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“Check,” Namaril said, moving his Queen to take one of his opponent Kellan’s Pawn. He smirked, now looking at the frustration in the human’s eyes, knowing they had just entered the endgame, where Namaril was devastating.

It was a silent, starless night. They were both sitting in The Swarthy Mermaid in the village of Seronvia. They sat at a table by a large window in the front of the tavern. It gave them a view of the ocean along the coast of Tallania. It was pretty much empty because it was the Great Conjunction. However, the bartender served the two players and three other people drinking quietly.

Namaril was an elven priest. He had fierce, green eyes. His long, straight black hair fell over his shoulders, moving each time he turned his head to analyze the game. He wore beautiful elven chainmail, but his spiked mace was leaning against the wooden wall. At his chest, a pin in the symbol of a silver disc with a tree embellished on it shined against his armor. It was the symbol of Sirenia, the elven goddess of Love and Nature.

Kellan, on the other side, was a human fighter. He wore chainmail as well, but it looked much bulkier than Namaril’s armor. His skin had a tone of honey, and he had a shaved head with a short beard. His two long swords also leaned against the wall alongside Namaril’s mace, leaving them unarmed.

The fighter pondered over his next movement briefly and advanced with his King diagonally, taking a Pawn. Namaril responded with a threat to Kellan’s King yet again, this time with another Pawn.

“Check again.”

Kellan took the Pawn, as there was no immediate danger there. However, that put his King exactly where the elf wanted, moving his White Queen to the Black King’s diagonal.

“Should I repeat it?”

Kellan laughed, taking his King out of the way but immediately being followed by the White Queen in another check. He moved his King out of the way, and Namaril now couldn’t check him with his Queen, so they continued the game normally.

“It’s too quiet tonight,” the elf said. The only thing they both could hear were the ocean, toads, and night birds in the distance.

“Too dark, too,” the human agreed. “You’re not thinking about bandits, are you?”

The cleric looked up at him, lifting an eyebrow. He moved his Rook to defend his Queen.

“What is it this time? Evil spirits coming to hunt Elven priests?”

“Evil deities are as real as the good ones, Kellan.”

“I don’t think so.”

The elf captured his Queen and looked at him. They both stopped playing for a moment.

“And why is that?”

“Gods are myths. We created them to explain things we don’t understand yet.”

“Do we?”

“Well, yes.”

“Explain me demons, then. You know they come from hell.”

“And you know for a fact that demons lie all the time.”

“Still, have you taken a look at the world out there? How everything functions so perfectly? We can’t exist just for the sake of it. There’s a higher power, I’m certain.”

“In that case, what would be our purpose?”

“To serve the light, of course. This is a world of great evil.” Namaril lifted his hand, gesturing like some university teacher. “Sirenia gave us nature so that we could live from it, and love so that we could care for each other and this world. What do you think of our purpose?”

The bartender delicately put a mug of beer in front of Kellan. He took it into his hands, taking a good sip.

“We don’t have a purpose. Good and Evil are artificial concepts. Although they built our entire society, they’re still just concepts and not some eternal celestial war.”

The bartender now put a mug of Elven ale in front of Namaril. He grabbed it and took a sip as well.

“Thank you, dear,” he said to him and then turned back to Kellan. “That’s interesting. But how do you explain our creation?”

Kellan shrugged, took a sip, and then finally played his move. He captured the Bishop that had taken his Queen.

“I assume you’d like me to tell you about gods and magic.”

“Well, I would.”

“I don’t buy those. Still not sure why we exist, but certainly not cause some elder deity felt like creating life. We would be, too simple, you know? Why would they care to create us? Doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense,” and then he drank a large portion of his ale, taking a brief moment to belch, “Is not believing someone created us. You’ve seen magic the same way as I did, and you also know for a fact that my magic comes from a Goddess. You’ve seen it. Or do you call me a fraud?”

The elf smiled. The fighter couldn’t possibly come back from that. Namaril made his move, capturing one of Kellan’s Rooks with his Queen. Kellan smiled, and the game continued as usual.

“Damn, you almost sold me on that one. Sure, you do some fancy magic stuff, but it can’t possibly come from a Goddess. Why would someone so powerful look to someone like us? We’re too human.”

“You are,” he pointed, “Oh, and check.”

“Well, are you saying I couldn’t be a cleric? The Goddess of Love couldn’t possibly love a weak human like me?” They both laughed. They were still just friends chatting about religion, after all.

“Yes, you could,” said Namaril, recovering his air. “And I bet you’d be an amazing cleric if you tried to have some faith.”

“I envy you for believing so hard, but I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t believe in gods and sea serpents coming to eat little children.”

“Oh, but the Sea Serpent won’t just eat little children, Kellan. Check, by the way.”

“That’s the story I heard as a kid.”

“That was the version your parents used to scare you when you would misbehave, of course. But the reality is far worse, I fear, as when the Great Conjunction comes, it’ll eat everyone, with no age, class, or race distinction. It’ll come first for small villages, just like this one.” He pointed everywhere around him. “It’s inevitable. We’ll need all help we can get from the gods when…”

And at this moment, someone approached them, a man coming from the other table.

“Hey! You two!” He spoke low, almost whispered, but in an alarmed tone. “Will you please be quiet? Your talking is making us nervous. It could attract evil things.”

Both the priest and the fighter looked at him. Namaril knew that the Great Conjunction brought many superstitions to light. Not all of them good. On a day of eternal night, most were terrible.

“Yeah, sure,” Kellan said, signing for him to go away.

“That’s rude,” Namaril said, as soon as the man was far enough.

“Well, he annoyed me.”

They now whispered to each other.

“But he’s partially right. If something were to happen, it’d be tonight. It’s dark and quiet, just the way the spirits like.”

“If it happens,” Kellan responded, nodding in their weapons’ direction. “We’re pretty set up to face it.”

“I assume we are, my friend.” He took another long sip of his ale and moved his Queen. “Check.”

