send it to someone else?

I do as much editing on my own as I can before sending it to my beta readers. I want them to have the cleanest version they can, so they can focus on the story instead of the grammatical errors and typos. Once they’ve read it through and I’ve applied all their feedback, I’ll print it out on paper and go over each page one more time. Then my editor gets it and finds the million things I glossed over during my final pass.

  • What is your method of writing?

I’ll start with a brief sentence or two outlining each scene I plan to write. Once I have this very rough roadmap, I’ll start writing out the scenes for a first draft. I write in order, so I can maintain the pace and flow in my head as I go. After the first draft, I’ll write a revised draft (which is the longest part) and correct all the plot holes, remove redundant or useless scenes and add more scenes where necessary. After that draft, I’ll write a third in which I add in foreshadowing and tie certain later events back to the beginning for a more organic feel. The fourth draft is after my betas get through it and the fifth and final is the polish that goes to my editor.

  • Do you have a muse? If so, please elaborate. If not, what inspires you?

I don’t think I have a muse, unless life itself is a muse. Life inspires me all the time. Every day I see something that sparks a new story, or an addition to one I’m currently writing.

  • How long does it take you to write a full manuscript?

Too long. [laughs even though you can’t hear it]. The Glass Thief took me 4 years to write from concept to clicking Publish. The second book in the trilogy will go a lot faster because I know my character and their world better now, and I have a valid starting point to jump off from. I predict less than 2 years for book two.

  • Do you give yourself a word limit for each day or a time limit to finish your novel? If so, please elaborate.

I don’t give myself any time limits. As writers, we struggle enough with self-doubt and motivation that I feel it’s borderline cruel to impose limits like that on ourselves. I suppose a self-imposed deadline does help some, but for me, a missed deadline is something I don’t want to deal with mentally.

  • How do you come up with your character names and geographic location / business names?

I use simple names, despite writing fantasy. Single or double syllables put together for a pleasing rhythm when it rolls off the tongue. I love writing Fantasy but I also want it as accessible as possible to people who shy away from that genre. I’d love for more people to read Fantasy and so I want to make it easy on them if they decide to try it with my book.

  • How long (or how detailed) are the notes you take before you start writing?

Very light. I don’t write a whole lot of notes before diving in. The story is mapped out enough in my head and my 1-sentence scene outlines that it’s enough of a jumping off point for me to get the first draft out.

  • Do you have any “must haves” to help you write?

I must have silence. I can’t write with music playing or background noises of any sort. I mean, I can, but I’m far more productive in absolute silence.

  • Do you only write during a certain time of day or in a certain location? If so, do you make yourself stop after a certain time?

I’m a graphic designer from 8:00 am – 4:00 pm, so I always arrive at work an hour early to write. I have twin 4-year-olds at home that make writing at night a near impossibility. So once my hour at work is up, that’s usually it for the rest of the day.

  • Does your real life ever get neglected because of your writing? If so, how do you feel about that?

My real life really only gets neglected during the final month before a book release. I have an amazing wife who supports me in this and understands that it’s only a month out of many years in which my extra time is consumed. Other than that, I always put family first and writing second.

  • What is the quirkiest thing you do or have ever done when writing?

I’m a writer, when am I NOT quirky?

ABOUT YOUR WORK:

  • If you have written more than one novel, which is your favorite and why?

I have only written one novel to date.

  • If you could be one of your own characters for a day, who would it be and why?

I think I’d like to be Arisee Moonwater, despite her being the opposite sex. She lives in a secluded forest all to herself and gets to hang out with wildlife amongst the trees all day. Sounds relaxing to me.

  • If one of your books became a movie, who would you choose for the “perfect cast” of main characters?

I’d actually like to see how THEY would cast my characters. I’d be very interested is seeing how my world and the people in it are interpreted through someone else’s eyes. I’d find it fascinating and would leave the casting completely up to them.

  • What is the oddest thing you have ever researched for one of your books?

Probably how long certain poisons take to end a life. There’s a lot of herbalism in my stories and some of those herbs aren’t very nice to ingest. I wanted a variety of different types of poisonings to add authenticity to that aspect of the story. I’m sure I’m on several watch lists now.

  • What is the most difficult thing you have ever researched for one your books and why?

