Scrolls of the Prophet
Book I
◆◆◆
◆◆◆
City of Zoar
DELIRIUM had set in as my spirit-body floated in the pitch black of night. Once more I had again found myself following the silhouettes of those same three mistical paths which had traversed toward the one path of truth. It was like there were three thoughts in my head which ran simultaneously in direction through my mind’s consciousness—my spirit-body seemed as if it were surrounded by all of nature and that of the accumulated experiences of both current and past generations, their presence all consuming as they were being woven together in an eerie tapestry of an unfamiliar imagery. These three strands of the vision then became intertwined with themselves and created only, a single way forward—to become both, the path of knowledge and that of the enlightened mind, the one path to truth...
Effortlessly, the spirit of my being floated ever upwards, it now rose away from the three-paths. And without cause or command, I watched as they faded into the wispy remnants of unformed thoughts. True blackness returned—but only for a moment—before it gave way to something newer and more modern, a picturesque expanse of an open blue sky, one which came flecked occasionally with the gift of softly emulsified clouds.
Something below had distracted me. I was drawn away from the radiant sky above to look down on my reflection as it gleamed out distortedly atop the dark surface of a river which was made of frolicking waters. My spiritual-form shimmered there from the rippling effect of the mild winds caress, and shifted in form from the pushes of pretzel-twist currents. I felt my essence floating free, untouched, soaring just above the shining watery scene like a great predatory bird which glided above the sea—its course sustained and readable by the steady breath of the wind underwing.
Gradually I grew accustomed to this new sensational view, my eyes drifted forward. A lake’s wide edge began to emerge beneath me and slightly up front. I became fixated on it as my gaze was locked ahead, and took in the wide spread of a rising land-mass as I soon arrived at its shore—rolled hills showed out scattered within speckled tree nitches which then also passed by beneath me as I arrived to the scene. But instead of queasiness or disorientation, a solid blanket of comfort washed over my spirit-mind—reassured it was, even serene.
As I passed beyond the shoreline, I beheld a large gathering of people: men, women, and children; all assembled together upon a large, rolling hill. Among them, there was one figure which stood out quite plainly—in my mind's-eye he shined out much brighter than the rest. Here was a man who was cloaked in a simple white robe while he stood elevated atop the far end of a large stone, his arms raised wide and pleading, his palms opened to the sky. The crowd was quiet while stationed out in the front, and all who stood there remained silent and motionless, subdued, their eyes locked in interest on the speaker's performance. And then, at that precise moment, I heard his voice call out gently as he spoke with strong meaning.
He spoke:
“To lift your eyes to the heavens when all men’s eyes are upon the ground, it surely is not easy... To worship at the feet of the angels of heaven when all men seek only fame, fortune and riches, again its not easy...But the most difficult of all, is to think on the thoughts of the angels, to speak the words of the Angels and to do as angels do..!”
The trees which surrounded the man and his multitude of watchers slowly panned by beneath me as I floated airily past the organized gathering. My spirit-body rose...I was entranced, this until the rounded, bushy tops of the trees concealed them almost fully in the folds of the vast earth below—just as the surface of the lake had only moments before struck against the shore. My spirit-eyes were drawn ever upwards, and soon my gaze landed upon an ever widening patch of tree bark which sprawled outward in all directions and filled the whole of my vision. I drew closer.
Still rising, I drifted higher without resistance. Before me, the colossal trunk of a megalithic tree was revealed. Thick-edged bark had been traced deeply with rivers of black-shadowed trenches that rippled across its rough surfaces as the view it stretched endlessly out in all directions. I felt as though I were no more than a tiny insect who'd been caught in mid-flight, a small bug who was drawn toward this miraculous growth, its massive branches above calling for my closeness with their teasing insistence from the great heights above.
I found myself being pulled upward again and without cause, as I drifted and soared past the tree's thick trunk and up into its wide boughs, ascending even further until the true magnitude of the tree's structure took form to my mind’s comprehension. My eyes strained, grew wide, and I took in with the fullness of this new wonder—when suddenly, like a kaleidoscope of reality that was magically smashed open, I became struck by the enormity of just what I beheld.
Each of the massive branches was like a limb of creation, and at the tip of each branch lay all manner of living extension, the perched forms of life's beings. There were birds in mid flight, and cattle, and fish, and serpents and the like, even men, women, and children of every race, creed and stature. All of them—creatures of the sky, land, and sea—they were hung in suspendion as if fruit on the vine of this great towering tree. The winds of life stirred and the branches did move, they swayed in their holds gently, as if the weight of their active cargo were sprout-pressed from the wood. Yet not a sound escaped them as they writhed and they squirmed and they blinked and moved without voice. no cry had been issued.
