Saturday, June 30, 2018

[BOOK REVIEW] Saga Volume 7 by Brian K. Vaughan







Title:  Saga Volume 7

Author:  Brian K. Vaughan

Artist:  Fiona Staples


Genre:  Adventure / Family / Fantasy / Science Fiction

Year Published:  2017

Year Read: 6/30/2018

Series:  Saga #7

Publisher:  Image Comics

Source:  Purchased

Content Rating:  Ages 18+ (Gory Violence, Strong Language and Nudity)

Trigger Warning: Near Rape Scene





Introduction:

Oh, my goodness!  How long has it been since I last read “Saga?”  Too long, I say!  TOO LONG!!!  Anyway, I finally got around to reading the seventh volume in Brian K. Vaughan’s and Fiona Staples’ AWESOME and BRILLIANT “Saga” series and oh man, do I DARE say that this volume has gotten me into TEARS in the worst way possible?

What is this story about?

In this volume, Marko, Alana and their daughter Hazel are finally reunited with each other after spending the previous volumes being apart from each other.  When the ship they are using runs out of fuel, Marko, Alana and their new friend Petrichor and Prince Robot have to go to a planet called Phang to get the fuel they need for their ship.  But, Phang is a planet that is ravaged by the war between Wreath and Landfall and they ended up meeting a family of refugees who ended up staying with Alana, Marko and their crew for a while.  Unfortunately, it turns out that the planet Phang is actually about to be destroyed and Alana, Marko, Hazel and their friends have to figure out a way to escape the planet before it is too late!

What I loved about this story:

Brian K. Vaughan’s writing:  Oh, my goodness!  I just can never get enough of this series!!! Brian K. Vaughan has once again done a brilliant job at writing this volume as this volume was full of humor, drama, and tear jerking moments that will make you cry for days!  I loved the way that Brian K. Vaughn wrote the characters as I found myself really caring for the characters’ situations, especially with Alana being pregnant again and trying to keep her baby safe while surviving on a war-torn planet.  I am always amazed at how Alana and Marko managed to survive their dangerous journey in going to a peaceful planet while also having a family at the same time as it shows how strong their family is and I always loved the fact that whenever a new person comes on board their ship, they are automatically considered family.  I really liked the way that Hazel is growing up in each volume as she slowly tries to understand about the world around her, while still being the most innocent character in this series and she is always bringing in some lightheartedness to the story.  I also liked the way that Brian K. Vaughan approached the subject about what refugees have to go through whenever they are stuck in a war-torn city as I found myself sympathizing with the refugees that Alana and Marko took in and how they lost everything due to a war going on in their homeland.  I liked the fact that Brian K. Vaughan pulled no punches in this volume as there were many character deaths and intense situations that had left me shaken and it seems like with each volume, things get even more dangerous and intense for Marko and Alana and I just hope that they along with Hazel survive the dangerous journey.

Fiona Staples’ artwork:  Fiona Staples’ artwork is as usual gorgeous to look at!  I just loved the way that Fiona Staples did the explosions and lasers in certain scene as they are breathtaking to look at and just jump out at you.  I also loved the way that Fiona Staples drew the different creatures that inhabited this universe as they look bizarre yet creative at the same time!

What made me feel uncomfortable about this story:

For anyone who does not like strong language, there are some usages of the “f” and “s” words that are littered throughout this volume.  Also, there is some nudity in this volume (although not as much as previous volumes, which is saying something). So, if you do not like seeing (pardon my speech) penises or nipples, then you might want to skip over these scenes.  There are some gory scenes in this volume also, such as images of people’s heads getting blown up.  So that might unsettle some people who do not like gory violence in graphic novels.

Final Thoughts:


Overall, “Saga Volume Seven” is a truly FANTASTIC and TRAGIC volume that everyone who is a fan of Brian K. Vaughan’s famous “Saga” series should definitely check it out!  Now, I am off to check out the eighth volume in this series!

* 2017 Goodreads Choice Award Nominee for Graphic Novels and Comics
* 2017 Will Eisner Comic Industry Awards for Best Continuing Series, Best Writer (for Brian K. Vaughan), Best Penciller/Inker or Penciller/Inker Team (for Fiona Staples) and Best Cover Artist (for multiple covers) (Fiona Staples)




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Stacking the Shelves #54: June 30, 2018





Stacking The Shelves is a book meme created by Tynga's Reviews and Reading Reality and it is about sharing books that you are adding to your shelves, whether it's physical or virtual.  This means including books that you bought from the store or online, books you borrowed from friends or from the library, books you've reviewed, gifts and ebooks!

