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Cinder
Cosmic, apocalyptic, supernatural. They reside in boxes – squares, on the land, and the arid world around them scarcely resembles the Earth they once knew. But she does. She remembers it, even if she doesn’t want to. And her mind reminisces, ponders, and manifests uncomfortable visions. What is happening to her? Why are the hours moving slowly, more horrific each passing moment?
Is it horror? Science fiction? Literary fiction? Like the protagonist, not quite contained, even if more comfortable to be so. A story of nightmares. A story of the spirit. A story of love, and all the aching melancholy surrounding it.
Is it horror? Science fiction? Literary fiction? Like the protagonist, not quite contained, even if more comfortable to be so. A story of nightmares. A story of the spirit. A story of love, and all the aching melancholy surrounding it.
126 pages, Kindle Edition
Published September 10, 2025
1 person is currently reading
5 people want to read
About the author
Robin Murarka
8 books12 followersStories that lift the veil, whether scientific or abstract, to explore whatever is underneath, revealing both the hideously vulgar and beautifully magnificent. One is just as likely to be filled with joy as be disturbed, to loathe characters as much as adore them. Tales for explorers who tread the fringes, willing to brave worlds without limitations, to discover what it truly means to be alive.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
October 13, 2025
REVIEW OF CINDER
by
Robin Murarka
➡️Though this was a shorter novel, 119 pgs, I felt immersed in the storyline, the humanity, the character, the emotions. I felt the pain, the isolation, and the turmoil. It is highly uncomfortable!
➡️The world of Cinder and her husband Absul, is a story of nightmares, a spirit, and love. It's full of binding concepts such as entropy (a system’s degree of disorder or randomness, intrinsically linked to energy dissipation) science, perception, and vision. The ride continues...
➡️Opening passages: ‘She’s having a nightmare. How do you know? I can feel it. It doesn’t make sense. There is terror. She will awaken, and nothing will be there. No figure in the black. She does not know that. It could be real. There could be. There is. He is there. He is staring at her. Silently. I tell you, he is there. Watching her. Silently. I tell you, he is there. Watching her. She must open her eyes and look. She must check. Check. Check. Wake up Cinder, Check, Cinder. Check.'
➡️Cinder, as story continue: Anytime something can appear. You say they are nightmares. But they're something else.. They are real.. I feel them, I hear them. I can hear it. I can hear it's tone in the back of my mind, lie and echo. A real memory.
It wasn't me, Absul... I feel it slipping, It wasn't Cinder that stared back.. It wasn't me. It was something else.
➡️She heard the voice, as if it were right behind her. What is unraveling in me? she asked. Something gruesome. It is widening in you. Unmistakable torment. Isn't it?
➡️My limits are reflected by this box. I am trying to fit into the right angles, but it feels uncomfortable. flat. immaculately gross.
➡️Its like we are tying to forget that this is the end of our autonomy, not the beginning. Everything ebbs and flows, we are not what we were. At least, I would hope not.
➡️He looked down, observing the stones shape, imagining Cinders smiling shy face. He held it against his cheek as if it were kissing him, and looked at it again and grimaced as if he was about to cry. He tried to contemplate a realization so overwhelming, it interrupted all conscious thought. He could see the life within it, differentiating so vividly from the environment that surrounded it. He knew the vesicles within would be filled with organic liquid the land had not seen in eons, held in small, organized pockets, all constantly adapting and adjusting. Cells would die and proliferate, firing a thousand times a second, and yet, it seemed so innocuous, as if it wanted to remain unknown as it strengthened its mastery over its environment. It was you. Its all you. Am I contained? or can I follow you ?
🫢 This author.. this author!! I don't know what to say exactly. I can't feel one definative description of this book. Long after reading Cinder you will be asking: "What exactly was that about? It leaves you thinking.... re-examining...
As Robin Murarka notes at the end: "What a magnificent time, to be able to freely write what the creative mind manifests, both tantalizing and frightening, and even sometimes dangerous".
Agreed.
🎗️If you are looking for a sweet, uplifting gentle story, this is not it. If you are looking for clues to unravel to come to a conclusion... this is not that book either.
