During the pandemic, I've learned a couple of things, but by far the most important one is that two goblins live in my house. A greedy one eating my food so fast I can never quite catch him doing it, and a funny one who enjoys stealing objects I never get to see again. Why else would the food disappear in a blink of an eye right after I have just bought it, and where could my hairpins be? I imagine the greedy goblin is rotund as a ball from all the food he steels daily, but only twice its size to be able to sneak past me. I guess he started to eat more in the quarantine from stress and lack of exercise, as I have not noticed before the absurd rhythm the food vanishes from the fridge. Foolish creature. With my spirit of observation, he would have remained unknown, eating my food. Seriously, I'm not exaggerating. I was absolutely certain the food I bought at the beginning of the quarantine will last three months at least. Who would eat that much? Sill, all the food vanished in two weeks! And I'm not even starting the discussion on flour. The goblin has a desperate passion for flour, but I've failed to discover what he does with it. My guess is he spread the flour over the floor when I'm asleep, and he lets himself bask in the moonlight, pretending he's at the beach. That sand scratches his skin, not filthy flour made unclean by the goblin's dirty body. Unfortunately, these are just made-up tales. There is no greedy goblin in my house, but truth be told, I was not aware of our era's level of consumerism before. Going once a day to the market makes you not observe how much food you buy to survive an entire month. The number of supplies a person needs for all his needs to be meet rendered me speechless. For the first time, I have understood the amount of pressure that is put on the environment just for us to stay alive. And...how greedy we actually are. Letting the first goblin aside, I must say I have always suspected the existence of the funny goblin. Despite the first one not being real this one is. He has the habit of moving my keys, stealing my pink and black hair clips along with my socks. One of them to be precise. I've told you he is a funny goblin he never takes a pair of socks but one. And I don't find it again. Nonetheless, this funny goblin is easy to ignore. Watching movies, writing, singing, drawing, cooking, no matter the activity you choose to do when staying at home, is the right answer. In the quarantine, for the time to pass faster, one has to find new hobbies. The COVID-19 pandemic has shown humankind just how fragile the security we have fought so much to possess. Independence, being in control over your own life, financial security, all have shattered in a blink of an eye. Diamonds, stylish cars, fancy houses, all have come to have little value. You starve with arms full of diamonds if you don't have a slice of bread. What's the worth of a big fancy home when no friend comes to visit? When no one's there to hold your hand and watch a movie, who cares if you have the latest television on the market? In a way, the pandemic made clear which are the true values of one's life: the people you hold dear, food, and health. Other things are there only to guaranty financial stability, mainly for one to have the assurance of a comfortable life. But nothing is certain in life. And if I've learned anything is this: smile. No matter what tomorrow brings, you'll figure things out tomorrow. Live. Even stars must meet their end.
I took a team with me, climbing the hill up to the cliff to get a look around. The cliff was a lone spike in the sea, an island from a long-sunk land. On the top of the cliff, the wind was unbridled in its force. My hair was growing too long, and it whipped around my eyes, preventing me from properly looking around. I squashed it under a bandanna from the pouch tied around my waist. Once I could properly see, I noticed a little island on the opposite side of the cliff. We had not seen it before due to the sheer mass of the cliff, but seeing it now, it was very odd. It looked almost like the nose of a dolphin, a normal island with a sharp point rising in the middle. It, unlike the gray of the cliff, was made of black stone. Very peculiar, but I decided not to tell the captain about it until he was well again. I did not want to raise his hopes just to dash them away again. “Sir,” I heard one of the men say, “look here.” He handed me a spyglass from his pocket and pointed in the direction of the island. “Ah,” I said, peering. Upon closer inspection, there were several shapes on the island. It was still too far away to make out any distinct shapes, but they were all different. “What do you think it is, sir?” “I'm not sure. Perhaps some dirt and sand?” “Shall I tell the crew to take the ship to the island?” “No, the captain needs time to rest,” I took my eye from the spyglass, peering around at the setting sun. “Besides, it is growing dark. We will go when the captain wakes tomorrow.” The group headed back to the ship, and I turned in early. I did not have much hope for the island, and I was wary about the captain. If this was a failure, I feared that he might be driven mad. He had searched for so long that the searching had become the thing that defined him. He had no other hobbies, no loves. His only thoughts were devoted to finding this treasure. The captain stumbled out of his quarters around noon, groggy and mumbling about “wasting time.” I took him to the kitchens to have some food and told him of what I had seen. Immediately, he perked up, his eyes wary. “Ness, are you sure you saw something?” “Aye. it was a very… odd looking island.” “Hmm. how far away?” “Not far. About a league from the ship.” “I see.” he stood up to face the crew. “Men, take us to the island. We may have a treasure on our hands.” The men cheered, glad to finally have some hope. The ship was then thrust into precise chaos, with men readying to go back out and find the legendary prize. We were getting closer to the island. Peering through my telescope, I could make out more of the tan shapes. They were long and lean, and there were many all around the little island. I still suspected them to be just piles of sand, as I was not close enough to determine any detail. The captain took the spyglass from me and peered at the island. “It is strange, I'll give you that,” he murmured. “Yes, sir. The black rock is intriguing.” “Can you see what the little blobs are? My eyesight is too poor to make out the shapes.” “I don't know yet, sir.” “Ah. pity that.” “I'll know more when we get close, sir.” “Right.” He handed it back to me and went into the map room for a time. Eventually the call of “land ho!” rang out, and he came up to the bow with me to catch first sight of the treasure. Looking through the telescope again, I saw that the misshapen blobs were not sand, but women on the beach draped in sails from a shipwreck that had sunk beneath the sea. “Look, captain,” I said, handing him the device. He peered through it and a look of surprise came across his face. “I see. Poor girls, they must have been stranded here from a passenger ship.” “Shame, that. But we can still help them, no?” “‘Course we can,” then, he paused. “Do you hear something, Ness?” I strained my ears to listen. A faint sound of women's voices was being carried across the waves. “Aye, sir. They must be calling out to us.”