I don’t think I’ve find anything I’ve ever researched to be difficult or hard to swallow. Knowledge is power, and the the more you have the better the writer you’ll be.

ABOUT JOHN RYERS

author-pic-john-ryers

John is a graphic designer by day, and graphic designer by night (depending on the client), but most importantly, he’s a writer at heart. His dreams include writing for a living, experiencing virtual reality on a Matrix-esque level, and flying unaided (or possibly via really sweet jetpack).

John writes all genres but prefers Dark Fantasy over most anything else. This is due in part to the fact that he likes it the best, and because it’s awesome.

John prefers blue cheese over cheddar, cats over dogs, and will attempt to answer any question with sarcasm whether appropriate or not.

He completed his first novel The Glass Thief in 2017 and you should buy it. Or don’t. He’s not the boss of you.

the-glass-thief-cover

BACK BLURB

A debt is owed.

Del Kanadis–indentured thief to the King of Fires–desires freedom above all else. When given the opportunity to repay his debt with a single job, he begrudgingly accepts, believing it to be a fool’s errand. His task: infiltrate a secluded village rumoured to hold a relic capable of defeating the Fire King’s enemies.

Living amongst the townsfolk and gaining the trust of those in charge, Del quickly discovers they know more than they’re letting on, and that perhaps the relic truly does exist. Upon discovering their ultimate secret, he realizes winning his own life back could come at the cost of everyone else losing theirs.

GLASS THIEF EXCERPTS:

CHAPTER 1:

A debt was owed.

Four simple words and a simpler concept still, but it was the repayment of said debt that was particularly difficult for one glass thief, Del Kanadis. If it were just a matter of acquiring enough gold to satisfy the debtor, then Del wouldn’t be freezing his ass off in the middle of a moonlit cornfield right now. But as it was, it wasn’t to be settled by coin alone, but rather favours of a delicate nature. A nature that required weeks of meticulous plotting, planning and preparation.

 CHAPTER XXI:

If you could describe Uri’s home with a few words, it’d be sterile, bare and spartan. Almost militant. It reminded Del of the early days, back when he’d steal glass from the barracks and keeps of human kingdoms before the Glass Wars diminished their numbers and put the faen into power.

Nothing was out of place here. His clothes were organized into two sections: patrol Uri and magistrate Uri. Light armour and leather on the left and garish robes and ceremonial trinkets on the right. No Glass Crown.

A mouse would be hard-pressed to find a crumb of food in the kitchen. The floors were scrubbed, the table clean and polished, and the scent of citrus lingered in the air. No Glass Crown.

Upstairs was, as expected, equally tidy. Saria’s bedroom would seem chaotic compared to the order of Uri’s, and all she had was a bed and a book of poems. The sheets were pressed and fitted tight around a bed that’d hold no more than a single person. If Uri had anything going on with Renny, it sure as hell wasn’t going on here. Perhaps they rolled around on the floured floor of her bakery. An image both amusing and disturbing. No Glass Crown.

Del returned to the kitchen and grabbed a glass along with the bottle of wine beside it. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, spit it onto the floor and filled the glass, putting his feet up on the table. A small consolation for a fruitless search, but a deserved one nonetheless. He had after all saved Uri’s life.

 CHAPTER XVII:

“Don’t run,” Arisee whispered.

It was like she could see the list of options scrolling through Del’s mind. Running away being at the top of the list. Screaming or soiling oneself tied for second place and wishing for a pair of loaded glasslocks came in third.

Arisee shifted her feet and crouched into some sort of exotic combat stance suggesting she’d be making a stand, and since Del’s ankle had so conveniently betrayed him on the way here, it seemed he’d be making a stand too. A weaponless, armourless, hopeless stand most likely ending in a gruesome death.

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Author Interview: Clayton Graham

07 Wednesday Dec 2016

Posted by David Wiley in Books and Reading, Guest Post, Indie Author Spotlight, Sci-Fi

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Alien, Graham Clayton, Indie Author, Interview, Milijun, Paranormal, Saving Paludis, Sci-Fi

Welcome! Please tell us your name and a little bit about yourself.

