March 2014


So last Friday, a friend of mine convinced me to go to the cinema with her. When I realised that she wanted to see a romance movie, I wasn’t too thrilled. The idea of a man falling in love with an A.I. sounded bizare and I’d long since learned not to bother with movies where no explosions were to occur. But after watching the movie trailer, I was willing to give it a try, and by the end of the movie, I was astounded. “Her” was nothing like I would have expected.

Here’s the trailer:

I rate this movie 5/5 

“Her” is one of those rare poignant movies that gives you a lasting impression when you’re finished. It has some really provocative themes such as “what is humanity?” and “what is the true meaning of love?” and unlike Shame with Michael Fassbender, it has some really humorous, light-hearted moments.

In the near-future, technology has progressed somewhat. Holographic gaming exists side by side with phones that use voice recognition software to navigate. And I’m not talking about Siri. Siri looks like elementary stuff compared to the tech in the movie, and yet it’s not so far into the future that everything is unbelievable. It seems to be the case that it’s perfectly normal in this futuristic L.A. to walk around with an earpiece, talking to your phone.

Joaquin Phoenix’s character, Theodore, is going through the hardships of divorce. Now typically during this time, rebound sex is expected, and Theodore does indeed endeavour to attempt having other relations. Along the way, however, he buys an A.I. Operating System. He assigns it a female voice and it names herself Samantha. I was instantly aware of the life-like voice. Anyone who has used the likes of Siri will notice the artifice of it, but Theodore’s A.I. is voiced by Scarlet Johanasson. Samantha is warm and kind but she also has an interesting sense of humour. Her voice is often playful, and strangley enough for an A.I. she as a tendancy to sigh or breath deeply between dialogue. This habit of hers is at one point subject to Theodore’s scrutiny in frustrating attempt to understand just what she is and his relationship with her.

The capacity for human nature to love is stretched to its limits in this movie as Theodore attempts to define his relationship with his A.I. There is a touching scene as he attempts to explain to his 5 year old goddaughter that his girlfriend is inside a computer. The girl’s innocence is enough to make her seem more or less okay with the notion, though she does seem curious as to how that idea can be. This reaction is of course contrasted to Theordore’s former wife and lover, Catherine, who seems embittered by it and is quick to criticise.

As Theodore’s relationship with Samantha grows, so too does Samantha’s ability to understand human nature. She begins to feel emotions, or at least, the simulation of it. Arguments and angst ensue and if not for the fact that Samantha could do amazing things like process data in two hundredths of a minute— or was it a second?– you might find it easy to believe that the two were just a normal couple. There is even this almost hilarious occassion when they attempt to speak at the same time and I had to hold down my inner fan-girl.

Perhaps the only criticism I had for this movie was the slight downplay on the relationship between Theodore and his best friend, Amy, played by Amy Adams. Amy goes through relationship problems of her own and has relations of sort with a similar A.I. that her husband left behind. We’re never really given an insight as to how close she became with her A.I. but I do gain enough of an idea of what she went through with her husband to respect her character and the choices she made.

“Her” is a splendid mixture of beautiful characterisation and cinematography. The enchanting lights of Los Angeles were a nice contrast to the mountain and beach that were displayed in Theodore’s getaways with Samantha. Indeed, he looked like a madman, spinning around at a carnival with his phone in his shirt pocket to allow Samantha to see the beautiful view around him.

For me, the quote that sticks with me is from Amy who states “Falling in love is a sociably acceptable form of insanity.” I do believe that the director, Spike Jonze, made me believe this, but more importantly, he made be believe in love in all its various forms.

Note: I apologise in advance for use of any inappropriate GIFs. I couldn’t help myself. 

I haven’t updated this blog for a while now and for that I sincerley apologise. The Computer Science degree has been getting harder latley with all the maths, and I’ve been putting my writing ahead of my reading, so I haven’t had very much to blog about anyway. Anyway, on with the review…

Shadow and Bone is a book I’ve been meaning to read for a while now and as soon as I got a Kobo (yes, I have gone to the dark side of e-readers) I knew I had to read it. And 99p, it was impossible to pass up.

For those of you who don’t know what the hype is all about, here is a brief synopsis from Goodreads:

The Shadow Fold, a swathe of impenetrable darkness, crawling with monsters that feast on human flesh, is slowly destroying the once-great nation of Ravka.