Hey everyone! I had another quiet week as I continued binge watching on Netflix and Hulu.  Me and my family are preparing for Independence Day and we are planning on eating some hot dogs, ribs, potato salad and many more!  I also can't believe that June is already over! Man, time sure flies by fast! I hope everyone had a nice June!







Books Bought:



From Barnes and Noble:










Friday, June 29, 2018

Fairy Tale and Folktale Fridays #26: The Princess and the Pea



Hey there!  Welcome to "Fairy Tale and Folktale Fridays," a new feature on my blog where I discuss about some fairy tales and folktales I have read throughout the years.  This feature was inspired by Chrissi Reads' "Fairy Tale Friday" meme and I was so inspired by those posts that I wanted to do a feature that details my love for fairy tales and folktales!



The Princess and the Pea




 


Type: Fairy Tale

Country of Origin: Denmark

Main Character Hero or Heroine: Heroine

Recommend?: Yes! 




The story starts off with a prince wanting to marry a princess and his mother, the Queen, tells the prince that he must marry a real princess.  So, the prince goes around the land trying to find a real princess, but every princess he came across either didn't have any manners or were too clumsy to be actual princesses.  One stormy night however, a young princess, who was soaking wet, came to the castle and asked for some shelter from the storm.  The Queen didn't believe that she was a real princess due to her messy appearance, but she decided to give the princess shelter anyway.  In order to see if she was a real princess or not, the Queen decided to put a pea underneath 20 mattresses that the princess will be sleeping on.  The goal of this was to see if the princess can feel the pea underneath all of those mattresses since a real princess would have skin delicate enough to feel a small pea underneath all of those mattresses.




I was actually pretty interested in this story!  The whole bit about a real princess feeling a small pea underneath all of those mattresses was a bit weird yet amusing to me since I thought it would be a bit ridiculous for anyone to feel something so small underneath all of those mattresses!  I think this story did a pretty good job at exaggerating the expectations that princesses are supposed to meet,  such as being able to walk on items without breaking them (which is impossible for anyone to do, even for a princess) which made the story hilarious to read through.  Quite an amusing read, indeed!
 



1. Do you think that the expectations for a real princess are a bit too high?

In the context of this story, yes I do think that the Queen's expectations for a real princess were a bit too high (not breaking anything underneath their feet would be a feat that would be impossible to meet) , although it was amusing to see such expectations from the Queen and the King!


2. Do you think this story did a good job at portraying the message of don't judge others based on looks?

Yes, I think this story really did a great job at portraying the message of not judging people based on their looks. Even though the princess didn't look like a real princess at first, it eventually revealed that she was a real princess all along, which also brings in the message that you are beautiful in the inside no matter what you look like on the outside.

3. Do you think that you can feel a pea under your mattress?

Probably not!  Either I'll smash the pea with my body or I'll be too sleepy to feel it!


 

The Princess and the Pea by Janet Stevens

 


 



The Princess and the Pea by Rachel Isadora

 

 


 

Believe Me, I Never Felt a Pea! by Nancy Loewen; illustrated by Cristian Bernardini






The Princess and the Pea by Golden Books


 




The Gingerbread Man






What's So Funny, Ketu?

Book Blogger Hop #47: June 29th - July 5th




Hello everyone! I'm participating in another book meme called the Book Blogger Hop which is hosted by Ramblings of a Coffee Addicted Writer!  Basically, you just answer weekly questions and then post up your link on the question's page.


This week's question is : 

 This week's question is submitted by  Elizabeth  @ Silver's Reviews.


Do you have an Instagram account? If so, do you only follow book folks?



Oh yes!  I definitely have an Instagram account!  I use it all the time to post up lots of book photos and I tend to follow a lot of bookstagram accounts such as Xenatine , Darkfaerietales, My Friends Are Fiction, and Paper Fury.  My Instagram account is located HERE.  Also, here are some of my Instagram photos:










Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Book Blitz: Romancing the Pen by Kara Winters


Romancing The Pen 

Kara Winters 

Publication date: May 13th 2018
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance
A seasoned writer with secrets to protect…
Carson Reid is stuck, and not in a situation he’s unfamiliar with. He’s been writing romance novels for years now, so you would think that by now he’d be used to going through the motions. But once more, he’s stuck at the precipice of writing the big “sex scene”… But one quick encounter with a mystery beauty leads him to realize that she’s his long lost writing muse.