"Holi Hain!!!" I stood there, shivering from head to toe, amid the wild jungle of human beings, who had suddenly come to life. I was scared....not because I hated socializing....but because....because that included colors. Slowly, I crept into the nearest bush I could find in my eyesight, not even stopping to think that someone else might have thought of taking the same refuge. "Hey!!" I yelped and jumped back in surprise, as the shadow of a boy arose from behind the bush. "Look..." he continued. "I know what you're here for, but I Don't like it. I Don't like splashing about in tubs of water and smearing each other with colours. I don-" He broke off. My insides had suddenly started to dance the conga on knowing that I was not alone, that someone else also had the same fear as I did. "Nor do I," I said quietly. His face lit up suddenly. It seemed as thousands of lamps had been lit up together by a single candle. He nodded excitedly, held my hand and pulled me into the bush, "Come on then, inside the bush. It's much safer here." My eyes stood searchingly into his green ones, as he plucked off a red Petunia, from the shrub and placed it on my auburn hair. Automatically, my hands raised up to the flower, and its magnificent white strips came into view. Nature's so simple, yet so extraordinary, isn't it?? It always has the habit of sending ornaments for the plants and flowers to adorn themselves. "I wish I was a flower," I said ruefully, making him look up. "Then I would not have to run about like this, hiding from others...as though I did a really serious crime." "You didn't," he said, and for the first time since we met, our eyes met. Blue on green. We had just met minutes ago, but it felt like we had known each other for months, years even. I was lost in an unknown trance when I suddenly felt something being rubbed against my cheek. My eyes looked at him in both horror and delight, as his warm hands smeared my cheek with yellow gulal. I was so overwhelmed with the bundle of mixed emotions swelling inside me, that I threw myself upon him, hugging him tightly as if we had been best friends for years, and decades... "Happy Holi," he whispered as my cheek brushed his lips. "Happy Holi."
📙 Book two of my series has complete it's editing/revision and is available to read, so grab your copy now! 📙 Available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Inkitt, Inkshares, Lulu and Wattpad with formats available in Kindle, Nook, hardcover and free copy 📙 Happy reading, everyone!
Hi, authors...I have a question for you and it's a fun one. I think. When creating your book characters (regardless of genre) you can visualize them so clearly, that you imagine as if they're real, right? If not, that's okay. No worries. But for me...I have an active/creative imagination when it comes to writing my books, so I've put in a lot of thinking about actors of whom could/would portray my characters; actors that help me visualize them all. Even down to the smallest detail and some actors that I've chosen are 100% without a doubt-handsdown the character so when you see my weekly 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬/𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 posts, you're seeing my characters physically brought to life. .. *Take a sigh* .. So allow me to introduce character number one: 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐮𝐥 𝐋𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐬. He's an ambitious man of half Japanese heritage (although extremely power hungry) practicing the dark arts and necromancy, with an endless search for more power and the Book of Solomon. You'd think taking over the Great City and declaring himself Lord of London (aka Great City) would be enough, but for Drakuul...he wants more; no matter the cost. His search for the Book of Solomon leads him to the Isle of Castillion where his greed for power and control brings to his end at the hands of Jinn and his magical blade. .. Actor Portrayal: Ian Anthony Dale Actor/Character Likeness: 100% Present In: Secrets of Ravenstone and On the Evil Scale
An oasis in the desert… A drop of water in the hot, silver-white sands in the Arabian desserts. That is what you were to me when we crossed our paths in the Sultanate, thousands of miles away from our homes. You were 13 years my junior when we met. I was married, and you were not. We took solace and comfort in each other's company since we felt alone and unhappy in the environment that we had to work to earn petro-dollars for our respective families at home. It was pure agape (Platonic love). We could have been otherwise, but weren't. We both knew and felt that what we had was as good as it could get, and would be ruined by anything “too intimate” or "more and further”. Love is something inexplicably, indescribably wonderful, bound intricately with life. There may be nothing strictly ordinary as such. At the same time, there never may be something unique as such in this whole world. It should be the strong desire to feel being loved and to experience love that is the last thing a person may find impossible to forego when all else has been lost or abandoned with ease. No matter what social status we enjoy, what station of life we are in, we need love. People tend to do many things for the sake of love which they would have never done under normal circumstances. We do not need lofty things in love. Sometimes things like strolling aimlessly hand in hand on a deserted street, whispering sweet nothings in a quiet beach on a moonlit night, a