Hello. Thanks for the invitation.  My name is Graham Clayton but I write under the pen name of Clayton Graham. I was born at Stockport in the UK and settled in Victoria, Australia in 1982. A retired aerospace engineer, I am married with two daughters and five grandsons.

MILIJUN is my debut novel.

milijun

What motivates you to write?

I guess I’m from what used to be called a ‘working class’ family in the UK, growing up immediately after World War 2. Reading the Science Fiction of H G Wells and Jules Verne was no doubt an escape into different worlds, somewhere to forget the poverty and hardship left by war – at least for a while.

My childhood was spent among cobbled streets, rations books,  two rooms up, two rooms down terraced houses, milkman’s horses, coal dumped in the cellar, fish and chips [on good days], bread and dripping [on bad days], and low-paid footballers. We survived on the basics.

In a nutshell, my early environment encouraged reading, and from that sprung the urge to write. I don’t think it’s anything more than that, other than perhaps having an innate creative urge.

What is the title of your most recent book? Give us a brief overview on what the book is about.

The title of the book is ‘MILIJUN’, which is a Science Fiction story with a hint of the paranormal. The action takes place primarily in the Australian outback in the year 2179.

The heroine, Laura Sinclair and teenage son, Jason, witness aliens descend to Earth. They are the primary characters in the novel, and everything revolves around them.

The extra-terrestrials are trying to form a symbiotic relationship with humankind, the critical part of which is a spiritual connection. So the adventure begins.

The novel explores the deep relationship between a mother and son. How far can it be stretched before the links break? How far would a mother go to save her son? Would she be prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, or undertake actions she would never have deemed possible prior to the alien incursion?

Laura finds herself surrounded by a relentless web of frightening new technologies, human weaponry and alien mystery, but forged by the undying love of her son, she gains a strength of character she never thought possible. She and Jason become different people. They have to, really, or they would not survive.

What makes it unique from the other books out there?

I would say the spirituality of the aliens. They possess advanced technology, but it is tempered by a mysterious sanctity. That being said, they can make mistakes, too.

Also the difference in Laura and Jason’s personalities – the interaction between them, which is a catalyst spurring many events in the novel.

What is the title of your current work-in-progress or the most recent manuscript you’ve completed apart from your most recent book? Would you mind sharing what it is about?

I am working on ‘SAVING PALUDIS’ at the moment, which is set in the year 3898 AD, some one hundred and forty light years from Earth. It explores the conflict and the links between an alien culture and mankind, interplanetary economics, military force and ultimate power. It also asks the question: what happens when a culture concentrates on a single purpose-driven technology over a period of hundreds of years?

There are several subplots, but as a swift share − when the bottom drops out of the Paludis economy, desperation is seeded as the planet begins to suffer. However, the discovery of a new technology that can dramatically change the way humans explore the universe looks like it will save the day. The mother planet, however, does not see it that way, especially when several savage attacks on Earth appear to emanate from Paludis.

Inevitable conflict results, and it is only the combined efforts of a group of renegade humans and their alien allies which can ensure the survival of Paludis. But can they overcome the military might of the mother planet?

Are your characters pure fiction, or did you draw from people you know?

My characters are definitely pure fiction. I do know people [male and female] who would behave like Laura does when she first comes across the aliens, but I cannot guarantee that those people would react to later events like she does.

The same goes for Jason. My grandsons are not teenagers yet, so there are no clues there. My own teenage years were a mix of study and play, and I certainly did not come across anything unusual in the form of extraterrestrial events.

When all is said and done, Laura and Jason behave like many people would do when faced with the unknown. Run away or walk forward – take your pick.

Having said that I do have two daughters who have five sons between them, so maybe something rubbed off there.

Who should buy this book?

I believe MILIJUN would appeal to readers who enjoy alien-based action set primarily on Earth, or any other planet for that matter; people who don’t necessarily want space wars or battling stellar craft with super weapons in a Sci-Fi Novel, but are interested in technology and where it can take us, for better or worse.

It would also greatly appeal to mystery, thriller and paranormal genre readers, and people who enjoyed the movies Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Contact, and going back a bit, 2001: A Space Odyssey.

In addition, it would most certainly captivate people who cherish their mother and son relationship. Laura and Jason, I feel, have the connection which most mothers and sons would want – full of love, strong and unbreakable. It would be wonderful if all relationships were like that!