I fell helplessly astonished—fleshless spirits set adrift in the face of an impossible vision. My essence trembled and I faltered to a state of reverent confusion in the awe of the tree’s breadth and symbology of meaning, its hold on all life.
Then, with the sudden arrival of countless thundering horns, all sounds became abaited in a unison quietness as one great voice cried out loudly and pierced the silence of the day, it shook me instantly to the deepest parts of my core.
“Behold the Tree of Life..!”
The crashing tones rang out unrelenting, they echoed out across every branch, every leaf, and every soul of the captives. Its reverberations not paused before continuing on:
“I speak to you, be still know I am God..! I spoke to you when you were born, I spoke to you at your first sight, I spoke to you at your first wording, I spoke to you at your first thought, I spoke to you at your first love, I spoke to you at your first song, I speak to you through the grass of the meadows, I speak to you through the trees of the forest, I speak to you through the hills and the valleys, I speak to you through the holiest of mountains, I speak to you through the rain and the snow, I speak to you through the waves of the sea, I speak to you through the dew of the early-day, I speak to you through the piece of the late-day, I speak to you through the splendor of the sun, I speak to you through the brilliance of stars, I speak to you through the storm and the clouding, I speak to you through the thunder and the lightening, I speak to you through my mysterious rainbow, I will speak to you when you are alone, I will speak to you through the wisdom of the ancients, I will speak to you at the end of all time, I will speak to you when you have looked upon my angels, I will speak to you through all lasting eternity, I speak to you still and know I am God..!”
With the final echo of the thunder still ringing in my head, I looked again upon the tree—and now every living thing hung lifeless...unliving and still. The vision faded swiftly, it had been replaced by a new, all-encompassing darkness that swallowed my senses and left me in wanting. My spirit drifted on, weightless, caught up in an ever-expanding sea of void and pure nothingness.
◆◆◆
Only a moment had passed before brightness crept in—slowly at first, before growing relentless. The light swelled and surged and consumed my spirit-body and every ounce of my life-force which had been stored deep within. I squinted angrely against the unyielding blaze and tried in vain to blot out the sun from a new dawn's full run.
A cool breeze calmed my cheeks and it halted only when it reached the soft curve of my ear. Suddenly, the dry morning wind stirred once again as every short hair was then raised to attention upon the sweat of my neck. Tiny bumps rippled across my skin in grouped sets of waves while a sharp bit of tingling spread rapidly across my body.
Without thinking, I raised a sore palm, cupped my fingers to be a shield against the cast of brutal sunlight which now pierced through the dryness of my half-open gaze. At that moment, the large head of a camel slowly came into view—just a palm’s distance in its bid for success to make full closeness at its reach to my face...
The destinct silhouette from a thick strand of saliva glistened out before me as it briskly snapped free from the beast’s lower jaw and splattered repulsively across the surprised look on my face, then both ears, and shoulders—it joined cohesively as planned with the remnants of several other previous slobber-drools.
“For all that remains holy under the gods..!” I exclaimed, and sprung to full upright with a jolt. I shook free of the piles of unsettled sand which had locked me in plance and skidded rather quickly away from the always drooling mouth of the creature.
“Mechukmak, you filthy beast..! About time you showed up..!”
My big, tan companion had now grown larger with each day that had passed, his elongated head and snout came crowned with large, coal-dark-eyes that seemed fully clothed in their gifts of great caring. His low grunts came unmistakably parted with lasting small nudges of affection—for he was just as glad to see me, as I was to see him...
Casting a sideways glance of concern, I spotted the gleam of "Palmyra’s" broad handle as it shimmered from its place while still sheathed in its safety—this, where the mighty sword hung stiff and steady at Mechukmak’s heavy ribs, the long leathered thongs of his bridle had drooped to the ground and they tempted my hands to grasp them up quickly.
Grunting loudly, I seized the thick reins and pulled myself to my feet. With a determined haste, I made for the swollen water bag which hung so conveniently from a stiff saddle knob—a vessel still strapped to Mechukmak’s strong back.
“Eeeooo..!” My trusted friend called out with a force of encouragement as I then swiftly unfastened the bellows which contained the fresh water. In one smooth motion, I lifted it, removed the plug-cap, and held the rounded nozzle way up over my head. I let the cool stream it released wash over my face and sooth my parched lips.
The bag gurgled loudly as I lowered it quickly and refilled my lungs with added fresh breath, before I lifted it again to quench both my throat and my lungs. The thin flow of water ran across my cracked mouth, and as it dribbled from my chin it cascaded in cooling rivulets over the dust on my chest.
With a final, deliberate effort, I raised the lambskin vessel even higher and let the warm flow of moisture pour freely over my head, it drenched my ragged clothes fully both inside and out.
Saturated and revived, I lowered the bag to my side and wrapped my arms tightly around Mechukmak’s thick neck.
“Moochy...my friend...you’re a lifesaver as usual..!” I proclaimed as I patted his side in a burst of strong gratitude. A cloud of dust billowed through the warm morning air, and I leaned back just in time to almost dodge the puffs of grey mist and then relinquished more water to rinse away their new bursts.
The thought of stripping down and changing into fresh clothes had crossed my mind, but since I had no spare garments among Mechukmak’s current load, I settled for a body-smearing from a damp, clinging cloth.
Drearily, my palms fell to busy full-filling my needs as I recovered blocks of hard honey-cakes and dried lemon slices from the hold of one saddle bag, I finished my sampling with the addition of full-fists of trail-mix which were still tucked inside and held safely from the search of big lips in the still-bulging pack.
“The well master at "Zoar" did well by me..,” I thought, as I eagerly placed another full handful of nuts into my mouth.
Feeling more relaxed, I gripped up the corners of the fettered sheet and roped them together. Then surveyed what remained of the four earthen pots and two slabs of stone which where held wrapped and strap-covered inside the cloth baggage which protected them from harm.
“Peculiar chunks of rock..,” I murmured, as I eyed in advance the ancient relics' I'd found that were staged at their rest in the mass.
I glanced over at my grey, torn bedroll—worn thin by its drag through a night full of terrors. I had fled from "Hassani" and his "daggers of death", made my escape from the ill-willed borders about the sad town of "Gomorrah".
After checking my goods, the clay-pots seemed fine and with renewed spirit I assembled the new section of pull-drag which I had bartered from a vendor in "Zoar". I strung a rope to the knob of Mechukmac's wide saddle and secured the other end to the bulk of the carry-along after carefully hulking the ceramic jugs and heavy plate-stones to the center of the contraption.
Then I looked back at my bedroll which still hung by a rope, its many sand-worn holes made it useless to keep with me now, so I clipped the run free and let it fall where it may in this desert of dryness and hot shifting sands.
“Come-on...Moochy.., let's see if we can make it to the "King’s Highway" of travel before the likes of "Hassani" and his "daggers of death" can catch up with us rightly..," I spoke after mounting the tote and we briskly began tracking a particular angularity in the terrain that would lead us back to the town of "Zoar".
The misfortunes of the last few days had left me stranded with no food and no water, and dragging the heavy load which was laden with my wares through the dark desert’s emptiness while completely alone. I was grateful to still carry my long wooden eye-tube, that and the precise engineering of my ivory-squared angleometer, the pair stored quite securely in the breast pocket of my tunic. Without them, I would have surely been lost in the shortest span of time.
My thoughts fell to Maggy, and I longed to see her again. I dreamed of holding her tightly in my arms as we remained omni-present in our hold of mind's grace.
“Why had I been so foolish and lustful..? How could one have been such a cad and apparently reckless..?” I wondered in bouts of uncontrolled shamefulness as I quickened my stride.
By the full light of day, it was easy to tell that we had covered some distance—from the collapsed walls of "Gomorrah" to the face of that spectacular cave which sat at the southern end of the Salted Sea.
The pace we kept had made time fly as we neared our destination to the fine town of "Zoar". Once there, it would only be another half-day's journey to my old hearth and body-pit and then further onward to the "Edom" mountain passes which would then grant us with safety at the Great Master's hold along the guarded "King’s Highway".
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Looking sharply in all directions, I sincerely believed that the assassin "Hassani" had not followed our trail and was unlikely to catch us before we made it to "Zoar". With luck, we would make it all the way to those more protected roadways without interference from his heart-stopping appearance.
To me, the "King’s Highway" of travel had meant certain safety—atleast most of the time. I was confident in my thoughts that if we survived the long journey while still in one piece, "Hassani the Assasin" would never dare to challenge the "Great Master Tancred" and his fearless band of "Knight Templars".
Most of "Master Tancred's" knights along with their courtesans of the camp had known all about us, or of me anyways, this from our frequent training sessions and bartering endeavors at play. I had struck a deal with the Master for his lessons in speach, scribe and ciphering, this being only in a few of the many languages that he knew fluently—these included "Sanskrit", "Aramaic", and "Persian". In exchange, I had given him first dibs on my finds and agreed to keep a special eye out for the three things which he and his enterage coveted the most when they had ventured out on their so-called “explorations.” He told me that they had especially desired special relics, and to return to their homeland bearing them, it would be be a great triumph.
The first one they sought consisted of a large wooden box, one covered in gold-leaf and two half-animal, half-bird-cherubim mounted on top, and with two gold-plated poles which were stationed, one on each side. He provided no mention of stone tablets or plates, but the box I had found inside the hidden chamber had held just such things. It should be safe there until one could return, the cave's front entry having caved-in like it did had readily concealed it again from any easily found access.
The second item they longed for was the spear of said destiny, it being said that it had pierced the ribs of a man they referred to as the “Christos of the Jews”, at a time when he had been left scorned and nailed to a cross-beam before entering death. I grasped at my necklace and pictured the scene.
The third treasure they sought was a large piece of cloth bed-sheet, unique in its style as it bore the image of a man’s body which had been burnt into its fabric. This immediately reminded me of my travels with the young, "Master Osiris".
A quizzical giggle warmed my heart as I recalled the times I’d tried to extract more informative details about these objects from "Master Tancred", to aid in my search. But the Great Master always replied, “If the Gods of "Abraham" would be willing and grant one with access, the favored explorer would surely know then...”
It all sounded confusing at times, but I was more than willing to comply, and to provide "Master Tancred" with anything related that would fulfill his needs—this of course in exchange for my bartered tutorial in lessons.
"Master Tancred" had also taught me some sword fighting techniques and he was always generous with his instructions on the use of leathered-sling, this and the seldom seen wooden hold of a crossbow. I treasured our outings and practiced my lessons at the base of his encampment by the mighty "King’s Highway".
“Lessons of the sword and shield I shall provide at no profit, just for you Master Tav..,” the Great Master would call out in his fixed expression of resolve, while he thrusted a flat-bladed sword at me or the length of a hard-oaken staff which he slapped at my hands. I always envied his three-piece, elaborate chain-mail undergarment. And its provision of protection. The tiny interlinked metal-rings formed an endless lock-mesh that covered his broad frame with incredible strength. His armored suit increasingly heavy upon mounting with all of its destinctive hardware—the leggings, the tunic, and the oversized head-covering that draped over both his neck and his shoulders, it transformed the assortment of separate pieces into one-solid armor. Or armory if you like...
Like most, I was clothed in a tunic-like dress, while "Master Tancred" wore his chain-mail cover beneath a single tan cloth which then draped from his shoulders to its end at mid-calf. In his leggings, there was a long, wide slit-cover and flap that ran up at the front and covered his groin. He explained to me that the flap had allowed for a man's greater mobility of the legs—but I had suspected it had helped quicken a man's relief after drinking too much of the fermented beverages which he and his men favored so much.
Silver-framed metal toe-plates then covered his boots and were equipped with clipp-on tubular blunts which protruded from behind the rounds of each heel. There was a fat leathery belt which fit tightly around his waist, and it windened considerably before buckling securely on both ends with a shiny-silver clasp.
To complete his ensemble, he threw a white-flowing cape over his broad breadth of shoulders, and fastened it in place with a hook and a button. The back bore two thick-red crossed lines—an emblem that was also emblazoned on the hilt of his sword and the face of all his weapons, at the center of his shield, and even on the sides of the elaborate war covering that overlaid the body of his tall, sturdy black horse.
When "Master Tancred" drew his sword—a massive, straight-bladed steel mirror run with a sharply triangular point which extended from both sides from the formidable front grip that then circled back to a counter-weight which protruded from its base, he gripped its long handle with the use of one palm, while he rested his other hand inside a wide, inverted, raindrop-shaped shield. A thick, reflective metal rope had been twisted up perfectly to fit around the shield’s outer edges.
I was struck with awe at mere sight of his larger-than-life persona as he stood out before me in his full hardened dress—minus his camel of course, for he had the strange one that was born without humps..! His mount, his steed, or horse as he called it, I wasn’t that sure of his meaning, but it stood as tall as a hill.
The animal even had its own servant, a tall, lanky boy who always carefully tended it. I felt certain that if Mechukmak grew aware of just such a thing, he’d be jealous and longing for his own bid at care.
I noticed that "Master Tancred’s" chain-mail suite and head-cover had left only his distinctive brown-eyes unshielded. Something about the tight symmetry of the wide cross on all of his gear had noticeably caught my attention. The thick markings they held ended in tips with wide flares—a modification from the original square ended versions which he had occasionally mentioned. "Master Tancred" also said that this was the symbol of his own homeland's faith, and his people had called its possession, “taking up the cross"...
As I studied the red emblem, I felt it may have overshadowed the icon which Maggy had given me and that I wore around my neck. A curious unease stirred within me—"was I missing out on something that everyone else had a knowing..?" The feeling both unsettled and intrigued me, it fueled my desire to find out much more.
“Who was this man of so many icons..? And what of this deity which they called the ‘Bodiless God of Abraham’, or even "Abraham" himself for that matter..? How could one believe in a god who remained completely unseen, with no idols, or altars, or sacrifices to be given, in honor, in site, or even in its worship..?” These thoughts rang through me and kept me perplexed.
“How powerful must such a god be to speak to men from his throne above...to have them travel swiftly from faraway lands and beyond the great sea—to then come all the way here and protect the groups of wavering pilgrims which they didn't even know...?”
“What of my vivid dreams—the man on the hill...the immense tree of life—and what gods were now speaking to me in the strange visions of my sleep..? Would Maggy know the answers to such enciteful things, or would she therefore think me salted of mind in my asking..?” She had been in her studies at the temple school for years; surely, she must have some insight to such things by now. We were both older in experience—she close to sixteen and at the age of matrimonial promise, and I nearing eighteen and barely past the gifted manhood ceremony which I had almost missed.
We continued to walk on in an easterly angularity, my good friend Mechukmak trotting just back behind at my heels as he put forth with the occasional funning-nudge to the back of my tired shoulders. I reached up and put a palm to the talisman which hung low from my neck, adjusted the short of its long metal ring, and fingered the surfaces of its combined silver and wood, all while I daydreamed of my lost love's fire—and the many heated exchanges that we shared and encountered during the span of time that we had known each-other.
The frequent words we spoke had included all manner of things, often our conversations would travel great distances, go deep into the night, one ear to another, and occasionally—they would continue untill dawn. There was never anyone more caring or easier to talk to than she. And she listened intently to all manner of things.
I recounted how often we had met in that dry gulch of a ditch that sat behind the town temple school, implanting our hopes and dreams with good finds and rested armfulls of soon to be parchments.
Maggy, my love, she came adorned within the finest of silkery, both spotless and impecable in their peach-lavender tones, while my lowly status had only afforded me modesty, dirty-old robes or worn-out tunics being my simple craft. Yet, for some reason, my soiled, musty digger’s made of foul-scented cloth, they never drew bad attentions, nor comment, or made her turn fast away.
The young skin of her body was soft and so supple—dark-tanned, and glowing. While the accidental touch of her exposed softened shoulder was more than I could bare. My heart sent to flutter. She always smelled clean, with a faint dowsing of lilac, and the hint of sultry sandalwood that was mixed with just a whisper of cinnamon. I could only imagine my own unholy fragrance—a scent more like the dumpings of an animal within a dusty-dry sparkle, me and my unwashed digger’s clothes, we probably seemed more akin to the southerly-end of a northerly-bound Mechukmak..!
I should have manned up and fulfilled her promise, especially now that she had officially become of bridal-age. We had often spoke of true romance, and at times, when the heat of our bodies had sent our temperatures soaring in the sky, the closeness of our forms was too irresistible to deny. But we were younger then—no more than sweet children who knew nothing of the future, our passions ran deep within our strong urge to understand. I suppose we were coming of age in the length of life’s saga, travelers who held hope to learn from one-another all the secrets of the world. We had shared a soft kiss—our first touch in wondrous vigor, a brand new experience which filled any voidance inside our souls.
My mind lingered on and I remembered the exactness of her lips and the look of her impressive green-eyes. We stood close together, our bodies at touch, paralelled on a cool summer day in the sparse ditch behind the temple school. Maggy had placed a gentle palm to the rise of my shoulder, her eyes calling to me in a way I hadn't learned.
