A humorous Post-Modern fantasy short story that pokes fun at the common tropes of this genre. Journey with Professor Carter Linwood as he attempts to rescue Princesss Miralee from the horrible looking Gurs - lizard creatures who live in the sewer. You'll never use the toilet in the same way!A humorous Post-Modern fantasy short story that pokes fun at the common tropes of this genre. Journey with Professor Carter Linwood as he thinks about rescuing Princesss Miralee from the horrible looking Gurs - lizard creatures who live in the sewer. With Jed Jarlton at his side, Professor Carter Linwood will battle the vile Ords - savage creatures with a penchant for nastiness and no desire to bathe. Will this short story be the beginning of Professor Linwood's nefarious battle against Evil? You decide!You'll never use the toilet in the same way! Views: 438
Hattie Cook's dream job is down the toilet and her new SUV violated. Desperate for cash to cover the basic necessities of rent and food, she takes a temporary job at Buy-Rite insurance company where she uncovers an embezzling scam tied to the death of a former employee—the very one she replaced. The last thing she wants is to clash with By-the-Book Detective Wellborn, no matter how much he makes her heart pound. Allan Charles Wellborn has secretly adored Hattie all his life. He evolved from a pocket protector-wearing geek to a handsome police detective. When the police determine there's more to the death of a former Buy Rite employee, he steps in to lead the investigation. Overly dedicated, always perfect, he puts his job first, even if doing so ultimately hurts the one he loves. Can the killer be found before Hattie's time is up? Views: 438
An essay on U.S and Cuba political relationship and its dos and don't. With other essays on today political and social issues including Thai movement, Ukraine movement and...Long ago, a woman could be convicted of witchcraft simply for breathing, it seems. MARTYR is a slightly modern take on the old, familiar witch hunt story.Story was loosely based on the similar story of Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry Tudor (King Henry VIII).Appropriate for most audiences old enough to know about death. Views: 438
The epic fantasy novel that defined the genre, now in one volumeAs the youngest son of a king, Ralph of Upmeads is expected to forsake adventure for the safety of home. But the call of the Well at the World's End is too powerful to resist, and Ralph disobeys his parents in order to seek out his true destiny in its magical waters. The journey is long and arduous as the well lies on the far side of a distant mountain range and the lands beyond Upmeads are full of treacherous characters. With the help of a beautiful maiden and an ancient hermit, Ralph completes his quest and raises the cup of immortality and wisdom to his lips. The question is, what will he do with his newfound powers? Widely recognized as the forerunner to modern fantasy, The Well at the World's End is a magnificent tale of romance and adventure and a major influence on the works of J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. This ebook has been professionally proofread to ensure... Views: 438
From the author of The Rogue's Folly comes a Regency romance celebrating the witty and romantic world that fans of Georgette Heyer have fallen in love with. Twenty years ago, Beatrice Copland committed a reckless and foolish act of deceit that she's certain ruined the life of a man she'd fallen in love with and led to his wife's death. Now serving as companion to the stern Lady Bournaud, she leads a quiet life and attends to her duties as a kind of penance. But Lady Bournaud, trying to make amends for her own selfish ways, is opening her country estate to a few select guests for the holidays—including the man Beatrice wronged so many years ago. Sir David Chappell spent nearly two decades coming to terms with the haunting memory of his wife's death. When he receives an invitation to Lady Bournaud's for the Christmas season, he's reluctant to go at first, but he's sure the time away in Yorkshire will be a welcome change from London. Once... Views: 438
Fredric Brown (1906-1972) is perhaps best remembered for his use of humor and his mastery of the “short-short” form (these days called flash fiction)—stories of one to three pages, often with ingenious plotting devices and surprise endings. This volume contains 27 of his stories, including the classics "The Waveries," "Honeymoon in Hell," "Cartoonist," and many more! Views: 438
*“What’s your name?”
“Serene.”
“Serena?” Elliot asked.
“Serene,” said Serene. “My full name is Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle.”
Elliot’s mouth fell open. “That is badass.”*
The Borderlands aren’t like anywhere else. Don’t try to smuggle a phone or any other piece of technology over the wall that marks the Border—unless you enjoy a fireworks display in your backpack. (Ballpoint pens are okay.) There are elves, harpies, and—best of all as far as Elliot is concerned—mermaids.
Elliot? Who’s Elliot? Elliot is thirteen years old. He’s smart and just a tiny bit obnoxious. Sometimes more than a tiny bit. When his class goes on a field trip and he can see a wall that no one else can see, he is given the chance to go to school in the Borderlands.