If you had to choose, what would you say are the most important ideas you’re sharing in your book that is really going to add value to the reader’s life?

The idea that, like humans, intelligent alien life will more than likely have a spiritual side. Humans have developed their spirituality through thousands of years. We are growing closer to understanding it, and where our place is in the universe. An advanced alien society will have progressed much further – for example, maybe they will have proven the existence of the afterlife, or maybe they will have entered other dimensions. Anything is possible – we should not deride anything even if it’s outside our comfort zone.

I wanted Milijun to explore how humanity would react when faced with an intelligence it cannot comprehend. It’s a good question, for it may happen someday. We are not currently prepared, of course, we are light years away from understanding how we should behave in such a circumstance.

Basically, Milijun challenges the reader’s mindsets through the eyes of a mother and son, and as such is perhaps more powerful and meaningful than if that challenge was through the eyes of the United Nations or the President of the United States.

How often do you write?

Whenever spare time and the urge to create combine. Sometimes it’s frequently; on other occasions there may be powerful conflicting forces – like holidays or grandchildren.

What famous author would you compare your own writing style with?

Probably Dean Koontz, who just happens to be my favorite scribe. I enjoy short chapters and I employ them a lot. Koontz is a master of the paranormal, making it almost seem like an everyday occurrence.

Who are five of your favorite authors?

Five is not a lot, but I enjoy:

Dean Koontz

Three of the old masters – H G Wells, Isaac Asimov and John Wyndham

Also Kate Atkinson [for the grittiness] and Agatha Christie [for the flow of the mystery]

What are you currently reading?

Rainbow Mars by Larry Niven. A revisit, and how Mars should be, or perhaps was!!

Time for some quick questions:

  • Favorite Quote?

 

One I used towards the end of Milijun – The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep.  [Robert Lee Frost, (American Poet), 1874 – 1963]

  • Favorite Book?

 

Midnight by Dean Koontz

  • Favorite Book Series?

 

Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz

  • Favorite Movie?

 

Close Encounters of the Third Kind

  • Favorite TV Show?

 

Midsomer Murders

  • Coffee or Tea?

 

Definitely Tea, usually green

  • If you could have one superpower what would it be?

 

Time Travel, which may eventually become a non-super power.

If you could be one character from your own writing, who would it be and why?

Jason Sinclair in Milijun. For one thing he is a teenager! He also possesses an insatiable thirst for the unknown and is seldom phased by anything. He doesn’t mind challenging what he sees as nonsense, and voicing his opinion accordingly. Perhaps like most teenagers?

Finally, what advice would you give to other writers?

We can start with the obvious one – read your genre. Don’t start to write before reading, that’s like running before you can walk. If you have done your reading, and you have the urge to write, just write and see what comes out. Never throw anything away – a lot easier now with the advent of computers.

Also keep a pencil and pad on your bedside table. Quite often you will wake up with an idea, a thought, maybe just a sentence or phrase, or even a piece of dialogue. Scribble it down, file it somewhere safe.

Also don’t release your book too soon. Check out marketing options and get some reviews.

*****

clayton

Clayton Graham was born and raised in the cobbled streets of Stockport, near Manchester UK. He graduated with a degree in Aerospace Engineering from Salford University in 1966 having attained a Student Apprenticeship with English Electric Aviation.

He settled in Victoria, Australia in 1982. He is a retired aerospace engineer who enjoyed working in the field of efficient lightweight structures and watching them fly around the world. He has always had an interest in Science Fiction and where it places humankind within the universe we know and love. He loves the ‘old school’ science fiction written by authors such as HG Wells, Jules Verne and John Wyndham. Also the works of Isaac Asimov.

Milijun is his debut novel, but there are further adventures to come.

Clayton loves animals, including well behaved pets, and all the natural world, and is a member of Australian Geographic.

When he is not writing, walking, travelling, or gardening, Clayton enjoys fine food with family, friends and five energetic grandchildren.

