#musicmonday: Camp set

It's hard to choose a set when you don't know the musicians and you don't know the camp participants and you're walking blind.

Why am I doing this again?

Anyways, this is for tomorrow.

#bookreview: Storm in Shanghai | @M_to_the_Bush

Storm in Shanghai by J.M. Bush
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

2015 finds former speedcaster champion Jaret King leading a joint mage & wizard law enforcement team in Shanghai. Sent to investigate the disappearance of a local wizard, a fairly innocuous-sounding missing persons case soon devolves into a hunt for the most deadly magical terrorist in history.

Storm in Shanghai is a story about a white American in China, written by a white American in China. Bush offers you snippets of life in China's biggest city, quick offerings of cultural exchanges, and descriptions of the locale, in the midst of a witch hunt (wizard hunt?) led by a white man with a team of locals. It's an interesting balance he's managed to walk, which should satisfy even the most politically correct of the cultural critics out there (I think. There were several jibes, but nothing I wouldn't say to a fellow Asian. lol).

The novel jumps between several main timelines: the terrorist attacks in 1990, the rise of wizardry in the early 11th century and present day events in 2015. This makes the beginning of the story feel long and rather clunky, making it a little difficult to get into immediately but it's worth it. By the time everything weaves together into one horrific disaster somewhere in the middle of the book, you can't help but feel invested in all that has happened so far and hope for a solution that's not painful or nasty, and certainly please, no more deaths. (Case in point: I read the first maybe 30% sporadically over the span of 5 days, picked it up again today thinking I'd read for short while before doing something else, and then find myself finishing the whole darned thing because... darn it, NO. WHY DID YOU DO IT JARET.)

There's no real explicit or graphic violence though violence (mainly magical) is mentioned and there are epic magical battles. There's also quite a bit of death, including a main character death, though they're not described in detail. Slight allusion to sex, nothing described, a bit of swearing, so this one's probably pretty safe for teens and up. (I.e. nothing that would shock a supposedly innocent 13-YO. I know 13YOs are not innocent. Just saying.)

Bush's writing style is pretty straight-forward and action-driven, so don't expect anything poetically fancy or pointlessly beautiful. His strength is in the plot, action and characterisations, even of the villain. There's a nice complexity to his creation of mage-wizard relations and tensions, making it believable.

Yeah, so all in all, I pretty much liked Storm in Shanghai

Given Bush's nomadic lifestyle, I'm expecting Mage Father #2 to be based in Penang (hinted as much at the end of the book) and Mage Father #3 (if there is one) to be based in Thailand (Bangkok, was it?)

View all my reviews

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Probably not gonna be able to see Michael Bush before he heads off to Thailand, so I guess this is a farewell gift of sorts?

Hurry up and write book 2, man.

#musicmonday: Question Mark | Neal Morse

Oblation, vows, the promise of faith

Atonement, the wine, oil and cakes

The sheep, the goats, acceptable in his eyes

The maimed, the blemished, the scurvy scabbed

The creeping things, the firstborn lamb

Avail his presence in the house of sacrifice

And then after all, with our backs against the wall

We seek the temple of the living God

And outside the gate the cripples sit and wait

To see the temple of the living God

To see the temple of the living God

Because I felt like listening to it would help me write Absolution.

LYRICS.

#musicmonday: Faith My Eyes | Caedmon's Call

So keep 'em coming, these lines on the road
And keep me responsible be it a light or heavy load
And keep me guessing with these blessings in disguise
And I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes

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Still somewhat in nostalgia, since I haven't swapped out the old CD bag from the car yet. The current bag holds CDs from the college years, so mostly stuff pre-2007. A DECADE, PEOPLE, A DECADE.

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Sorry for the long-ish hiatus. Was distracted with stuff and forgot that I hadn't pre-scheduled anything on the blog.

I'm back, hopefully. But maybe not until July. We'll see.

