So i created another story, It’s called Coming Forward by Day and it takes place in the Aiwassian Legacy universe and it takes place ten years after the initial stories. It’s about Marcus Ripley’s older brother Alex who has come back from the dead in order to do something, as to what it is and how he’s supposed to accomplish it, he doesn’t know. Anyway stay tuned cause it’s coming up…eventually.
SO i just finished Steven Barnes’ Great Sky Woman and Shadow Valley (Shout out to da homie) Both were excellent books and Have given me a lot on perspectives about how certain forces should work in the universe i am crafting in my novel(s). The first novel Great Sky Woman started off slowly but picked up, and didn’t stop, i enjoyed it so much that i had to download the second book to my Kindle asap. Personally i wished it was trilogy and that a few things would have been explored more, but otherwise it was dope.
I’m currently cooking up new projects as well as working on old projects. Here they are as follows.
Vigilance: Chapter Five
Everholm: An Anthology of Thoughts
Myths: Chapter 3
Scrawl of Dreams: Chapter III
Sacred Drifter: Chapter One
Adept Chamber: Chapter one.
Trying to work some more of my pieces keep my novels running, but I haven’t been feeling it for a while. I know writers aren’t always on their grind every hour of everyday, blocks come with the territory, it still doesn’t make them any less aggravating. I hope to get my will to write back soon. In other news, my bike got a flat and i might write an Everholm piece about it…but probably not. I also got a paid internship with Reach out And Read of Greater NY, it’s an early childhood literacy program. I think its a noble pursuit and look forward to participating in it. That’s it for now. Peace, Hotep, Ashe.
He had stood on the great hill over looking the Valley and saw the line of fire approaching. For months the rumors a secret invasion force had spread throughout the village as it’s leader i was sure to heed any talk of possible threat to his home. There were people who said, this force was organized by people who had once been members of the village, who went to live in the capital and realized that conquering a small hamlet with rich mining resources would gain them favor with the officials there. He knew never to compromise, his ancestors worked this land to long and to hard, under the sun and under the clouds, for it to be given up. His advisers had told him that the village would stand tall and brave this threat, but lately they showed signs of lax, of complacency, bred from his sole tireless effort. Although their were still a few who did what they could,” his war chieftain Great Thought’s heart seemed to have left the fold for one reason or another and now all campaigns and strategies were though up by him. They called him the Black Sea for a reason, he was a well spring of knowledge, did that give them the peace of mind to let him handle everything? His First Maiden, ‘Small Heart’ was under his tutelage for quite sometime, but she had found love one sun season and was caught in its grips. He could not fault her, ones own life is in fact theirs to live. His sister stood by him when she could, The Maiden of Flowers, Rose Daughter. She was a maiden still pursuing the path of her side of the family, They didn’t agree on everything She and Black Sea, but they did believe that the survival of the Village, it’s history and legacy was paramount for building a better tomorrow. Even as the capital threatened their way of life, to burn down their great culture center and ruin the minds of their young with a notion that they are nothing more than what the foreign nations say they are. It had been very hard since their Island was taken over by invaders. That was centuries ago, they stole most of the resources the island nation had and corrupted it’s people with an idea of inferiority and that the only thing they should be doing is supporting their oppressors propaganda. It sickened Black Sea and he called out to the most high for answers, but knew they were already there within him, left there through divine birth right. “Are you OK?” I turned to see my wife ‘True Speech’ , she loved her husband and did the best to understand or console his moods, sometimes it was like she took the masculine presence in the relationships. But she understood, his shoulders held a great load and she loved him for it. “I’m fine, I’m just going to the mountain.” “If you must.” She walked over and kissed him and squeezed his hand. “Be careful.” She turned and walked down the hill as the Fire approached, closer and closer. She turned toward the Village. “What shall i tell them?” She asked him as he climbed the mountain. He turned back to her and smiled. “Tell them when I come back down, We shall be ready.” He took the mountain, fast stopping at a small hut on an outcropping. Here his confidante resided, she was actually his first protege, A spiritual consort of a kind even though their relationship would never be a physical one. The ‘Lady of the Hood’ waited for him, in front of her house. She was wrapped in her traditional black robe and hooded.Years before he became leader she was banished from the village for falling in love with another maiden. When he became the chief, he asked her back, however she enjoyed the solitude now. “Hello great king.” She embraced him not quite like a lover, but close enough. “Have you prepared it?” he asked
“For you my lord.” She directed him inside. When he walked in the sweet smell of jasmine hung in the air. “Let us begin, time is short.” He sat down in front of her as she retrieved a jar and dipped her hands in it as he removed his earth tone shirt. She began rubbing the oil in the Jar on his back. As soon as the first explosion came. They were at war, when she was finished she kissed him on both cheeks and hugged him again. As he walked to the door ‘True Speech’ appeared. “My King come, it is time.”
