Novelista

Character Building Exercise: A monologue of one of the main characters in my upcoming space opera, Where Pirates Go to Die . Naria : Captain of the Tigerlily The rumors are true. I have no man to complete me, nor a child to fulfill me. That is probably why I turned to pirating. If you believe that, I also have a moonshare to sell you. No one is going to tell me what kind of life a woman is supposed to lead. I bought the Tigerlily. I restored her and enhanced her. I also handpicked her crew—the best of the best at what they do. You think I care what anyone thinks about how I live my life? I am the Captain of this ship. My ship, my rules. Don’t like them? There’s the airlock. My ship is my pride and joy. Yes, it’s old, but she’s modified. What is so special about the Tigerlily? First, it has a hematite alloy bonded to the titanium hull. Gives her that pretty black sheen. Second, it can maneuver out of the Flyers’ laser snare. How? Like I’m going to tell you.

The World In-between brought us from the modern mundane world through the portal to the magical Land of Sages. There, we discovered the quaint Sages’ Grove with the Empire Tree at its center. We journeyed to the magic hating walled city of Calledin. Then, we ventured into the dark Dragonlands. Bow of the Moon showed us glimpses of the Elf stronghold, Irmingard with its moat full of magic and blinding white ramparts. We raced to colorful Fairyland, which straddles the border of the Land of Sages and the Dragonlands. Beyond both lands, we traversed the mysterious God Mountain. Finally, we traveled further than the known world and lived to tell the tale. Secrets of the Sages will take us to the hot, barren grasslands of the Outlands where the Ghost Tribe finds you. We are summoned to the underground city of Grunnan—the last Dwarf state on either side of the portal. From Secrets of the Sages : Rounding a bend, they entered a large room full of multiple tracks. On the rough wall

INTO ABYSS At which point does low end, Where does abyss begin? How deep is the void in the fowl's eyes, That prey on the darkness so quiet. A winter season so withering, speechless its morning, fear in its quake. I wonder is this the paradise Hell speaks of, No heart for love, no mind for good. Where selflessness is the charity, donation for disaster, Every blood drop, from the tip of the knife is hate's revenge on love. Schizophrenic peace, must be wars sanity, Deprived soul, a wind in a vessel quilt together. The scream to be let go, but trapped till death decays the bond that holds. Pleasure the inner covet, the flesh weak, and quick to envy. So it embarks on a journey into ego, Unknowingly it will reach low. Unsatisfied by the taste, goes on to find the ingredient to enhance the aromatic artefact. Only to find the journey is to a place at the end of low, And the beginning of abyss where this lonely fortress holds. By David Worlanyo Find David on Facebook . 

Art of Noise If a symphony were a collection of memories, thoughts would be instruments, yet I wonder how the songs they played might describe the human temperament. Could percussions articulate one’s discussions? Or their tempo explain why through life we are constantly rushing? Would violins praise or hate? They may only be relevant to help foresee one’s fate. When choosing to compete, will trombones’ allure allow the rest of the song to sing? While watching clarinets show movement, I saw an oboe, harp, and flute grow wings. Whereas trumpets are knights anointed with the strength to fight, saxophones are king of the stage, and thy queen is shown through the beauty of its melody. Yet wisdom is shown through a director’s willingness to follow, for by loving the art of noise, he shall lead. Full book cover for God's Love by Calvert Tynes —Calvert Tynes Calvert Tynes is the author of God's Love . Find Calvert on Facebook .