#bookreview: Arrivals by @scifrey

Arrivals by J.M. Frey
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Forsyth is gone, leaving the Shadow Hand's Mask behind for Bevel. The Viceroy has been defeated, leaving a sudden dearth of battles to fight. The Untold Tale is over, leaving behind Kintyre and Bevel to wander around until something new happens, until the Writer Writes something else. It's endings and tying up loose ends and all the mundane little things that need to be done, like returning items from the quest, resting, sleeping, eating, not getting kicked by the horse. Telling everyone that Forsyth is gone and Kintyre is retiring. The hero and his sidekick are going to attempt being domestic at Lysse without killing themselves and everyone around them (killing metaphorically, though overuse of eye-rolling and face-palming, that is) or going insane with boredom.

But it's mostly Bevel Dom finding his place in a world that has changed drastically. Who is he when he's not just a sidekick, not just the bard? (And how can he be a bard when he can't fully express everything he's overwhelmed with to Kin?) Who is he when he feels betrayed by his own nature? (As he says, why is the world so cruel as to make him love and want children he can never naturally have because he is a man in love with another man?) Who is he as Kin's Paired? (What to do with all these grabby noble women?) Who is he as the Lord's Consort? With all these new dynamics of domesticity, pairing, marriage, and the looming Shadow Hand, who is he really to Kin and how will this fragile relationship survive?

Arrivals begins with departures and ends with arrivals. It's an in-between kind of story, the anti-hero kind that tells you about what heroes do when they're not heroing. (They're busy having crises of identity and renegotiating relationships.)

Note: I received a complimentary copy of this ebook from the author!

View all my reviews

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Slight disclaimery thing necessary?
I've reviewed Frey's other books here before (The Untold Tale and The Forgotten Tale). Arrivals take place right in between those two novels, focusing on what happens in Hain after Forsyth and Pip leave. What's not stated explicitly in those reviews is the homosexual relationship between Kintyre Turn and Bevel Dom which is pretty much background in those stories but is brought to the forefront here.

As stated in my review, it's mostly a first-person account of a man coming to terms with who he is in light of the people around him, and a very fragile new relationship he is afraid of breaking. The emotions are raw and the fears feel real--not just for a homosexual relationship (I wouldn't know first-hand how that feels) but for any relationship that is on shaky ground through lack of self-esteem & self-worth, unequal social standing, and societal disapproval.

I thought I'd just state that outright because it's a touchy issue for some readers and I *did* say that I wanted to keep this blog and my reviews as "family-friendly" (Christian-wise) as possible.

#musicmonday: Tea and Sympathy | Jars of Clay

Because it came up on the Jar of Gems CD.

And I've been thinking about tea.

So maybe you should submit something.

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So fare thee well
Words the bag of leaves that fill my head
I could taste the bitterness and call the waitress instead
She holds the answer, smiles and asks one teaspoon or two

Saturday Setlist

The shout of the King is among us
God lives here in our praises

Our God is a lion
The Lion of Judah (praise)
He's roaring with power
And fighting our battles
Every knee will bow before Him

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith would be made stronger
In the presence of my Saviour

And I shall not want, I shall not want
When I taste Your goodness, I shall not want
When I taste Your goodness, I shall not want

And the things of the earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.

#Fridayflash: Accelerando (Another #Dongeng excerpt)

The house is quiet. His son and daughter-in-law have gone out somewhere—he does not know where, does not ask. They are adults, after all, and he is merely a visitor—and the boy is most likely still asleep. He lingers at the dining table, still sipping at his cooling coffee when the front door opens and the boy walks in.

“Morning, ‘tuk,” the boy mumbles. He looks restless, antsy.

“Where did you go so early in the morning?”

The boy sighs and slides into a chair, leaning slumped over the table. “What if she doesn’t come back?”