Her delicate fingers barely brushed the raw skin of my neck. I still recall how her steady hand had been put to mine, guiding me as our visions had merged, and she cautiously moved my palm with her own as she saw fit, and it landed in a place where she deemed it most fitting. I had no experience in such things, and blindly trusted her lead toward the right path to take. A heat stirred in my loins and swelled up in my thoughts as they were overwhelmed by my mind’s-eye. Each step gifted forward was harder than the last, my feet sank deep in the sands glow from beneath us.
“Eeeooo..!” Mechukmak grunted, his breath cast forward to break-up my daydream.
“Oh, shut up, you big mooch..! You’re just jealous of my Maggy..!” I grumbled back at him madly, save my mind had slipped away but was now returned to its track.
“Eeeooo! Eeeooo!” He persisted in his bid for my attention, familiar was the call in its insistentcy of presentation.
“I see, I see—you’re a great soreness in the back of a yak’s fat behind..!” I replied gravely, my voice echoed into faint while images of modest tents and hardened mud-brick hearths began to take shape in the horizon. Surely my friend had caught the scent of free food—lemons from the trees that lined the wells at Master Gideon Ubiathar’s fine vegetables and fruit stand, we had finally made our arrival to the city of "Zoar". I knew Mechukmak would be unable to hold back with his excitable behavior from the not so far-off smells which he could easily detect; drawn fresh grains, green grasses and nutmegs, all of the great things that only his big, ugly snout could pick up on.
Whenever I could, and if the gods' above and the "Holy Earthly Mother" were willing, I'd treat him to hay and a bag of fresh grains for his head-troft. Sometimes, there were even succulent apples and molasses-covered dates to be had—both of which were his favorites and often he would beg for such treats. I didn’t mind sharing; after all, I did all the bartering while he carried our load.
I’d snatch out a fistful here, or a fat handful there, and make ready a filled water bucket for his transfer to hump. It had been clear early on in our relationship that Mechukmak couldn’t see things that were close to his snout, and how he had no qualms about nibbling on anyone's loosely flung fingers when fed by raw hand. The thought of missing fingers, I made sure to keep mine flat, held them together to resist the grips of his eager, grasped lips.
“Well...my friend...it looks like we’ve made it without encountering any more danger...,” I said aloud with confidence, as the swelter in my voice came direct while we quickened in our pace at the rest of our journey and made our return to the close, "City of Zoar…"
...Select Next Scroll...
************
************
◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
Thank you valued Rider's Vault Members..!
------------------------------------------------------------
CURRENT VOLUME List:
------------------------------------------------------------
Scrolls of the Prophet...historical/biblical/adventure/coming of age
- Awakening
- Gathering
- Binding
- Bloodline
- Prophecy
- Phoenicia
- Future Dig
------------------------------------------------------------
Scrolls of the Past...historical/adventure/coming of age
- Amen Rey (Egyptian)
- House of the Fawn - (Greek)
- Spice Road - (Persian)
------------------------------------------------------------
Dominatrix...sci-fi/thriller/action/space adventure/coming of age/assassin
- Domina
- Bisal
- Alaran
------------------------------------------------------------
Terraformation..sci-fi/action/adventure/alien love story/space travel
- Terra-Form
- Terra-Rise
- Terra-Site
------------------------------------------------------------
Quest of the Seeker..thriller/murder mystery/afterlife/coming of age
- The Key
- The Clown
- The Seeker
**Hint: The Seeker is the Grim Reeper's brother...:)
------------------------------------------------------------
The Cleaner..action/thriller/coming of age/assassin
- The Child
- The Woman
- The Teacher
------------------------------------------------------------
Ready The Yeti..children's series/adventure/life lessons
- I Am Ready
- I Am Sassy
- I am Abominable
or
------------------------------------------------------------
Follow my load of chapters 1-30 as I edit / proof-read / and post...
------------------------------------------------------------
Scrolls of the Prophet - Book Volumes 01 - 07 + all other titles in progress (25 Book Volumes)
Join and continue to chapters 01 - 30 of each volume
Read them as a whole - or read them as I load them...
Thanks for your support....Rider
************
************
◆ all volumes ◆ unedited ◆ edited ◆
◆ full-draft versions ◆
◆ early-bird releases ◆ bundles ◆
************
************
◆ all volumes ◆ all titles ◆ unedited ◆ edited ◆
◆ full-draft versions ◆
◆ early-bird releases ◆ bundles ◆
************
Or if you feel fishy... -Nano
https://youtu.be/oVDP3mlpniQ -
