Michael Thorn's Blog

So today I am the featured Fantasy Writer of the Day over at Reddit Fantasy! If you’re a member of the community or just curious, please check it out. I’ll be talking about my books and answering questions all day!

 r/Fantasy Writer of The Day: Michael Thorn

“Something is awakening…

An ancient evil. An opportunistic swordswoman. An unspeakable treasure. A dedicated priestess.

When the Tomb of Izrabol the Vile is unearthed, every would-be treasure seeker in Tahlverden descends on the small village of Athaton in search of it. But more than treasure is buried in the tomb. There is a reason it has remained sealed for millenia…the Corruption!

Six strangers are all that stand between the world of Tahlverden and one of the greatest evils to ever exist!

A sword & sorcery tale of greed, gluttony, and lust from the author of The Relentless Ones!”

My brand new novella is available now, and it’s only $0.99 on Kindle or Nook! If you do want the print version (which is a nice pocket book with a snazzy back cover), you get the Kindle version for free!

A stand-alone story set in the same world as my Relentless Ones novels; it’s a nice introduction to my writing if you’re not ready to take the plunge on the Relentless Ones yet.

The Corruption Kindle Version

The Corruption Print Version

The Corruption Nook Version

I have a new novella coming out in January called The Corruption!  It’s a fantasy tale set in the same world as The Relentless Ones, but with exciting, new characters!  I’ve commissioned two pieces of art for the cover, and I need help deciding between them.

Here’s Cover # 1:

And Cover # 2:

So let me know which one is your favorite, and keep an eye out for more information on this story coming soon!

Death Princess

By

Michael Thorn

 (All text copyright Michael Thorn 2011)

Asradael rose as from a long sleep.  She eased up slowly into the soft light brushing strands of copper hair away from her face.  Vainly, she struggled to remember the dream or memory.  Something of her father; he was angry.  His scowling face had borne down on her from above to roar into her own.  She recalled trembling in that storm, but not the reason behind it.

Was it dream or memory? she wondered, or the dream of a memory?

She rose to her bare feet in gently swaying grass.  The pale light of the sun felt cool on her face.  It shone from behind a light gray haze such that she could not place it’s position.

Where am I? she asked herself.

She spun in a slow circle, her loose, vermillion skirt rising to expose her smooth, pale legs.  She closed her eyes and smiled at the joy of movement.  She breathed in the pleasant air and smiled to herself.  She was young and free.  She had not yet lost her love of the simple pleasures of nature.

When she opened her eyes she gasped.  She was not alone.  Standing across the field of grass from her, a boy was kneeling.

He was young, not yet a man, but no longer a child.  He had a lithe grace as he moved about among the grass.  Long black hair fell over his shoulders like raven’s wings.  He wore a dusky, black tunic cinched at the waist with a black cord.  The tunic was sleeves with angled shoulders and ran to mid-thigh.  He wore no other clothes save low, black moccasins.

Asradael stared at the muscled shape of his legs.  His skin was smooth and hairless, fair, but darker than her own pale complexion.  She flushed a rosy color and turned side to side, drawing some of her hair in front of her face like a curtain.  She peeked one eye around it at the boy, slowly turning in place from side to side reveling in the feel of the cloth against her legs.

The boy looked up at hr and gave a gentle smile.

“Hello,” he said.

A smile of her own crept up Asradael’s face.  She parted her pink lips and could not gather the air to speak.  She struggled, eyes looking upward, and cocked her head as if she could not remember how speak.

“H-hi,” she choked out without quite understanding how she did so.

She grew more flushed and closed her eyes, bowing her head slightly and letting her hair hide her face.

Why must I make such a fool of myself?

“Here,” he said, “these are for you.”

Asradael opened her eyes and saw the boy holding out a bouquet of flowers to her.

The flowers he held were bright and beautiful.  They had soft, crumpled petals that spread lazily in hues from bright red scarlet to pink and purple gradients around a lemon yellow center surrounded by white fronds.  The spray of color was stark against the boy’s dark appearance, and she stared openly at both.

Her hands stretched out slowly to reach towards them, and she glided through the gentle grass towards him.

Her fingers touched the delicate stems and cradled them into her palm her hand touching his with an electric tingle that ran throughout her body.  He smiled as he released the flowers ad drew his hand away from hers.