It turns out that on the other side of the wall, classes involve a lot more weaponry and fitness training and fewer mermaids than he expected. On the other hand, there’s Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle, an elven warrior who is more beautiful than anyone Elliot has ever seen, and then there’s her human friend Luke: sunny, blond, and annoyingly likeable. There are lots of interesting books. There’s even the chance Elliot might be able to change the world. Views: 437
In a stream of consciousness mode ‘Glaring
Shadow’ is the self-account of the life and times of a man, who liquidates his
immense wealth only to consign it to the flames.The agony and ecstasy of his
life as he makes it big in our materialistic world and the way he loses his
soul in the bargain, only to regain it when tragedy strikes him makes one
ponder over the meaning of success in life. This
philosophical ‘novel of a memoir’ is a compelling read that is conducive to
contemplate about the nature and scope of human relationships.Chapter
Titles1. Glaring Shadow2. Pains of Regret3. Cradle of Life4. Outlook for Re-look5. Humbling Reality6. Orgies
of Love7. Pangs of Remorse8. Villainy
of Innocence9. Couple of a Kind10. A
Character of Sorts11. Moments of Poignance12. Enigma of Being13. Vignettes of a Village14. A Teacher of Note15. Brink of Incest16. Love-less Love17. Flights of Heart18 Gaffes of Youth19. Pats
and Slights20. An Emotional Affair21. The Harlot Zone22. A Lingering Longing23. Smallness of Bigness24. Disown to Own25. Sentiment of Ruin26. Enigma of Attraction27. Veneer of the Vile28. Swap for Nope29. Goring Syndrome
30. Back to the BasicsBook excerpt for a feel of its literary style:Glaring Shadow
He had the soul of our times, and is the namesake of many.
He tamed success by the scruff of its neck, only to fuel envy in our
neighborhood. When it seemed there was no stopping him, fate dealt him a deadly
blow in his early sixties. Besides losing his wife, son and daughter-in-law
with their children in that fatal road mishap, he found his leg mangled in the
debris of that Ferrari. The intensity of the pity all felt for him seemed to
match the magnitude of his loss, but as he became a recluse, his thought eluded
all, and in due course, his tragedy became a thing of the past. But, in time,
his intriguing behavior brought him back to the top of the page three in the
local media – why he had disposed off his lucrative real estate for a song that
left the realtors in the lurch. And as if to create a newsflash in the business
world, he had off-loaded his considerable stockholding, which sent the bulls
running for cover in the country’s bourses. Soon, even as the scrip was still
crunching in the bear hug, the closure of his umpteen bank accounts earned him
the national headlines, as it heralded a first rate liquidity crisis in the
country’s banking system. But even in that gloomy setting, it cost me a fortune
to acquire his palatial bungalow the outhouse of which he had retained.
When I called on him for chitchat that morning, I was
shocked to see him shredding mounds of money lying beside him. Unmindful of my
protests, as he picked up another wad of notes, I snatched it from him as if it
were the money I paid through my nose. However, getting hold of another set,
when he resumed his destructive regimen, I said it was absurd that the toil of
a lifetime should be laid waste thus. Maybe, to clear my vision as well as to
set his mind at rest, he unwound himself, which I would rewind for man to
readjust his clock of life. But then why not reveal his name when he is worth
writing about? It’s because, the value of this tale lies not in his name,
hallowed though, but in the hollowness of life he had led that is even as his
name became a synonym for fame. However, if someone were to guess who it is, so
be it.
“My tragedy brought to the fore the falsities of life,” he
began melancholically. “How sickening it was to sense the anxiety of those to
step into the shoes of my lost heirs. If only they stopped at that, and not
stooped further, wouldn’t I have taken them as the necessary evils of my
aimless life! But they began to believe that they had a case for cause of
action to file a suit in the court for their share in the spoils of my life.
Let them go in for a writ if they want to, how I care now. What is the
injunction they are going to get from the court but to maintain the status quo.
Better still if the court were to grant them this shredded stuff; won’t that
save me the bother of scavenging it. But then, why blame them? How I failed to
see that the self-worthy will not ingratiate themselves, and that it is the
self-serving that cater to the egos of the egotists. Won’t the upright seem
arrogant to the egotistic, served by the servility of the spongers. Oh, by
letting success go to my head, how I began to condescend to descend to the
principled folks, who tend to occupy the middle order. Didn’t Napoleon say,
‘The surest way to remain poor is to be an honest man” and, anyway, they are
few and far between as Shakespeare had averred “Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man
picked out of ten thousand”.
“Maybe in our age
of the billionaires, the ratio could as well be one in a million.”
“You may not be off the mark after all,” he said. “Aren’t
more and more people getting exposed to the temptations of money these days,
and don’t I know how difficult it is to resist the temptation of the moolah.
More so, as it appears, Mammon and Bacchus have pushed Venus to the backbench
of life. Well, warming up to the dubious, didn’t I make it appear that only
those who courted me counted? But why would sane minds court the empty heads
any way? But still, I didn’t care that my attitude distanced the discerning,
even Anand my nephew I was fond of, and he was the last to know of my tragedy.
Why not, won’t it take time for news to trickle down to the distant relations?