Kellan defended with his Pawn, which he then realized was a huge mistake. It was captured, and soon enough, he lost his last Rook as well. He made a few moves trying to escape. He even managed to take a Pawn himself, but Namaril had the undeniable advantage. He was ultimately surrounded by the White Queen, which was defended by a Pawn.

“Checkmate, friend,” the elf said. Kellan studied the board for a few moments, confirming he had no way out.

“I guess that’s a loss, then.”

He smiled, appreciating a great game of Chess.

“You cheated, though. You’re centuries older than I am!”

“And I’ll still be when you’re gone, unfortunately.”

Namaril looked into Kellan’s human eyes. He wondered how humans dealt with such a short life. They burned brightly but for such a brief period, then snuffed out into the darkness.

“I couldn’t live such a brief life with no kind of faith. It would help if you considered joining me at the temple at least once. Perhaps Sirena will touch you.”

“She won’t, Namaril. I’m afraid she’s most likely not real.”

“It’s worth a shot, anyway.”

The cleric now moved his hand towards the enemy King, dropping it on the board.

“I w…”

He was interrupted mid-sentence. They both jumped on their chairs when a powerful screeching came from afar. It sounded old, rusty, overflowed with hatred.

Suddenly, the surrounding air went cold. They looked around, searching for enemies, but there was no one there. The bartender and the other people in the tavern looked as lost and scared as the two friends, searching for danger.

And then another scream. This time, they localized it. Somewhere in the ocean, something evil stirred. Namaril shivered and looked to Kellan, who also rubbed his arms nervously.

“Do you see anything?” Namaril said, gazing in the direction of the sea.”

“I can’t see anything. It’s the Great Conjunction. Only a powerful wizard are psion could see what’s out there.” Kellan also looked out the window, his gaze far away.

“Me neither.”

The evil that awakened in the ocean reached out to Namaril’s soul. It lurked, waiting for the time to strike. It screeched in what Namaril hoped wasn’t hunger. He glanced at Kellan, who turned toward him and raised an eyebrow.

“Namaril, my friend, it seems your stories of monsters have come to pay us a visit.”

Namaril grabbed his mace as the remaining patron ran out the door. Kellan gripped a blade in each hand as an otherworldly roar echoed into the tar that was night. “Kellan, it looks like we are needed here after all.”

Kellan nodded, and out in the ocean, it had heard them too.

The post The Debate appeared first on Matthew Angelo.

That’s the thing about this city; you never know what’s going to happen, especially in the middle of a siege.

The sun’s dim light faded away into the night sky, lit now only by the seven sacred moons that shined over Aria. Thieves emerge from its shadows like wolves in the wild, hunting their prey. Those weren’t the real criminals in the city of Eden, the mighty capital city of Tallania, as the rich and powerful would feast with the people’s plates. But among all thieves, one stood above any other.

At the top of Eden’s most prominent and most affluent residence, a single half-elven man was sitting right at the edge. His dark, thin leather clothing paired with his obscure cloak featuring a deep hood covering his short, charcoal-like hair helped hide him in the darkness. His black mask covered his face from the nose and below, helping to protect his identity from those he so skillfully robbed.

He contemplated the city, watching its market function. From up here, it looked like it was alive: here and there, people were shouting their products, proclaiming their sales. Sometimes someone would come out of the shadows to take someone’s purse and vanish again in the darkness. But these were amateurs, and Dorovar had just become a professional. And yet, he was sitting there, at his crime scene.

“I sit here,” he thought. “I sit here and wonder.” This was Dorovar’s biggest heist yet, and it all started with someone complaining about politicians in a tavern. The word in the streets was that the mayor, a wealthy nobleman attending by the name of Nicolaus deChanelle, had just hired a new gathering of mercenary guards.

It had to mean something was up, right? Well, Dorovar sure thought so. He spent days studying the residence, checking its guests, and analyzing its guards so he could infiltrate it easily. “In and out,” he thought, admiring the manor from a nearby bush. The property stood above the city like it watched the lower citizens walking by.

It was imponent. It was elegant, and yet it simply looked wrong. Corrupt, even. Too many details, too many inscriptions in doorways and on the wall.

“Well, maybe when I’m rich, I’ll get their dreadful taste too,” He thought. “I hope not,” he quickly added to his thinking.

The rest of the property was beautiful: a garden in the front with lovely flowers and diverse plants, with a water fountain in the center, large and deep enough for someone to dive in.

“Tempting,” he muttered to himself though remembered to keep quiet.

He had enough watching. The day came, and he approached the house, careful. Two guards stood by the front doorway, armed with swords and shields. They wore chainmail armors and watched like eagles looking for their dinner. A few other guards patrolled around the property, keeping an eye for intruders just like Dorovar was.

He walked carefully through the bushes, reaching for the back of the house where a small pond stood still, and this was the first part of the plan. It was the residence’s less guarded part, and he knew that. Only a single guard was watching the pond, distracted. “Good. One less problem to deal with”.

He quickly exited the bush and made a run for the house: he knew the backdoor would be locked tight, so he didn’t even try to unlock it. He could have picked its lock, but the chance of just going face-first into a guard was high, too high. He touched the wall, felt it, and smiled. Those awful golden details would be his way in: he grabbed them tightly and went up, starting to climb. He reached for the second floor, quickly checking for any guards, and jumped in.

It was some sort of dresser, a medium-sized room with various noble-styled clothing. It smelled good, like fresh out of the tailor. Dorovar’s elven senses warned him of danger. He swiftly jumped into the clothes by the wall, sneaking like in the bushes anew as he heard a nearby guard passing by the open door. The guard didn’t notice him as he relaxed for a bit. “Well, that was close.”

And, just like that, Dorovar was inside the most guarded residence in all of Eden.