A powerful publisher with an agenda of her own…

Kate has had it with men. After building her entire publishing empire on the bones of those that have tried getting in her way, she’s not about to let some love-challeged writer blind her goals. But even under her toughened exterior there is a longing for something. Or someone.

The meeting seemed causal enough. No “shop talk”, no strings attached, and definitely no talking about one another’s history. So what’s one night of passion? Just pure, sexy fun. Again, and again, and again…

But once the spark returns to Carson’s writing, he’s hooked. And he will do anything to make sure that Kate sticks around to see the end of his story complete. Even if it means destroying every wall they both built to keep their hearts safe from harm.

“I feel that I should at least tell you.” Again, I swept my fingers across her cheek. “That something’s been happening to me, each time we’ve been together. I don’t know what it is, but my writing has gotten back on track.”

Kate’s grin was contagious.

“So, keep that in mind,” I told her, my tone turning a little more serious.

She seemed to catch on that I had meant what I said. Blushing, she ran her hand through her hair, then scooted herself closer to me.

I reached out and pulled her the rest of the way. We lay there facing one another on the bed, staring at one another with our hands laced between us.

“You’re my muse,” I whispered.

Another blush formed on her cheeks and I realized I loved when she did that.

“But I haven’t even done anything,” she said. “And I don’t even know what you write exactly. Don’t you think you should tell me some of it, if I’m supposed to help you through things?”

I shook my head and closed my eyes.

My senses picked up on the warmth of Kate. Lips brushed my cheeks and trailed their way slowly up to my eyelids. The feeling tickled me, but I didn’t laugh. Kate’s lips found my mouth and she kissed me deeply. Though I wasn’t sure if she really was looking for an answer to her question, I didn’t want to answer.

Instead of speaking, I grabbed her hips and pulled her tight against my body to let her feel every inch of me. Kate moaned into my mouth and I took her cry down into my throat.

Not breaking the kiss, I turned us so that she straddled me on top again. Beneath her warm legs I could feel my cock sliding against her entrance. She was warm and wet and, fuck, we needed to be together.

“What were you writing last night?” she asked.

I almost didn’t hear her. I was so distracted with kissing the breath out of her body. Kate’s small hand wrapped itself around me and my eyes flew open. She began to stroke.

“Fuck.” I groaned.

She smiled against my mouth. “I thought you might be writing about that.”

I grinned. “You really want me tell you about what I was writing?”

Kate sat up, giving me one hell of a few. Her nipples were stiff and my mouth was craving to taste them. She lifted her hips and aligned herself with my cock, sliding just the tip of me past her folds.

My eyes threatened to roll back into my head, but I forced them to stay open and watch. I braced my hands on Kate’s hips, trying to ease her farther down, but she resisted.

I gave her a questioning look.

“Tell me what you were writing about,” she said, arching one brow and smiling.

The tease.

I played along. “Are you sure you want to play this game?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure I do,” Kate replied. She eased herself down a half inch. Her wetness was reason enough for me to speak.

“The second love scene,” I started.

She eased down another half inch, then stopped again.

I shut my eyes and nodded. “Okay, okay. The second love scene–”

“We’ve established that there is another love scene already,” Kate cut in, lifting herself back up that half inch that had made me want to pound into her. I was determined to get that inch back, and more.

My fingers gripped her firmly, eliciting another moan from her.

“It begins with the hero and heroine having been away from each other for a little more than a month. He had to leave the country on business, trying to fix his family problems that have been plaguing him throughout the story.”

Kate began to slide down my cock, fueling me to talk more.

“The hero was wounded by the antagonist during a prior scene, and when he returns back to the heroine, he’s still recovering from the wound. She’s worried about him and tends to him at his bedside for days.”

Kate was halfway down my length by the time I stopped. Our eyes met and she parted her lips, her breath coming quicker. She bit her lower lip, adjusting to my girth. I wanted more than anything to thrust up and claim her, but I was afraid she wouldn’t allow me. After all, I wasn’t in charge of this coupling. Kate was.

“Continue,” she said.

Since she hadn’t said anything about me touching her, I reached up to her breasts, running my palms across her nipples. The only word I could use to describe how they felt was aching. Yes, Kate’s aching nipples were in my hands. I really was a romance writer, on and off paper. I chuckled in my head.

Without another thought, I wrapped one arm around her waist and flipped us over, pinning her under me. I continued massaging her breast tenderly.

“I’d rather show you how my love scene plays out,” I said, my mouth ghosting against hers.




Kara Winters grew up sneaking in all the romance novels she could reach for on her grandmother’s bookshelves. Her love for a good story inspired her to pursue writing as a career and led to her published debut novel in 2013 entitled ‘Working Out the Kinks’.

Currently she lives in Los Angeles and is a member of the RWA (Romance Writers of America), as well as the Los Angeles branch of the guild.

If she is not at home in front of her laptop, Kara is out shopping for vinyl records, exploring the LACMA, or cruising up the California coastline, looking for inspiration to her next book.



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Book Blitz: Galaxies and Oceans by N.R. Walker


Galaxies and Oceans 

N.R. Walker 

Publication date: June 25th 2018
Genres: Adult, LGBTQ+, Romance
Seizing his one chance to escape, Ethan Hosking leaves his violent ex-boyfriend, leaves his entire life, and walks into the path of a raging bushfire. Desperate to start over, a new man named Aubrey Hobbs walks out of the fire-ravaged forest, alive and alone. With no ID and no money, nothing but his grandfather’s telescope, he goes where the Southern Cross leads him.

Patrick Carney is the resident lighthouse keeper in Hadley Cove, a small town on the remote Kangaroo Island off the coast of South Australia. After the tragic death of his lover four years ago, he lives a solitary life; just him, a tabby cat, the Indian and Southern Oceans, and a whole lot of loneliness. He’s content with his life until a stranger shows up in town and turns Patrick’s head.

Patrick never expected to be interested in anyone else.

Aubrey never expected to be happy.

Between Aubrey’s love of the stars and Patrick’s love of the ocean, these two fragile hearts must navigate new waters. If they can weather the storm of their pasts, they could very well have a love that eclipses everything.

Patrick

I stopped, looked toward the lonely figure still watching the ocean below, and with a deep breath and nothing to lose, I crossed the street and walked toward him.

“Hi,” I said, still a few metres away so as not to scare him.

He spun regardless, his eyes wide. He had dark eyes, pale skin, and I could see short brown hair poking out from under his hood. He looked three days unshaven, and the bump on the bridge of his nose gave his handsome face a rugged edge. “Oh, hi.”

“Didn’t mean to scare ya.” I nodded toward the tumultuous, tumbling ocean. “She’s upset today.”

He looked back out to the rough seas and gave me a quick smile. “It’s actually kinda pretty.”

I scratched at my beard. “I’ve heard it been called cruel, cold, rugged, hellish. The only people who call it pretty are the ones who end up staying.”

He looked back out to sea and smiled. The wind caught his hood and tousled his hair. His cheeks were pink from the cold as was the tip of his nose. He was handsome, no two ways about it. And possibly fifteen years younger than me.

I made myself look away. “What brings you here?”

“Looking,” he answered without turning to me.

“For?” I stared out across the stormy waves with him. “Work? A new beginning?”

He shot me a look. “Something like that.”

I sipped my coffee. “There’s not much work here. Well, that’s not true. There’s a tonne of work; this whole town is weather-beaten and old. Just not much work that pays.”

His lips twitched.

“But you can try the caravan park.” I didn’t let on that I knew that was where he was staying. “Old Frank Hill who runs the place would never say no to help. Maintenance, that kind of thing.”

He turned back to the water, to the wind. “I’ve asked him already.”

“Frank’s just a grumpy old man who thinks anyone under thirty’s a hooligan. I’ll have a word with him if you like.”

“Why would you do that?”

I smiled and gave pause. Why was I offering to help this guy? I didn’t know him from Adam. Sure, he was good-looking, but there was something in his eyes. Something deep, hidden, and burning. Something horrendously painful. Something I recognised.

I faced the angry sea alongside him. “Because you called this ocean pretty.”

Neither of us spoke for a while. I drank my coffee and he turned his empty cup in his hands.
“Anyway,” I said, realising I couldn’t stand around all day. “My name’s Patrick. I live at the lighthouse.”

That made him look at me. “In the lighthouse?”

“No. Not in it. In the residence.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Well, it’s almost two hundred years old, made from sandstone, and it’s tiny. But yes, it’s cool.” I smiled as the wind whipped around us. “I should go. I have work to do, but I’ll call around and see Frank after lunch.” I pulled the newspaper out from under my arm, and his eyes darted to the front page.

He stared so long I turned it around so he could read it, but he shot me a look that I couldn’t place, and it was gone so fast I’d wondered if I’d seen it. He stepped back. “Yeah, um, thanks. That’d be great.”

It wasn’t until I got home that I realised what the look on his face was. It was fear. And I realised I didn’t know his name.




N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.

She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don't let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.


She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love.

She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.


She's been writing ever since...



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Book Blitz: Go Home, Afton by Brent Jones


Go Home, Afton 

Brent Jones

(Afton Morrison, #1)

Publication date: June 25th 2018
Genres: Adult, Thriller
We all wear masks, and Afton Morrison is no exception.

A small-town librarian with a dark side, Afton, twenty-six, has suppressed violent impulses her entire adult life. Impulses that demand she commit murder.

Blending her urges with reason, Afton stalks a known sexual predator, intending to kill him. But her plan, inspired by true crime and hatched with meticulous care, is interrupted by a mysterious figure from her past. A dangerous man that lurks in the shadows, watching, threatening to turn the huntress into the hunted.

Go Home, Afton is the first of four parts in a new serial thriller by author Brent Jones. Packed with grit and action, The Afton Morrison Series delves into a world of moral ambiguity, delivering audiences an unlikely heroine in the form of a disturbed vigilante murderess.


Parents—stay-at-home moms, mostly—brought in their toddlers once a week so I could read them a story. And I use the word toddlers loosely. Kids as old as six or seven sometimes attended during the summer. And the stories we would read were made up of fewer than fifty words, for the most part. A lot of the mothers in Wakefield were too lazy to read to their own children, I guess.

Oh, and crafts, too. After reading a story together, we’d break out glitter and colored pencils and paste and other nonsense, but that wasn’t the real reason a dozen women turned out with their little monsters each week. Storytime was an excuse for the mothers to gather and gossip. It always took a little while to get the children to settle down, sure. I’d press my finger to my lips and wait. Five or ten seconds at most, although I would have been happy to wait longer. Their mothers, on the other hand, were so much worse. Getting them to shut their fucking traps was a whole separate exercise in endurance.

But as much as I disliked children, there was something magical about them. It was their inability to see gray, I think. Their entire worlds existed in black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. You could see it in their faces as a story unfolded, rife with nervous energy at every inconsequential turn.
“And she just doesn’t know”—I read to the room, pointing to each gigantic word—“should she stay, should she go?”

I caught a boy’s expression, who sat just inches from me. The hippopotamus in our story was faced with a dilemma, and this boy was transfixed. His eyes were wide, his hands were cupped over his mouth, and he was vibrating with anticipation to see what the hippo would do next.

I flipped to the last page. “But yes the hippopotamus.”

The boy relaxed a little, making a deliberate show of letting his shoulders drop. A talented drama queen in the making. He was new to storytime and looked to be about five or six years old. He had dark hair, a tan complexion, and a missing front tooth. He’d attended just once before and he’d sat close that day, as well. I’d never really been big on learning children’s names, to be honest, but I knew his was Neil only because he’d come to the library alone both times. It sounds strange, I’m sure, but having a parent use the library as a free babysitting service happens more often than most people would guess.

I continued on, reading the final words of the story. “But not the armadillo.”

Neil was stressed all over again, and his tiny hand shot up. “Miss Afton?”

“Yes, ah, Neil? What is it, little man?”

“How come not the arma-darma?”

“Armadillo.” A woman in baggy gray sweatpants corrected him from the back of the room. She was a few years older than me, had bleach-blonde hair in a ponytail, and her voice resembled a seagull getting crushed by a car.

I shut the book and set it on my lap. “That’s a good question, Neil.” I bit my lower lip, deciding how much to share. “Well, let’s see. Ah, no one likes armadillos, for starters. They’re bullet-proof, if you can believe it, and ugly as sin. They carry leprosy, too, but they don’t bite children too often.”

The woman at the back of the room—Sweatpants, let’s call her—looked horrified. Her stained teeth chattered and she blinked in rapid succession. She placed her palms over her daughter’s ears, a girl around three or four in age.

Neil scratched his head. “What’s a lepra-she?”

“It’s—”

Sweatpants raised her hand to silence me—not that I minded—and looked to a few of the other mothers in the room for support, most of whom were checked out or occupied with their phones. She looked back at me again, then at her daughter. “It’s when good little boys and girls get ice cream.”

 That wasn’t how I might have defined the word, however. “You want to stop for ice cream on the way home, Jessi?”

It was hard enough getting these little turds to sit still for all fourteen pages of But Not the Hippopotamus. Why on earth would this woman want to stuff her daughter’s face with sugar before lunch? But the girl jumped up and squealed at the mention of sweets, and soon, other kids joined in, as did their mothers.

I peeked down at Neil to see him cradling his head in his hands, masking a look of disappointment by staring at the floor. It appeared he had forgotten all about armadillos and leprosy and storytime, and now sulked, wishing he had a parent present to take him for ice cream like the other children.

The mothers talked amongst themselves, and their toddlers fed on the elevated energy levels. The room was alive with discourse, and I wondered if the local Dairy Queen might consider paying me a small commission. “Well, that’s it for storytime, boys and girls. Thanks for coming.”

Sweatpants spoke up at the back of the room, the self-elected leader of Wakefield’s fattest and frumpiest. “But it’s only quarter past, Afton. Isn’t storytime supposed to be a full hour?”

“Just figured you were all on your way to get a double-scoop of leprosy.”

“Very funny.”

I raised my hands in a gesture of mock uncertainty. “We’ve got crafts we can do.” I pointed to three short tables covered in plastic, adorned with supplies that Kim had set up for us. “Should we get to it?”

“That won’t take long. Couldn’t you read them another story first?”

Couldn’t I read them another story? It’d been her idea to squeeze out one of these little nightmares.

Why was I being punished for it? “Not this week, I’m afraid. Sorry.”

But she just wouldn’t give up. “Afton, do you know where Jessi’s daddy is right now?”

My first thought was that her husband was probably fucking her sister at some roadside motel with hourly rates, bed bugs, and a one-star rating on Trip Advisor. I couldn’t say that out loud, of course, and so I fought like hell to keep a smirk off my face. It helped to keep my sights trained on Jessi, who had sat back down, cross-legged in a checkered dress. She was drawing on the floor with one small finger.

Sweatpants answered her own question. “He’s at work, Afton. And he works hard, by the way, and we pay more than our share of taxes in this town. Taxes that pay your salary.”

Oh, the salary card. How I loved it when disgruntled parents brought up my salary, as if any one of them wanted to trade places with me. Yes, her taxes paid me a small fortune. That’s why I rented a one-bedroom apartment in a triplex. And it’s the same reason I drove a seven-year-old Corolla. I was so grateful—indebted, even—to Sweatpants and her husband that I just couldn’t wait to read another story.

“Sure thing.” I grabbed a second book off the pile next to me. “One more story, coming right up.”
Sweatpants smiled. It was a flat, fake smile, of course, the kind where the mouth curls tight but the eyes are dormant. It was about the best I could have hoped for, and it seemed to have a calming effect on the other mothers. They quieted down, eager to return to their various text message conversations.

I pointed my finger to more jumbo text on a colorful page. A story about an overweight and diabetic caterpillar with impulse control issues, who was always so very very fucking hungry. “In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf . . .”

And I couldn’t help but lose myself in thought. I was that little egg on a leaf, glimmering in the moonlight, and about to hatch. Soon after, the morning would come. And my hunger would be satiated at last, because Kenneth Pritchard would be dead.




From bad checks to bathroom graffiti, Brent Jones has always been drawn to writing. He won a national creative writing competition at the age of fourteen, although he can’t recall what the story was about. Seventeen years later, he gave up his career to pursue creative writing full-time.

Jones writes from his home in Fort Erie, Canada. He’s happily married, a bearded cyclist, a mediocre guitarist, and the proud owner of two dogs with a God complex.



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