NaNoWriMo: Day 1 Review

For those of you who don't know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writer's Month. A bunch of writers attempt to crank out 50,000 words in the month of November. If you want to know more, click here to go to their website and possibly sign up.

Prince of Slaves: Chapter 5

Listross hoisted Emmya off his shoulders and set her down on the grass. “You’re getting a little big for this. I can’t believe you’ll be five next week.” “Daddy?” Emmya took his hand and walked next to him. Over the past few days, they traveled slow. Some god must have found favor with Listross and had preserved the map from the flames that took the manor house. They used it to avoid any cities or large plantations but did plan to make another raid soon. Grink had suggested they try to acquire more men to find greater favor with the ruler of Sholance. On top of that, Listross knew he needed rest. The wound on his arm had already opened up once from trying to do too much. He was in no condition to battle. “Yes, dear?” Listross rubbed the back of his neck and scanned over the group of Tavalskians in front of him. “I don’t want another extra potato for my birthday this year.” Listross smiled. “What do you want?” Emmya stopped walking and looked down. “I want mama to come back.”

Prince of Slaves: Chapter 4

“Sire!” Grink stormed into the house. Listross yawned and rubbed his eyes. He had fallen asleep on the couch reading to Emmya. They had traveled all night to get back. Thyrin and his group had taken both wagons their old master had owned and loaded them with supplies. Thryrin argued a bit about his group having to move into the barn, but when he saw the size of the manor house, he conceded. “Listross, wake up.” Grink frowned at him. “Someone’s coming.” Listross sat up, alert. “Who?” “Not quite sure, but Bolfreed and I were scouting, and saw them in the distance.” “Them? Go get a closer look, but don’t get caught.” “Understood.” Grink spun and left, leaving the house to be quiet once more.

My Girlfriend is a Phoenix

The girl turned into ash. Rodney blinked; his breath catching in his gut. “Avaria?” He scooped some of the ash into his hands and shouted her name again. He felt his heart race. He knew he was panicking, but what else did one do when their girlfriend turns into ash right next to you. A breeze came by and the ashes were pushed to the edge of the blanket.

P.o.S Chapter 3

Listross hugged Emmya tight. “I should be back in a few days.” “Please don’t go, Daddy.” She clung onto his arm. “You know I must. Now be good for Flouth while I’m gone.” Listross picked Emmya up and tightly hugged her. He felt the soft tug of her curls untangling from his beard as he handed her to Flouth. “We’ll have fun!” Flouth hoisted her into the air, caught her, and rubbed his large nose on her belly. Emmya simultaneously giggled and groaned. Listross patted Flouth’s shoulder. “Thank you.” Flouth shrugged. His long hair swayed in the breeze. “It’s an honor, Prince. Now go so you’ll actually arrive before sunrise.” Listross kissed Emmya’s button nose and pink lips. He leaned in close and whispered goodbye in her ear. Adjusting the pack on his shoulder, he set out east towards the next farm.

P.o.S Chapter 2

“Now my prince,” Ideara smirked and stroked Listross’s beard. “How do you plan to free us?” The red welt on Emmya’s cheek caught Listross’s eye. He wouldn’t see her or any of the other children here suffer any longer. The time for change was now. “We attack tonight. While they sleep.” “Were there any weapons in that chest?” Flouth takes a bite of his soup, the usual glint in his eye. “No, but we have Grandmother’s cooking knife.”

Prince of Slaves: Start

Welcome all to Prince of Slaves, my interactive story where you get to decide what happens next! I'm really excited to start this and hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. At the end of the chapter, there will be two options. Please comment below with your vote and/or... Continue Reading →

Prince of Slaves: Prologue

King Sortsill swiped the back of his hand across the table, scattering the clay armies onto the floor. There was another knock on the door. “Your majesty, the assembly has been waiting three hours. They’re becoming rather impatient.” “Tell them if they want to survive they’ll wait an extra five! The fools!” The door burst open. Lord Drephin, a short noble that governed the South of Tavalask, stood there, holding the sides of his large middle. Bruhn, the elderly butler, glared at his back. “We’re the fools?!” Drephin large face reddened. “We’re just trying to get back home to equip our people!” King Sortsill rose and slammed his hands on the table.

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