A Wizard’s Forge
Book One of the Woern Saga
by A. M. Justice
Scholar. Slave. Warrior. Wizard.
On a planet far from Earth, descendants of marooned space travelers fight a decades-long war. Shy scholar Victoria knows nothing of this conflict until pirates kidnap and sell her to the sadistic tyrant behind it. He keeps her naked and locked in a tower, subjecting her to months of psychological torture. After seizing an opportunity to escape, Vic joins the fight against her former captor and begins walking a bloody path toward revenge.
As the Blade, Vic gains glory raiding her enemy’s forces, but the ordeal in his tower haunts her. Bitter memories keep her from returning the love of the kindhearted Prince Ashel, whose family has fended off the tyrant’s invading army for a generation. When enemy soldiers capture Ashel, Vic embarks on a quest to rescue him and, on the journey, discovers a source of spectacular power. With wizardry, Vic can rescue the prince, end the war, and wreak the vengeance she craves, but she might also destroy her only chance for peace.
Some dreams wake me up and leave me in a haze.
I remember seeing the dirty unreachable corners, between the bed and the bookshelf, between the TV stand and that chest of drawers. I remember the old red curtains, faded from continuous direct exposure to the sun, hanging from every one of the abundant windows and doorways. I remember the old paint peeling off the ancient walls.
The TV plays a cliche cinema about a rich girl falling in love with a poor guy. It’s always the same, with slightly different plot points every time. Everyone in the room knows all the actors and actresses and acts as if it were their story. There’s in-scene commentary. There’re sing-alongs every time a song comes up. They can’t count how many times they’ve watched each of these.
10 is such a satisfying number.
Since starting this blog, I’ve done a year-in-books post every year, whether it’s before Jan 1st or after. Every year, the first thing I do when I log on to Goodreads.com in the beginning of the year is set up the reading challenge. Usually, people put in a number a bit higher than the previous year. I do something different. I put in 10.
Here’s why I do that. I don’t exactly consciously think Hey I need to read this many books this year. (I bet no one does that.) But 10 is like a rudimentary number. I know that if I don’t clear a challenge as simple as that I’ve either had a really bad year or I’m a huge disappointment.
And besides, when I finish the 20th book, and log that in, the reading challenge percentage becomes 200. Isn’t that just so satisfying?
Last year, I read all of these books: Continue reading “2016 in Books”
The cold comes later
Like ice, taking longer to form
When the temperature is set high in the freezer.
It lasts a shorter time
Like ice-cream left out in the open,
Or like a snowflake, melting on a gloved finger.
It chills with less enthusiasm
Like a war lost
Pointless struggles and dwindling hope.
Winter recedes somewhere we cannot reach
Slowly, waiting for the “all at once”
There’s only so much to do.
Warmth spreads, true to its nature
How long will it take for us to understand
That Winter just wants friends?
Warning. Spoilers ahead. Read at your own risk.
I remember that as a child, Cinderella was my favorite Disney movie. It was so fascinating. Evil people who are evil for the sake of being evil. A ton of animal friends. (I really hated the cat, though. Seriously.) And at the very end, a dream come true. It was everything my mind could encompass.
However, as the years progressed, and I had Cinderella retellings coming my way, I realized that I liked the retellings a lot more than my childhood favorite.
Here’re the things that caught my eye when I thought about why Ella Enchanted felt more believable. Continue reading “Ella Enchanted”
It’s been a little over a year now that I first put in some actual effort to understand what those weird abbreviations in my friend’s collection of knitting patterns. Now that I look back, I just wasn’t interested enough.
I remember spending a little over a week mastering knits and purls. Continue reading “Yarny”
Like in “shout”
I love my name. The first two words are long and a hard combination of syllables to remember, and have very beautiful meanings (they’re Arabic words). The nickname is short and easy, and still very beautiful. I love my name, because it is as much my identity as my body, or my mind, or my writing, or my knitting and crocheting, or my reading. It’s all a package.
I love being addressed by my nickname. It makes me feel safe, like I’m home and don’t need to worry about anyone judging. I don’t have to worry about socializing and wondering if I should step it up or down. Continue reading “It’s “O-U””
This has been bugging me for some time.
It’s not the first time I’ve started something only to loose interest somewhere down the line.
Wait. Let’s back up a bit. I used to be the person who was afraid of starting anything. The thought of anything new, or any change, to this day, makes me nervous, and I hate feeling uncomfortable. The start of something new is always a drastic change. It requires effort and constant getting used to. Continue reading “Daily Prompt: Unfinished”
…were widely different.
The first time I read it was when I was at least twelve. It was slow and arduous, because reading big things like that (without any magic in them, of course) were just beginning to grow on me. It was for a book review project in school. They would definitely read it, and they would definitely know if I’d read it or not. Or so I thought. I later found out that others were reading abridged versions shortened to the point that the entire thing boiled down to ten thousand words at most.