She stared at him over the rim of scarlet petals as she drew the flowers to her face.  She closed her eyes and breathed in their fragrance.  It was sweet and soothing with a richness she could not quite place.  It brought to her memories of childhood, of sitting, legs played under the table in the kitchen as her mother baked.  Something melting in her hand which she slowly chewed and swallowed; the bitter sweetness of it making her smile and feel something of that same full-bodied exhilaration she felt touching the boy’s hand.

She opened her eyes, and he was turned away from her strolling through the flowers towards a drooping tree on a hill.  Its long willow branches hung low nearly touching the ground.  The boughs curved out in a bell shape creating a transparent shelter.  She noticed a sword hung casually from the cord at his waist, dark scabbard was old and worn, too old of a thing for someone so beautiful to carry.

The boy walked beneath the tree boughs, ducking beneath them and gently parting them.  He sat down, drew up his knees to his chest and leaned against the tree’s trunk.  He held something out over his knees in one hand.  A light glowed from it.

She approached him holding the bouquet to her breast.

She saw it was a blackened iron torch.  Within its grooved cage burned a white flame.  The boy held the torch casually upside down the basket pressed against his knee.

Surely, it must burn his bare leg, Asradael thought.

She winced at the thought of it; the boy crying out in pain and the smooth, muscled leg swollen and black.  But the boy did not burn.

He sat against the tree watching the boughs rise and fall in the light breeze.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It is,” she said staring at him.

“It is a beautiful sadness,” he said.

“Oh?” she asked, “what do you mean?”

“The tree weeps for the beauty of life.  It’s beauty and sadness lies in its brevity.  It’s something to be cherished.”

“Uh huh,” she said unconsciously swaying with the boughs.

“Will you join me?” he asked laying a hand on the grass beside him.

“Okay,” she whispered.

She walked forward with plodding steps, never taking her eyes from him.  She bent her knees and dropped to the ground with a jolt, but the fall did not sting her.  The grass caught and cushioned her.  She faced him kneeling down.

“Please?” he asked staring at her with golden, swirling eyes.

She looked into the dark pools of his eyes at the light spiraled there like the stars in the heavens.  She loved the stars in the night sky.  How long had it been since she’d lain in a field and stared up at them?

She was face to face with him now, noses nearly touching.  She gave a little start, swallowing, but not tearing away from his starry eyes.  She felt the pressure of his hands on her shoulders and she let herself be moved by them.

He brought her over leaning against the tree half curled up and staring at him.

“That’s better,” he said.

She stared at him not sure what to do, not sure how to look away.

“You can relax,” he said placing his hand on her hers and soothing her.

That electric feeling ran up through her body again and she closed her eyes shuddering against it.  She smiled and a low moan escaped her lips.

She froze and opened her eyes.

He was looking into them with a gentle smile on his face.

She flushed and turned away hiding her face against the bark.

He took his hand away.

“It’s all right,” he said, “let’s just sit here a while.”

He turned away from her and she lay there with her face pressed against the tree.

She noticed the flowers crushed between her and she sat up quickly releasing them.  She looked around self-consciously, but he was not looking at her.  She straightened herself and scooted up against him.

They sat in silence for a time watching the boughs and feeling the wind.

Asradael curled her toes in the grass and rubbed her knees against each other.  She calmed herself and drank in the scent of her flowers.  Again it brought her memories.

She thought of her best friend, Dofie, black haired and round faced playing in the fields or running through the corridors of the castle always smudged with dirt and grime.  Dael she always called her, Dofie and Dael, terrors of the kingdom!  The kingdom…there was a kingdom…why couldn’t she remember its name?

She looked up to the boy to ask him, and she quickly forgot her question.

His jaw was soft, but clearly defined as were the muscles in his neck leading down to his chest.  It rose and fell smoothly and evenly with each breath.  He was so beautiful she couldn’t believe it.

She’d never seen a boy like him though she’d often dreamed of meeting one.  She was waiting for him; waiting for her handsome prince to come to her and give her a magical life.  Had she ever…?  She couldn’t remember.  Had he ever come?

She sighed and he looked over to her.  He smiled in his casual way.  It was always so gentle.  It wasn’t a warm smile, but it was a kind smile; it was sweet, sweet like scarlet flowers.

“What’s your name?” she asked dreamily.

“Does it matter?” he asked in return.

“Yes…tell me…”

“You can call me…Thane.”

“Thane…”she repeated.

It sounded noble to her, like a prince’s name.  It suited him and she smiled.

“You’re beautiful,” she said.