🎗️It makes it difficult to rate. So, I am assigning these factors:
Did it fulfill the expectations set by cover blurb? 4
Easy to understand? Did it makes sense, world logic explained? 2
Was the ending satisfying? A clear message? 3
Could I empathize with characters and understand motivations? 5
Did I feel emotionally connected to the story or characters? 3
Did it explore meaningful ideas or themes- identity, power, grief? 4
Provide a unique perspective on a common trope? 5
Enjoyment factor / did it make me happy? Will I re-read? 1
⭐Averaged at 3.375
❤️* This book was supplied directly to me by the author, and all opinions are my own.
by
Robin Murarka
➡️Though this was a shorter novel, 119 pgs, I felt immersed in the storyline, the humanity, the character, the emotions. I felt the pain, the isolation, and the turmoil. It is highly uncomfortable!
➡️The world of Cinder and her husband Absul, is a story of nightmares, a spirit, and love. It's full of binding concepts such as entropy (a system’s degree of disorder or randomness, intrinsically linked to energy dissipation) science, perception, and vision. The ride continues...
➡️Opening passages: ‘She’s having a nightmare. How do you know? I can feel it. It doesn’t make sense. There is terror. She will awaken, and nothing will be there. No figure in the black. She does not know that. It could be real. There could be. There is. He is there. He is staring at her. Silently. I tell you, he is there. Watching her. Silently. I tell you, he is there. Watching her. She must open her eyes and look. She must check. Check. Check. Wake up Cinder, Check, Cinder. Check.'
➡️Cinder, as story continue: Anytime something can appear. You say they are nightmares. But they're something else.. They are real.. I feel them, I hear them. I can hear it. I can hear it's tone in the back of my mind, lie and echo. A real memory.
It wasn't me, Absul... I feel it slipping, It wasn't Cinder that stared back.. It wasn't me. It was something else.
➡️She heard the voice, as if it were right behind her. What is unraveling in me? she asked. Something gruesome. It is widening in you. Unmistakable torment. Isn't it?
➡️My limits are reflected by this box. I am trying to fit into the right angles, but it feels uncomfortable. flat. immaculately gross.
➡️Its like we are tying to forget that this is the end of our autonomy, not the beginning. Everything ebbs and flows, we are not what we were. At least, I would hope not.
➡️He looked down, observing the stones shape, imagining Cinders smiling shy face. He held it against his cheek as if it were kissing him, and looked at it again and grimaced as if he was about to cry. He tried to contemplate a realization so overwhelming, it interrupted all conscious thought. He could see the life within it, differentiating so vividly from the environment that surrounded it. He knew the vesicles within would be filled with organic liquid the land had not seen in eons, held in small, organized pockets, all constantly adapting and adjusting. Cells would die and proliferate, firing a thousand times a second, and yet, it seemed so innocuous, as if it wanted to remain unknown as it strengthened its mastery over its environment. It was you. Its all you. Am I contained? or can I follow you ?
🫢 This author.. this author!! I don't know what to say exactly. I can't feel one definative description of this book. Long after reading Cinder you will be asking: "What exactly was that about? It leaves you thinking.... re-examining...
As Robin Murarka notes at the end: "What a magnificent time, to be able to freely write what the creative mind manifests, both tantalizing and frightening, and even sometimes dangerous".
Agreed.
🎗️If you are looking for a sweet, uplifting gentle story, this is not it. If you are looking for clues to unravel to come to a conclusion... this is not that book either.
🎗️It makes it difficult to rate. So, I am assigning these factors:
Did it fulfill the expectations set by cover blurb? 4
Easy to understand? Did it makes sense, world logic explained? 2
Was the ending satisfying? A clear message? 3
Could I empathize with characters and understand motivations? 5
Did I feel emotionally connected to the story or characters? 3
Did it explore meaningful ideas or themes- identity, power, grief? 4
Provide a unique perspective on a common trope? 5
Enjoyment factor / did it make me happy? Will I re-read? 1
⭐Averaged at 3.375
❤️* This book was supplied directly to me by the author, and all opinions are my own.
September 16, 2025
I felt everything…
…I really did. Nothing could prepare me for the intensity of emotions and feelings this novel would uncover in me. I did not know I was able to fully immerse myself so intimately with a piece of literature, not just the storyline, the humanity, the environment - I WAS the character, the emotions, the hidden dark corners of my brain, and more.
While it is one of the shorter novels Robin has birthed, this did not compromise the quality, intensity or completeness in any respect. In fact, it is one of the things I appreciate most when I look back on it, as it signifies to me how carefully curated and considered every aspect of the reading experience is and was - no stone is left unturned and the reader is considered, respected and taken care of every step of the way. It was neither too short, nor too long, and at no point do I look back with any lack of resolve.