Alina, a pale, lonely orphan, discovers a unique power that thrusts her into the lavish world of the kingdom’s magical elite—the Grisha. Could she be the key to unravelling the dark fabric of the Shadow Fold and setting Ravka free?

The Darkling, a creature of seductive charm and terrifying power, leader of the Grisha. If Alina is to fulfill her destiny, she must discover how to unlock her gift and face up to her dangerous attraction to him.

But what of Mal, Alina’s childhood best friend? As Alina contemplates her dazzling new future, why can’t she ever quite forget him

World Building 

For me, one of the best things about this book was the world building. Bardugo has taken a great amount of inspiration from Russia, as is clear on the cover. I know a number of people on goodreads.com were particularly annoyed that she may not have used Russia’s culture to its full potential. Russian names were used, and occasional Russian foods, and of course, kvas, a Russian drink. Some people will get hung up on the fact that the protagonist, Alina Starkov, should have been called Starkova because she is a girl. Admittedly, I also have a problem with this, but in the big scheme of things, it is but a minor annoyance. 
Now I talk about my favourite part. MAGIC! The country of Ravka have two armies, The First Army, which consists of humans, and The Second Army, which consists of the magical people known as the Grisha. Grisha power is known as the small science, because the word ‘magic’ is a negative connotation, much like the word ‘witch’ often is in other novels. The Grisha are categorised in smaller groups depending on their powers. There are three main groups: 

The Etherealki, The Order of the Summoners.

Taken from: http://emmyiskhaleesi.tumblr.com/

They are divided into Inferni, Squallers and Tidemakers. Summoners deal with the elements and by extension, even the Darkling and Alina are Summoners because of their powers over shadows and light. Summoners wear blue keta, with different coloured embroidery depending on which element they control.

The Fabrikators

Taken from: http://emmyiskhaleesi.tumblr.com/


They are divided into Durasts and Alkemi. (I’m not certain whether this is specified in the first book.)
Fabrikators build things. They are the tinkers and inventors, and they are often looked down upon by other Grisha becuase they are essentially the nerds of any high school. The Fabrikators wear purple kefta robes.

  Corporalki– the Order of the Living and the Dead. 

Taken from: http://emmyiskhaleesi.tumblr.com/

The subtypes are Heartrenders, and Healers. Heartrenders can slow the heart or squeeze the life out of someone by stopping their heart. Healers are self-explanatory. They heal. Coparalki wear red kefta robes.

The Darkling

The Darkling is a mysterious man with great power. He is second only to the King of Ravka himself, and head of the Second Army. He is the only one permitted to wear a black kefta.

I thought the idea of giving the different Grisha different coloured robes was an interesting idea. In doing so, the members of the Second Army became more of a high school, seperating themselves into different factions and cliques. The Summoners argued with the Coporalki and the Fabrikators mostly stuck to their metal. On the surface, it was quite entertaining, but there were still a few problems.

My major concern with it all was that we were not exposed to their powers enough. Every now and then we’d have a Heartrender stop someone’s heart, or a Fabrikator make something, but mostly we were simply told what they were capabale of. You would expect for a protagonist knew to the ways of the Small Science, they would actually teach her. And maybe although Alina had a magic teacher and a fighting instructor, I still think I would have liked to know more of what she and all the other characters were capable of. I wanted something beyond the surface of the basic cattiness of the different Orders, and more of actual teaching. Maybe if Alina hadn’t avoided all the other Summoners…

Characters were often identified by what colour kefta they wore, and we didn’t really get to know much about anyone save for a handful of characters. The only powers that were really shown were the powers of the Darkling, Genya, and of course, Alina. 
Another problem I had were all the names. Sometimes the author called them Materalki, and other times they were Fabrikators. Sometimes Summoners were called Etheralki, and I found the interchangeable names confusing. 

Some readers will complain about the vague “Russianess” of everything. Bardugo has taken liberties with the Russian culture and so even the words which may sound like Russian are not completely Russian, or are not translated properly. I saw a particularly furious review on Goodreads about the stereotypical use of a Chinese inspired trainer called Botkin. They seemed particularly outraged at his bad English,  or bad “Ravkan” or whatever the characters of this book speak, and his general blood-thirstiness because this a popular trope in fiction. Think, Atilla the Hun.


