Word Prompt: Love

He doesn’t think it possible for his entire world to break and remake itself within the span of an hour, but after a few heated confessions, here he stands — not new, but feeling very much like it.

Love is a peculiar thing.

He can hardly handle the enormity packed into the word. It’s overwhelming, like a flood of sunshine after a long night; yet it’s small as well, as if the stars have all been fitted into one person to shower them in brilliance.

Nerves (Scribble)

She whispers his name, and it fills the room from floor to ceiling, drowning him in softness. The dense, unfathomable emptiness that once enveloped him is suddenly pierced by the sound of falling rocks. Loud drums echo in his ears—‘His heart,’ he realizes a second too late.

Beating blood, working muscle, always running off like a flock of startled birds.

Open Letter #39

Dear —,

I’m outside, swaddled in a coat worn thin with a hand around my lighter to block out the wind. Smoke escapes me, floating above like the tendrils of another’s breath. It’s freezing. The cold night is stinging my skin. There’s a pile of fallen leaves that extends two blocks down; the leaf painters are such an enthusiastic bunch, but I feel like sometimes they forget that leaves are fragile things. They color them in reds and oranges, rarely getting a proper balance, so they fall to the ground instead—soggy, sad, and gone too soon. I’d wish for them to get better, but I’m pretty sure that only faeries grant wishes and I haven’t found one of those yet. Besides, I don’t think I’d like to waste a wish on them if I did have one (maybe that’s why the faeries hide from me?)

Anyway, it’s late. I’m tired. The day hasn’t been kind, so I come out here to breathe. Breathe and forget. There’s no need to hold my head up high in a place like this. There’s nothing nice to see anyway. The city looks like its choking. Sometimes the people do, too. They dig for dreams in concrete graves lined with furniture. But I think the world is still in the lead (for now) because whenever dawn comes around the birds continue to sing their tunes. They sound happy, and I’ll take their sounds at face value only because I don’t want to dwell on the alternative.

I don’t quite know where I’m going with this. But I do know that I can’t wait until morning arrives. I can already imagine the cold kitchen, the warm coffee, and my boredom, despite the early hour.

I’m not thinking straight right now. I don’t like my mind. It keeps wandering to places I’m not comfortable with.

I want out.

I’ll probably leave here soon—everyone else has—but I’ve still got half a carton. And you always told me that I need to leave with whoever I brought with me. But I came here with someone I can’t reach anymore. He’s six feet too far.

What should I do?

-N. Rinth

Heartstone Snippet (Book 4)

Book 4 Draft. Ending section of Chapter 1.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything remotely related to fiction. My skills have rusted. There’s a little too much narration in this… a little too much everything honestly. It needs to get cleaned up, which I will do soon I’m sure. (I hope.)

His hands glowed blue as he invoked his power.

Maurice crouched to press each digit onto the crystal. It reacted to everything he released. The awareness that he’d roused the remnants trapped within discomfited him in more ways than one. Even still, he didn’t let that stop him. There was too much at stake for fear.

Eventually, it reached a point where he was no longer unleashing his magic. The tendrils that stirred inside actively took. They slurped more than he was willing to give, utterly unconcerned for his well-being. Each second that passed bled the lifeblood from his veins. He’d be nothing more than a hollow husk if he allowed this to continue. But he couldn’t pull away no matter how much he tried. Sight and noise were made dim by an unknown veil abruptly cast upon him. The shape of a world he sought appeared, brilliant and gleaming, before his eyes. The illusion was hazy along the edges. A distorted dream that flickered on and off to leave a cupped hole of emptiness whenever he tried to reach for it.

A sparkling light appeared in front of him. The same one that did all of those years ago when he’d trapped Thelarius. It shined gold with the promise of a future close enough to taste. He craved that future. More than he’d ever craved anything before. His head snapped to the side when a distant voice called out, as deep and immense as a call to the ocean. Moments passed before he realized that it was saying his name.

Maurice reached out. Continue reading “Heartstone Snippet (Book 4)”

Accountability (Scribble)

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.

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The Drowned Tower is Available for Purchase Here:


“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:


“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:


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.