Fear grips his heart. “Why wouldn’t she?” He’s not sure if she refers to the girl his grandson has been seeing or if it’s someone else—if it’s that someone trying to seduce him. The enemy of my enemy…

“I don’t trust him.”

“Him?” He cannot read the boy’s mind, but it’s clear that he’s jumping from thought to thought, sowing marbles in their houses, calculating with each click to see who will end up with the most seeds in his store. Who is he playing against and what’s at stake? “You should never trust Putera Aria.” He speaks from bitter experience. Not Putera now—Raja. He doesn’t correct his mistake.

“Who?” But the boy doesn’t wait for him to explain. “Garuda. Can I trust Garuda?” he asks, looking up with an expression that is all at once desperation and fear and worry and calculation.

He wonders what his grandson has become, even as he nods once. Garuda can be trusted. The kings of old—the kings of men of old—had trusted him. Garuda is honourable even in his pride and foolhardiness, is said to be honourable even to the point of death. If Garuda is on their side, at least he knows truth will be upheld. “Where is she?” he asks, although he already knows the answer.

“Alam Dongeng. This morning. I went to see her off.”

Pain and sorrow pierces his heart. He doesn’t speak of it, and the boy, caught up in his own misery, doesn’t ask.

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Several important things:
1. Coexist is now retailing at $0.99 permanently.
2. Dongeng is now up for pre-order at a special launch price of $0.99. Price goes up to $2.99 on June 6. So grab it quick!

Check out the landing page here! :)

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Super lovely cover commissioned from Charis Loke features Sara, Helmi, and Garuda. Check out her site if you want to commission her art.

#bookreview: Seeing Red | Lina Meruane

Seeing Red by Lina Meruane
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

When the veins in Lina's eyes burst, filling her sight with blood, she struggles through months of blindness, wavering between attempting to be independent and being reliant on her partner, Ignacio, and her family.

In Seeing Red, she narrates her experience, filled with asides to Ignacio. It reads like part-diary, part-rambling, an autobiographical novel of a writer's relationship with sight. It's one of those books that need to be read in one sitting--not because it is particularly enthralling, but because the webs that she spins and the tangents she veers into in her narrative are easily lost once you take your eyes off them.

There's a taste of her Hispanic background that rolls off the page in the words used and the way she phrases her thoughts; the story starts in New York but soon steps into Santiago, Chile, where she explores her family dynamics and prods at the differences between her Chilean self and Ignacio's Galician background, ending back in New York where her eyes are operated on by Doctor Lekz, a Russian doctor born in Galicia who forgets Lina's name every time she comes in but remembers the state of her eyes and what's wrong with them.

It took some time for me to get into the story--I started it twice, pushing through past the 25% mark until I reached a point where the narrative emerged strong enough to pull me along its very scattered path.

Note: I received a review copy via Edelweiss.

View all my reviews

#musicmonday: The Secret Place | Phil Wickham

North Star

Sometime in the distant past, you've fixed your North Star; in your heart, your mind, your soul. Every fibre of your being knows who it is--but somehow you've lost sight. Your compass broke. You don't know where true North is anymore.

And you don't know if you should care.

But you do.

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So you run.

You run because nothing is as it should be, nothing is as you thought it would be, nothing is. Everything is ashes. Ashes and smoke. The bitter tang of defeat.

Because one day you woke up, and everything broke.
You made choices. The choices you felt were right. And are right. Maybe.
But your choices rub it in over and over again.
So you push yourself. Get over it.

But you can't.
I can't.

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From the need to be understood
From the need to be accepted
From the fear of being lonely
Deliver me O God
Deliver me O God

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And you fear you will always be alone.
As you watch everyone moving on.
Building a life you will never see. You know not to hope.

Yet it always comes back to that one question, doesn't it?

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Why am I always alone?

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On your lips; you mouth: further up and further in!
In your heart, you dig in your heels.