Some of you may have read a previous review of mine on one of Robin’s other novels ‘The Pedophile’ stating that I have not really written reviews for a very long time - one of the reasons being because there just is just so much poor quality literature out there, and I often feel quite disrespected as a reader, that I wish to put no further investment towards it, and instead wish to look for and remain hopeful towards good quality gems that I can more willingly credit and experience. On the other hand as well, when I do stumble across something worthwhile, I like to keep it close to my heart and treasure and experience it as much as possible, greedy to keep the ‘treasure’ to myself as a means of ‘protecting’ it I guess. Anyway, as per my review on ‘The Pedophile’, these recent releases of Robin’s have pushed me further, realizing that I need to say something or do something more to thank and give credit where credit is due, as keeping it to myself is making me ‘burst at the seams’ a little as I do want other readers, like myself to be encouraged to remain hopeful and invested towards giving certain authors the benefit of the doubt, no matter how burned out you might feel from being exposed to the lack of substance and literary merit out there.
So, as said earlier, Robin’s writing, especially in this novel, I feel respected as a reader, as I am given safety and ‘permission’ to fully embrace the characters’ experiences and my own. I was allowed to react. To gasp. To panic. To hold my breath. To feel. I was so unbelievably immersed, that I actually fully felt the pain, the claustrophobia, the isolation, the turmoil beyond anything any novel or literature I recall before it has. There was no reprieve to the intensity of the experience, which usually is a horrible thing as often this is done very poorly, but this brings me back to what I said earlier - I was respected as a reader, as the presentation, including the length of the novel and the ‘resolution’ of sorts, was masterfully done. I was given permission to fully embrace and experience everything. I didn’t need to run away. I didn’t need to stop. And I wasn’t left hanging.
How is that possible if it is such a short novel? I have no idea - it is just art. This is, I believe, storytelling in its truest form - it doesn’t shy away from what might be uncomfortable or ‘ugly’.
So yes, it is intense. Yes it is highly uncomfortable. But you are supported while you immerse yourself in it, or at least I felt I was - which is the strongest point I wish to credit the author and the writing for as it is so incredibly hard to find and I believe it is very hard to do well, as often times, we first have to navigate a lot of unnecessary waste and weeds to find it.
I find it hard to comment on things like literary techniques or specific parts or plot points etc, as I do not want to inhibit or guide any future readers’ interpretation or experience and I just simply wanted to share my honest and unfiltered experience wherever I could. I also want people to know that I personally believe it is worth it. It is worth letting yourself be guided and immersed. While it was uncomfortable, I learned a lot about myself and have become further enthralled by what well-written literature can unveil. I will be reading it again
…I really did. Nothing could prepare me for the intensity of emotions and feelings this novel would uncover in me. I did not know I was able to fully immerse myself so intimately with a piece of literature, not just the storyline, the humanity, the environment - I WAS the character, the emotions, the hidden dark corners of my brain, and more.
While it is one of the shorter novels Robin has birthed, this did not compromise the quality, intensity or completeness in any respect. In fact, it is one of the things I appreciate most when I look back on it, as it signifies to me how carefully curated and considered every aspect of the reading experience is and was - no stone is left unturned and the reader is considered, respected and taken care of every step of the way. It was neither too short, nor too long, and at no point do I look back with any lack of resolve.
Some of you may have read a previous review of mine on one of Robin’s other novels ‘The Pedophile’ stating that I have not really written reviews for a very long time - one of the reasons being because there just is just so much poor quality literature out there, and I often feel quite disrespected as a reader, that I wish to put no further investment towards it, and instead wish to look for and remain hopeful towards good quality gems that I can more willingly credit and experience. On the other hand as well, when I do stumble across something worthwhile, I like to keep it close to my heart and treasure and experience it as much as possible, greedy to keep the ‘treasure’ to myself as a means of ‘protecting’ it I guess. Anyway, as per my review on ‘The Pedophile’, these recent releases of Robin’s have pushed me further, realizing that I need to say something or do something more to thank and give credit where credit is due, as keeping it to myself is making me ‘burst at the seams’ a little as I do want other readers, like myself to be encouraged to remain hopeful and invested towards giving certain authors the benefit of the doubt, no matter how burned out you might feel from being exposed to the lack of substance and literary merit out there.
