Monday 30 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Zilch

Z is for Zilch because that’s what I’ve got for you today.

I think I was overly ambitious (as I always am) because I sometimes need goals to push myself.
But I also forget that sometimes downtime is also necessary, goals or no.


Updates to add:

The idea now, I think, is to be a little bit more consistent.
Another 30K to go on this WIP to actually finish the story.

Saturday 28 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Young -- or when Rahsia was young

I don't know if I'm going to keep this, but I like it well enough. It's sort a continuation from Rahsia. (With some stuff in between but eh.)


Nek proved hard to corner that evening, though Rahsia tried as hard as she could to speak to her away from her mother. She couldn’t figure out whether it was Mak who kept hovering over them or if it was Nek who kept steering them to Mak, but every time Rahsia was alone with Nek and was about to ask her about what Iman’s mother had said, she’d find that Mak was somewhere within earshot.

By the end of the night, Rahsia was grumpy and annoyed. Finally, Nek came in to tuck her into bed. Rahsia saw her chance.

“Nek,” she started to say, only to be interrupted by her grandmother.

“Rahsia, a secret is a secret. I know you want to ask me about your father, but if your mak doesn’t want it to be said, you can’t sneakily ask me and expect me to tell. That’s what it means to be a Secretkeeper. To keep the secrets safe so that you protect the dignity and the wishes of the person who told it to you.”

“But don’t I have the right to know about my father?”

Nek smoothed Rahsia’s dark hair back from her face. “You do have a right to know, but not from me.”

“But Mak doesn’t want to tell me anything! It’s not fair.” Rahsia could feel the tears prickling behind her eyelids. She forced them back. She wasn’t going to cry like a baby. Not for something stupid like this.

“And she has a right to act that way.”

“Why do you get to know?”

“Because I am her mother, child, and I have the authority to ask her to tell me. You are her child, so she can decide what part of her life she opens up to you.”

“Can’t you make her tell me?”

“What good would that do? It will only cause her pain and create a rift between you.”

“Because of who my father is?”

“No, that is over and done with. Because when you force someone to speak about something they are not ready to share, you rub chilli into wounds that have not yet healed. She carries a heavy burden in her heart that she cannot let go of yet. And I share that burden with her as the Secretkeeper.”

Rahsia’s mouth formed a silent O. “Is it difficult to be a Secretkeeper?”

“Yes. I have heard many, many terrible secrets and none of them can pass my lips. I guard them jealously, even against the priests—”

“But they can read minds, can’t they?” Rahsia interrupted. “Then they would know everything that everyone has ever told you in secret!”

Nek chuckled. “They can’t read my mind. One of the secrets our ancestors have passed down to use is how to shield our minds from being read.”

“Wow. Can you teach me?”

“I will, one day. When you are old enough, I’ll teach you how. It will be a good thing for you to learn.”

“Can we teach Iman too?”

Nek looked sharply at her. “You haven’t told her anything, have you?”

“No, Nek. I didn’t. I promised. But she told me she was afraid of going to the Rumah Ibadat because she didn’t want the priests to know where she’d hidden her stash of chocolate from her brothers.”

“It wouldn’t hurt for her to share, you know. But yes, we can teach her too. Many people in Iman have learnt various forms of mind-shielding, so it’s not like it’s a deep, dark secret. It’s good to learn in a place like Impian, where anyone could force themselves into your mind.”

“Can the King read minds?”

Nek shook her head. “No, it’s only something those of Impian blood can do. The King is from Maha. You know what Mahan’s power is, right?”


“Yes, that’s right. Now, go to sleep, Rahsia. It’s late.”

“Yes, Nek.” Rahsia snuggled further under her blankets. “Goodnight Nek.”

“Goodnight.” Nek kissed her on the forehead and then left the room, switching off the light and closing the door behind her.

Friday 27 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Xenial

X is always a problem. Sigh. Anyway, xenial: "of, relating to, or constituting hospitality or relations between host and guest and especially among the ancient Greeks between persons of different cities", so here’s a bit about the hospitality of the nomads.


Adam looked around the camp as they were led in. It was smaller than the camps along the Pilgrim’s Trail, the dull tents making it seem bleak. Bedraggled children peeked out from tents only to be pulled back by anxious parents. They were led into a large tent which seemed like a community centre. A jug of water and three cups were set out on the table they were ushered to and then they were left alone. Adam poured out the water, and they drank thirstily.

A few minutes later, the camp leader approached and introduced himself as Samad.

“What can we do for you, Penance?” he asked as he sat down opposite them.

“How do you know—”

“Suci has been circulating your picture. Your kidnapping has been widely reported and hundreds of men, both nomads and soldiers, have been mobilised to search for you—which was why I was delayed. I had to contact the General coordinating the search to inform him that you have been found.”

“I see. I didn’t know—”

“How did you escape, if I may ask?”

“We ran. Magda—one of our friends—she sacrificed herself for us. She was in no condition to run, so she stayed behind to cause a commotion.” His voice hitched, and he closed his eyes, allowing the loss to flow through him.

“I am sorry,” Samad said quietly. “I was told that the soldiers have retrieved a body yesterday. They were afraid that you had been sold onwards. The slavers arrested were not very forthcoming.”

Adam frowned. “Yesterday? But that was when we escaped.”

“We just missed them,” Tulen said hoarsely. “We must have.”

Samad gave a tiny shrug. “It happens. But you survived, and you are here. For that, we are all thankful.” A woman approached him and whispered in his ear. He nodded and turned to the pilgrims. “Are you hungry?”

Adam’s stomach growled in response. At Samad’s gesture, all kinds of dishes were brought before them.

“Eat, Penance. And you, Tulen. We will continue our discussion after you have satisfied yourself.”
They tucked in with abandon, sating themselves on the warm breads dipped in spicy curries, roasted meats, and grilled vegetables.

After eating, Adam found himself sitting with the chief alone, stretched out in a more comfortable and homey setting. Tulen had fallen asleep while they chatted and ate, so some kind souls had laid her out on a pile of cushions and covered her with a thin blanket.

Samad leaned back and spread his hands. “So as I asked before, what can we do for you, Penance?”

“We need to resupply,” Adam said. “How far is it from here to Suci?”

“It is about four days from here,” the chief replied.