He sneaked towards the door and carefully looked both ways. It was a corridor full of closed and open doors. Many of them revealing bedrooms with fine bedding and perhaps even jewelry, but he needed a remarkable high-grade score. Making his way to the staircase, he continued to the third and last floor in this mansion, finally finding what could only be the master bedroom.

The wooden opening had fine elvish-like details in golden coloring. The handles were circular and featured a lock for which Dorovar lacked the key. Lucky for him, he had a small robbery kit, including a lockpick, of course. He reached for his purse and took it in his hands, rapidly starting to mess with the locking system like a cook would bake a cake, but that thing wouldn’t give up.

He started hearing footsteps coming closer and knew he was in danger. Dorovar looked back: he could already see the guard’s shadow just around the corner. It was right at this moment that the door clicked, and he swiftly entered and closed the door right in time to see the guard turning the corner. A close call, yet again. He could now breathe and look around.

The mayor’s chambers were probably as big as a commoner’s entire property, probably more expensive too. He could immediately see the trinkets and jewelry on the tables and in the furniture. Along the walls, some paintings hanged, some of them depicting Mayor deChanelle himself, others portraying beautiful landscapes or other just personalities.

As Dorovar walked around the room, he felt the temptation to take all of it and run away merely, but that wouldn’t be enough of a score. What he needed was something huge, something legendary. Dorovar started to look around, open some drawers, started touching the walls, and looking under the bed on the lookout for a hidden safe somewhere. Three stairsteps led him to a large bed. The lining looked warm and comfortable, and he felt the lure to lie down and unwind for a moment, although he didn’t. After uselessly looking for something that had to be there,

Dorovar took a deep breath. “It has to be somewhere in the house, then,” he reasoned. “Maybe somewhere downstairs?”

As he stepped down to the chamber’s entrance, he heard chattering and footsteps from the outside. He promptly moved back and threw himself under the bed, hiding from whoever was out there. The door opened, revealing the mysterious lurker was no other than Nicolaus deChanelle himself.

The man was tall and slender, kind of sickly looking, with pale skin. He had a thin beard covering his face, long hair in a ponytail, and cobalt-colored eyes seemingly looking everywhere. Dorovar wondered if he knew he was there. The mayor looked back and continued his conversation in an abrupt tone.

“Well, tell him we will NOT strike during the nighttime!” The mayor seemed furious.

Dorovar put his head just a little outside to see what was going on but remained hidden. From out of the dormitory, a woman dressed in expensive steel armor was still like a soldier. Her clothing underneath the protection was scarlet.

Moreover, she wore a helmet that protected her entire head, including face protection like some nobleman did. It all looked high-quality as her long sword sheathed in his belt. She also featured a circular shield strapped to her back.

The guard accompanied the prefect as both entered the bedroom. “My lord…” and she took off his headgear. Dorovar almost exhaled loudly but managed to cover his mouth fast enough, for it was Nalypsis, his old friend. She was a tall human woman with short blonde hair, teak wood eyes, and a broken nose.

She put her helmet aside. “The king demands an immediate attack. The enemy, Sire, you know their destructive power. Eden wouldn’t resist them.”

Dorovar couldn’t believe this was the same old Nalypsis he knew his entire life. The woman had made some fortune living off as a mercenary and vanished a few years back. She now looked like she was in her mid-thirties, which shocked the thief a bit as he didn’t age a single year since her departure back then.

The nobleman took a deep breath. “Give me a few moments. I need to prepare.” The woman stared at him for a second and shook her head a single time, showing agreement. She took her helmet and went out, leaving the door open. Nicolaus sat at his writing table, looked around it for a moment, took a piece of paper and ink, and started to write something.

It was Dorovar’s opportunity to escape if he could manage to sneak around him quietly, and so he did. The half-elf skillfully ducked from under the bed and made his way towards the door, keeping an eye on the man writing his letter. He then finally got out of the administrator’s chambers, reaching out for the staircase. Dorovar quickly but silently descended, continuously checking ahead for danger. He made his way to the basement, which was his second guess as to where his pretty treasure could be. He found an unlocked, unprotected wooden hatch and, checking around if no one could see him, opened it. It was cold and lit inside.

As soon as he dropped in, he could feel his spine-shivering as soon as he took the first breath inside the cellar. From both sides, a total of six huge wooden barrels were emanating a cold, white smoke. At the end of the room, a dark metal door was still, with an enormous locking system at its front. That was it. Whatever he looked for, he finally found it. He just needed to get inside.

“I thought I saw you upstairs,” a familiar voice made Dorovar jump a bit as he turned to face Nalypsis. “It’s been a long time, Dorovar. But I fear this loot belongs to me.” And just like that, like there was never any sort of bond between the two of them, she unsheathed her blade, and she was ready for a battle.

Dorovar got caught off guard here. He wasn’t a soldier. All he had was an old dagger to threaten people, and he didn’t want to kill her. That meant he was bringing his fists into a sword fight, but so be it. “Nalypsis, I don’t want to fight you. You know I can’t.” The soldier solely prepared her shield in her left arm, slowly advancing in his direction. “And that’s why you’ll get out of my way, Dorovar. I won’t hurt you if I don’t need to, but believe me when I tell you if you cross my way…” And Dorovar then took a step in her direction, making the woman lose her words. He was nervous but managed to keep a straight face.

“What are you gonna do? Kill me?” He smiled like he wasn’t scared to die. The warrior opened her mouth and closed it again, speechless and charged. In a flash of a moment, her shield flew towards the half elf’s face, who started seeing stars in no time, falling to the ground and feeling something warm in his face. He soon realized his blood was pouring from his nose. He tried getting up but was too dizzy to do anything, slipping yet again to the ground. He could now see her trying to break into the safe by picking its lock but quickly broke her tool. She tried putting her dagger inside but was left disappointed yet again.

Meanwhile, Dorovar slowly regained his strength, putting himself into two feet once again. She was distracted, and he could quickly attack her now but had another idea. He studied the wooden barrel for a moment and quietly walked to its other side. There was a small ladder that he used to climb up, as it was quite tall. Looking down, as he thought, he could now see an ice-cold brewing ale.