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You've forgotten what he looks like, that North Star of yours, for all that you say you pursue him. You forget why you chose him, what resonated when you sealed the deal. So you wander, your restless heart leading you, searching but not finding. Looking but not seeing. Listening but not hearing.

So your compass spins.

#Fridayflash: Dongeng (an excerpt)

... when Sara woke up early one Sunday to find a bird perching at the foot of her bed, she was shocked. She stared mutely at the animal, wondering how it had gotten in. It wasn’t any bird she remembered seeing before; pigeons and crows were what she was used to, not great big birds in bright golden plumage with a flaming horn.

“Hai, Penglipur Lara,” the bird said.

“What the—” She bolted upright. Rubbed her eyes. Stared.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Who—what—”

The bird chuckled. Sara slapped her face lightly, wondering if she was awake.

“You’re awake, Sara,” the bird said. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Garuda. Ah, I see a spark of recognition there. You have heard of me, yes?”

Sara nodded mutely. Why is this happening? She tried to pinch herself.

“I am a legend. Everyone knows of me. Which is why I have been chosen to come and speak to you. Again.”

Sara pulled the blankets up around her body, as if building a wall between the mystical bird and herself. “Again?”

“Well, the Orang Bunian tried—and failed. Thus, again.”

Realisation dawned upon her. “Oh!”

“Right now, I deem that you are not sufficiently awake. If you could wash up and maybe make a cup of your preferred caffeine fix, that would be great.” He started to fly off, then settled down again, staring at her with piercing eyes. “I assure you I am not a dream.”

Garuda flew out of the room without a backward glance leaving Sara staring at the open door. In a daze, she stumbled out of bed and into the shower, where she took an extra-long, extra-hot shower. She left feeling refreshed and comfortable, having quite forgotten about Garuda. She was boiling water to make instant noodles and tea when Garuda re-materalised and perched on one of the dining chairs. Surprised, she threw the hot water at him, screaming.

“What was that for?” Garuda said in annoyance as he flapped frantically out of the way.

She stared at him. “You’re not a dream!”

“I told you that already,” he huffed, settling on a dry chair.

“Okay. Yes. You did. I forgot. Sorry.” She hurried to wipe up the spilt water and then stopped to stare at the bird.

“Go on, you were in the middle of making breakfast.”

Sara opened the packet of Maggi Kari, noting distractedly that her hands were shaking as she poured the flavouring powder into the bowl. She managed to pour hot water into the bowl and into her tea cup without spilling anything. When she was finally settled at the table with food and drink, she took a deep breath, grateful that she hadn’t dropped anything.

She looked expectantly at Garuda. “So…”

“Go ahead,” the bird said politely, cocking his head to one side. “I’ll talk while you eat.”

He waited until Sara had started eating before he cleared his throat. “You read fairy tales, don’t you?”
Sara looked up at him and nodded.

“And you know Tinkerbell’s story.”

“The Barrie version or the Disney version?”

A smile crossed his face. “Ah, most people would not even think to ask that. The Disney version.”

“Well, yes.”

“At that tragic moment when Tinkerbell is dying and Peter is trying to save her, what does he do? He asks all the boys and girls in the world to clap for her. The more that clap, the more that acknowledge her existence, the faster she recovers. It’s the same thing. Your belief and your stories fuel our continued existence.”

Sara swallowed. “The NeverEnding Story.”

“Ah yes, yes, something like that.”

“So, you are being forgotten and you want me to be like him and save your world?”

Garuda’s grin looked almost mischievous. “Yes and no. You see, we’re in this unique position of being part of stories told in a language that is confined to these borders. And as much as we can try to keep ourselves alive in the Kisah Dongeng, hikayat and folklore of these people, we won’t get very far. Once our language dies out, we will die too.”

“Your language? Dying out? Malay is the official language of Malaysia. It’s not going to die out. Not like all the other little dialects and tongues used here. I mean, if you were saying that Iban legends or Dayak legends were dying out, I’d believe you. But Malay? I mean, everyone in this country of 30 million people knows the language.” It was true. She spent eleven years in school learning it. She may not be fluent… but at least she knew it.