“Four?” Adam groaned. “I thought we would have been nearer.”

“No, you have gone quite far out of your way. It will take you two days at least to rejoin the Pilgrim’s Trail at the fifth encampment and then another two days to complete the journey.”

“Ah, it is what it is,” Adam said resignedly. “The other problem we have is that all our belongings were taken when we were kidnapped by the slavers. We do not have any money to purchase provisions, or to even replace our waterskins.”

The camp leader shook his head. “No, no, we will not accept payment from pilgrims—surely you know that already? Especially from you, Penance. It is an honour to serve you as you serve your God. Besides, the Temple pays us enough to ensure that we are well fed and have all that we need. No, we do not need your money.”

“Thank you, Samad. Thank you so much,” Adam replied.

“Do you need escorts on your journey? We could readily provide those as well.”

Adam almost agreed. It would be wise. Safe. “No, I must decline.”

“It is no big deal. For now, you should join your friend in sleep as we prepare what you will need for your journey.”

He led Adam to another sleeping area and left him there, deep in thought.

That evening, when Adam and Tulen woke up, they found that everything that they would need for the trip ahead had been prepared for them. Samad spent a little time explaining the marks on the trail that would lead them to the intersection with the Pilgrim’s Trail.

“Stick to the trail, Penance and Tulen the pure-hearted,” the camp leader advised as they took their leave.

“We will, Samad. We will,” Adam replied. “Thank you again for your generosity.”

They left the little camp with hearts full of gratitude and packs full of provisions for the journey ahead.

Thursday 26 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: What I Wrote Today

Also, what on earth am I writing =.=


The next day, Rahsia doesn’t get to resume her lessons, though. She’d had to head in to the shop, and by the time she reaches Iman’s apartment in the afternoon, she walks in to find Ahmad there. He jumps to his feet defensively when she enters.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks.

“I could ask you that same question,” she replies dryly.

“I’m their father.”

“Estranged father.”

“So I haven’t been around. Does that mean I should never get to see them?”

Rahsia wants to retort, but she knows that Iman does want her children to see their father, even if it’s once in a long while, so she shrugs her shoulders. “Well, as long as the children want to see you.”

Tulen nods at her and says, “It’s all right, Aunty Sia. I was hoping bapak would turn up soon.”

Rahsia turns to Telus who is staring wide-eyed at the man. “How about you Telus?”

The boy shrugs a little shyly.

“Do you know who he is?” Rahsia asks.

“He’s my bapak,” Telus replies but he doesn’t sound convinced.

“Have you met him before?”


“Yes, you have, Lus. Bapak’s been here four times already!”

Rahsia does a quick mental scan of the room. Tulen is holding her thoughts tight to herself and Rahsia can’t help but give an approving smile. Telus has hazy memories of maybe seeing the man before, but he’s not sure. There’s nothing negative attached to the memories, so Rahsia lets it go. Ahmad himself is a mess of uncertainty and pride, as if he’s not quite sure what he’s doing here, but he’s proud of himself all the same.

Why should he be proud of just seeing his children a few times a year? Rahsia shakes the thought away. He can be proud of whatever he wants. “Well, then. You’ll be seeing to their dinner?”

Ahmad looks confused.

“Will you be getting dinner for them, or should I be planning on being back later?”

“What about Iman?” he looks from Tulen to Rahsia.

“She’s rather caught up in something these days.”

Ahmad’s face darkens. “How dare she?”

“How dare she what?”

“Ignore our children?!”

“Oh, so you can ignore the children, but she can’t?”

“She’s their mother!”

“You’re their father!”

“It’s different—”

“And why would that be? And don’t say it’s because she’s a woman. I imagine it took both of you to have them, so it should take both of you to care for them, no?”

Ahmad flails for an answer.

“So you’ll be getting them dinner?” Rahsia asks again, a dangerous look on her face.

“Yes,” he answers weakly.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Tulen, Telus.”

“Bye Aunty Sia, and thanks!” Tulen calls after her.


Getting there... the full target is 60k, of course, but this month's target is only 30k.

Wednesday 25 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Visions (snippets of the current WIP)

Rahsia scrabbles at the last of her dreams. She’s built her life around a lie. Now that it has all been taken away, she has nothing. Everything she’s been doing in between has been waiting. Waiting for her destiny. Now she has no career, no prospects, no training that would be useful for anything. What use is knowing how to shield her mind to prospective employers? How useful is unravelling a dream to anyone but a priest or a Secretkeeper? What in Trikingdom can she earn by knowing how to skim thoughts or how to tell lies from truth? How could Nek have done this to her?

But it hadn’t been her fault. Nek couldn’t have known, could she? Foretelling was for priests. Nek had always insisted on that. But she’d also told Rahsia many times that she would be the one to take over. Not her mother. Not anyone else. If she’d known, she wouldn’t have— she would—

Nek hadn’t known. It’s a flimsy kind of comfort, but the only one she can find, at least until Iman wakes up. Maybe Iman will be able to tell her more. Tell her something comforting.


“What’s your end goal?” Rahsia finds herself asking.

“My what?”

“A priest doesn’t hang around and give advice for no reason, especially one from Suci. What are you trying to do?”

Father Farouk stretches open his hands as if trying to indicate he has come with wide open arms. Rahsia doesn’t believe it.

“Like I said yesterday, you’re important. I don’t know exactly how yet, but you are. And if you’re important, I need you to know everything you should be knowing and doing everything you should be doing,” he says.

“How do you know I’m important?”

He taps his head then points upwards.

“A vision?”

He sighs. “I guess you can call it that. No, it’s not really a vision. A vision would tell me clearly what’s going to happen and most likely when. This is more like a … well, a knowing.”

“A knowing.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Don’t injure yourself trying.”

“Anyway, no change to our dear patient. And I’m sure you’re worn out. I will see you tomorrow.”

Tuesday 24 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Update for #campnanowrimo

Sooooooo I've been dreadfully behind on my Camp NaNoWriMo goals, even though I've already reduced it drastically.

But yesterday, I did this.

So it's all good, at least until I have to hit my next goal tomorrow.


Rahsia wakes up with a crick in her neck. She doesn’t recall why she’s sleeping on the floor in such an awkward position. It’s not as if she fell asleep drunk last night, unless the priest had spiked her tea. He wouldn’t have done that. He couldn’t have done that either, unless he’d brought it with him. There is no alcohol in her house. No drugs of any kind either.

She stretches, feeling aches all along her body. The first thing she does is go in and stare at Iman. Nothing has changed. She goes into the bathroom and takes a long, hot bath until a pounding on the door reminds her that the healer was supposed to come. Has arrived. She scrambles to dry herself and throw on some clothes, kicking her discarded ones into her room and closing the door. By the time she reaches the door, the healer is scowling.

“Sorry. I was in the shower,” she says.

He nods and pushes past her. His inspection is a repeat of everything he did the day before.

“Did you find out anything about this, uh, medical suspension trance thing?”


He’s out within minutes, leaving with an admonishment for her to remember to “water Iman.”

Rahsia giggles uncontrollably for the next five minutes. When she finally catches her breath, so goes to do as she’s told. Iman now feels to her like a houseplant. It’s a terrible thing to think of about your best friend, but it’s also a wonderfully amusing thing to think of your worst enemy. She can’t decide which category Iman falls into now, so she just refers to her as her plant. She must be careful not to say it in front of the children.

Monday 23 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Tulen (an excerpt from Secretkeeper)

Rahsia pushes the problem aside when she reaches the Iman’s apartment building. Iman lives—lived—in a small one-room flat on the second floor. It’s poorly maintained, the once-white paint now a dirty, peeling grey. There are weird greenish fungus patches in various corners. There’s rubbish strewn along the hallway and up the stairs. She has to pick her way through the dirt. It’s not as if this is the first time Rahsia has seen it—she comes over often to take care of the children during the weekends when Iman can’t tear herself away from the Memories—but it’s the first time she’s really noticed it. No, the children cannot stay here on their own.

She knocks on the door and smiles when she hears Tulen’s careful voice asking who it is.

“It’s Aunty Sia,” she says.

The chain rattles and the lock turns and the door opens with a squeak. The ten-year-old girl looks up at her with worried eyes. “Where’s Mak?” she asks.

Rahsia’s voice sticks in her throat. How does Tulen know to ask?

“She’s late again, isn’t she? Too busy to come home?”

When did Tulen start sounding so bitter against her mother? Rahsia shakes her head. “No, Tulen. I’m afraid…” She cannot continue the sentence. Looking down, she sees that she’s gripping her hands together, right over left, left over right, cracking her knuckles. She stills them. “Let me in,” she says quietly.

Tulen lets her in and closes the door behind them.

“Aunty Sia?” she asks, a quiver in her voice. She must suspect something now, because of Rahsia’s inability to act normally. How does one act in the face of death? She hadn’t had to think of that when Nek died because Nek was old, and her grandmother, and she’d known she was going to die months beforehand. Why hadn’t Iman told her that she was about to die? Didn’t the Secretkeeper know such things?

A Memory stirs in her.

‘There is no time,’ Iman says to Father Farouk. ‘It will happen today and I cannot say goodbye to my children.’ 
The priest protests, ‘Don’t go that way then. Take another route. We need you, Iman.’
‘You don’t need me, Father. You need the Secretkeeper. And I am not the one. I was meant to only hold this role to teach my daughter what she needs to know for the future and I have failed in that task. I have been so subsumed with the Secretkeeper role and the Memories and the need to know that I have missed out on my true task.’
‘Your daughter?’
‘Tulen will be the Helpmeet. How she comes to that role, I do not know. I have not been given to see. You priests should know. Don’t you?’

Rahsia skims through the rest of the Memory. “Your mother left you a letter,” she says to Tulen.

“What? Why? Where is it?”

“I must find it. I just learned of it. There is no easy way to say this, Tulen, but your mak is dead.”

Tulen is silent for so long that Rahsia is afraid she doesn’t understand. “Do you understand what I just said?”

“Mak is dead,” Tulen repeats hollowly.


I was going to give you a snippet from Absolution, but I figured I'd give you a current one from Secretkeeper instead.
Here, Tulen is ten.

Saturday 21 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Secretkeeper

Secretkeeper first started out with the thought: What do you do with the secrets you keep?

I’d originally wanted to do an urban literary type story about a girl—one of those quiet types who are great listeners—that’s feeling bogged down by all the secrets she has to keep because people keep telling her things and being trusted to keep them secret. It was supposed to be set in Penang, because why not write about the place I actually live in, huh?

But… I couldn’t get the story to move. Nothing worked, nothing was interesting enough.

Then I decided okay, let’s add in some magic since I seem to write better when its fantasy.

So the story got revised—she’s still burdened with secrets—but this time, it’s because she has developed some magical powers that lets her see visions of the future/or snippets of things that are happening. And what if she sees something, but misinterprets it? And there’s this whole fiasco of her trying to prevent this calamity from happening, but it’s only happening because she’s trying to prevent it…

And it also didn’t work out.

Well, so, I was also working on editing (or trying not to rewrite) Absolution and I got to the bit where I gave the Impianans mind powers and wondered what on earth for. BUT wouldn’t it be interesting that because of these mind powers the priests from Impian are feared? And the common people have to learn tricks/skills to prevent their minds being read?

I was still thinking about that one person made to bear everyone’s secrets, and that felt rather like priests who take people’s confessions, and thought … but what if only ONE person listens to confessions and those confessions and memories can be passed down through the generations?

So yeah, that was how Secretkeeper more or less came about.

Friday 20 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Rahsia

Secrets are a burden.

Rahsia had known that since she was seven and her teacher had stared when she said her name was Rahsia binti Abdullah. The teacher asked if that was really her father’s name, but hadn’t said why, so Rahsia asked her mother when she got home in the afternoon.

“That’s none of her business,” her mother replied with venom.

“But what does she mean, Mak? Why would she ask that?” Rahsia pressed, confused though she had never known her father. Maybe now Mak would tell her about him. “Why shouldn’t bapak’s name be ‘Abdullah’?”

Her mother wouldn’t reply, so Rahsia asked her grandmother that night at dinner.

Nek Ramalan glanced at her daughter over their simple dishes of fried fish with sambal tumis and fried kangkung with steamed rice.

Mak shrugged her shoulders and refused to say a word.

Nek shook her head and sighed. “Rahsia, there are some things that you are too young to understand now. It is your mother’s secret and she will tell you someday.”