Web Site: http://claytongraham.com.au/

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/claytongrahamauthor/

Authors Show Radio Interview: http://claytongraham.com.au/authors-show-interview/

BOOK LINKS:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28525954-milijun?from_search=true

https://www.amazon.com/milijun-would-alien-interaction-really-ebook/dp/B01A4XY0UI/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1478232229&sr=1-1&keywords=milijun

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Author Spotlight: Harini Chakrapani

30 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by David Wiley in Books and Reading, Guest Post, Indie Author Spotlight

≈ Leave a comment

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A Rebel is Born, Avon Etcetera, Harini Chakrapani, Indie Author, short story, The Secret of the Mantle

Welcome to a spotlight on Harini Chakrapani, author of The Secret of the Mantle. For today’s post she has offered to share a short story which is a prequel to her novel, so read on about this author and enjoy the short story!
Author Bio: 
apr.jpg
Harini Chakrapani wrote her first novel at 13, 

A Perilous Vacation.

At 21, she packed her bags to become a Bollywood reporter in Dubai.

She enjoys reading sci-fi, fantasy, thrillers, video gaming,and browsing dictionary.com

She is currently pursuing Master’s in Journalism in New York. 

The Secret of the Mantle cover.jpg

The Secret of the Mantle is her first published book.

Where to buy the book from:

https://www.amazon.com/Secret-Mantle-Harini-Chakrapani/dp/9385609386/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1477945787&sr=8-1&keywords=the+secret+of+the+mantle 

Social media: https://www.facebook.com/Harini-Chakrapani-214611125536899/

Twitter: @secretofmantle 

****

A rebel is born

By Harini Chakrapani

The snow lay thick upon the ground, the high trees, the hills and homes. All was white. White was all— the color of his robes, his boots, his disheveled mane. Even his eyes, were lacklustre, pale, just a shade darker than his cloudy, rice water colored skin.

His parents were so happy. They had borne the perfect specimen, an obscure little thing that blended with the snow. Unremarkable. He was the apple of their eye. The rest of the 14 that made their brood wasn’t given as much as a second glance. They were so proud, even though they would never admit it, as it was against the law, the signs were clear.

Every birthday, he was given new robes while the rest of his brothers and sisters wore old, ragged ones with mice chewed holes, just like all the other children in Utopia. Of course, his parents would never let him parade around in his fine, silkware, for the fear that their brood would find out it was less loved and harbor blasphemous dark feelings of jealousy and hate.

So, they would beckon him to a special room downstairs on his birthday. They called it the Witch’s lair, for it was black evil, had a mirror inside (mirrors were forbidden), with which he could stare at his reflection and find out how different he was from the others.

They would make him stand in front of the mirror, and coo over how his whitewashed appearance had made them a respectable family in town, privileged them to deliver sermons, moral rectitude, granted them access to the temple’s treasury and residence in a palatial house within the temple complex.

His great grandfather was the only one who despised him. Whenever his parents left him at his house to babysit, he would call him by a blasphemous word. ALBINO.

When Avon Etcetera was eight-years old, and saw it the first time, etched across the whiteboard he had cried till his throat was sore.  Back then, he didn’t know what it meant, but his great grandfather seemed to be filled with such hate, revulsion as he wrote the letters on the whiteboard and show them to him. Something within him told him the word was a reference to his existence and that his great grandfather wanted to rip him apart for it.

His great grandfather kept flashing the word at him, taunting him, until he learnt to run away from his room and hide in the closet out of fear that his great grandfather would kill him.

Of course, that had been six years ago. Now, the word didn’t hurt him anymore. In fact, it had made him curious to find out what it meant. He was certain it bore some significance, that it could provide a glimpse to Utopia’s past and empower him.

This overwhelming curiosity had made him sneak out of his haveli and brought him here to his great grandfather’s house, a thousand kilometers away from his home.

It was an igloo. Four fifths of Utopia’s population lived in these ice houses. His great grandfather, Avon Geld, didn’t call it that. He said his house was a morgue, a place where the dead lay frozen, devoid of thoughts, feelings, life. Exactly, what Utopia’s ruling class, the Enlightened wanted. They would never publicly admit there were the rulers, but that was the truth. They controlled everything.

Avon Geld was in front of him, slouched in his polar bear pelt wrapped chair. He looked different today. Well, he was older by six years since he had met him last. But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t even the black woolen robes he wore that brought out the violet in his eyes, for he always wore these robes. There was something else.