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Dongeng is now up for pre-order! Check out the landing page here! :)

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Super lovely cover commissioned from Charis Loke features Sara, Helmi, and Garuda. Check out her site if you want to commission her art.

#Musicmonday: What it should have been

I sing because You are good

And I dance because You are good

And I shout because You are good

You are good to me 

Turn it around 

Open the windows of heaven

Pour out Your spirit

Overflow

So let go my soul and trust in Him

The waves and wind still know His name

It is well with my soul

This is how we overcome:

You have turned my mourning into dancing

You have turned my sorrow into joy

Pull me a little closer
Take me a little deeper
I want to know Your heart
I want to know Your heart

And nothing formed against me shall stand

You hold the whole world in Your hands

I'm holding on to Your promises

You are faithful

You are faithful

Whom shall I fear?

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And so it goes, a full circle.

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As it should have been.

#bookreview: Improvising Out Loud: My Life Teaching Hollywood How to Act | Jeff Corey

Improvising Out Loud: My Life Teaching Hollywood How to Act by Jeff Corey
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Every once in a while I decide to read something useful. Like Improvising Out Loud, due to my sporadic interest in acting and amateur theatre. Okay, I have a bunch of drama books that I should get round to reading... which I will get round to one day, after I read the bunch of writing books that I should get round to reading...

Anyway, Improvising is Jeff Corey's fascinating (mostly) memoir .

Part I: How to Live, Corey's memoir, is mostly easy reading and accessible to all. Corey's story is captivating as well as relevant, reminiscing about the good old days which segue into the bad old days, and finally into the better new days of film in America. Blacklisted from acting jobs in the 1950s after being offered up as a scapegoat during the HUAC's witch hunt for communists, Corey pressed on, refusing to name names, leave America or his love for acting. Instead, he diverted his energies into teaching acting, gathering luminous students, including James Dean, Kirk Douglas, Jane Fonda, Rob Reiner, Jack Nicholson, and Leonard Nimoy. He is frank and open, talking about his experiences as a photographer during World War II, his bitterness at the blacklist and how it changed his life and the lives of countless other hapless actors, the unfairness of the House Un-American Activities Committee, as well as the hope and the excitement of working on stage and in the burgeoning American film industry.

Part II: How to Act rambles on about different acting techniques, styles, theory, and ideologies. Corey offers fascinating thoughts about acting, improvisation, and text which might need some prior knowledge of acting (at least theoretically, if not practically), but is still pretty much accessible to the layman. I'd rather like to re-read this part and chew over some of the thoughts here (I highlighted a bunch of quotes in this section).

The final part, Part 3: Etudes - The Acting Exercises, is the most technical part of the book and is probably only relevant to actors & acting teachers themselves. I have to admit, I skimmed over parts of this.

All in all, I'd recommend this to film & acting students as well as anyone who'd like an insight into acting.

Note: I received a free digital ARC of this book for review via Edelweiss.

View all my reviews

#musicmonday: The More | Downhere

Because I've been on something like a nostalgia trip, playing old compilation CDs of stuff from past free music fridays.

#bookspotlight: The Water Cave by Rachel Lopez

Today we're hosting Rachel Lopez's book, The Water Cave.

Rachel is celebrating the release of The Water Cave with a Facebook party on May 4th at 8PM EST. Prepare for a fun night of chat, games, and giveaways not only with the author, but with special guests Desiree Williams and Sara Baysinger!

About the Book

A sinister experiment gone wrong has come to haunt the life of an innocent girl sixteen years later. Injected with a serum developed by Satan himself, Meadow Fields discovers she is a transporter (a person with the unique ability to transfer their soul between hell and earth).

Unaware of her special gift until the day her soul transports to hell Meadow saves a tall, pale, handsome young man from drowning in the lake of the Water Cave (the outskirts of hell). This striking young man, Mark Angel, has a deep connection with Meadow and wants to help her explore her new found ability.

An unfortunate accident forces Meadow to transport to hell where she is unable to make it back home. Alone and frightened she is faced with the horrors of Satan and his fiends. Time is not on Meadow’s side, the longer she is stuck in hell the more demon like her soul becomes. In the nick of time—and with the help of a newfound ally—Meadow’s soul makes it back to Earth with moments to spare. However, her world is torn apart once more when she is faced with the reality that her loved ones are not who she believed them to be.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

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Rachel has generously offered to give away a signed paperback of The Water Cave, a $15 Amazon gift card, and a book mark (one winner). Open to US only.

Entry-Form

About the Author

Rachel Lopez is a Respiratory Therapist by day, a Family Coordinator for her church on the weekends, and a writer by night. Rachel lives in Hardin County, KY with her husband and three children. She loves to read, write, and to collect new hobbies.

Rachel is the author of a series of books in the Transporter Series: The Water Cave, The Cave of Darkness, and The Fire Cave.

Website | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram




(Also, if you're curious, I did review it here.)

#musicmonday: Let The Heavens Open | Kari Jobe

I had the hardest time figuring out what it was.

Let the Heavens open
*(No Heaven locked up, let it open)
Let Your Kingdom move
*(No Kingdom stand still, let it move)
All our faith and hope
*(Our faith, our trust, our hope in our great God)
Our great God
*(Our Great God)

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#AtoZChallenge: The Princess and the Zany Zebra

Princess Zeva stood before her easel, a slight frown on her face. She wasn’t sure what to do next. It was all too strange. She’d invited a few zebras over because she wanted to practice drawing portraits and patterns, so why not do both at the same time? However, one of the zebras, Zee, was acting really weird. More than weird. She had no idea what Zee was doing and none of the other zebras knew either.

Right now, Zee appeared to be prancing around with a bouquet of flowers in his mouth. What for? No one knew.

“I can’t draw your portrait if you’re running all over the place,” Princess Zeva said again.

Zee just smiled and continued prancing.

Princess Zeva looked at him again. Had he really put a flower behind his ear? How did it even stay there? She turned to look at Zee’s sister, Zen. Zen just rolled her shoulders in something like a shrug. She’d already finished Zen’s portrait, and the other zebras’ (she couldn’t remember all their names; for some reason they all started with Z) but Zee hadn’t been still long enough for her to get the patterns right. And he had pretty patterns. She had originally wanted to do a full body painting, but that obviously wouldn’t happen. Not right now, with that zany zebra prancing… had the crazy animal somehow managed to paint hearts over his rump without her noticing?

Zee danced a little in front of her, his mouth a wide grin, with the flowers now sticking out at odd angles.

Princess Zeva wondered what he would do next.

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Head over to Yuin-Y's for today's illustration.

#AtoZChallenge: The Princess and the Yodelling Yak

She woke up to the sound of singing. Well, yodelling, actually. Princess Yvette rubbed her eyes and yawned. It was cold high up in the mountains. Not what she was used to. Waking up to the sound of yodelling wasn’t what she was used to either. She slid out of bed and crossed over to look out the window.

The mountains were white with snow. It looked fresh, untouched, except for a spot of brown. Princess Yvette narrowed her eyes at the spot and rubbed at the window a little to make sure it wasn’t something on the glass. It wasn’t. The brown spot moved a little and the princess’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Curious, she dressed up in her warmest clothes and headed out of the castle. She looked around for a while to get her bearings, then gasped in surprise when she noticed that the brown spot was much nearer now. The yodelling was also getting louder. Wading through the knee-high snow, she soon found herself face to face with a shaggy, four-legged animal—which also happened to be the source of the singing.

“Uh. Hello?” she said, before stopping herself. Why on earth would she say hello? It was an animal. Well, it was a singing animal but—

The singing stopped. “Who are you?” the animal said.

“Uh. I’m Yvette,” she said. “Who are you?”

“I am Yasmin.”

Princess Yvette wasn’t sure if they were supposed to shake hands—the animal didn’t have hands—so she did the next thing she could think of, which was bob a little curtsy. “Uh, pleased to meet you. Um. What are you, if I may ask?”

“Pleased to meet you too. I’m a Yodelling Yak,” Yasmin replied. “The only one of my kind.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Yasmin gave her a look. “Do you start every sentence with ‘uh’?”

“Uh,” Princess Yvette said before covering her lips with her hands. “It’s just a very bad habit. I’ve been trying to stop for ages.”

“I see. Anything I can do to help?”

The princess shook her head. “Uh, I don’t think so. I only do it when I’m nervous and you’re making me nervous.”

The yak frowned. “Why is that?”

“Uh, well, I’ve never spoken to a speaking animal before.”

“I did say I was the only one of my kind.” Yasmin smiled. “Actually, I used to have the same problem. I found that it can be trained out of you fairly easily. If you want to.”

“Uh, how?”

The yak smiled. “By yodelling.”

Princess Yvette gave her a confused look. “Uh, I don’t know how to yodel.”

“It’s fairly simple. But you don’t really need to know how to yodel. You need to think about it.”

“Think?”

“See, you’ve already stopped.”

“I, uh, what?”

“The idea is to keep your mouth shut until you know what to say. And when you yodel, you have to do that. You have to know precisely where you start, even if you don’t know where to end.”

There was a very long silence before Princess Yvette said, “I am very, very confused.”

“You need confidence to yodel.”

“Uh…”

“Yes, if not your ‘Oh-di-lay’ will not come out perfectly! It will be an ‘uuuuoh-di-lay’ which totally breaks the mood and the tone.”

Princess Yvette scratched at her head, which was suddenly very heavy and very confused.

“Don’t worry. It will come with time.” Yasmin the Yodelling Yak grinned at the princess and then went prancing up the mountain, still yodelling all the way.

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Head over to Yuin-Y's for today's illustration.

#AtoZChallenge: The Princess and the Xeroxed Xylophones

First there was one. Then, there were two. And then three, and four, and five and…

The machine wasn’t stopping. It kept popping out xylophone after xylophone, each one perfectly identical to each other, down to the little scratch on the left that Princess Xanthia had made when she was six. The princess wasn’t sure if she should cry or laugh.

~

The xerox machine was a large silver box. Princess Xanthia knew that in the non-magical world she’d taken the thing from, all the machine did was create a flat image of whatever you put face down on its shiny glass on a piece of paper. That was all she wanted! To make an image of her old xylophone to give to the toy-maker. Not a gazillion copies of her xylophone!

She’d expected that bringing the machine back home might change it in some way or other, but she hadn’t expected this. Though, now… she didn’t actually need the toy-maker to create a replica of her xylophone anymore… because she had more than enough.

Oh, it was all so very confusing.

She sat down, buried her face in her hands and groaned. Around her, xylophones multiplied like bunnies.

~

He’d said it would be simple. Put it face down on the glass, close the lid. Press start. She’d seen him do it. And it had been simple. He pressed the button and after a short mechanical whine, a paper came out with a picture on it. ONE sheet of paper. So… what had happened?

She’d put the xylophone face down on the glass. She hadn’t been able to fully close the lid, because the xylophone was bulky, and the lid could only cover flat items. She did everything he said! Why was it doing this? She looked at the screen which had strange numbers and words on them, and the xylophones that were still spewing from the machine, and then she gave up.

With a blast of magic, she destroyed the machine, incinerating half the xylophones along with it. Well, at least she had her replica. Quite a few of them.

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Head over to Yuin-Y's for today's illustration.

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(Sorry, X is a difficult alphabet)