“Mak!” Rahsia’s mother protested, scowling.

“Even if she doesn’t tell you in her lifetime, one day when you are Secretkeeper, you will know. For now, it is your Mak’s secret to keep and mine to bear.”

“I will know it as the Secretkeeper?” Rahsia asked with excitement in her voice.

“Yes. You'll bear our secrets, Rahsia, when the time comes. You'll be our Secretkeeper, the one that the world needs at this hour. For this time.”


As a random aside, I don't know what Rahsia's mother's name is yet. LOL

This is also all very disjointed, and scattered all over the place & timeline, sorry.

Thursday 19 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Quest

I’ve been somewhat defining Absolution, and to some extent Secretkeeper, as YA fantasy. Yet whilst Absolution does fit the demographics (with characters in the YA range) Secretkeeper in all likelihood (especially with what I’m currently writing) will not. Rahsia, who is the main protagonist in Secretkeeper, will be in her thirties for the bulk of the story, at least in this envisioning. (WHO KNOWS WHAT WILL HAPPEN THE MORE I ACTUALLY WRITE! WHEN I WRITE!)

Right now, I’m thinking that both the stories might actually fit better as a Quest fantasy. The overall arch of the two books (I have no idea what the third one is about yet) is basically a quest to rediscover and fulfil the Berith Melach and the Sacrifice to prevent the destruction (or downfall) of the Trikingdom. Secretkeeper focuses more on the discovery by the Secretkeeper and the priests, Absolutions follows how it all actually comes to play.

Wednesday 18 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Penance (an excerpt from Absolution)

“Sayang, you have the talent of saying many things without telling us anything of importance. I gather that you took up the burden they offered you, but what does it mean?” Magda laid her open palms on the table, as if in invitation. “You use many fancy words, but do not explain the meanings behind them.”

Tulen tugged lightly on Magda’s sleeve. “Ibu, do not press him if he does not want to explain. A pilgrim’s quest is sometimes secret.” She smiled at him.

“There are—it’s not—I do not understand all of it yet, Mother.” He reached out and grasped her hands. He thought he’d covered most of it—the prophecies in both Maha and Suci. What else did she want? What else was there to say? Did he have to spell out the details? He sighed.

“But I will tell you what I can. What I do know.” Yet all I know is merely words, his mind protested. “I am the Penance and the Sacrifice. The Firstborn Male offered freely as Sin Eater, the sacrifice to God to save the Kingdom. The journey starts from Nun. I will have to travel alone through Guruntulang to Suci, accepting only what the Nomad encampments have to offer. If I survive that journey, I will need to carry out six rituals before I can be admitted to the temple. I … I’m not entirely sure what happens after that, but that will be when I offer myself up to God as Sacrifice.”


Adam stared at Tulen. “Have you not been listening? Because God requires it. Or he will destroy us all.”

Tulen’s eyes seemed to burn into him. “No, but why would you agree? Why would your father agree?”

“For the sake of the Kingdom. For the sake of the people.”

“For the sake… oh, that’s what you meant this morning.”

Adam felt the heat in his cheeks. He hoped the flush wasn’t noticeable against his fair skin in the darkness of the room. “The honourable king serves those he loves,” he said, looking at Tunku Nawal.

There was no sympathy there, no understanding as he’d hoped. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, looking at him with hard eyes. “So your brother will be king. Abel, the second son, will be king?”

“They will knight him once the Berith Melach has been completed.”

Nawal looked confused. “But why? Why wait? Or will you take the throne after…”

Adam’s smile felt brittle, fake even to himself. “I doubt I will survive this sacrifice, Your Grace. No, the reason Maha cannot knight him now is because my father has placed the city under a banner of repentance. There will be no feasts until I am mourned and buried and the Kingdom is safe once more.”


As you can tell, I have not been writing T.T

Tuesday 17 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Nek Ramalan + Oblectation

In my Iman post, I introduced the character of Nek Ramalan.

Nek is a short form for nenek, which is the Malay word for grandmother. She’s Rahsia’s biological grandmother, but since Iman grew up with Rahsia (they were neighbours and went to the same school) she also calls her Nek.

In other parts of the story, others—including Father Farouk—also refer to her as Nek. To me, it’s because she’s this little old woman who is so beloved in her community that everyone refers to her affectionately as grandma. I don’t know how this will hold up in the long run, though.


I couldn’t think of anything for O, so I went to look at Rebekah Loper’s The A-Zs of Worldbuilding.
O is for Oblectation, which means enjoyment; pleasure. So ... entertainment!

This is something that’s not really developed yet in my world, so… wow. Hard thinking here. Lol.
What I’d like is for some common Malaysian children’s games to come over, like kali toi, congkak or pepsi cola. Though… the names might have to be changed because they’d make no sense at all. This would probably feature more in Secretkeeper than Absolution, because Tulen in Secretkeeper will be younger and more carefree. By the time she gets to Absolution, she’s too busy fending for herself and trying to stay alive to even think about entertainment.

Here’s some examples:


This is also a two-in-one post because I gave up on thinking yesterday.

Saturday 14 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Memories (an excerpt from Secretkeeper)

Rahsia flops on her bed and stares up at the ceiling, watching the fan spin hypnotically.

You’ll bear our secrets, Rahsia, when you come of age. You’ll be our Secretkeeper, the one that the world needs at this hour. For this time.

Nek’s words slip into her mind and she has to pause to decide if it’s really her memory of Nek’s words, or if it’s something that’s resonating from Nek’s Memories. She doesn’t know if there is a difference, or if there should be. She’s so unprepared, despite having built up her life towards this point for the last thirty years. Her cheeks burn as she remembers how she’d given everything up so easily when Iman had taken the Memories from Nek. But what else was she to do, to think?

The sting of betrayal still sits in her heart, but its grip is looser now.

‘You have the Memories,’ Father Farouk says. 

The dreamlike quality and the setting in Rahsia’s guest room lets Rahsia know that it’s Iman’s Memory. This must have been from a year before, when Iman had first woken up.

‘The priesthood is not involved in the dealings and the office of the Secretkeeper. You alone hold its secrets. You hold all the secrets of the Secretkeeper.’ The priest tries to hold back a grin, but fails. He thinks he’s funny. He’s always had.

‘Why did it not pass to Rahsia?’ Iman asks. 

Rahsia feels a swirl of emotions that aren’t hers. Did the Memories pass on emotions? She isn’t sure. A little, she decides. There is, after all, muscle memory that she can interpret. Rahsia remembers the feeling of eyes widening, a realisation. Iman’s mouth falls open, she shakes her head. What had Iman realised?

But Rahsia cannot read thoughts, she cannot Remember Iman’s unspoken thoughts. So she doesn’t know what happened then, except that Iman had thought of her, had asked the same question she had, before taking up the role. Iman hadn’t stolen it from her. It had been forced on her. There is a little comfort in that.

In Impian, Memories are passed down through an unbroken line of women who take on the role of the Secretkeeper. It’s often passed from mother to daughter, but in certain cases, the Memories choose a more suitable host. In The Weight of Secrets (or Secretkeeper, as I call it), there’s a slight blip in the line of succession.

Also, yay! A current excerpt.

Still way, way, behind goals, but I WROTE STUFF!!

Friday 13 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Language, and the politics of it

One problem I am facing with the whole Absolution series is language. See, the thing is, I’m trying very much to write local, even whilst retaining an international feel. Which is a very, very difficult thing to do. I want to use local Malay words and expressions. But how much is too much? Do I need to italicise everything? How much can I get away with?

I figured I can get away with a lot, as long as I don’t explicitly state “this word is in/from a foreign language”. After all, millions of science fiction and fantasy books get away with created words and concepts that are easily accepted (and sometimes hungered after) with no trouble at all. But bring in the fact that it’s a foreign language, and the outrage starts. I mean like, using Elvish and Klingon is so cool, right? But OMG WHY ARE YOU USING SO MANY SPANISH (or Chinese or Malay) WORDS. It’s all about perception of worth, you know what I mean? (So so so very political, sigh.)

I also struggled with this when writing Dongeng, but since that was very much a Malaysian fairy tale set in Malaysia, it didn’t feel so hard. In Absolution, it’s very much a created world based on a mishmash of parts and cultures of Malaysia. The religion is obviously very much based on Christian tenets, but the names, especially of those in Impian, are very much based on local Malay-ish names, which sometimes have an Arabic background. I also used the word “Temple” instead of “Church”, because temple is a much more generic word for a place of worship and church is very Christian-specific, which I wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, this threw off a few Malaysian beta readers who, when reading a Malay name (Tulen) had trouble matching that with going to a Temple (presumed Chinese-Buddhist) instead of a mosque and a religion that conformed more with the shape of Christianity than Islam.

Our use of language is so very much more coded than we realise—and the codes are very different depending on the culture you grew up in. Over here, everything Malay = Muslim, Indian = Hindu, Chinese = Buddhist and everything White = Christian. And I am a pure-bred banana* who falls in between the cracks so sometimes I know the codes but sometimes I don’t, and I’m trying very hard to break them.

What do you think of using foreign or made up words in fantasy?

* yellow on the outside, white on the inside, geddit?


Also, I apparently skipped K by accident and I'm too lazy to go and fix it. Cos I dunno what to write about it either.

Wednesday 11 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Johann

Magda groaned. Slowly, her eyes opened, widening as they fixed on the face above hers. Her pale face grew even whiter. Her lips fell open as if in wonder before her eyes narrowed, her brow contracted and her mouth set itself in a thin line.

“Magda,” he said.

“Johann.” The name came out hard, harsh, broken.

Tulen gasped.

Tears filled Johann’s eyes. “You—you remember.”

She looked away, turning to see Adam and Tulen in their cages.

“I never knew what came of you…” he stammered. “You disappeared… at first, we thought you ran…”

“You never came after me.”

“I—” he caught the word in his mouth, as if unsure what to say. “I wanted to.”


“I had no say.”

Fury spread across Magda’s face. “What do you mean? Why didn’t you come after me?”

“We knew it was revenge. We had—had to protect our reputation.”

“Revenge? Reputation? I was kidnapped and you did nothing because of your reputation?”

Johann hung his head. “It was my father’s decision. He held control of the business. We could not… we couldn’t do anything because if we did, if we had found you, if we had struck and gotten you back, the townspeople would know that we… that we were in the business. There was no way to get you back.”

Adam’s head reeled. His own people were slavers? His kinsmen were the one who did this to other people? To Magda, their own fellow citizens? He’d always thought it was an external threat. Impianans kidnapping Mahans, or rogue nomads attacking both sides.

“You—what?” Magda shrieked, struggling upright.

“I’m sorry.”

Magda slapped Johann across the cheek. “Let me get this straight,” she growled, ignoring the pain from her stab wound. “Your family was always in the slave trade.”

The man nodded.

“And when I was kidnapped on our wedding day, your father decided you should do nothing to get me back because… because it would expose you and jeopardise your business.”

He nodded again.

Magda spat at him. “I hope you rot in hell.”

“Magda, please.”

“Please what? Forgive you? For all the years I have suffered? No. Never. I wish I never knew you.”


Johann only plays a minor role in Absolution but I had nothing to fill J with. HAHAHAHA.

Tuesday 10 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Iman

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Man.” Rahsia gripped her mug of hot cocoa with both hands in the silence of her living room. Nek had felt well enough in the morning to go to the Rumah Ibadat, a duty she only managed to discharge two to three times a week now. The priests had sent a young acolyte to walk her there and promised to send her home if she weakened.

Iman, cradling her cup of tea in a similar manner, looked at her pointedly. “You were the one who asked her to stay with you.”

“What else could I do? It’s easier than having to run over five times a day every time Nek has a fall. Besides, she has yet to finish teaching me. She has to teach me everything about the Secretkeeper role before she dies.”

“That’s the real reason you want her here, isn’t it?” Iman said with a sly grin. “You think she’s going to die soon so you want to keep her close to ensure the power goes to you.”

“Iman! You know—”

“Yes, yes, Sia, I know. The role passes through the family line and you’re next in line. You don’t need to worry. Who wants to steal it from you anyway?”

Rahsia rolled her eyes. “Nek will know the time of her death anyway. She says it’s a boon given to the Secretkeeper so that she can prepare her successor.”

“So I’m guessing she doesn’t have a date yet?”