So, as said earlier, Robin’s writing, especially in this novel, I feel respected as a reader, as I am given safety and ‘permission’ to fully embrace the characters’ experiences and my own. I was allowed to react. To gasp. To panic. To hold my breath. To feel. I was so unbelievably immersed, that I actually fully felt the pain, the claustrophobia, the isolation, the turmoil beyond anything any novel or literature I recall before it has. There was no reprieve to the intensity of the experience, which usually is a horrible thing as often this is done very poorly, but this brings me back to what I said earlier - I was respected as a reader, as the presentation, including the length of the novel and the ‘resolution’ of sorts, was masterfully done. I was given permission to fully embrace and experience everything. I didn’t need to run away. I didn’t need to stop. And I wasn’t left hanging.
How is that possible if it is such a short novel? I have no idea - it is just art. This is, I believe, storytelling in its truest form - it doesn’t shy away from what might be uncomfortable or ‘ugly’.
So yes, it is intense. Yes it is highly uncomfortable. But you are supported while you immerse yourself in it, or at least I felt I was - which is the strongest point I wish to credit the author and the writing for as it is so incredibly hard to find and I believe it is very hard to do well, as often times, we first have to navigate a lot of unnecessary waste and weeds to find it.
I find it hard to comment on things like literary techniques or specific parts or plot points etc, as I do not want to inhibit or guide any future readers’ interpretation or experience and I just simply wanted to share my honest and unfiltered experience wherever I could. I also want people to know that I personally believe it is worth it. It is worth letting yourself be guided and immersed. While it was uncomfortable, I learned a lot about myself and have become further enthralled by what well-written literature can unveil. I will be reading it again
October 3, 2025
‘There are ghosts in my mind, and they are manifesting this dead world’
Australian author Robin Murarka is a ‘compleat’ artist – literature as a writer of essays, short stories, poetry and novels, albums of digital music, the visual arts, and film. The handsome young artist has published four novels to date – AKIN, RONE ISA, THE PEDOPHILE, and CINDER – all invitations to pause and think in a new way!
It is rare today to encounter such eloquent prose as leaps from the pages of this alluring book. Robin celebrates the mastery of language, as the opening passage demonstrates: ‘She’s having a nightmare. How do you know? I can feel it. It doesn’t make sense. There is terror. She will awaken, and nothing will be there. No figure in the black. She does not know that. It could be real. There could be. There is. He is there. He is staring at her. Silently. I tell you, he is there. Watching her. Silently. I tell you, he is there. Watching her. She must open her eyes and look. She must check. Check. Check. Check, Cinder. Check.’
Murarka invites us into the mesmerizing world of Cinder and her husband Absul, binding concepts such as entropy ( a system’s degree of disorder or randomness, intrinsically linked to the inevitability of energy dissipation), science, perception, vision, and variations of reality in a story that enters the mind and becomes the core of endless other tales. This is magic – or is it? Read and consider…
Australian author Robin Murarka is a ‘compleat’ artist – literature as a writer of essays, short stories, poetry and novels, albums of digital music, the visual arts, and film. The handsome young artist has published four novels to date – AKIN, RONE ISA, THE PEDOPHILE, and CINDER – all invitations to pause and think in a new way!
It is rare today to encounter such eloquent prose as leaps from the pages of this alluring book. Robin celebrates the mastery of language, as the opening passage demonstrates: ‘She’s having a nightmare. How do you know? I can feel it. It doesn’t make sense. There is terror. She will awaken, and nothing will be there. No figure in the black. She does not know that. It could be real. There could be. There is. He is there. He is staring at her. Silently. I tell you, he is there. Watching her. Silently. I tell you, he is there. Watching her. She must open her eyes and look. She must check. Check. Check. Check, Cinder. Check.’
Murarka invites us into the mesmerizing world of Cinder and her husband Absul, binding concepts such as entropy ( a system’s degree of disorder or randomness, intrinsically linked to the inevitability of energy dissipation), science, perception, vision, and variations of reality in a story that enters the mind and becomes the core of endless other tales. This is magic – or is it? Read and consider…
November 23, 2025
I wouldn’t have the words to recommend this book to a friend but I enjoyed it immensely. If you like dark, mysterious books that allow your imagination to run wild then this is for you. My brain was tired by the end but my senses were delighted. Upon finishing I immediately picked up another book by this author. I love weird, mystical books and characters and this checked all of my boxes.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews