I can so easily recall days when we’d run off to steal a few moments to ourselves. When we forgot about the world together. But my emotions have always been intense things. Some more than most can handle. I never thought they’d be too much. In hindsight, I probably should’ve known. I got careless.
My fault. Not yours.
No more alcohol to drown my sorrows. No more food to escape the bitter taste of regret that settles like bile on my tongue. Perhaps… that’s for the best. Because there’s no peace to be found at the bottom of a bottle, and I’ve drowned my senses too long already.
My mind has clouded over, and I’ve forgotten that there’s always solace to be found in wreckage, kindness during ages of uncertainty, and most of all, love, when we feel none at all.
So, it’s enough now.
It’s enough.
You keep speaking of the past, as if you were any different then.
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The Drowned Tower is Available for Purchase Here:
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BARNES&NOBLE (USA) | !NDIGO (CA) | BOOKTOPIA (AU)
“If the future was bared before you, would it still be yours?
If the past could chase you, would you run from it?
If the world crumbled tonight, would you carve your own?”
Freedom is out of the question for practitioners of the Institute, and any supporters otherwise are dealt with violently. A system Sylvie Sirx neither refutes, nor endorses—born from an enviable family, talented in her skills, and entirely too content with her position, her path has always been a straight one… until now.
Her qualifications backfire when an elder from the north descends upon her home for a Choosing. He calls upon the Drowned Tower’s most sought after practitioners for a simple job that ends in blood, and then Sylvie’s blissful world erupts. She finds herself in the company of the Elementalist, Jacques Dace, an insufferable but deadly enthusiast of personal reform. Together, they’re swept into a spiral of powerful magic and ancient grudges. Where truth bends, stones whisper secrets of the past, and their home lies at the heart of what could very well be Ferus Terria’s next recorded war.
And for once, she is forced to choose a side, learning for herself what it means to master fate.
The Red Veld is Available for Purchase Here:
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“How far would you go to learn the truth?
If it isn’t what you expected, would you accept it?
If the world rejected it, would you stand by it?”
With the Drowned Tower in shambles and its practitioners left to wander the foreign lands of Ferus Terria, Sylvie and Jack set out to learn more about the stone’s history. Their first stop: the Red Veld. But finding answers isn’t as easy as simply inquiring.
They quickly find themselves stepping into an entire Institute of uncooperative practitioners, banding with an eccentric auctioneer, and standing against a horde of hired Nebbin. Where they must carve a path for themselves or risk losing what little they have left—it isn’t much of a choice. The pair barrel blindly through the dark. While unknown to them, the Zenith Council stirs with revolts surging in the west and Jack’s closest friend is captured by slavers interested in learning the secret to magic. The world continues to spin. But together, they realize the mystery behind the rise of the First Zenith and uncover truths that could rock the very foundation of the Institute that governs them.
Some secrets, however, should never be brought to light. And there are those that would kill to keep it that way.
Sitting in Silence is Available for Purchase Here:
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Sitting in Silence is a collection of poetry and prose birthed during the idle instances of life that allow for noiseless introspection. It’s about the struggles of love, of loss, and of the unsuspecting experiences in between that make life worth living—and worth scorning.
From a beginning filled with bitter ruminations, to an ending that embraces reality and its sufferings, Sitting in Silence is a reminder to accept what the world hurls in your path, and to let those hardships shape you into something better.
Despair doesn’t kill. It just makes life a little more unbearable.
I care for you more delicately than I do my pen. I consider your voice over the hundreds vying in my mind. I reached out to you with hope I believed long dead… but no more. Because this has become a game now, and I’m so tired of twisted things. I forfeit.
The wind is cold. There’s no sun.
Outside, the air’s heavy and stale.
Even clouds get tired of crying some days.
Like the reflection I see on my tar cellphone screen.
An echo of myself, swaddled on this rumpled bed.
Tendrils of smoke drifting round.
Eyes groggy, limbs protesting.
Thoughts muffled by ocean waves.
Drowned out by numbness.
Long and lasting.
Actions exist to prove words, not sit in place of them.
He breathed, slow and measured, to test how the world felt now that the storm had gone to reveal a world kissed by the sun. It broke gold and glorious over the horizon.
A kind reminder of how peace could so easily triumph over restlessness.
by Richard Dawkins
“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people.
In the teeth of these stupefying odds, it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here. We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?”