Alina Starkov’s world is turned upside down one day when she realises that she is accused of being a Sun Summoner. No such thing has ever existed before, so it is quite an unbelievable accusation, one that the Darkling himself puts to the test. And can I just say, through most of the novel, and maybe even into the sequel, I am Team Darkling?

Whisked away by the Darkling to be trained at the Little Palace (He’s really being quite modest!), Alina fears she will never see her best friend, Mal. Alina must destroy the Shadow Fold, and now that the weight of the whole country is on her shoulders, she finds herself longing for her old life when she was nothing more than a simple map maker. 

The plot Leigh Bardugo has employed is nothing overly original. Girl discovers latent power. Girl must overcome obstacles and deceptions in order to save the kingdom. But there’s nothing wrong with using a tried and tested method. The storyline itself may not be overly original, but the way Bardugo has written made the novel simply enticing. Sometimes I’m in Alina’s head and I can’t help but really feel for her, and yet other times I want to slap her and be like “Get your head in the game!”. 

Alina yearns for Mal and is ungrateful whilst she whines about not being treated well by other Grisha who are obviously jealous of her. This might annoy some readers but I find it quite understandable. At the end of the day, Alina is only human… figuratively speaking. After all, Alina is Grisha. 


There are only a few memorable characters in this novel, and on the surface I find that they are all very intriguing, but I do wish I had gotten to know some of them better. 



“What are you smiling at?”
I whirled, peering into the gloom. The Darkling’s voice seemed to float out of the shadows. He walked down to the stream, crouching on the bank to splash water on his face and through his dark hair.
“Well?” he asked, looking up at me.
“Myself,” I admitted.
“Are you that funny?”
“I’m hilarious.”


Alina is feisty and intriguing. She isn’t a hardcore bad-ass, but I think that’s okay. I liked seeing her come into her power when she was training. She does have her whiney tendencies but I thought that was quite normal, and she did get over it after a while. There’s not a lot I can say about her without revealing spoilers but for the most part I’d have to say that Alina was an average heroine. I think she becomes stronger in the sequel but in this debut to the trilogy she is really just trying to find her place in the world. 

The Darkling


“The problem with wanting,” he whispered, his mouth trailing along my jaw until it hovered over my lips, “is that it makes us weak.”


Oh my gosh, what to say first about this guy? He is alluring, powerful, and an overall bad-ass. I loved almost everything about him, especially nearer to the beginning. He is the true power of Ravka, and boy does he know it. He thinks the king as a child, and detests the Royal family in general. I expected the twist that Bardugo wrote, and despite it all, or maybe because of it, I still loved him. Alina and the Darkling? I ship it! 

Maybe my biggest problem with him is that we don’t get to know much about him. I mean, sure, there is that awesome revelation, but the very fact that we never get to know his real name dehumanises him. Of course, it goes both ways. To know too much is to ruin that mysterious allure of his. 




“I don’t care if you danced naked on the roof of the Little Palace with him. I love you, Alina, even the part of you that loved him.”  

Oh Mal. He is like the anti-Darkling. He is completley human, but mind you, still very attractive. He even gained the attention of a blue robed Grisha near the beginning. He is Alina’s best friend, but he never really notices her in that way. Alina on the other hand has been crushing on Mal for ages, and I find it quite sad that he doesn’t seem to really notice her until he loses her.
In spite of this, Mal isn’t completely useless. He is a tracker in the First Army, and he can find just about anything. I can’t really say how he uses this gift becuase that would be a spoiler, but, yeah, Mal got skills. 
Despite this, I’m not really a huge fan of him. It’s not simply because he will never match up to the allure of the Darkling. It’s because as a human, I’m not sure he will ever understand Alina, now that she is Grisha. This pairing is completely eclipsed by the Alina/Darkling pairing.

I was going to give this one 4 stars because I love the Darkling and the revelation, and the Amplifiers, but Alina could have been a stronger character and the world building had something left to be desired. But I raced through this one and almost immediately bought the sequel, so I will give it 3 1/2 stars out of 5 🙂

So it’s taken me quite some time but I have finally written a sequel to my short story “The Price for Honour”. I had dabbled a few ideas in my head, such as having the next part in Stefan’s POV in order to humanise him, because let’s face it, Kailì thinks Stefan is some sort of demon. In the end though, I thought we should stick to Kailì’s POV since we’re already emotionally invested in him. 

This surprisingly only took me one night to write but I was up until 2AM so I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Please read and review 😀

Here we go…

My knuckles were bone-white as I gripped the dagger. My hand gave off tremors of fear as I approached my father’s prone form. I had waited at the edges of darkness within his chambers. Prince Stefan’s Shadow Magick had been a big help but it had been a long while until the restless king had succumbed to sleep. It seemed fitting that his sheets were blood-red silks. Red and gold, colours of royalty.

            I couldn’t believe what was expected of me— what I was planning to do. Would regicide truly help the people?
            My father’s body turned towards me as though he could sense my presence. Fear spiked in my chest but he remained very much asleep.
            Most people looked calm and serene in sleep. My father did not. The war had taken its toll on him and his usual scowl was plastered on his face, a sheen of sweat pouring from his forehead.
            I raised the dagger and as I placed it above his throat I saw a flash of my own reflection—dark jade eyes stretched wide in bewilderment.
            I still had one other choice left. It was not ideal, but I doubted anyone would particularly miss me. I was the Wúlì prince, after all. I could still do the honourable thing and embrace death.
            My eyes flitted across the room. With the exception of the flickering candles by the bedside, the majority of it was bathed in shadows. For all I knew, Stefan might have been there watching me. Would he stop me before I took my own life?
            Images of half burned corpses rushed through my mind. Glass eyes and gaping mouths; charred skin and impaled limbs. I could not allow this city to burn, but I would not be a traitor to my country.
            I gasped as I plunged the dagger into my heart. I barely registered my father’s snort as a pain racked through my spine.
            A few more moments passed but death did not come. The pain only intensified and my body shook violently. A dry cough erupted from me and I collapsed to my knees.
            A loud clap echoed through the room, speeding in tempo as the sound neared. Then a roar burst through me as the dagger was forcibly removed from my chest.
            “I didn’t think you had it in you, Wúlì.” The cold voice sounded vaguely impressed. “What an inspiring performance that was.”
            “How… what?” I asked. I couldn’t understand why no blood stained my chest. Even as I traced the skin beneath my garments, I felt no wound. “Alive.”
            “That remains to be seen,” Stefan answered.
 As I rose my head I saw Stefan’s icy glare darken, his eyes blackening all over. When he blinked, the blackness disappeared but my fear did not. He had threatened to paint the walls with my blood once before. No one would be able to stop him from doing so now.
“Do you love your father?” he asked me.
“No,” I said. I rose to my feet and took a deep breath as I saw darkness encompassing nearly the entirety of my father’s bed. It taped over his mouth but his eyes saw the full horror of what occurred before him.
“But you would not kill him,” Stefan noted.
“Do you kill everyone you dislike?” I asked. It was unwise, but I was going to die anyway. What did I care for being careful now?
“You love your father. That makes you the ideal candidate to sacrifice him to my goddess.”
Ice formed in my veins. The prince wanted a blood sacrifice? He was truly more sickening than I had thought. A psychopath, or a warlord I could fathom— a religious zealot I could not.
“That dagger is not so plain as it seems, is it?” I asked.
“Of course not. I had feared you might wish to take matters into your own hands so I ensured that it would be capable of killing only one person— your king.”
My father attempted to break free of his bonds but he was nothing more than a helpless, writhing form. Consumed by Stefan’s darkness, even the king of a great nation was helpless to the demon prince.
“I won’t do it,” I said. “I may not be able to stop you from killing my father, but I won’t do it myself.” It might have made little difference to Stefan, but I would not taint my soul this way. Not for the first time, I wondered if he even had a soul.
“You truly have forced my hand,” he sighed. Then the darkness came for me.
The darkness crept up my feet and into my ears and eyes like acupuncturist needles. Why did the guards not hear my screams? My throat burned from it.
Stefan approached me when I stumbled to my knees, handing me the dagger once more. I took it without a second thought. In that moment I knew my will was not my own.
“The goddess does not require the sacrifice to be done willingly. The blood of a king will be purpose enough.”
“You… demon,” I said. But my voice was like broken glass.
Anger flashed across Stefan’s composed demeanour. Did the soulless care how others perceived them?
“This is the will of the goddess,” Stefan whispered. “This is the will of my queen.”
I was beside my father’s bed a minute later. I had tried to fight it but my willpower was quickly draining. So much darkness. So much pain. It engulfed me, and I radiated it.
The dagger was above my father’s throat once more and I gazed into his fearful dark eyes. I had seen so much emotion reflect from those eyes. Lust. Greed. Anger. I had never imagined such fear from such a man.
There was a time when hope emanated from them. There was a time when he thought I would be the next great king; one who would lead this nation to a Golden Era like none before. But that was before I was announced a Wúlì at my Interpretation Ceremony. I had spent nearly a whole year trying to get that hopeful gaze from him once more.
I would not let it end like this. I would not be immersed by the darkness.
A pressure built in my stomach and chest. I felt as though my heart would burst. Tears fell from my face as the dagger nipped my father’s throat.
A light breeze past through the room and a small relief came through my chest. But I continued struggling for my willpower. One clean swipe to the throat and my father would be gone forever. Another corpse to add to the many that had already perished to Yolanda’s madness.
A force tore through the room and I stumbled back and crashed to the floor. I threw the dagger away from me and it flew in an arc and swerved, miraculously hitting Stefan between the eyes. It was a shame that the dagger was cast to kill only one person.
He removed the dagger, a wince passing through his face.
“How?” he snapped. “How has a simpleton overcome my power?” Anger bled through into his words but he sounded more like a toddler having a tantrum than a demon.
A gust of wind brought me to my feet. Understanding came to me slowly but surely. The pressure in my chest had fully alleviated and with the windows shut firmly, it meant that this force could only have been brought on by one individual.
“I am many things, prince, but I am not a simpleton,” I spat. I raised my hands and hoped that the air around me would bend to my will. Wind tore through the darkness binding my father, ripping it like paper.
I turned to look at Stefan and he had visibly paled. No hint of a smile broke out on his face. It was two against one.
“The power of an Elemental Warrior, hidden within a Wúlì,” Stefan said. “The gods must be playing a new kind of game.”
“Your goddess does not favour you this day,” my father said. He was on his feet now, but Stefan paid no attention to him. His eyes scrutinised me with an intensity that still unnerved me. Just because the odds seemed to be in my favour did not mean he was powerless to stop us. Whatever these gifts were, I was still nothing more than a novice.
“This is nothing new,” Stefan intoned. “The goddess never favours me.”
The Terrahgonian prince unsheathed his sword and swung it towards us. Dark arcs of energy flew at us, hitting me straight in the chest. By the time I got to my feet, clutching to my chest, I saw my father fighting Stefan, sword on sword.
My father was sprite for his age, but the two seemed evenly matched. They parried and dodged each other well, as though it were a choreographed dance.
I allowed a gust of wind to blow into Stefan but he raised a wall of darkness that my winds were unable to penetrate. From this side I couldn’t see what was happening but it was not long before I heard my father grunt in pain and a heavy body collapse.
“Father!” I yelled.
The dark barrier came down and Stefan absorbed it into the sword. He was panting and his snow white hair was askew.
“I had hoped to avoid this,” he said. “But you have forced my hand.”
A silent scream wrenched through me. Darkness filled me but the pain did not subside. Surely my eyes would burst, or my heart would give out. I felt as though something was being torn from me.
“Do you feel that?” Stefan asked. “It’s the pain of your soul being undone. It is the agony of your very being becoming unmade.”
One final tug and I collapsed to my knees once more. Stefan chuckled.
“You belong on your knees now, Prince No More.”
I forced myself to raise my head and gasped in horror as I saw a being formed of shadows stood over me. It walked away and took the dagger Stefan offered it. I looked behind me and realised that my own shadow was indeed missing.
The shadow creature knelt beside my father’s slumped body.
“Away from me!” he yelled. It was futile, of course.
“In the name of Luna, the Triple goddess,” the shadow said. Its voice was my own, but somehow distorted. It seemed colder, deprived of any emotion. “I offer her this tribute as sacrifice.”
 I forced myself to watch as the dagger neared my father’s throat so I would not forget this moment if I ever survived. A guttural choke came from my father’s throat as blood seeped from it.
“The goddess has accepted the sacrifice,” the shadow announced.
“Like a lamb to the slaughter,” Stefan stated. “Now the only loose end is the Wúlì.
I had so little fight in me left that the word bore little offence. I was sapped of all strength and energy. What little hope I once had had now dwindled away.
“Kill me,” I whispered. My head fell to face the floor as though my neck could no longer hold its weight.
Footsteps approached me and I sensed Stefan kneel in front of me. A hand clasped my chin and raised it. I looked at Stefan straight in the eyes for but a moment before my gaze past through it.
“Yes, I can give you that. Would you like that?” He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “But death would be a comfort to you. I’m not certain you deserve it.”
“Please,” I cried out, grasping his cloak in my fist. “Mercy.”
“Yes, the goddess is known occasionally for her small mercies.” A thread of hope hung over me for a moment. “But my power comes from a crueller god. And with your power, you may yet prove of some use after all. You will live, my dear Wúlì, and you will live knowing the true extent of your failures. The death of your father. The massacre of this city. And the assassinations of all the noblemen and noblewomen of Kratul.” My body wracked into sobs before I was able to supress it. But I was a prince no more. What need for princely pride? “You have a life ahead of you filled with sweet pain. That is my mercy to you.”
Then he inhaled into my open mouth and darkness submerged me. 


So, I’m a little behind on my blogging. This degree seems to be getting on top of me, rather than the other way around. Not to mention this on-off headache I’ve had for a fortnight. 
This is a poem I wrote in the perspective of one of my character’s in my novel in progress, Weaving Moonlight. In case it’s not clear, there will be LGBT characters in this novel. Anyway, here it is:
I know you hurt,
I know you ache,
I know you yearn,
I know you shake
You’ve learned to hide all along.
You are a mirror;
Know more than a reflection
Of other’s wants.
But let me in,
Let me in.
Your secrets have secrets,
Your lies, hidden truths.
Your masks have masks,
You’re a Russian doll,
Layer upon layer
Upon Layer Upon Layer.
You seek affection
You wish for perfection
But don’t you see how beautiful you really are?
You hide behind shadows
But seek the light,
Your anger boils inside
But you keep it down.
For once don’t “be a man”,
For once just cry on my shoulder,
For once just let in,
For once, I’ll be your prince.
I know you hurt,
I know you ache,
I know you yearn.
I know you shake.
But painted dolls chip away,
Glass is easily shattered.
Just this once, be yourself,
Just this once, I’ll be your prince.

I’ve been feeling unwell since Thursday so please bear with me. I actually wasn’t going to post anything but I found this lying around and thought I’d might as well post it. It’s probably the shortest piece I’ve ever written and I’m not certain that I’m truly pleased with it. It was more of an experimental piece. I have another longer story quite similar to it that will be coming out in an anthology book my university is publishing though. I’ll tell you the details later. 

Anyway, here is the short short story. Please leave a comment 🙂 —

You look at me with eyes glazed like glass. Though your bag is packed, you shall never pass. I gave you all, my trust and love. My love for you was my downfall. Yet here you stand within my thrall. You’ll be my puppet for the night. Your eyes so bright, they’re quite the sight. It almost hides the spite within.
                I broke the rules to be with you, my love. I watched my immortal string cut short. My fellow fey thought me quite foolish. “When you’ve found love, you’ll understand”— at least that’s what I would once retort.
                I take your hand, pull you towards me. You too are strong, you try to flee. But can’t you see, I won’t let you go? It’s quite the blow for me to know you yearn for one that is not me.
                How could I think to control you? It was your wildness that did once excite me. The fight within that did incite me.
                You scream profanities in my face. Dimly I feel the trace of my remaining heart that beats hard like thunder; that once did beat steadily before you tore our love asunder.
Verily I say unto you, stop screaming. Surely I must have been dreaming to think you would ever obey.
                All hope is lost, I feel I must say goodbye. I search my pocket and drink a clear vial. As it burns in my mouth I pull you forward for our last kiss. I force the vile content past your luscious lips. Surely you have all manners of objections but you bite them back.
                In a manner of minutes, all will be over. The rooms spins around and I am on my knees mumbling apologies. None touch your leaden heart, we’ve grown too far apart. You won’t take my hand even as my life fades away, despite your promises to always stay. It matters not for none shall have you if not I. But I am fey and you are not. Our love was doomed. All hope is lost. 

And on that happy note, please leave a comment to let me know what kind of story you want me to write next. I’m open to all sorts of suggestions provided that they have some sort of fantasy element. Others of you might be more specific and ask me for a sequel to another of my previous short stories. By all means, let me know!

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