He smiled and ran his fingers through his raven hair.

“Thank you.  You are kind.  Most would not think so.”

“No, no,” she said, “you’re beautiful!  Who wouldn’t think so?”

“Many think me cruel,” he said looking away.

“Cruel?  You have been kind to me, Thane.”

“I am what I need to be,” he said.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Here,” he said.

She smiled.

“But where is here?” she asked shoving his arm lightly.

He turned to her and smiled; the stars swirled and swam in his eyes.

“Nowhere,” he said quietly.

Asradael sat up and looked around her.  There were fields of grass and gentle hills as far as the eye could see dotted with patches of the scarlet flowers.  The horizon disappeared into a pale haze lit by the unseen sun.  It was like places she had known before, but it was not any of those places.

“I-I, I don’t know this place.  I don’t remember how I got here.  Did you bring me here?” she asked.

“No,” he said eyes fixed on his knees, “I have to bring you somewhere else.”

“What?  Where are we going?”

“It’s not time yet,” he said, “we can stay a while.”

“Okay,” she said.

She lay her head down in his lap thinking.  He idly stroked her hair.  It pleased her, but she could not remain distracted.  Something was gnawing at her.  Something was not right here.  None of it made sense, but it was so hard to think here.  It was peaceful and safe.

Safe.  Why did she need to be safe?  She remembered her father yelling at her.  It hurt to think about that.  Why did it hurt so much?  Her stomach hurt her. She curled up closer to Thane and he placed his arm around her.  She looked up towards the hazy sky.  It seemed darker to her.  The pale light was taking on the reddish hues of sunset.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Thane didn’t answer.

“It’s getting darker,” she said.

“It is,” he replied.

“How long have we been here?” she asked.

“There is no time here,” he said.

“Oh…could we stay here forever then?”

“No, we’ll stay here as long as we need to, but it will be no time at all.”

“What are we doing here?” she asked rising from his lap to stare at him.

“Getting ready to leave,” he said, “but it’s not time yet.”

“How will you know when it’s time?”

“I’ll know,” he said.

She leaned back against the tree beside him.  She watched the sky turn a scarlet red before fading to pink and purple.  She looked into her lap at the still crumpled, but blooming flowers there.  The same colors lined it within.  Despite the growing darkness she could see them clearly.  The aroma rose up from the petal cup and she remembered.

She remembered staring out from high castle walls at the sunset over the kingdom.  Dofie was there with her.  Dofie was the little servant girl in the castle.  She could not remember its name.  Dofie seemed a bit unclear in her memory as well.  She could not remember the words, but she knew that they talked as they stared at the reddening skies.  Was it her castle she stared out from?  She seemed to remember living there.

Was I a princess? she asked herself.

Something about the question resonated with her.  It held some meaning to her.

She had some memories of it she could not see clearly.  She remembered a silk dress held tight in her hands and dancing.

I think…I think I was a princess! she thought.

The thought filled her with such joy and she began to spin around in a dance as she had in her memory.  She felt a sharp pain in her stomach.  She staggered.  She doubled over and fell to the grass.  She didn’t feel the fall.  All she could feel was the pain in her stomach.  She saw her father’s face yelling at her.  She saw red.

Her vision cleared.  She was lying in the grass, face buried in a patch of the red poppies.  She rolled away from their scent onto her back.  The sky above was black and the stars twinkled there.  Thane lay beside her.

“It’s night,” she said, “the stars…the stars are so beautiful.  I don’t remember, I don’t remember the last time I looked at them with…I don’t remember.”

“You don’t need to remember anymore,” he said.

“I want to,” she said, “it’s…it’s important to me.  Why can’t I remember?  I remember dancing…and a silk dress…and a princess.”

She saw flashes then, clearer than before.  She saw the silk dress being made.  She was not wearing it, but watching it.  As the tailors circled around pinning, folding, and draping.  They worked over and over again to perfect the dress on…the princess!  But it wasn’t her.  Asradael did not see herself standing there, but someone else; a pretty girl with long golden hair, bright skin, and a perfect smile.  She was flawless perfection with grace, poise, and perfect proportions.  It was her dress and never Asradael’s.  She could never have anything so fine.

And the clutter and fuss ended.  The legion of tailors and servants departed, and the princess and her dress were gone.  Only Asradael remained with her dreams.

“Not the princess…” she said.

Thane lay in silence beside her.