This was his golden opportunity. With some effort, he pushed it, and the liquid fell all over Nalypsis, making her quickly turn her body towards Dorovar, shaking with the cold. The barrel fell to the ground and broke.

“This cold can’t be natural. It has to be magical,” he muttered to himself, as the armored lady ran her way in his direction, trying to slash his legs off, as he was now above her.

He realized her intent and jumped up and threw himself at her. Dorovar grabbed her neck and used both their weight to his advantage, throwing her to the ground and quickly performing a guillotine. She had dropped her sword but not her shield, which was now strapped in her arm, and used it to attack the thief, who defended with his arms, which not only hurt like hell as it made him relax the guillotine.

She backed away and put herself up, as did he. They were now both in combat positions, and Dorovar kicked the sword away. Although she still had a shield to her advantage, that would give him a bonus for now. The elf advanced while side-kicking her ribs with his front leg and promptly initiating a punching combo directed at her face.

She defended the kick with her arm, took two blows to her face, and pushed him away with her shield, quickly bashing him again with it in his chest. He could feel the air coming out of his lungs but couldn’t stop just yet. She attacked again with the shield, and he ducked. He got up again, using his momentum to blow a left hook in her stomach, making her flinch forward and get another punch right in her jaw. He tried front kicking her at her belly, but she grabbed his limb mid-movement and swept her leg at his standing one, leading him back into the ground.

It was slippery, as the elven blood was now spilled all over the floor, and she mounted him while punching him repeatedly with her right hand. He felt cold and didn’t know if it was the basement’s magic or his body passing out from the repeated strikes, but still somehow managed to think. He couldn’t possibly fight back now. If this continued, he was dead.

At this moment, Dorovar took a look into his attacker’s gear. He knew she always kept a dagger hidden in her back. He touched her back and quickly found it. Just one quick stab, and she would be dead, but he didn’t cut her. He took it into his right hand, took a look to the side while still getting hit, momentarily aiming with his mighty elven sight, and threw it as hard as it can.

It flew right into the wooden barrel, making a hole big enough the liquid started to spill, which caused a bigger opening to be made. The structure collapsed and naturally broke down, freezing the woman’s body and soul, projecting her to the floor yet again. Dorovar, getting on his feet again, grabbed her longsword and punched her with the weapon’s handle right in the side of her head. She fell unconscious, but alive.

And now, to the final part of the plan. Dorovar got to the third wine barrel and pushed the ladder to the side. He put his hands at the wood and, with enormous effort, started moving it across the room. When it was close enough to the safe’s door, he took his newly stolen blade and cracked it open. The magically frozen wine spilled across the room yet again, but this time mainly in the locking mechanism.

“Ice expands,” he pondered. “Metal doesn’t.”

Just like that, the locking mechanism blew like a bomb had been planted inside it, cracking it open. The half-elf pushed it aside and took a look inside: a single oval object, white with a bit of sky-blue, kind of scaly. He carefully took a step inside and touched it. It was hard, really hard.

“This is something I’ve only heard about in legends…”

He took it into his hands. He knew what it was: a real, extremely rare dragon egg. And taking it, he ran away. Dorovar ran. At this point, the guards probably knew he was there because of the amount of noise he and his friend had made, so as soon as Dorovar climbed the ladder, he tried escaping through the backdoor, but it was locked. He pushed the front door, but it was locked.

“I can’t see any guards here. That’s odd.”

He then climbed back to the third floor and escaped through the same window he got inside, but something caught his attention in the dark heavens: a shadow flying past the city. The elf skilfully climbed to the rooftop, watching the night sky: far away from the city, he could see fire and smoke. Majestic, gigantic creatures fought against each other, and he knew those were dragons. Dorovar sat at the edge of the rooftop and wondered.

“I sit here,” he said. “I sit here, and I wonder: is this all there is to this life? To take, and sell, and make money so we can continue to be slaves to these corrupted snakes?”

He took a hard look at the city, watching its market, watching the people that came out of the shadows to rob the less cautious. And then he listened to the footsteps behind him.

About ten guards had finally reached him. They were all dressed in fine armor and equipped with professionally sharpened weapons.

“Stop!” Their apparent leader took his sword into his hands. “You have nowhere to run, thief!”

Dorovar got up to his feet. He took a deep look at all of them and then into the skies. An enormous fleet of colored dragons came from the north, flying straight into battle.

“That’s where you’re wrong, guard. I’m not running.”

He threw the egg to the guard’s feet, as it was hard enough not to break, and jumped.

The half-elven thief jumped facing the guards and felt the water take him. Dorovar fell into the fountain. Rapidly getting out of it, he made his way outside the city, marching into the fire and smoke, into the battlefield. When he got there, a massive creature dropped to the ground and walked towards him. The dragon had beautiful, raging fire-red scales and eyes the size of the half-elf’s head, but he didn’t even flinch.

Because that’s the thing about this city: It’s corrupted, and it’s filthy. It has more criminals than a hound has fleas, but it was Dorovar’s home and family, and this thief was ready to defend it. Dorovar drew his blades and charged.

The post I Sit Here and Wonder appeared first on Matthew Angelo.

As an author myself, I’m always looking to find amazing authors to post about on my website. I love talking with them and seeing what drives them to do what they do and how, in many ways, we’re similar in how we approach our art. Finding an author who desires to create a community around their work like Amercia Morris is inspirational and motivating.

With excellent reviews on her book, Blooms of Nooky, Morris takes another step forward with Planet Nooky. She has shown that her talent and imagination have taken her to a new level, and with more works in the process, we can be sure that we’ll see more of Morris in the future. She has weaved her past with the present and mixed it with the future to tell a bold story filled with desire and imagination. Follow Amercia Morris on Amazon to make sure you’re caught up on the latest releases and visit her website for more information, and take part in what she’s building.