A twinkle, a spark in his eyes, a wisp of a smile. He had never seen that. His face was always hard, tensed up, contorted by years of bitterness. Many, many years. For he was 120 years-old.

Did he sense something, perhaps his rebellion. And was that why he was happy?

He could ask.

“Where do you keep…the?”

Avon Geld smiled wider. The lines of his mouth reached his sunken, withered cheeks.

It seemed he didn’t even have to say the word. He knew. He pointed to an inner chamber, the sanctum.

Avon Etcetera wanted to know how his great grandfather sensed his vice—the pursuit of knowledge. But he didn’t ask this time around. The purpose of his visit was more important.

He turned around and with quick, nervous steps walked into the sacred space.

And…it lay in ruin.

The pictures of the Holy Hundred were either torn or scribbled upon. The hand carved gilded oak frames they were kept in lay chipped and broken upon the floor. Violence was meted out to the Vespian ivory statuettes as well. They were either beheaded or belegged.

The holiest book of the Utopians, the Ignorantia had been profaned. There was writing in its blank, white pages now.

The word was everywhere. ALBINO. Not just in the book, but the walls, the photos, the floor. All dripping with the black paint that had been used to write.

An outrage! Avon Etcetera froze. He couldn’t breathe. Moments later, he looked around for the Corestone. It was a white stone that every Utopian was expected to keep in the sanctum. It was imbued with white magic, used by the Enlightened to tap into the minds of Utopians and perceive their thoughts and actions. If ever a thought of rebellion popped up in a Utopian’s mind, the Enlightened began to surveil the dissident. If the thought converted to action, the dissident was buried alive.

The Corestone was nowhere to be found. Had his great grandfather disposed of it? That was a crime, punishable by live burying at the hands of the Carcerem.

His bowels turned to water. With trembling hands, he unrolled the raw, rubbery seal skin door flap*, shutting him out from the rest of the world, leaving him in complete darkness.

That’s when he found it. The Encyclopedia. It was called the Black Book in Utopia.

He gasped in horror. Black Books were forbidden. There were only 8 known copies, that the Enlightened was trying to track down and burn. The knowledge it contained was evil. It explained what words meant and provided historical information. It stirred the mind, made it think, question, reason, challenge the way of life in Utopia compared to the pre Utopia period, when the planet was called Sprabodh.

To think that Avon Geld had one, marked, not only him as a rebel, an insurgent, a threat to Utopia, but also his great grandson, Avon Etcetera, his parents, his siblings, by virtue of kinship. It was just outrageous.

He was drawn to the book. It glowed with a blue light. On the cover was the image of a hollow brain filled with gears, their teeth cutting into each other. Surrounding the brain were balls of different shapes and colors. Planets.

A word was embossed. Bodhbal. Knowledge is power.

Avon Etcetera felt something within him. The feeling was old, familiar — a hole, an emptiness swirling within him, that made him lightheaded, weak, everyday of his life in Utopia. There was only one thing that could fill this emptiness and it was right in front of him. With that he opened the book. The light shone in his eyes.

At length, he saw them — the Lūx, the founders of Utopia. There were seven of them seated in a row on wooden benches, clothed in white robes. They had white faces, white hair. The book named them as the Albinos. One of them had dry, coarse strands poking out of his head just like him. He could see the resemblance. They were namesakes. That he had known. But he had never before seen this picture. A picture in motion.

The Enlightened distributed very different pictures across Utopia. The representations showcased brawny, barrel-chested bodies with square jaws and narrow tipped noses. Symbols of strength.

Here, the Lūx looked weak and emaciated, with bones poking out of flesh, sunken cheeks, bulbous noses, fragile skulls. The eyes were horrid. Phenol colored pupils empty of any expression. They simply stared.

Shortly, a bearded figure wearing a long pointed cap and worn out black robes came upon the scene.

He made symbols with his hands and called upon strange verses. They had a hint of music with its ebb and flow. At once, his hands transformed into black, vaporous masses that began scratching the air and the ground. The demonstration required sizeable effort, for the figure gave out deep, guttural sounds as if his abdomen were being squeezed.