The couple walked down the mountain, going to face an uncertain destiny, If what Lady Hood had done was successful they would be invincible. But there was always doubt, division, fear Laziness. Lady Hood stood watching her friend, and praying for his safe return .
The Freezing fractures
By Ra’Chaun Rogers
I landed here In the middle of winter, amidst a blizzard of my own thoughts. They flurried about like snow flakes, no two were alike. Each one that touched me gave me a glimpse’s of something I had long forgotten or suppressed. The image of a car riding toward me, the lights glaring in my eyes, the feeling of sweat and elation as I lay in a bed naked next to my ex-girlfriend, The sound of a punch landing squarely on my jaw as I hit the ground.
“Where are we?”
“This is what a disorganized mind looks like.” Sirius walked forward the strides he took left imprints in the floor. “ Follow me and we’ll begin fixing your fractured mind.”
As we trekked through the squall, I was treated to good thoughts however few they were, and the abundance of bad memories I had racked up over the years. Damn why do I have so many bad memories?
“Because you are both a victim of your own mind and the feelings of people around you.”
“You heard that?”
“Yes. Most your thoughts are shared in your own mind.” Sirius explained as he walked, not looking back at me.
“Most. Why not all?”
“Because the left hand doesn’t always want to know what the right hand is doing.”
We continued to walk through the corridor lined with lights that pulsed like synapses traveling through nerves. I caught small glimpse of what appeared to be myself, a familiar young woman, a child and some kind of monster within them.
“How much longer?” I covered my face in a feeble attempt to fend off the storm, which blew toward me.
“ We’re here.”
We stopped just in front of a small gray house in the midst of the storm, however as the flakes of fragmented thoughts melted into the house, thin crimson lines crept up the sides like hairline cracks in porcelain vase
“We are starting at your gray matter.” Sirius trotted up to a basement window and turned to call me over.
“What am I looking at?” I said as I walked over. “ Who is that?”
Staring into that little gray house I saw the body of a man laying in a pool of blood and four robed beings standing over him.
“He is or was the manifestation of your logical thought process.”
“And who are those four.”
“Those are parts of your psyche.”
I stood there staring at the four, one a short figure completely shrouded in a golden robe, who shook as he looked at the body on the floor. The one next to him wore a dark blue robe, which gave me a feeling of maternal warmth when I looked at it. The third was a large figure in a crimson robe whose broad shoulders expanded as it heaved up and down. He must have done the killing. I thought
Until I saw the fourth there was nothing special about him, he wore a green robe, which sparked a familiarity in my mind. I was lost in the feeling of kinship when, I saw emerald eyes staring at me from underneath a green shade, freezing me.
“Ahhh.” I feel to the ground a Sirius sank his teeth into my leg. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“Because he saw you, get up and leave.”
The sound of shuffling feet caused me to jump up and look in the house. “What’s going on.” I was not at all surprised when the house with the exception of the body was empty. “Where did they go?”
“Where do you think, they’re coming for you, now run.”
I had done as I was told stopping in my tracks to see if Sirius was behind me only to find his footprints and the four emerging figures. I started to run again, picking up speed like a train. My heart pounded like a piston and my lungs burned like an engine. Behind me I heard a cracking sound and a loud crash like porcelain hitting the floor. Suddenly I was plummeting in the dark. It seems I fell down another hole.
I am my own monster
By: Ra’Chaun Rogers
My name is Nelo Maxwell, for all intents and purposes. I need to sit and think while I get over myself before I start again. These sentences are jumbled and odd, like the fragmented pieces of dreams, which they’ve spawned from.
“Why did I fall into my head?” I shout and the noise bounces off the walls like a ball shot out of a cannon.
“To reconfigure it.” The echo came howling back screeching in my ears. “Follow me.”
I trek through the words and meanings at the base of my brain like a bushman through a swamp.
The words ricocheted off oddly angled wall, which depicted everything from my most horrifying fantasies to my most beautiful nightmares. I followed it into a dimly lit room. In the middle was a pedestal a blaze like a thousand suns; on it was a handgun.
What the hell am I supposed to do with this I wondered?
“Reconfigure, Take apart your head.” The echo called to me distorted and loud. “It’s a metaphor.”
I picked up the gun and stared at it for a long while. Is this all that dwells in my head a pathetic suicide attempt, a death wish?
“Fuck, Here goes nothing.” I pressed the cold muzzle of the gun to my temple, let out a restrained sigh and pulled the trigger.
The muzzle flashed but there was no pain, and suddenly I fell in slow motion, before me I saw my thoughts explode into thousands of pieces, it looked so beautiful then.
I saw her face assembled in a collage of intricate thoughts and beautiful sayings, sweet nothings that I lacked the capacity to deliver with feeling. I closed my eyes and heard the only three words that matter roll off of her lips, into my ears and down to my heart. It rested there my hope, my goal, my reward, my home, and my peace of mind… Reminding me that when this expedition through my Porcelain mind is over, I’ll still have that to keep myself from becoming a monster, which I have created.
And The Black stream rages.
By Ra’Chaun Rogers
It courses up and swells in the linings of my mind, driving me mad. It takes up all of the space in which lie the memories of you, I can’t help but be pained by its presents. It is I that self-righteousness that aches my heart and causes me to lose all pieces of you.
“Hello”. I say but she won’t respond. And so I sit here waiting to cry and but nothing happens… I can’t really think, I just want you to see what I really feel but it doesn’t go over.
“I need to take apart my head, and reconfigure my heart” I speak to space and move the air with my words, which crash so loudly on deaf ears.
It speaks to me. ”You’ll die alone like everyone else.”
It expects me to take solace in that. I hope’s that something that it did would be comforting. But it’s lost in the endlessness of itself. It hopes to be like Mother, but it can’t be like…
What has driven me to write this? Sad, foolish, pathetic pride a worthless word that grants nothing but fuel for the terrified ego. I am foolish to think that a side of me that lacks substance could be correct. I wish to divide, disappear and evaporate.
“Can I get back to the center?” I wait for an answer and she keeps me waiting.
“And why wont she listen to me, am I non existent” What am I waiting for I deserve a better answer than this, Better than silence I think.
“What do you want?” she asked in whisper louder than a nova
“To break down, to divide and fall apart, to reinvent myself, but still keep “myself”.
She laughed not what I expected but she did. I stood there puzzled as she walked away.
“Hey.” I called after her. “I thought you were going to help me.”
“I can’t help you change, but I can tell you who can.” She turned and smiled, and then she pointed. “He’s standing in your spot.”
I looked down at my shoes and noticed my shadow, but in it I saw the self-righteousness bleeding through. “I deserve better than this.” I whispered with a sound as quite as the sun moving across the sky and walked off in the opposite direction. Back to where I began. I had traveled father than I had thought, the area I ended up in was much different from the winter scenery. It was a grassy field and pastel flowers littered the ground.
“Sirius?” I spun around quickly “where I am?” my voice carried, expanded and dispersed like a cloud smoke.
I heard the sound of laughter and caught sight of a stone structure in the distance, I walked towards it every step I took covered large amounts of ground. I was finally upon the structure. It was filled with men and women all laughing, talking and smiling, it was then I noticed an open book staring me in the face in the middle of the crowd. On the page was what seemed to be a poem called 0/10. And suddenly I knew where I was. It was springtime and this was my season of jealousy and self-loathing.