Blog: Up for Sale

Recently I realized that, because this book is a collection of short stories and poems, it doesn’t need to be “done” in order to be readable. So it’s up for sale now. First Edition, 34,184 words. I hope you like it.

Here it is.

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Pacing

A Tale of the Second Lichaf
Of the Life of Eudo the Wanderer

I walked the halls of Morentoff, trying to escape.

I would tell you that I ran, like the heroes of the stories I had heard in my childhood. Running, fighting, shouting with defiance. A secret plan. A daring move. A sudden turn. Hurrying through hidden passageways, pursued by a thousand soldiers, dashing to the exit. Rescuing others, along the way. And never doubting, never faltering. For a true hero knows what he is.

Yes, I would tell you that I ran, but I was no storybook hero. I walked, quiet and alone, and never did I leave the city.

I walked as if I was going somewhere. I walked quickly, to avoid attention. For if anyone thought I was lost, they would speak to me, and then they might surmise the truth.

Walking was just a means of escape. A way to avoid the others.

There were no soldiers to pursue me. For wherever I went, there were sorcerers already there. Or, if I did find an empty space, I could not trust it to remain empty forever. I used my time as best I could. I would talk with myself, gesturing feverishly with my arms. But I did not actually speak, except perhaps in whisper. I could not risk that others might hear. Sometimes, while I gestured, some other person would appear suddenly from another room, and very quickly I would stop, and turn my head away, and walk elsewhere, all to hide my thoughts. I became very skilled at this, in time.

In all my walking, I never found an exit. I dreamed of someday leaving the city, but the passing days and years dulled my hopes.

The only way to escape from Morentoff…was to escape to Morentoff.

So I escaped then, in a manner of speaking. One tiny fragment of my soul found some freedom, as I paced the halls for as long as I could, until I was ordered someplace in particular.

But wherever I went, wherever I walked, the echoes of my footsteps were unending.

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I Did Not Die

A Tale of the Third Lichaf
Of the Life of Eudo the Wanderer

But stay awhile, O listener
And listen for a spell
For though my time runs short with you
There is much more to tell

I did not die upon the night
My skin turned specter-gray
I journeyed forth away from fear
And onward to the day

And though I do not know the truth
And questions plague me still
The Federation does not own
My heart, or mind, or will

So I will wander ‘cross the land
And I will see the sea
And I will search for righteousness
While still remaining free

I am Eudo the Wanderer
Journey now with me

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