At length, a golden tower with its polished gleaming surface carrying the reflections of the sky, clouds, and other buildings  began to materialize,  spiralling all the way up to the clouds. It was a spectacle! Avon Etcetera hadn’t seen anything like it before.  Text flashed underneath the picture.

“This is CREATION, making something out of nothing.” The words jolted the fibre of his being. He kept repeating them over and over again, savoring them, drawing their essence.

Next, he learned that the robed figure was apparently a builder named Ojman Pratap.

The Lūx simply stared. Their eyebrows were flat against their foreheads. They stared as though, they could see right through the tower, as if it didn’t exist at all. That became clear, when his namesake mouthed, “sisa raghlone,” and the text flashed underneath the picture.

The language was Lapitis. Avon Etcetera knew the words. It was the tongue used by his forebears. Of course, the Enlightened forbade it in schools or anywhere in public. They believed it was full-fledged. Every thought, every emotion, every signal in the brain could be expressed with just the right words. It didn’t just stop there. The words had the power to draw other minds, make empathic connections. That’s what encouraged rebellion and led to the fall of Sprabodh according to the Enlightened. They didn’t want history to repeat itself and lead to the downfall of Utopia.

Still, his parents had books in the house and wanted their children to learn Lapitis. It was a part of their lineage, who they were. More than that, it was the language of the Lūx, helped them see right from wrong in building the perfect society for Utopians. It could not be forgotten.

Avon Etcetera loathed the expression on his namesake’s face. He, then studied the face of the builder, Ojman Pratap only to realize they both shared a look of pain, anguish. His mind felt heavy.

There was an upswell of thoughts….thoughts that needed to pour out of him with a great roar and crash…like a storm. So everyone around him could hear, feel the words…be touched…overwhelmed by them.

Avon Etcetera was desperate. He groped for the right words in Utopian to acknowledge his thought. But there were none. The only other language he knew was Lapitis…but he hadn’t practiced in so long because of school work and other house chores. Still, he knew he had to try with the limited knowledge he had of Lapitis. The thought had to be shared.

Thus, he began aloud a haphazard speech lacking verbs sometimes, or jumbled up verbs and nouns. But every word he uttered was pregnant with emotion.

Midway, he stopped. He couldn’t go on. The thought was still there, but he didn’t know the right words. He could still get it out but what was the point, if no one could understand what he was saying. The right words would move people, impel them to action. Perhaps, that was the builder’s intent.  No effort should go in vain.

His anger fomented. His face burned, showing color. It wasn’t the first time he was angry. But then again, he hadn’t ever been angry this way out of frustration…feeling helpless, constrained, shackled.

He gave a start. There was someone creeping up on him. His great grandfather. There was a smile on his face. This was the second time. It was a wide, gaping smile. He noticed gold teeth and a tongue cut in half that made him a mute.

Avon Geld hadn’t a reason to be happy in six decades. All those years of hiding, leading a double life, knowing the truth, but still denying knowledge of it, living in fear of losing his life….like a coward. No more. He had the strength to unveil that disguise. The cost would be death, but he was willing to pay it.

This was the moment he had been waiting for. Of course, he had never thought his great grandson could be a part of it. It seemed so unlikely given his remarkable resemblance to one of the Lūx… the one who had cut his tongue in half and robbed him of speech. Avon Etcetera.

No more. He would speak now. He would give his great grandson, the words. Words that would nourish his anger, set him on the path to find the truth and redeem Utopians. That was all that mattered. Many had undertaken to lead this journey before, but returned halfway. Perhaps, his great grandson was just like them.  A quitter. Perhaps he was not. But Avon Geld knew he had to try, when there was a flicker of hope. He could taste his great grandson’s anger. It was what made him confront the Lūx sixty years ago.

He closed his eyes, watched a few breaths, made a cross with his index fingers, touched his lips, feeling a soothing comfort as if he had been taking a warm shower, and chanted.

“Rohati.” He waited, breathing in and out for several minutes until he felt a sting in his tongue as though somebody had pinched it.

The wet moist thing began to grow, hitting the roof of his mouth and then his teeth. He had healed. He had been afraid to try this for sixty years and for good reason.

As soon as the flesh had materialised, he felt a searing pain in his heart.

As though a knife had cleaved out a fragment and his life energy or udarat were leaking out. The punishment didn’t stop just there.

