Word of the Week #62:

Canter

Okay, so this post is in response to the post I made last week

It feels really odd when I say something that seems to contradict what I said exactly one week ago, but I guess it does need to be said.

You see, anyone who knows me well enough will agree that there are times when I immerse myself so deep into my work that I just cannot stop drowning. Of course, that is still prime fodder for artistic creativity, but the artist himself must pay a hefty price. Lives of artists like Sylvia Plath and, in more recent history, Amy Winehouse should serve as a reminder.

As often debated by a particularly incandescent, albeit fictional, pair of contemporary artists, is true art a flash of beauty burning bright and then vanishing in a moment, or is it something eternal that contains our soul and is passed down to our descendants? That is the question always on our minds.

Do I dare say I have the answer? Not in the slightest.

All I do know is that a horse can only gallop so much, before its legs and its heart gives way. And I still have miles to go.

So, in conclusion, we do have an update. Book Two might take longer than I earlier expected, but that may be for the best.

Word of the Week #61:

Mania

Have you ever worked so hard that others thought you were going insane?
Have you ever worked so hard that you too thought you were going insane?
Have you ever worked so hard that you actually did go insane?

No? On all three counts? Sounds quite like the verdict on a cop who allegedly killed an unarmed black guy… Anyway, where was I?

Yeah, if you have never felt that way, you probably will not understand this. Continue reading Word of the Week #61:

Word of the Week #59:

Jubilation

 

Yes, this is a day that deserves celebration, and for more reasons than one.

To begin with, I have made a complete and rapid recovery from the illness of the past week, and that is always a cause for cheer.

The main milestone we celebrate today is the completion of the plotting of Book Two, also known as Arrkaya: Immortals.

I will concede, it took a lot longer than expected, and that may be attributed partly to the number of new threads that have been introduced in this book.

Also, there were quite a few loose ends to pick up from Book One, and deciding which ones need to be tied up and which ones can remain untied is a major chore.

Weaving all of these together took me over two years, but I am happy to say that the threads seem to be blending together quite well…

 So, how much longer till the first draft is ready? I don’t mean to show sound too optimistic but… A couple of weeks?

Anyway, we would let you know the status by the end of the month…

Au revoir!

Word of the Week #40:

Inferno

So, it is our first post of the year, and it comes right snack in the middle of the winter, or whatever weak replacement we have to accommodate here in our beloved tropics…

Still, it is too cold to be complaining about that, which could make you wonder to what am I referring… Continue reading Word of the Week #40:

Book of the Week #27:

Special Post

What is so special about Week #27, you ask? By itself, probably not much…

However, if you look closely at the date, and examine the rest of the blog, you will realise that it has been exactly six months since we began, here.

Happy Semi-Anniversary!

And what better way to celebrate this day, than by giving our readers the first look at our upcoming book, and the sequel to Arrkaya: Origins.

If you have not read Book #1 yet, do not worry, this contains no spoilers.

PS: Yeah, this will be a fiery one…


Immortals
[Arrkaya, Book Two]

Prologue

The Phoenix Rises

Cough! Cough!

She wiped the soot off her face, without pausing for a moment.

The cold valley was filled with mist and smoke. She ran up the slope, through the dark night. Her feet were bare and bloody, and her chest was heaving. She slipped in a pool of blood, and fell headfirst onto the charred remains of a man. With a loud shriek, she darted away, covering her mouth with both her hands.

Her tense skin, taut as that of a drum, could feel the air heating up around her. Drawing on every ounce of her strength, she raised herself to her feet, and continued scampering up the hillside. The grunts of her pursuer grew louder, and air around her grew more and more stifling. She slipped again, crashing down to her knees. With a quick stroke, she wiped off her tears, as a moan escaped her mouth. She did not need to turn around and look, to know that it was already too late…

Warm flames enveloped her body, caressing her, comforting her. She could hear her hair sizzling, as the fire singed her skin. She could feel the inferno around her, consuming her flesh and calcining her bones. And yet, she felt no pain. The fears and the sorrows in her heart seemed to have been burnt away. For the first time in her life, she had found peace.

The night was now quiet. The smoke was beginning to lift from the valley, revealing scorched buildings and charred corpses. The entire town was still. Then, from the ashes of his own mother, arose a boy. His fiery red hair, like wild flames, waved in the breeze, a grim look on his alabaster face. He took a fistful of the ash, and smeared it across his forehead. With steady, confident strides, he moved down the hill, until he stood in the centre of the valley. For the very first time, he opened his smouldering eyes, like a pair of glowing embers embedded in his skull.

“I am sorry, Mother,” he said, his voice calm, unwavering, “but it is not my fault. It is my nature to consume.”

He spread out his arms, feeling the heat around him. Drawing from the ancient voice within his head, he started absorbing energy from the scorched buildings and the charred corpses, draining them of all heat trapped within. The breeze suddenly changed direction, and grew chilly. The few surviving blades of grass wilted, as they began to glaciate.

His eyes were ablaze with this newfound power. Throwing his head back, he let out a roar that rumbled through the valley.

“I AM AZAZEL!”