Read the interview below to learn more about this amazing author!

How have your experiences, needs, or desires influenced your writing? Well, with my writing, I do explore mainly sexual desires which, being a woman, who has experienced sexual trauma as a teen, I developed a fear of the act of sex which allowed me to be completely disgusted by the Idea, as well as the stereotypes that surround woman who has been sexually abused/raped meaning the outcome or response has been expected to be that of even greater dismay suggesting promiscuity, drug abuse, anger, etc. I have experienced, of course, issues stemming from that like depression and anxiety but that was in secret, at least I thought but I stayed away from sex completely because of the disgusting association that I developed and also as my way of protecting myself from being a stereotype.I saw that your book, Planet Nooky has received some positive reviews. Is this book a mirror of your life or an allegory of what has shaped your life? Planet Nooky is an allegory Planet Nooky is a fantasy about a planet that I created, where people can be free sexually without judgement, where people can release their deepest desires as I have had some trouble at one point doing that due to the stigmas surrounded around such expression.

3. Most author just tell a simple story, but after reading some past interviews, your words come from a deep place of being. What brought you to write? Has writing become therapeutic or has it become more of a weapon of expression? Writing in all forms has been my outlet to express myself growing up I was always explorative I spent a lot of time by myself being the youngest of three and the only girl so I didn’t really fit in a lot so I had to find different ways to entertain myself and have fun, thanks to my mom I became an avid reader The child story I related the most too was I Am Sam by Ann Herbert Scott which I still have the copy today in my collection I was inquisitive so I read Dictionaries, Encyclopedias, thesauruses just for fun to pass time. I was Also reserved as a child which writing I learned was the best way for me to communicate effectively and correctly, whenever I was angry, I would write a letter, whenever I was happy, I would draw a picture along with   a letter still to this day it is the most exhilarating way for me to express myself.

4. Do you believe that your words will impact or change minds within the genre you write in? Of Course I know it will as I have seen the effect my writing has had already I have had people reach out to me who I haven’t spoken to in years and when I tell them my story behind it they can relate I have had others tell me I inspired them, just to explore their desires people have told me secrets about their fantasies men and women where they were holding because of their fears behind the backlash specifically in my immediate community that are in place. People don’t want to be labeled such as a freak or a whore just because they like something different than mainstream and that made me realize there is sort of a secret society which inspired me to write and publish my Novel Blooms Of Nooky which dives into the world of a Flower shop that is an outlet for people across the world that need to be free that need to express themselves sexually but don’t know how. I was surprised to my response of Planet Nooky as its not your average erotica its like no other as we have deities who are African that rule a whole Planet that is fueled by the Dopamine’s that are released during sex. I show the benefits of sex and the ugly side that can come when you don’t have self-control as well, which you will see how Zamani And Nanya was created as a result Oni And Gamba using sex as a weapon which I advocate against that. You should never use sex to control someone or as a barter so to say.

5.What can you tell your readers about yourself that may capture their attention or cause them to think when it comes to you or your books? My Work is Solely to inspire and support I truly want to create an environment where people can heal and find support that is why I started the website www.Nooky.Life to be that resource for so much meaning connecting with peers for support, tips and Ideas on healthy eating, healthy living, referrals to outside resources if you can’t find answers on Planet Nooky as well. I want to create awareness on Mental Health and trauma I hope that I can also ignite something in mental health professionals to sometimes step outside the box and look at each case as an individual and not just a disorder in the DSM. We al heal differently and require some of the same things and also some things you may never even heard of like Planet Nooky.

6. Finally, do you have any future plans for more books and can we expect anything specific in the near future? Yes I Have over ten works that have not been released before blooms of Nooky I was going to release a separate work, but I started writing Blooms of Nooky instead. I am going to Continue on with Planet Nooky as a series and also other works of fiction and non-fiction.

To purchase Amercia Morris’ books, follow the links below!

Blooms of Nooky

Planet Nooky

The post Amercia Morris – Author appeared first on Matthew Angelo.

How to Stay Sober



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Book Blurb

This ground-breaking book and workbook are all about preventing relapses and staying sober long-term. It takes an innovative approach to the treatment of alcohol and drug addictions. The set is intended for people who tried traditional systems and failed to stay sober after their treatment. Written by a distinguished addiction expert who dedicated his life to researching and finding an effective addiction treatment model that actually works, “How to Stay Sober” offers a structured roadmap to people with substance use disorders that helps them to recover and stay clean.

The book and the workbook outline practical strategies designed to reduce the risk of relapses by changing your established thought patterns and habits and helping you stay motivated. Each chapter of the book includes real-life examples and case studies that every person battling alcohol and/or drug addiction will be able to relate to, questions for you to work through that will help you to find out what is missing from your recovery, and motivating signposts to support your determination to stay clean. The workbook includes practical, straight-forward exercises that will teach you valuable skills essential for being able to stay sober permanently.

What’s also unique about this book is that the author is not only a distinguished addiction expert with a solid academic track record and a thriving addiction treatment practice in Florida, but he also knows first-hand what it’s like to be an addict. For years, he battled his own alcohol addiction and therefore fully understands how difficult it is to stay sober after your treatment successfully ends and you are left all by yourself, trying to stay sober, one day at a time. Therefore, the book offers more than just a guided tour through addiction recovery – it provides real hope to the sufferers that they will be able to overcome their addiction and have a meaningful life.

Interview with Dr. Emmanuel Nzuzu

As an author, can you tell everyone about you’re first book?

Over the years I have seen many alcoholics and drug addicts move in and out of treatment programs without being able to overcome alcohol and drugs. This book was written for people who have a desire to be sober but have run out of their options. It is a lifeline to those people who believe that they have tried everything but nothing works.

The book seeks to convey the message that recovery is possible and always available. The major ingredients for sobriety are motivation, a clear vision, and honesty. Recovery is possible when you need it and seek it from inside the heart. You can live a life free from alcohol and drugs, but you have to cherish and embrace the new life and give up the old one. Your willingness and commitment to becoming brutally honest with yourself are key to successful recovery. A desire without willingness to change will remain just that, a desire and nothing else.

Have you written in different genres or is there one that calls to you?

I have not written any other books and have no particular genre that I prefer over others.

What is the secret to your success of becoming an author?

Observation and learning from experience. I like to capture and write about real life experiences.  I pay a lot of attention when I interact with people so that I gain a deeper understanding of people’s words, thoughts, beliefs, feelings and behavior. I am very interested in grasping the factors that make people behave the way they do and this is what I seek to bring out in my book—the link and connection between beliefs, thoughts, feelings and actions. Thoughts and beliefs are at the heart of effective change. One cannot have a new life while continuing to think the same thought patterns and believing the same beliefs. I have observed that many change programs don’t accomplish much because they leave old thought patterns and beliefs intact.

From the beginning of your career to present time, how much have you grown as a writer?

Over the years, it has become clearer to me that thoughts and feelings are interconnected. For a long time, I struggled to change how I feel but my efforts produced very limited results because I was trying to change the feelings only. I was not aware that my feelings come from my thoughts so if I was bored or unhappy, I would drink alcohol or just mess around with other people hoping to feel better. All this produced more boredom and unhappiness so I kept searching for a more effective way to change how I feel—-and this led me to a book—”Breaking The Habit of Being Yourself” by Dr. Joe Dispenza. I no longer have boredom and unhappy days because anymore. There are many opportunities to be bored and unhappy, but I now choose not to be unhappy because I know the cause of my boredom and unhappiness—my thoughts. This is how I have evolved as a person and a writer.

Can you give us a hint of future projects that you have planned or works in process?

I will continue paying attention for other areas of human need where I can facilitate and contribute effective change. Prayer and healing are interesting subjects. I am also fascinated by why believers in God are not living a life of prevailing, overcoming and victory—-this is the life Jesus lived.

If there’s something professionally you had to do over again, what would it be?

I enjoyed my years as a self-employed business management consultant 1996 to 2003.Those were very rewarding years professionally and financially. I was able to help companies improve performance, reduce costs and increase profitability through management development programs and interventions. I had more time and money for myself and my family during those years.

Is there anything you need or want to let your readers know?

Change and transformation are possible—–anyone can do it—-the essential elements for success in any area of life are-

1-ATTENTION,

2-FOCUS,

3-CONCENTRATION,

4-EXPECTATION, and do all this with

5-ELEVATED EMOTION.

You were expectant and passionate about doing alcohol and drugs; how excited and passionate are you about being sober today.

How to Stay Sober



Staying Sober

Staying sober is crucial to many people’s lives. It takes a lot of work to start this process and more so along the journey. It’s essential to do everything possible. A relapse is an unfortunate possibility, but there is hope in avoiding these and finding success. It takes strength and, for some, help from a higher power.  While some may see sobriety as a straightforward thing, others won’t see it as simple. Some triggers, stress, and finding new ways to manage their newfound sober life take some willpower.

Dr. Nzuzu takes you on a journey. Through their book, How to Stay Sober, you’ll learn about preventing relapses and how to stay sober for the long-term. The approach is innovative and intended for those who’ve tried other traditional systems and never saw success. You’ll find expert research and a treatment model that will help you keep going on your journey in sobriety. You’ll come to find out that you aren’t alone in your struggles and will find many of the answers you need in this book. This book will keep you on track. While your road is challenging, success in your treatment is right around the corner.

Dr. Melissa Caudle

Dr. Melissa Caudle, author, screenwriter and producer, earned a PhD in statistical research and administration from the University of New Orleans. She is a retired award winning high school principal who came into the television and film production arena in 1986 when she was on the morning news with a live episode talk-format segment dealing with educational issues for children. Capitalizing on her educational training and background, she uses her experience and training to bring her readers information that is easy to understand; yet, comprehensive. Her books for screenwriters, producers, and reality show creators are fast becoming the number of resources around the globe. 

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Chapter one

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last confession.”

A raspy, baritone voice accompanied by the sound of a panel sliding away from a screen echoed in my ear. “Why so long since your last confession?”

That’s the age old question right now, isn’t it? It was something I couldn’t and didn’t want to answer. To do so would be to admit how far I had fallen myself over the last couple months. My job has never allowed me much of a chance to reflect much on life. After stopping a serial killer, having an incubus and succubus sexually assault me, and then another burying me alive, you’d think I’d spend some time thinking about my life choices.

I guess now is as good a time as any. St. Mary’s had always been a second home for me. After the state committed my mom when I was eleven, Father Brown and the sisters here took me in. Until recently, my father, an angel, stayed absent. The angelic blood that ran through my veins had its advantages, but it made me a target for anything from the Other Side that wanted to start some shit.

“Oh, I don’t know. Guilt, I guess. It’s the Catholic way, right?”

 “Is it guilt or something else?”

I paused. The truth can set you free, but it can also get you killed. Right now, I needed to hide that truth for a bit longer. “Possibly, it’s hard to explain.”

“Do your best and God will help you. Have faith in Him.”

That’s the trick, right? I closed my eyes and let my hearing take over my other senses. Supernatural hearing wasn’t something I was gifted with, but I could focus. My psychometry helped with that, along with the visions I’ve been getting. 

I listened. Not necessarily to God. I’ve avoided that conversation for a couple months now. Too much anger and I knew enough to know that the phrase “He works in mysterious ways” meant he probably wouldn’t answer or it’d be cryptic as fuck.

I listened more. Murmurs of a few people in prayer resonated throughout the church. A woman cried and the familiar steps of Father Brown walked past my confessional. After twenty or so years, you get familiar with how someone walks.

I focused my hearing on the screen that the other priest spoke through. His breathing came out in a rasp, like he had a cold and his lungs were congested. The sigils on my inner wrists burned and the top of my back ached. It seems my spidey-sense has improved, but I needed the priest to come for me. 

“Is confession ever easy for a man,” I said, trying my best to bring out the truth from the other priest. 

“For some it is, but for others, their sin has become a burden. They are weighed down and unable to speak.”

I shifted uncomfortably. Awkward… “I don’t think I have that problem. Sometimes I have a problem in finding the right words.”

“That’s something we all deal with. Take a few moments if needed.”

His voice grated on my nerves. I could hear the prayers from outside the confessional. Whatever I needed to do, it had to happen soon. I can’t stay here forever. 

I relaxed a little. “Thank you, father.”

The original plan was to get him to admit what he did so I had an excuse to get him arrested. The wiretap I wore recorded everything, but I needed more proof. He had the kids. Every bit of evidence I found, pointed to him, Father Dominic. 

If it wasn’t for Sister Catherine coming to my office a week ago over this, these kids would’ve been another missing person’s case. Dominic had them somewhere. He fed off them. I could hear their cries as loud as I heard the prayers of the parishioners in the sanctuary. 

That’s it! They’re here after all. Dominic hid them in the church somewhere. The only viable place was the basement as it has long since been boarded up. I can hear the cries of the kids. This bastard was going to eat lead before I say amen.

“Is everything alright, my child?” I heard Father Dominic shift in his seat.

His voice sounded a little wary. Perhaps he heard their cries as well. I wonder if he sensed my power. He did sound a bit on edge. Sometimes you need to be still and listen and find that the  answer was always there.

“Everything is fine now, Father Dominic.” It’s a good thing it was dark in here as my smile went from ear to ear and it wasn’t a pleasant one. Now it’s time to raise the stakes.

“Father Dominic, may I ask you a question?” I tried to sound innocent but, I’m not that kind of angel.

There was a pause, and this time he sounded cautious. “Absolutely.”

“What kind of absolution do you think you’ll get by kidnapping children and molesting them?”

I heard something drop on the other side of the confessional. Twenty bucks says my question made him drop his Bible. “I mean, what made you trade your soul to the devil and think you’d get away with this?”

“I..I don’t know what you’re saying.” He shifted more in his seat and his voice grew raspier, almost like something else was speaking for him.

I leaned forward. Probably not the smartest thing I’ve done, but kidnapping and molesting children didn’t sit well with me. Add in the fact that this man was once a priest sworn to protect people had sold his soul and became a contractor all to satisfy his unholy lust.

I heard laughter from the other side of the screen. Not the kind that speaks of madness, but the evil super villain type. While I love the sound of truth, this sound chilled me to the bones and left me unclean. 

“Sister Catherine, I should’ve known. As for you, my little angel, I’ll send you back to heaven.”

“Not today, buddy.”

A ripping sound hitman ears as a clawed hand burst through the screen and wrapped around my neck.

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[image error]Discredited Citizen



Discredited Citizen

John Keys is a trial lawyer, and a damn good one. That is, until artificial intelligence takes over the criminal justice system and makes him obsolete. Faced with the harsh reality of his new life, he lands himself in prison for good.

Luckily, his old partner finds a way out. All Keys has to do is convince a doctor accused of murder to plead guilty and take a plea pill. But the doctor refuses to accept the deal and demands a human jury trial.

Catapulted into the heart of the murder trial, Keys discovers a conspiracy far more heinous than anyone could imagine. Hunted by Zon, the corporation running the smart city; he has to expose them before they kill him and everyone he loves.

With his new book, Discredited Citizen, Robert Kiesling takes you into the future of AI and criminal justice. As a criminal trial lawyer in Austin, TX, Kiesling delves deep into the case of the State of Wisconsin vs. Loomis and how the future of law is changing with technology. Though his book is fictional, it is quickly becoming an allegory of our current times. With politicians pushing laws without our knowledge, the future of law and how it applies to citizens is changing the very landscape of civil rights and privacy. With Discredited Citizen, you’ll become thoroughly captivated by the author’s parallels with today’s world and will make you think of how it can happen if you aren’t careful. With a blend of realism and a literary twist, Kiesling delivers a stunning novel that will keep you up reading and make you truly consider what is happening around you.

Robert Kiesling – Bio

Robert Kiesling is an avid researcher, family, and criminal trial lawyer in Austin, Texas for over 14 years. Travels between Los Angeles and Austin for various legal, intellectual, and personal entertainment projects.

Interview

1. Do you want each book to stand on its own, or are you trying to build a body of work with connections between each book?

A: They are both a stand-alone/one-offs – and a part of a series;

2. What inspired you to write this book?

A: seeing the diminishing rights in other countries – such as the China-based credit scoring system that labels people discredited citizens without due process; facial recognition and the misunderstanding of true AI and what people are mislabeling as AI being used in our present; this ‘AI’ being used now should be called black-box algorithmic code.

3. Can you tell me about the book?

A: The short version: It’s 2030 and AI has made trial lawyers obsolete. When a former trial lawyer, John Keys, lands in jail, he becomes embroiled in a life and death situation that forces him to confront a horrifying truth to gain his freedom. 

4. What did you learn when writing the book?

A: that if we don’t wake up, the misunderstanding of the black-bok coding done by human beings, which is being passed off as AI – will soon privatize aspects of our justice system that will be above the constitution.

5. What surprised you the most?

A: basically the public is completely unaware of what’s going on with AI and how it is subverting our due process rights.

6. Even though your book is fiction, is there any parallel with reality?

A: Absolutely – it is meant to be a dystopian cautionary fictional work based on the research I did and the facts that I uncovered. 

7. Does the title of your book have any specific meaning?

A: Yes. It’s what China calls those citizens that have a ‘social credit score’ that deems them what is called an ‘unproductive citizen’ or discredited citizen.

Buy the Book on Amazon

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[image error]An Exodus of Dragons

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[image error]The Adventures of Edward Brett



Blurb
5500 years old. Forged in fire. He’s a god you’ve forgotten, fighting the monsters who haven’t forgotten you. The Adventures of Edward Brett: Volume One tells the thrilling tales of bad-joke loving god, Edward Brett, and his human best friend, Wanda Smith as they travel Great Britain in a campervan, fighting monsters and solving supernatural mysteries. From defeating a sentient forest to doing battle with the devil, and from going on a road trip with the ghost of Anne Boleyn to being hunted by demons in a shopping centre, Edward and Wanda have never a dull moment in the first volume of this new series. They’ll laugh, they’ll cry, they’ll have frights and see wonders … and occasionally eat a pork scratching. Are you coming along for the ride?

Contains all ten exciting chapters in Volume One:

Grin and Bear itMurky WaterRootsThe Devil in the SnowSeventy FiveJudge it KindlyDealHunt of the SkreeThe Nightmare RealmThe Vengeful God









Excerpt

Edward opened the lychgate, which creaked with age. “Well,” he began excitedly, “I didn’t want you to be going around with me thinking that I don’t actually make good on my outlandish boasts and extraordinary claims. So I thought I’d bring you here.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully, a big silly grin on his face. “You’re going to lose it when I tell you why we’re here, just like you lost your shopping list.” 

Wanda shook her head, smiling along with him. “Oh but I haven’t lost my shopping list, Mr Brett.” 

“You have now. I threw it out.” 

Her jaw dropped. Then she burst out laughing, trying to feign outrage. “You what?” 

“Shh!” 

“You threw out my shopping list?” 

“It was broken anyway. Lists are meant to get shorter after you’ve finished making them, not longer.” He motioned for them to head up the path to the church with a swift cock of his head. “Anyway, you’re missing the bigger picture here. What have I boasted about that you thought ‘no way, no way he’s telling the truth’ about that?” 

“That you were once trapped in a public toilet with Margaret Thatcher?” 

“No, not that one.” 

“Oh! That you saved Princess Anne from a phantom horse in Windsor Park?” 

He sighed. “No! I’ll give you a clue. It was the night we met.” 

She thought hard for a moment. Now he’s asking, that was getting on for four months ago! But he did make some crazy claims…ah! Yes, that must be it. “Werebears,” she announced triumphantly. “You said werebears, the night we met. You’ve never mentioned them since.” 

The main door was suitably wooden and suitably heavy for a church door, complete with all the wrought-iron bolts, knockers and hinges you could wish for. Edward placed a hand on it. “That’s because they’re made up. Probably. But I did say one more thing that night.” 

Wanda thought for a moment, thought long and hard. Then she remembered, the ghost of a long-dead queen. Surely not! Not her! “No!” she cried excitedly, suppressing the urge to burst out laughing at the craziness of it. “You’re pulling my leg!” 

“I assure you I’m not.” With a wink, he leant in towards the door and whispered to it, “It’s me. I’m here.” 

There was a few seconds’ pause. She held her breath, completely unsure as to what she was about to see. Then the door creaked, metal clanked heavily from within, bolts slid open, latches lifted.

Edward grinned excitedly as the double doors began to open. “Wanda Smith, may I present Her Majesty Queen Anne Boleyn!” 

Wanda knew her mouth was hanging open in an astounded gawp, but she didn’t care. Anne Boleyn! I know hardly anything about history, but I know her! 

As the doors opened fully, Wanda’s open-mouthed smile of excitement switched to a look of shock as Anne Boleyn – looking as Tudory as you would’ve expected – came rushing out, head attached, dress linens crinkling and rustling, a look of sharp terror in her large dark eyes. 

“Save me!” she cried in a desperate gasp. 

 Edward, for once, looked as bamboozled as Wanda. “From what?” 

Anne Boleyn turned and backed up so that she was standing between them. Wanda had to keep from pinching herself. I’m standing next to the ghost of Anne Boleyn! And she’s the same height as me! Even with a funny headdress on! 

The deceased queen then pointed frantically back into the darkness of the church interior. “The executioner!” 

Edward’s eyes registered a look, somewhere between glee and horror. “I beg your pardon – oh, hello!” 

Out of the gloom, a stocky, beardy man dressed in a tunic and a dirty black leather apron came charging at them, wielding a heavy, rude-looking axe. He grunted, swinging the axe up in an arc above his head as he ran. Wanda let out a strangled shriek. 

“Get back!” Edward shouted, shoving the two women backwards with both hands, right before lifting a boot and thumping it into the executioner’s considerable tummy. 

Wanda staggered, instinctively grabbing hold of Anne as they both struggled to keep standing. Just grabbed a dead queen. Okay. 

The executioner yelped. Edward’s kick had broken the swing of his attack. He fell backwards, back into the church, and Edward took that chance to reach in and pull the doors closed again, the heavy wooden panels meeting once more with a clunking thud. 

Then he turned to Wanda and Anne, blowing out his cheeks exhaustedly. “Wanda, Annie – run!” 

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[image error] The Quarter Percent – Lily Nicole

New! The Quarter Percent. A novel by Lily Nicole.

Free to read with Kindle Unlimited.

The Quarter Percent is Lily Nicole’s first novel. It follows six characters over 13 intense days in summer, 2030.

The Quarter Percent have a closely guarded secret. They use truth and influence to fight for more profit. A wealthy and reclusive entrepreneur works hard to train his deep learning machines and they help him expand his business empire. A former influencer has lost all of her life savings in a failed promotional campaign. She struggles to adjust to life as an ordinary office worker. On a different continent, a popular and charismatic King is distracted from his work and leaves his team to seek out the latest advances in medicine. As he does, his oldest daughter seizes the chance to launch her own ambitious scheme. Rules are broken, loyalties are split, new alliances are formed, and the public take sides.

The Quarter Percent promises to be a fun summer read. Read on Kindle Unlimited.

Buy the Book!



Book Trailer

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