He could feel a hail of stabs, rending several holes through vein and tissue and the udarat bleeding out. That was the price for channeling Dark Magic as designed by the Lūx. The fuel for Dark Magic was one’s own life energy. Every time a dark spell was chanted, one had to be prepared to expend his own life energy. Building especially was fatally draining. Do and die trying.

His face contorted, teeth bit into his lip, making it bleed. If he wanted, he could dwell in the pain, cry and feel weak. But his practice taught him otherwise. He breathed in and out. It didn’t help as much as he had hoped. His mind was distracted. He was yet to learn the Dark Way. Of course, there was the easy way out, designed for the more distracted monkey minds like his. So, he parted his mouth and sucked in the cold air, calming down his mind.

He had to give his great grandson the words to spark his mind, spark a rebellion in Utopia.

“You hate to see Avon Etcetera’s face don’t you? It’s just as how I had felt that day. Look at his eyes, they are blank. The lips are pressed against each other and the facial muscles are taut as if all the blood had congealed. There is no acknowledgement of the builder…no acknowledgement of what he has built…no acknowledgment of the blood, sweat and tears that had gone into his creation…no acknowledgement of that ambition that had driven the creation…as if all life was futile…as if life had no purpose…as if living was death,” he said in a mix of Lapitis and Utopian, certain that his great grandson couldn’t figure out the message otherwise.

Avon Etcetera looked flabbergasted. Clearly, he had processed most of the message.

“How can you speak Avon Geld?” he asked. But as his great grandfather began to reply, he interrupted.

“It doesn’t matter…what you said…is exactly what was on my mind. The thought was there but I just couldn’t put it in words. I feel so relieved now. It’s as if I have wanted to say these words ever since I learned how to speak. Is this what the Lūx thought of creation…that it was a wasted effort?”

His great grandfather nodded. His skin prickled with excitement.

Avon Etcetera felt his anger return, and with it the thought of strangling his namesake.

“Easy my child. And now I want you to remember this for the rest of your life.”

The words struck Avon Etcetera. His great grandfather had never before called him his own blood. And how had he been able to read his mind today?

Avon Geld lay down photo frames of the Enlightened wearing their neon white robes and masks with one roving pupiless eye.    He then tried to summon Dark Magic, watching his breath, rapidly making strange symbols with his hands and calling upon musical verses.

The scene was new yet seemed so very familiar. Moments later, a struggle followed. His great grandfather was in pain, yelling and crying.

The golden tower that he had seen in the Black Book began to shape up right in front of his eyes, breaking through the photo frames of the Enlightened and moments later, the roof of the house and bringing in a blast of cold air.

Could it be that his great grandfather was the builder Ojman Pratap himself? The revelation was astonishing.

Something told him Avon Geld was dying. His breathing was growing more laborious with every passing second. And then blood began to seep from his chest, coloring his clothes and then the ice.

Despite, his struggles, Avon Geld held his calm for one final demonstration. He would take a bow only after that. He would not go easily. In dying too there would be purpose. He wanted the Enlightened to realize that and reel in their graves remembering him when the time came.

The blood pooled around him. He could feel his nearly severed heart hanging by a limp vein. He kept trying to heal it with the aura of the Dark Magic, while feeling more of his life slip away in the process. He could envision the Enlightened rejoicing this travesty of Dark Magic that they had helped perpetuate.

But, he wouldn’t let them have the last laugh.

He staggered to his feet, defiantely pulled out the Corestone that he had been wearing around his neck, rubbed it against the golden tower  and pressed his palms together.

Then, he turned toward Avon Etcetera and said, “Find Yayavar Gen Vatra and tell him, “Cinotiham tarhi aham.” He will teach you the Dark Way.”

Before taking the final fall to his death, he stuck out the Corestone against his great grandson’s face making sure the Enlightened who monitored the Corestone knew what was coming their way. If his great grandson were indeed the prophesied hero destined to bring down the regime, then he would survive all the odds and pursue the darkness.

Avon Etcetera felt his heart throbbing in his chest. The Corestone had perceived it all. Now, it was buzzing with strange voices. Voices that sounded heavy and breathy.

They were coming for him. Coming for the rebel. He ran for his life.

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