“I wanted it,” she said, “I wanted to be her.  I wanted it to be my dress.  But I couldn’t…I never could…but…”

She turned to Thane, but his eyes were closed.  He looked pained.

“I took it,” Asradael said, “just a piece of it!  Just a scrap of silk leftover by the tailors, no one would miss it.  And it was enough for me!  I could hold that scrap against my skin and imagine what it would be like.  I could be the princess even if only to myself.  I danced with that piece of silk in my room as if I was wearing its dress, and my prince was dancing with me.”

She could see the scene again in her mind.  The rough, cold stone of the floor beneath her bare feet.  Her threadbare, taupe, linen skirt and tattered blouse.  She remembered the her private joy living out her fantasy.  Then the door had burst open.  The guards had poured in followed by the angry tailors.  Someone had missed that scrap, and they sought it back from the thief.

She remembered the rough hands crushing her arm and pulling her from her feet.  How she was dragged twisting down the corridors as the master tailor struck at her with a fist that held her stolen silk.  They had dragged her to the stables.  They were her father’s stables; he was the stable master.  She remembered the screaming and the pointing.  The guards berating her father who had turned a deep crimson in rage and embarrassment.  The pictures in her mind were blurry and she remembered that she had been crying.

“Then they were gone,” Asradael said, “they left me there with father.  We were all alone in the stables.  Father, was furious!  I had seen him angry many times, but not like this.  I had embarrassed him.  Embarrassed our family.  I had ruined our family name!  Oh, father, I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to!  Father!”

She began crying uncontrollably.  She thrashed and choked and let out huge sobs.  Thane grabbed hold of her and took her into his arms.  He pressed her against him there in the grass and flowers and she shook and heaved with wracking cries.

“He hit me,” she croaked, “He was punishing me.  I deserved to be punished, but I was scared.  I backed away from him.  It’s so clear to me.  It’s all so clear now.  I backed away…and there was nowhere to go.  I backed into the corner, but father followed me there!  I didn’t scream.  I was terrified, but I could only cry and try to apologize.  I never meant for this.  It was just a dream.  It was only pretend!”

She looked up staring into Thane’s eyes.  He was no longer smiling.  He stared back with a slightly strained expression.

“What?  Wh-what happened to me?  How did I…?”

“You know,” he said.

“I…”

She saw it now happening again; her father creeping towards her.  He had gone quiet.  She was still whimpering apologies between sobs.  The blows had hurt her, but her father had stopped yelling.

His mouth as moving, making little words, but he made no sound.

She was sure she remembered him being quiet.

And he had drawn that little knife from his belt, the one he always carried, and used throughout his day for any task for which he needed a sharp blade.

Asradael looked down to her vermillion skirt.

“I wasn’t wearing a red skirt,” she said.

And her stomach hurt.  She sat up, doubling over in pain and holding her stomach.  He hands felt wet.  When she brought them up to her face they were bright and gleaming with scarlet.

“I-I-I-I…” she sputtered holding her hands limply in front of her.

“I know,” Thane said soothing her, “I know.”

He shushed her and placed his hands on her shoulders.  He held her firmly and pressed his forehead against her copper hair.  She fell into sobs again.

She cried herself out eventually.  Her hands fell into her lap, her shoulders relaxed, and she slumped forward sniffling.  Only Thane’s grip kept her from toppling over.

He held her there as continued sniffing and then wiped at her nose and her eyes with the back of her hands.

Her hands were dry and clean, and she felt no pain in her stomach.

Gently, Thane lowered her down into the grass again beside him.

She stared up at the night sky filled with too many stars.

“I’m dead,” she said.

“You are,” he replied.

“Are-are you, death?” she asked.

“I am the son of Mordra the White Shadow, Mistress of the White Wastes, and Queen of Death and Stillness.”

“M-m-Mordra?  You’re not supposed to say her name out loud it…it’s bad luck.”

“It’s all right now,” he said.

“Is this real?” she asked, “Am I really here?  Why am I here?”

“It is real,” he said, “and you are here, but we’re not anywhere; we’re nowhere.  And you’re almost ready to leave.  I’m here to take you away from life and into the land of the dead.  It’s my job to separate you from your old life and bring you to a new one.”

“Oh…where are you taking me?”

“There,” he said pointing up into the night sky.

Above them the moon shone full, bright, and gleaming white.  It took up half of the night sky.

“Ohhh…” she sighed opening wide her mouth and eyes, “it’s beautiful.”

