It is a sad day when writers or artists are killed over beliefs. They are men and women who’s purpose in life is to create. They seek to invoke emotion, to make others laugh, cry and to think. They are farmers of the mindscape, cultivating thoughts and feeling. Their ideas may never die but ignorance and hate have succeeded in clawing out another breath of creativity that the world sorely needs.
Book
Christmas Sale!
Winter is coming and that means so is Christmas. Money is tight so I have made it that much cheaper to pick up a nice read.
If you still haven’t had chance to read ‘The Sword Summoner’ now is your chance. Throughout December you can pick up the ebook version for a single pound. That’s right, £1.00 for 350 pages of entertainment.
Visit any ebook retailer for this great deal or click the link to the Amazon page below:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Sword-Summoner-His…/…/178306322X
Book Review – ‘The Magician’s Guild’ by Trudi Canavan
‘The Magician’s Guild’ is a simple, well enough written book that could have achieved so much more. It was Trudi Canavan’s first book and it definitely shows. To me, the book felt kind of flat. The world was interesting but unexplored and the character’s all felt slightly too two dimensional.
‘The Sword Summoner: History Repeats’ Chapter One.
Here is the first chapter of my book to give y’all a taster. It does get darker and more ‘Fantasy’ oriented, I swear. Enjoy.
000 000 000
1: An Average Day Gone Astray.
Birds scattered as the old morning bell began to toll, its deep echoes ringing throughout the ancient city of Pastrino. The noise was met by stirrings as the city below began to awaken and the people rose from slumber to begin their day’s work. All except one that is: Trey Sted. He was still fast asleep like he was most mornings.
People were amazed at how he could sleep through the morning bell because it could wake up everyone else in Pastrino, even those on the outskirts of the sprawling city. Ironically, his house stood in the shadow of the bell tower on the wide hill that marked the centre of the city. It left any who were that close to the tower with ringing ears when they chimed, but Trey never even stirred from his sleep.
“Trey, wake up! Trey, get out of bed!” his mother called from the doorway.
Trey did not move. His cheap woollen cover was wrapped tightly around him like a cocoon even though it was the middle of summer.
His mother called again. “Trey, get up now or you’ll be sorry.” Still he lay motionless. “I warned you, Trey.” Continue reading
Matthew Roys 