Rahsia shook her head. “No foreknowledge as yet. Though she could be keeping things from me…”

Iman reached over and laid a hand on her best friend’s thigh. “She wouldn’t do that. Look, she’s still strong enough to be out and about discharging her duties. Don’t worry. Besides, I can help, you know.”

“I—she’s not your—”

“Sia, Nek took care of me when I was young too. She’s like my godmother. Like my own grandmother.”

“But your children—” Rahsia stilled at Iman’s hand wave.

“Would benefit from knowing Nek better as their adopted great-grandmother. Tulen is already seven and Telus is three. They don’t need second by second supervision. I can come over on the weekends and you can take some time off for yourself. You need rest, Sia.”

Rahsia sighed, but nodded in assent. “Where are they now anyway?”

“Their father took them out.”

“Huh. Visitation day?”

“He just decided to show up. I don’t know how to predict the man anymore. At least he takes an interest in the children. Occasionally.”

Iman’s husband had left the family suddenly two years ago, when Telus had barely been weaned. After a couple of frantic months searching for him, involving daily visits to the local policing force and the Rumah Ibadat, Iman had decided to move on with her life. With Nek’s and Rahsia’s help taking care of the children, she’d found a job that would enable her to support her family. Now she worked during the weekdays when Tulen was in school and Telus was at the babysitter’s. Her husband had suddenly reappeared a year later, often staying only a day or two before moving on again. 

“You won’t divorce?”

Iman smiled wryly. “You know I don’t believe in divorce. He’s still my husband, still their father. Whether he decides to take an active role in their lives or not, that’s his choice. Though I won’t deny that if he disappears and never comes back, I will be relieved.”

“Did he ever say where he went?”

“No. And I can’t exactly ask, can I? We’re not quite on talking terms right now.”

Rahsia snorted then grew serious. “Iman, I can’t exactly ask you to deal with my problems when you’re barely coping with your own.”

“Rahsia, what else is family for?”


“Shh. Best friend.” Iman pointed at Rahsia. “Plus godmother,” she brought her index fingers together, “equals secret sisters.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Rahsia replied, but she couldn’t help smiling.


And we finally get a current snippet from my failing campnano effort!
Iman is Rahsia’s best friend and Tulen’s mother. She's a slightly wacky and scatterbrained counterpoint to Rahsia's serious, earnest persona, and plays a key role in Secretkeeper.

Monday 9 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Helpmeet

The high priest is now looking at me and his attention is unnerving. It feels as if his gaze is piercing into my very soul, seeing all the dark things hidden there.

“You stand beside the Penance as his Helpmeet, his right hand. What do you ask for in return?”

It takes me a beat to realise that his question is different. What do I ask for in return? I don’t know. I’d come into this expecting only to give. I have nothing in mind, and I almost say so, but even before I do, the word feels false on my tongue. “What should I ask for?”

The priest smiles. “What do you long for?”

Absolution. But I don’t know if I can ask for that, so I keep silent.

“Ask, Helpmeet. No matter what it is.”

So I do. What I get in response is a contemplative nod.

“Is that wrong?”

“There is no right or wrong, my child. But I sense that there is more.”

More? “I would… I would rather he not die. I would ask for his life.”

“Do you ask for nothing for yourself?”

“I thought I had.”

Holy Father Farouk opens his mouth but snaps it shut almost immediately. I wonder what he was about to say. He shakes his head and instead asks, “Why are you here?”

I want to reply it’s what must be done, as I so glibly had the day before, but I know what the priest will say in return to that. I steal a glance at Adam’s unmoving body and bite back a sigh. The truth had been demanded so I will give it. I hope that he’s unconscious, or at least so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear my answer.

“It’s for him. I’m doing this for him.”


“Because I love him?” It comes out like a question, my voice rising in pitch and in uncertainty.

He doesn’t comment on that. Doesn’t rebut, doesn’t press further.


Here’s another snippet from Absolution.

As you can now tell, Absolution jumps between various POVs, beginning with the first part as an almost second person epistle, moving into third person in the second part and then ending with the third part written in first person, from Tulen’s POV. It was a risk I was willing to take earlier on, but is now one of the reasons I’m really itching to edit and restructure everything.

The Helpmeet is a concept that came up during the writing process. I started off with the Penance carrying the main role of redemption, but later I needed it to be a collaborative effort and I needed a name for the role. The Helpmeet concept will also appear in Secretkeeper—Rahsia’s quest as a Secretkeeper is to rediscover the ancient rituals, eg Berith Melach, that make up the bulk of Absolution, and the concept of the Helpmeet is one of them.

Saturday 7 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Geography

So, talking about geography … I made a map!

So there are three city-states in the Trikingdom. Which is a stupid name because I couldn’t think of anything better. Hahaha.

Maha—meaning Great—is the strength of the kingdom. This is where the King is based, where he governs from. It’s a lush country with forests and farmlands, and is a more typically western/medieval-European type city. Think grand castles and looming arches, large stonework, and cobblestones—and, further out in the countryside, charming brick cottages.

Impian—meaning Dreams—started off as the tech-wonder type city, you know where people chased their dreams. It was meant to be more industrial at the start, but later evolved into something more dreamlike. Because if Maha is the strength of the kingdom, Impian is the heart. It holds the dreamers and the mystics, and is where the Secretkeeper is based, where judgement is often made. Impian is more tropical, with warm, humid weather, hard dirt streets and terrace houses with peeling plaster walls. It has jungles and rainstorms, and is a crowded South East Asian type setting.

Suci—meaning Holy—is the soul of the kingdom. Life revolves around the Temple and the priests, plus the constant traffic of pilgrims entering and leaving. This is where the High Priest is based, where sacrifices are made. To get to Suci, pilgrims from both Maha and Impian have to pass through Nun, which is the only entryway to the Guruntulang Desert. Then they have to trek through the desert to reach Suci. It’s sandy and dry and very, very brown.

(And yes, anyone who knows Malay can now tell I am very unoriginal with names. LOL)

Friday 6 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Father Farouk

In my initial draft of Absolution, the High Priest was named Malachi. He was supposed to be this old man, waiting to die, waiting to pass on his office to the next generation. Here's a snippet of that deleted scene:


In the middle of the Holy City stood the Great Temple, a massive stonework structure that had stood on that same spot for thousands of years. Malachi, the High Priest, stood before the altar, holding up the brazier of incense, feeling almost as old as the temple.

How long has it been, he wondered to himself. He had come to the Holy City as a boy of twelve, starting as an acolyte and finally being ordained as a priest in his twenty-fifth year. He had served through two High Priests before being elected by God as the High Priest in his sixty-fifth year—that had been nearly twenty years ago. He had spent a total of seventy-two years in the Holy City.

When is it my turn to die, O God, he silently prayed as he waved the incense in the air. When will my turn be to hand this duty over to the next priest? I am old and tired, God. Take me home soon.

Almost mechanically, he set the brazier back into its place and stepped backwards out of the inner sanctuary. He let the curtains fall back into place over the inner sanctuary before turning and making his way out slowly to the courtyard.


The old priest stopped in his tracks, making a half turn to look at the curtained area warily.


“I am here, Lord,” he said, slowly retracing his steps.


I had problems with this later on because everything was super White and there I had a main protagonist with a very local name, Tulen. So when I reworked the geography of the area and decided on three separate city-states, I decided that each city-state would have its own culture, including the type of names. The Holy City was renamed Suci (which means holy, duh) and I figured that Suci would be a blend of both the Western culture of Maha as well as the Eastern culture of Impian… and the current High Priest was most likely have Impian roots at this point of time, also for plot reasons. Thus, he became Farouk, which apparently means Discerning Truth in Arabic.

Father Farouk is a young priest during Secretkeeper, in his late twenties. By the time Absolution comes around after about a ten year gap, he has become the High Priest—at a pretty young age for the role.

Thursday 5 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Eyad (an extract from Absolution)

Tulen’s eyes lingered on his face thoughtfully. “Magda is always telling me to let go.”

“Can you?”


“Yesterday, you mentioned your brother?”


“What happened?”

“I—He died. It was my fault. I couldn’t protect him. Couldn’t save him.”

“How did he—”

“I wished him dead, so he died. He was annoying and I wanted him out of the way. It was suffocating, taking care of a little child, having to always make sure he was alright, never getting to do what I wanted. I… I hated him and I wanted him to die.”


“I don’t wish for things anymore, Adam. Wishing for things hurts.”

“I don’t understand. Is this… a power? Magic? How can you just—”

“In the end, it’s the same, isn’t it? I don’t understand you, you don’t understand me. There was only the two of us left. I was supposed to be his big sister, to protect him, keep him alive. Keep him safe. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“Eyad wanted to go up to the cliffs. I told Telus he couldn’t come. He was too young. I wanted to spend time with Eyad. But Telus followed us. He followed us and he was up on that cliff and I was angry. I hated him. I told him to go away, go jump off the cliff and kill himself. I wished so hard with all my heart that he would just die and leave me. Stop annoying me. And then he screamed. And… and all that was left of him was broken bones at the bottom of a cliff.
“I was selfish. Evil. And Telus paid the price. I hate myself. Now you too can hate me.” Tulen turned her face away, tears streaming down her face.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Adam reached out and touched her hand. She drew it away quickly.
“It is. The bells tell me every day, Adam. Every day when they call the faithful, they sound my death knell. He is dead. You killed him. Cursed is the hand that kills.

“That’s not what they say.”

“That’s what they say to me. Every single day for the past six years. I am so glad there are no bells here.”

“So you go to the holy city to find your absolution.”

Tulen nodded, using the palm of her hand to wipe away her tears. “I don’t know if I… if I will…”

“The Reverend thinks you will.”

“Magda doesn’t believe in absolution.”

“What do you believe?”

“I… I don’t know anymore.”


And this is my copout from actually writing a post.
Hope you enjoyed that extract! :D

Wednesday 4 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Dunno, Distracted, Darn

D is for dunno because I haven’t been writing as much as I wanted to and have been pretty side-tracked by a lot of random things. I should be at 4k by now (with a reduced camp nano goal) but I’m only at about 1.5k. Urgh.

I was thinking of expounding on the Devotions (part of the Blood Sacrifice/Berith Melach) but that is … kind of spoilery and I don’t know how to go about that.

SO BECAUSE I AM DISTRACTED (and obviously got my dates wrong) here's a cover reveal! (I thought today was gonna be C because I forgot we started on the first this year. LOL.)

“I want to be free.” The words came rushing out of me before I could think through their implications and consequences.

“There are two things you need to know about yourself if you want to be free—what you stand for, and what you stand against.” Lady Penelope held up her hands, brandishing a pair of daggers that had been hidden in her skirts. “This world lives enslaved to its destruction, and so long as you are living, as long as you are fighting, you will be free.”

I gazed at the daggers, transfixed. Each blade was clothed in a leather scabbard, but the silver and obsidian of the daggers’ hilts winked at me, as though it was calling for me.

PRAGUE, 1870
For the last ten years, nineteen-year-old Eleanora Svobodov√° has worked as a servant in her stepmother's household. Along with her older brother, she dreams of the day they will be free to live life on their own terms.

But everything changes when their estranged grandmother comes to Prague on behalf of Queen Victoria. Throughout Bohemia, a string of murders and secret whispers hint at a larger coup. As the leader of the Order of the Crystal Daggers, an ancient order of spies and soldiers that protect kingdoms and their rulers, Lady Penelope is determined to mete out the perpetrators. Now, Eleanora must make the choice between a life of intrigue and saving the lives of others.

Can Eleanora find a way do the right thing and still find freedom?

With a fun blend of historical fiction, true love, castle intrigue, and family dysfunction, The Order of the Crystal Daggers is the latest adventure series from C. S. Johnson.

Kingdom of Ash and Soot is on my TBR right now. Looking forward to reading it! <3

Tuesday 3 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Conjure

Nun was a quiet, sleepy little town. When Adam first arrived from Maha, he found it strange—and a little creepy—that he saw no one until he reached the town centre. Even if he’d been coddled in the castle, it had always been full of people—servants, ministers, lords, relatives—and the city had always been bustling with life whenever he ventured in.
The Nun Chapel, the town’s main landmark and distinguishing feature, was smaller than he expected. He stood outside for a moment, taking it in. The entire building and its compound could probably fit in the open courtyard of the Maha Temple. He wondered briefly about that—shouldn’t the Nun Chapel be rich from all the pilgrims passing through?—when the door opened and he found himself face to face with its caretaker.
“Greetings, Penance. You have already been Cleansed?” was the first thing the old man said.
Adam was momentarily stunned. “Yes, back in Maha. How did you—” he stammered, before his scattered thoughts fell into place. He’d had an audience with Holy Father Farouk in Suci from Father Peter’s office in the Maha Temple through a shimmering mirror just over two weeks ago. “Father Peter conjured you? Through the mirror?” 
“Peter and the Holy Father both,” the priest replied. “It is the easiest way for us to communicate. Come in, son.” He led the way to a small alcove, gesturing for Adam to sit before introducing himself simply as the Reverend.