“It is,” he said, “are you ready to go?”

“No,” she said, “I don’t know.  I don’t think so.”

She came to her feet.  She turned from side to side squeezing her upper arms in her palms.

‘Is there anything-anything I can do?  Do I have to…?”

“No,” he said, “there’s nothing you can do.  It’s time for you to go.”

He came to his feet as well.  In one hand he held the iron torch upside down in his palm.  The other rested on the hilt of his sword.  His eyes were black now; devoid of the stars which had filled them.

“What’s that for?” Asradael asked pointing towards the torch.

“To light our way across the sky.”

“And that?” she asked pointing at the sword.

Thane smiled gently, pleading with his eyes.

“Some people…they don’t want to go, do they?”

“Yes…” he said.

“Oh.”

“And now you see what I am, and why I am hated,” he said with a sigh.

“No, no,” she said, “I don’t…hate you, no, I, oh…”

She brought one delicate hand up to her lips.  It hung there and her eyes stared off at nothing.

“Oh, I see,” she said, “it must be awful, taking people away from their lives.  I’m sorry.”

“I cannot leave them here,” Thane said, “they must move on.  It’s better for them there.  There is only pain here for them.  All creatures must die.  I do my duty.  It is not my concern what others think of me.”

“You poor thing,” she said and came forward embracing him.

Thane was shocked, flinching back from her, but she held onto him squeezing him tightly.  He recovered and returned the embrace, and found himself holding on tighter than he expected.

“I’m sorry if I…” she said leaving the embrace awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he said smiling at her and there was hint of warmness in this smile.

“Are you ready now?” he asked.

“I-I…it’s just I just, now I’ll…”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Now it will never come true,” she said, “my dream.  Now I’ll never be beautiful.  I’ll never wear a beautiful dress.  I’ll never meet a prince.  I’ll never be a princess.  That was all I had.  Just those few moments, before…”

She looked down at her bare feet.  Her pale limbs swung side to side and she dragged a toe through the poppies.  She looked back at him, and he was smiling.

“You will,” he said in a whisper.

He walked towards her slowly taking her hands in his and drawing close to her.

“My mother is Mordra, Queen of the Dead, and I am her son.  I am Prince Thanandros of the White Wastes and if I make you my bride you will be a princess.”

“Bride?  You would marry me?  W-why?”

“Because you are beautiful, and because you of all others I have taken have shown me kindness.”

“But, but you would marry me?  And make me a princess?”

“Unto death,” he said.

“In the sight of my kingdom, under my mother’s shining gaze, kneel, Asradael, of the mortal realm.”

Asradael knelt before him, vermillion skirt in scarlet poppies, with his fair hands still grasping her pale ones.

“Will you take me to be your husband, bound together, flesh unto flesh, soul unto soul, an unbreakable union, of your own wish and desire?”

“I will!” she said.

“And I will take you as my wife, bound together, flesh unto flesh, soul unto soul, unbreakable, of my wish and desire.  I so swear!”

Tears filled her eyes as she stared up at him and wild smile spread across her face.

“Unto the death?” he demanded.

“Unto the death!” she said.

“Unto death,” he replied.

“Then rise, Asradael, Princess of Death, Child of Shadow.”

She came to her feet naked.  Her pale skin shown white under the glow of the giant moon above.  Her copper hair floated on invisible wisps caressing her flesh, spilling over the gently rounded, ivory shoulders and falling upon her small, supple breasts.  Her smooth, unmarred stomach clenched as she held her breath.  Once she had stood she began to rise up still, floating inches above the grass and flowers below.

“I will dress my wife in a gown no mortal thread could ever recreate.  You will be dressed in blood…”

And with a splash and a scarlet skirt appeared, thick and liquid red flowing past her dangling white feet and parted on the sides to show the lines of her legs.

“In shadow…”

And darkness joined seamlessly with the blood skirt running up her stomach, low cut webs cupping her breasts, slit along her ribs and falling low on her back.  The inky substance stretched beneath her arms leaving her shoulders exposed and coiling down her arms.

“And crowned in bone!”

And her copper hair fell back wrapping into two neat plaits as a gleaming, polished white crown sprouted on her brow; spiked and angular like thorns.

She lowered back towards the ground and Thanandros took her hands twirling her up into his arms.

“And, my wife, we will dance.”

And dance they did beneath the moonlight of the land of the dead.  Asradael spun and twirled a real princess, and she laughed and cried and felt beautiful.

“Thank you,” she said into his shoulder.

“You are most welcome, my princess.”

She sighed and pressed herself against him.

“And now what shall we do?” she asked.

“I must bring you to my mother,” he said.

She smiled still pressing against him.

“Mmm hmm,” she moaned.

The iron torch burned in the hand wrapped around her back.  He drew his sword with the other.

“Will it hurt?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, “it will tear you away from life and the world.  But where I am taking you, there is no pain.”

He cut, and she screamed.

Asradael lay on the floor of the stable.  The wound in her stomach was wet and blooming.  Her skirt was soaked and stained vermillion.  The fluid pooled around her in a dark puddle slowly spreading along the dirt floor.  She stared up, unmoving, eyes wide, and the light in them went out, and they became glassy.

In the heavens above, a shooting star sped across the sky towards the moon.

In anticipation of the holiday season, The Relentless Ones and the House of Shadows is going on sale on Cyber Monday, December 2nd!  If you’ve been holding off on picking it up, or looking for a gift for the fantasy reader in your life, now is your chance!

Starting Monday, December 2nd, the Print version of the book will be $10.99.  That’s 15% off the regular price!  And don’t forget, when you buy the print version through Amazon, you get the Kindle version included for free!

If you’re looking for Ebook only, the Kindle and Nook versions will be dropping to $2.99  That’s a 40% savings!  That’s a killer deal.  Time to stop making excuses and check it out!

House of Shadows Print Edition

House of Shadows Kindle Edition

House of Shadows Nook Edition

You like stories, don’t you?  You like free, don’t you?  Of course you do.  And that’s what you’re gonna get…in 2 weeks!  Ah, I know, you don’t like waiting.  Well, why don’t you take some time to let the idea grow on you.  No, wait that’s, yes, yes, please wait.  But when it does get here you are sure to like it!  It’s not quite the Relentless Ones, but it is set in the same world, Tahlverden!  It’s something of a fairy tale told sword & sorcery style with love, magic, and death!  Just a little something I hope you’ll enjoy.  I can’t wait to share it with you!  Also, stay tuned, they’ll be some exciting announcements in the next few weeks.

I finally finished! Ahhhhh! It’s actually shorter than I thought it would be, but I think that’s for the best. It may grow a bit if I feel need to embellish in the editing process. Today was actually pretty straightforward. I was able to just sit at my computer for several hours and just write. I had that adrenaline pumping as I neared the finish line. I think for the most part this book came out well. I don’t know if I’d say better than the last book because this one may have a bit too much narrative summary in it. Might need some life breathed into it. It went very smoothly though; probably due to the insane amount of prep work I did going into it. I’ve already started prep work on the next book because I am crazy like that. But gosh darn it, the prep work pays off!

It’s hard to believe I’ve written three whole novels now. I’m getting prolific! Now I can sit back and relax a bit. Though I really need to get to work editing my first book and getting that out the door for publishing. Plus I have a few other super secret projects I’m working on. I’m busy, busy, busy! Who needs a life?

Almost 4,000 words tonight, and the most painful chapter I’ve ever written in my life. Some aspects of this book are very personal and are inspired by or represent true events in my life. They always say you should write what you know, and that you should put yourself into your writing. I may be writing dumb, escapist, pulp fantasy, but tonight I put my soul into it. It was really hard to do, and I planned ahead to do it tonight so that I could recover from it. That was apparently a good idea because it tore open old wounds. To make the scene real I had to relive the most painful experience of my life, and it was not something I wanted to ever relieve. But part of writing this book has been to honor the memory of someone that I loved dearly. And I am willing to suffer to do that. This is a book I had to write because of that. I guess it’s a way to say goodbye. Almost to the end now. Three chapters tomorrow, and I’ll be done. I know it’s an accomplishment, but right now it just doesn’t seem important at all.

Ah, good progress tonight. I’m actually right on schedule. I got my writing done early tonight, and I think that was a big help. I have to try not to get so distracted when I first get home. I only have six chapters left to write in the book! It’s kind of unbelievable how far I’ve come. Almost there, but there’s still a lot of work to be done in the next two days. The end is in sight!

Got out a chapter tonight. Didn’t write last night because I wasn’t feeling well. Still feeling sick and feverish tonight. At least I got out one chapter tonight. Unsure if I’ll reach my goal or not. Really hoping I don’t get sick.