A couple of books

Hi there! Here's a list of all the books (or most of the books) I read in the past 2 -3 months. Time's being just a teensy bit merciless so I can't really write about each book but will do so as soon as possible! Meanwhile, enjoy Deepavali!

                        Coming soon!

Swordplay

Hey everyone! Below is a (extremely) short passage I wrote about me sword-fighting, inspired by scenes from The Wrath and the Dawn. Enjoy!

“Up!” he shouted and I knew I had brought death upon myself. “Again!” he barked and moved forward with his sword held at his right. Tired and weary, but charged with adrenaline, I picked up the sword that lay on the dusty ground and gripped it tightly in my raw hands. I widened my stance, like he had suggested, and supported the weight of the entire sword with my upper body strength. Taaraz advanced forward and I looked into his eyes, those narrow pools of uninviting green shining with merciless power. Yet, like the imbecile I was, I glared back with the same revulsion. One leg forward, the other back; chin up, shoulders wide, Taaraz said in my head. Finally, with one last gush of effort, I swung the sword over my head and the blade sliced through the air in a clean arc, whistling in joy at the momentary freedom from my hands. For one intense moment, I thought it would hit him.

It didn’t, obviously.

Another whistling sound as I heard metal clang against metal as Taaraz parried my sword with ease. “Awful,” he said grimly, but I swore I saw an impish grin playing about his lips.

***

Daughter of the Dark

The young girl landed like a tiger on the deck of my ship, crouching, and the force of her impact was miniscule, as if she merely floated down onto the wooden surface. She straightened up and whipped around to face another enemy of mine. She was merciless as sliced the blade clean through him. Hm, I thought, it is no wonder she is the Captain of the Black Pearl, which just supposed to be the deadliest ship that voyaged the Seven Seas.

The girl turned to face me and I finally got a clear view of her face. My, my! They said she was born from the night. No, they were wrong, I thought, she is Night. Her features hardly resembled the weather-beaten, sun-burnt, shark-bitten faces of the crew she captained. She had a perfectly oval face and her high cheek bones struck a beautiful silhouette against the night sky. Her skin was the warm brown of coffee that shone pale under the starlight. Her hair – my goodness – it was as though each strand was a tiny rivulet of black water collected from the darkest waters of the world while they were flowing, and they still did, past her neck and down to her waist.

Most beautiful of all, were her eyes. Sheltered beneath - the surprisingly gentle - arch of her eyebrows were two orbs of sheer black, gleaming with the fierceness of a bull ready to charge a matador. Framed by long, curly lashes, when they began to scrutinize me, I was dazzled, as if she took me to a third space.

The Battle of Sweet Spears.

“Would you now?” Duchess Constance replied, each word a spear soaked in sweet water. “Of course, my lady, I would love to elaborate on my theory,” said Lady Calet. In a graceful motion, she picked up the napkin on her lap, dabbed at the edges of her lips with it and cleared her throat. She began, “I wouldn’t say I believe in God nor would I say I don’t. However, I believe that there is a fundamental force that rules as all. This force is omnipresent, invisible and perhaps even non-existent, but it is vital.” She laced her ring finger into the handle of the cup and gently raised it to her mouth, sipping gently, as if she were doing it for just dramatic pause rather than to quench her thirst for tea. “This force,” she continued, “has a needle and a white thread and with them, it weaves our destiny, our fate. Oh, but do not think that therefore, we, as mere humans have no power to change our fates!” She shuddered as if the thought disgusted her, before resuming, “it hands us needles and threads too. Blues threads for despondency, yellow ones for felicity, red ones for anger and green ones for jealousy.  Only the courageous pick these weapons and weave their own paths in the dense forest of destiny. I call this force, Force. Some call it Brahma. Some call it Christ. Some call it Allah. Some call it Science.” If Duchess Constance were just a normal peasant, she would’ve snorted but she couldn’t, because it was very unladylike. “So you believe in God. I’m afraid your knack of weaving elaborate theories to present a simple fact isn’t very good,” she retorted. Lady Calt merely smiled before saying “Please; only an imbecile would believe that there is no God. An atheist simply means to say that the Earth sprang out of nothing; the skies sprang out of nothing; the colours sprang out of nothing and humans sprang out of nothing. I’d rather believe something created us in lieu of assuming everything simply appeared.” 

Pare-snips

Hello again readers! I know it's been forever and a half since I posted something and I apologize. I've been pretty occupied, what with my IGCSE examinations going on.

I digress.

Anyway, I've now started a new label called "Pare-snips", which will primarily consist of extremely short - snips - passages describing a fictional person, setting or conversation. Enjoy!