This was one of the weakest points in Absolution: the concept of the priests in the three city-states being able to talk to each other through mirrors. I had to find a name for it, and called it "conjuring".

Which I now think is pretty lame.

So... anyone got a better idea?

I'm not sure how I'm going to use it in Secretkeeper yet, but it'll probably be pretty useful since Secretkeeper's supposed to focuse so much more on the priesthood and the past.

Monday 2 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Berith Melach

Today’s very belated post is about Berith Melach. This started off because of this line about a Covenant of Salt in the Bible… and I took it and ran with it.
The ritual itself appears in Absolution, but the goal is that much of Rahsia's work in Secretkeeper will revolve around discovering what the Berith Melach actually entails.

Here's an excerpt of some "lost writings" around the ritual:
Intricately tied to the Blood Sacrifice, it refers to the addition of salt to the covenant, thereby binding the supplicant to God for eternity. Salt is only added to a sacrifice when it involves the life of a man … To renege on the covenant (turn away from God, or leave the priesthood) will result in death. This is often obscured in the Scriptures due to its imprecise and archaic wording, leaving it open to much misinterpretation.
All High Priests and King Priests have gone through the Blood Sacrifice. It is not required of a normal priest or a king/leader. Thus the ceremony is only held at very long intervals, usually fifty years or more.
The Berith Melach is also used in the covenant between man and wife, where the seal of the covenant is when the man places a pinch of salt on his wife’s tongue and she returns the same. If either of them spits out the salt, that is a rejection of the union. A man may perform his side of the ceremony, but if she does not return the act, the marriage is not yet binding until she does. If she does not seal it within the month, his act is considered void and they are not bound legally.

Sunday 1 April 2018

#AtoZChallenge: Absolution

So this year’s A to Z theme is also my current camp nanowrimo project, sorta. Well, the world of my camp nanowrimo project would be a better description. This all happened because I already said YES to camp nano and a private cabin and then I realised but hey waiiiitttt what about A to Z? So yeah, this is me being overly ambitious. But it’s all related to the same thing, so it shouldn’t be too bad, eh? I hope?

Back in I don’t know when (I could check, but I’m too lazy), I started a novel project called Absolution. And then I finished it, and rewrote it, and pitched it … and it got rejected a few times so I’m thinking of doing a rewrite. I also have a bunch of notes from the last beta read that I’m still pondering over, but there is still a version of it out on submission, so I haven’t started the rewrite project yet.

ANYWAY, all this is background to this year’s camp nano project.

This year’s project is a rewrite of last year’s failed nanowrimo project because I had a theme and a concept then, but I was trying to ground it in reality AND IT JUST WOULDN’T WORK. (But I got an 11K day out of it so I’m good.) Late November I was thinking it over a bit more, and then it clicked. This concept would work if it were written in the same world as Absolution. AND it might even be the story before Absolution. So wait, now Absolution might be a book 2 instead of a book 1!

And because I had a lot of free time (my brain was just being a little hyperactive and procrastinating on doing everything else), I then had this BRILLIANT TRILOGY IDEA. (Maybe brilliant? I dunno. Let’s pretend it is for now until the next bout of self-loathing begins.

Book 1: The Weight of Secrets (also known as Secretkeeper, which is this year’s campnano project; focused around Impian)
Book 2: The Weight of Sin (also known as Absolution, because I like themes; focused around Suci, or the journey to Suci)
Book 3: The Weight of Strength (I have no idea what this is yet, except that it should be focused around Maha, which is the third state in my Trikingdom. I also don't know when in the timeline it should be yet. Lol)

At any rate, since this post is supposed to be about Absolution, here’s a snippet:


The thing is, sayang, there is no such thing as absolution. You just walk your path with faith and pray that it is enough. There, I have said it. Let there be no illusions between us. You search for absolution like I yearn for closure. Neither of us will find our hearts’ desire in this lifetime. Such things are not for the likes of us, murderers and slaves. Listen to Magda, child, and lessen your heartache.

Let me lay it out for you right at the start before I ramble and forget what it is that needs to be said. You will search, but you will not find. You will yearn, but you will not be fulfilled. What use does God have for us? We are dust in the desert, water in the ocean. One out of too many supplicants. Insignificant. Why should He grant you absolution? What penance can you perform in return?

We have left on a pilgrimage, but are we true pilgrims? We go because we have no choice. You would protest that you do. That you are not a slave like me. You could have declined, refused the journey, but would you have done so? You are as much a slave to your guilt as I am to my mistress. Your physical freedom to decline is worth nothing in the light of your spiritual need to go. This pilgrimage is a selfish one, begun in pride. It can only end in ruin. I pray you will find something good out of the wreckage to come. Maybe your purity—both in name and in spirit—will preserve you. God knows the rest of us do not deserve it.

You think I am devout, that I hold the secrets to reaching God. I do not. I have believed and I have doubted. I have prayed and I have railed against. He is who He is, unreachable. Unattainable. Magda will cease to exist. Yet, we are children of God. How do I explain this? How do I reconcile this? I do not. There is no point in trying to know the unknowable. My mind and my heart do not need to believe the same things. Is that not what pure faith is? (Maybe it is pure foolishness.)

But let me return to what drives you most. Sayang, no matter how many times you lay your hand on a goat and will your sin onto it, your guilt will remain until you find your own peace with God. The goat is not magical; it is an escape for those who wish to delude themselves. The animal cannot hold your sin, cannot take it. It makes no difference if you offer your sacrifice in the holy city of Suci or back home in Impian. If you believe God is all-seeing, you would know that location and distance is nothing to Him. But maybe it will assuage your heart, if nothing else.


See you tomorrow for B! I don't know what it will be yet! :)

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