shoulder to lean on to at least for a moment without fear or suspicion in times of distress, to share ideas about life in a very matured chat, etc. are some of the things that we desire in love. I remember some verses in a song that goes something like this … I have not built sand castles about you, Nor do I entertain any misgivings about you. I will never lay claim to your life, And will not feel angry when and if you belong to someone else. This comes as a very advanced take on the type of love I speak of. The lyricist goes on to say that “don't you ever shed a single drop of tear because of me. Let us agree that we will be lovers that would never unite in life.” Love does not mean to imprison someone within limits and boundaries marked by the other, or anyone else for that matter, but something that transcends beyond that and something that has free reins. Another lyricist, comparing his lover to a star in the distant sky, says, “You be where you are and I will be where I am.” He means to say that you are a star in the distant sky and I am a person living on earth. But you stay where you are, as you are, and I will stay where I am, as I am. The common thing that is binding us together is the empty space between us. You cannot come down to earth from the sky. If that happens, may be I will lose you, and we will lose this moment. Hence you better stay where you are whereas I will stay where I am, watching you. All you have to do is stay put where you are. You don't have to keep saying that you love me. No need to keep reminding about it as if we will forget it. Sometimes, love exists where the words “I love you” are not uttered at all. The problem arises when we try to frame that love and come to terms with accepted social standards. In any bond, there is a point beyond which the bonding loses the tenacity. Hence, in a far-off country, in an unknown city and amongst unknown people, two ‘different' like-minded persons bereft of any kind of ‘love' would have many things to share, wouldn't they? Is it strange and wrong, then, for them to become so close but so far in love and find comfort in each other's warmth? If not for this bonding, the two-year work contract period would have been a hell on earth for both of us. I don't think that you will doubt for a moment that the story of a remarkably beautiful and much younger unmarried woman's brief and circumstantial friendship with a very middle aged and married man is far-fetched. It really happened to me, some 25 years ago. I still remember vividly the day I left her for home. That day, I realized how powerful the platonic love was. The rivulets of tears she shed on my shoulders soaked my shirt so hard that even the almost three-hour flight time back home wasn't enough to dry it completely. It was the day I realized how much tears a person can shed in one go. And that cemented my opinion on how powerful true love, though platonic, could be. I was a middle-aged man who recognized and did what was proper to my station in life with regard to a much younger, very attractive woman fate had put in my path. I never doubt that she would ever forget me too, and I always believe that she loved me as much as it would have been possible for her to do so. Although we have not seen each other after we parted ways, I still cherish that memory and still love her platonically.
Two worlds that seemed to merge together so effortlessly. I met her and it was like I'd known her my whole life. Our strange similarities, yet vast differences in life seemed to draw us closer and closer. Only a short time after meeting, our bond had grown to nearly inseparable. We were always together. Then it hit. My Grandma had a stroke, just before we met. She was in a hospital and the uncertainty of her making it fluctuated. Shortly after us meeting, she'd received word that her Great Grandmother wasn't doing well. While these weren't good things, they were things that helped bring us together. Those next couple of weeks, we held on to each other's company like it was something we could actually hold. I was sitting there next to her, on the couch, when she got the call. She began to cry. She got up and went to tell her mom, but she came back. She came back and she curled into my arms and cried. Not any normal cry, the kind of cry that you feel with your bones, your soul. I held her for a while. My Grandma had been moved to my Aunt's house. To live out her days happy and surrounded by family. But she had to go, she had to be with her family during these trying times. It was the first time we'd been apart in weeks. I drove her and her brother to the airport. After driving a couple miles back by myself, I received a call. They'd forgotten something in the car. I turned around, relief rushing through my veins. I didn't have to go back to face my reality without her just yet. She met me in the drop-off area, got what she needed and before she shut the door, she took my whole world by surprise. “I love you." She shut the door and walked away. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to think, how to process it all. I knew I loved her too and I knew that the person I felt so passionately about was about to leave me for days. Thousands of miles between us. I knew it was selfish but I wanted her there with me. I was scared, scared for my loss, scared for hers and scared of being alone. No, I was surrounded by family, but I felt like I was drowning in a sea of emotions and there was nobody to help. But she could. Days passed slower than any other time I can remember in my life. There were moments of happiness, like my Grandma waking up and singing to us. But there were moments of grief, where we didn't know how much longer she'd hold on. We talked on the phone, her and I. I remember feeling so helpless when she told me how things were there. All I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and never let her go. The day came, they were coming home. Though my heart was filled with dread, it was overcome by love and passion. I would get to see her. But there was a dilemma. There was nobody able to pick them up from the airport that night. I offered, I knew it would be hard. I knew I didn't want to walk away from my Grandma at this time, but something kept telling me I needed to. Maybe it would have been too hard, maybe it was to protect myself. For the next seven hours, I spent my time next to my Grandma. Holding her fragile, cold hands. Watching her shallow, deep breaths. Knowing that today would be the day. The clock seemed to tick in slow motion. Family came in and out of the room. They laughed, they cried. The sunlight that filled the room faded as the day played out. It seemed to fade at the same speed she did. Slowly, but surely. The time came when I had to go. I was scared and relieved all at once. I wanted to magically be at the airport with my her. I didn't want to drive alone, that's too much silence, too much time. That's the thing, time and silence are my biggest fears. It's the time in which all of my thoughts take over and consume any and all happiness I have left. Breaking me down until I have nothing left to feel. Numb. I told my family if she went before I got back and I knew she would, to wait. I didn't want to know while I was alone. I wanted to be with the one person who seemed to make me better in all ways possible. They agreed. It was a long drive, it was late and it seemed to take forever. But I got there and so did they. I sat next to her, in the passenger seat. June eighteenth, two thousand seventeen. My mom texted asking if I had picked them up. I knew. I waited a while to respond. I was overwhelmed by so many emotions. I replied. She called. She told me she had passed shortly after I left. She held on until I was gone. I knew I needed to be with her, so did they. I looked at her, then back out the window and quietly cried. I knew she was going to be the person by my side for the rest of my life. Whether she did or not, I felt it. We've been married for four months and eight days. I wouldn't change a single thing. I found the person who can make me feel every emotion, all at once, in the best way. My someone who makes me feel more alive than I ever have in my twenty-eight years of life. Someone who brought me back to life. I love you, too.
A/N: Hello. This is a quick introduction to my babies: two super-powered-not-entirely-human best friends, one of which is a personna of me and one who I've stolen my name from. I introduce you now to Kit and Marie. . Swords clashed. Claws swiped. A fiery red warrior maiden danced through the fray of battle, trailing misery and death behind her. A thin sword world around the girl and her red hair flew like a halo over her head. She ducked and leaped, stabbed and parried. The great beasts she and her kin battled roared and screamed. Man and all manner of beasts threw themselves at the girl, enraged by the deaths of their comrades. Her siblings-in-arms flashed around her, fending off enemies and clearing the way for the warrior to cut through the army to its core: a great metal monster, crushing everything in its path underfoot. That was her goal, to defeat this hellspawn, so her kin would be safe once more. The being howled as she ran to it, and it charged at her. The maiden was undeterred and shouted her battle cry until her throat grew hoarse. She leaped into the air, sword poised for the death blow. She descended toward the beast's long neck and— “Kit!” She blinked twice. “What?” There were snickers in the classroom as Kit struggled to clear her thoughts and Mr D at the front of the room gave a long-suffering sigh. “I asked what the answer to number seven was. Pay attention, please.” He pointed at the girl next to her. “Marie? Answer please?” “Three hundred sixty two decimal three,” She chirped. “Any objections? Correct, Marie,” he continued. “Quinton, number eight.” The boy answered and Kit checked her answers. She was behind correcting the decimals sheet by three questions. Quickly checking them off and praying that they were actually correct for once, she glanced back up to the front. “No, the answer to five is thirty decimal zero seven two four,” someone hissed in her ear. Kit looked at Marie, who was leaning over towards her, then down at her notebook. “Oh. Thanks,” she whispered back. “And he's going to call your name for twelve and your answer is wrong. Here.” Marie took Kit's notebook and corrected the number. Kit stared. “How do you know he'll call me?” Marie started. “Oh, umm, I don't know. A guess?” “Kit, number twelve?” Mr D called. She stared at the other girl in amazement, then looked down at the notebook and read the answer the other girl had written. “Correct,” Mr D said. Kit looked back at Marie. Then she gave a small smile. The small Filipino girl was a creature of magic in hiding. “I get it. I'm a bit like you.” She glanced up at their teacher. “Can I sit with you during lunch?” Marie and Kit didn't have many friends, so Kit hoped Marie wouldn't have cause to excuse herself from it. Marie just nodded and kept her head down the rest of class.