When he came to offer his condolences, how my troubled conscience was solaced
by the empathy I saw in his eyes! What a contrast it was with the put-ons of
others underscored with their eyes-on-my-heirless-wealth! It was as if his
ethos had placed my derailed life back on its ethical tracks. How I pleaded
with him to become the prince of my domain and the inheritor of my fortune, and
it was only when he declined my offer, did I realize what a pauper I was in
spite of my riches.”
“Don’t tell me he’s a saint not wanting to be one of the
richest on earth. Maybe, it’s his weird way of getting even with you.”
“You may know that he values love above all else, and that’s
saintly, isn’t it?” he said. “He’s skeptical about the senseless wealth for its
malefic affects on the ethos of his life, and what’s worse, the questionable
quality of those that it ushers into one’s life. While his modest station in
life keeps off the axe-grinders and the gold-diggers from trespassing into his
life to his hurt, he’s afraid that the halo of my bequeathal would change all
that for it might make him a false deity flocked by the dubious gang. That used
to be my philosophy of life as well. I always wanted a woman to enter into my
life, pulled by my persona and not seduced by my wealth for I know women have a
weakness for successful men. Well for my part, I always had a weakness for
desirable women. When Ruma wanted me to own her and her riches as well, for
good or for bad, it all changed forever, but now, how I wish I had his
pragmatism to love and to life. Whatever, that monetary rise was the beginning
of my moral fall.”
“But money can bring the best out of man and I’ve a cousin
to name for that,” I said.“When he was a man of modest means, he pestered me no end for a paltry sum he
lent me but now he’s a silent donor of millions. I guess that it was his
insecurity then that made him petty in spite of his being large-hearted. Why,
it’s the hand that holds the money that shapes its character and not the other
way round.”
“And sadly for my money it fell into my frivolous hands,” he
said staring at the heap. “When I said
at his refusal what I was to do with all the money, Anand said in jest that I
might as well hang myself with it. Oh, if only he had told me how to go about
it; can one make a rope out of a wad of a trillion? Why money is paper and rope
is coir; money can buy rope but can’t make one on its own; which is stronger
then, money that buys rope or the rope that gets sold for money? Yet all the
money in the world cannot tie a monkey? But strangely it can bind man, even the
Herculean one! Or is it that man himself submits to money, thinking that he
would be weak without it. Oh, how I acquired wealth to feel strong and appear
so to Ruma. But what money did to me than making me a weakling? What of this
impulse to destroy that, which I had accumulated all my life. Can I become
strong by shredding the stuff? Maybe, am I not rooting out the cause of my
bane? How my hands have begun to ache already, and I’ve so much more to shred
still! Wonder why didn’t I feel any strain at all accumulating all that wealth;
what a heady feeling, the sense of success is! Why did I let the glaring shadow
of success eclipse my soul? Maybe I would never know. But now, wiser for the
myth of wealth don’t I see the falsity of fame in which I had been gloating
over.”
“You seem to be shaken really.”
“I was in a slumber till Anand stirred my soul in showing me
the reality of life,” he said reflectively. “And what a shock it was.”
“Maybe it paves the way to unburden yourself.”
“Isn’t it strange that unburdening itself is a burden for
me,” he bemoaned. “How tiring it is to destroy all that I had built, so to say,
over my dead soul. Whatever, can one either build much or destroy enough with
bare hands. Maybe as business machines generate wealth, we need money munches
to devour it. But all I’ve is a pair of scissors.”
“If ever you get to invent one, I don’t see any takers for
it and that saves the bother of patenting it.”
“Surely sense of humor helps,” he said trying to get up from
his chair to reach the bureau. “How I forgot I needed crutches, don’t I have
the ghost leg still? Even after exorcizing the devil of wealth, I may have to
put up with it for long. And that speaks about the power of habit that is the
bane of man. Didn’t I develop the habit of making money to impress Ruma, only
to go down on the road of doom? Wasn’t my sense of insecurity to retain her
love that was behind all that? But then, how admirably did Anand lead his wife
Anitha through the travails of life.”
“If you don’t mind my being frank with you,” I said
involuntarily, “your tone betrays your jealousy couched by the admiration of
him. It’s also clear that you wished Ruma was cast in Anitha’s mold.”
“I like your perceptivity, the acme of sensitive writing,”
he said and added reflectively. “Don’t I know you aspire to be a writer? Your
muse willing, maybe my life can inspire you to make a memoir of it. If so, pray
not give away those who came into my life and I too, but for a slip of the
tongue, won’t name any save those you are already in the know. Name them as
your fancy suggests, and what’s in a name as Shakespeare had said.”
“Why it’s an idea, and as Abhishek Bachchan says, it can
change one’s life,” I said enthusiastically. “Let me take notes,”
“Why
not you give it a try as I glean through the glaring show of my life in all its
myriad shades,” he said handing me a writing pad. Views: 437
