Lahar’s life was regular- college, work, then binge watch whatever was in her queue. That was until she woke up in a new land. She meets a young wizard named Arena, who has made a home on the beach. With the help of his massive dog and mystical creatures called wisps, she must find a way back home while she fights the forces of a monster who lives among them. Join this Fantasy adventure, with new creatures to see and adventures to be had.
“4.5/5 Stars … a truly quirky and unique read that will be a new favorite for fantasy lovers.” – San Francisco Book Review
Typical Writing Day
What’s up everyone, I am Enrique Rosado. I am the author of the novel “Shore.” I spend most of my time writing, probably something you hear a lot from other authors. You would assume then that I have my writing style, and schedule fine-tuned. That like any other job, I should have this down like clockwork and churn out words like they were on a conveyer belt. Why wouldn’t I, I said I spend most of my time writing. Well, let me share a typical writing day.
I would love to say my typical writing day is waking up early, well rested with the enthusiasm to tackle the day. Well, no. More often I will wake up late, closer to noon than morning. I end up spending too much time looking emails and videos on YouTube as I lay in bed trying to gain the strength to leave it.
I grab a cup of coffee, Irish creamer all day. I watch an episode of whatever I am watching on Netflix, Hulu, or VRV. You can tell by now that I am a slow starter, but I swear I am productive. Then I bust out the tablet and get ready for work, either at my desk or on days I feel I need to leave my home I go to the library, coffee shop, bar, any place that won’t kick me out for spending hours at a table to write.
I try to reach the goal for the day like, edit page x-to-y, write this chapter, write this many words, plot out what happens, you get the idea. More days than not I won’t reach that goal and that’s fine. One stigma of writing is that you must spend your whole day writing and do that every day. Don’t do that, you will burn yourself out.
Any good writer gains experience from life itself. Go hang out with friends, watch a movie or show on your list, go to that place you’ve been dying to eat at or read something that you said you wanted to a month ago.
Any good writing day has a moment or is preceded by a day of self-care. Your mind is your best tool, and we all have days where we run it rampant, I have found myself on days where I’ve written past midnight. That’s fine, and I am proud when I accomplish a large chunk of my writing, but I wouldn’t be able to achieve that at a quality I am proud of if I didn’t allow myself some time for self-care.
So, one day I write, I try to write a specific amount and if I can go further, then you know I will. On days I just make it or can’t push myself to continue, I don’t. I take my time to let my mind recover, spend time with the people I like and see new places. I live my life. When I’m recharged, I go back to my laptop and write something worth reading.
The sound of rushing water echoes in the tunnel. The
chilling scent of sea air hits Arena’s nose as he steps past the archway. He
stands on a stone bridge over a chasm. He looks up to see small crystals acting
like stars scattered about in the dark night sky that is the stone ceiling.
Spread about, embedded in the walls, are stone statues of shark heads with
their jaws gaping. Water gushes out from their jaws and through their dagger
sticks his finger in the mouth of a shark statue nearby. He tastes his finger;
it is indeed seawater. He notices scratch marks spread all through the cavern
walls. Stepping past the archway, Lahar and Pie gaze at the sight. At the end
of the bridge is a large island floating in the air.
most of the chasm are grand crystals branching off the rim of the island in a
contorted fashion. Each crystal shines its own individual, gorgeous color. A
sheet of white sand covers the island. In the center, someone sits. The
person’s back is turned to them. A torn navy-blue hooded cloak hides the
person’s physical features.
“Do you see him?” Lahar asks quietly so as not to alert
the figure on the island.
“If you mean the only person here sitting in the middle
of the island, then yes, I do,” Arena replies just as quietly.
is no way that they think I don’t notice them. I just can’t believe that,” they
hear a voice say. The words don’t echo in the cavern; instead, the voice runs
through their minds like a thought.
and Lahar stand there for a moment in silence. They contemplate whether what
has just happened is real or just imagination. They turn to each other, and by
the expressions on their faces, they know that what just happened was real.
“Now, don’t be shy. You three are welcome to come down
and talk,” says the same voice in a welcoming tone.
and Arena look at each other once more to confirm what they’ve heard. Arena
shrugs and says, “We won’t learn anything standing here.”
“Plus, it’s rude to keep him waiting,” Lahar says as she
gestures for Arena to go first.
They all walk down the long stone bridge, with Pie behind
both of them. Lahar looks below them into the deep chasm. “That’s strange,” she
“There is a lot of water pouring down, but I don’t hear
the water hitting the bottom.” They both look down into the seemingly
bottomless pit with worried expressions. From then on, they walk practically in
the middle of the bridge and avoid the sides.
As they walk, Lahar feels something wet hit her nose. She
looks up to see drops of water occasionally falling from the stalactites above.
Once Lahar steps on the white sand, a chill runs up her spine. The cloaked
figure stands without turning.
The cloak stops midway down his back and is tattered,
with ripped ends. He has tight black pants on with stone thorns ripping through
the fabric in random areas around each leg. His feet are buried in the sand.
“It’s strange to see that I have visitors. I normally don’t get company down
here,” the voice says.
“You do keep yourself hidden. That might contribute to
that,” Arena replies out loud.
person chuckles. “That is a solid point.”
steps forward. “Hello. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Arena. My
friend here is Lahar, and behind me is Pie,” he says in a respectful tone.
“Hi,” Lahar says nervously. Her eyes focus on the stone
thorns, while Arena examines the cave.
should introduce myself. Just please don’t overreact when I turn. It will be
slightly…shocking,” he says. The man turns around to reveal that they have been
speaking to a wooden mannequin. He is shirtless, revealing his slim wooden body
riddled with small cracks and scratches. Each arm has the same stone thorns
piercing out from under the wood. Small barnacles grow on his chest and sides,
making his body resemble a sunken ship.
down his hood to reveal his face. His head is well kept, unlike the rest of his
body. There are no strong facial features, only a smooth and round surface. He
has two cleanly carved holes where his eyes should be. In each hole flickers a
small white flame.
Lahar stares in shock at the sight in front of her. She
tries her best to remain calm, but the fear and shock ooze from her face. Her
eyes turn to Arena. His eyes shine as he stares in awe at what is in front of
him. His heart beats like a hummingbird with excitement. “Phenomenal,” he
“This is the part where you both freak out and yell,” the
voice says in a monotone.
chews on her gum more furiously, hoping it will remedy how she feels. In a
shaking tone, she’s able to say, “No, we won’t do that. Will we, Arena?”
snaps back into reality. “Of course not. We didn’t come all this way to freak
out in front of you. If anything, you’re fantastic. Are you a wisp? How are you
glad to see you all are reacting well,” he says, flattered by Arena’s words.
Grains of sand rise in the air, clumping together to take shape as chairs, one
for each of them. “Take a seat.” He gestures to the chairs.
“Thank you.” Arena pauses. “Actually, I did not catch
your name,” he says as he sits down on the chair. Pie sits next to his chair,
keeping his eyes locked on the mannequin.
because I never gave you one. Well, to be correct, I don’t have one,” the
mannequin says. He ponders to himself for a moment. His finger taps his wooden
head. The noise reminds Lahar of a wooden spoon hitting a table.
“I never really had a need for one. Wow, I can just name
myself now!” he says with enthusiasm. With an abundance of joy and pride in his
voice, he says, “In the spirit of your three odd names, I will go with Void.”
you, Void, for graciously letting us into your home, even though we sort of
barged in,” Arena says. “We actually came here with a purpose. We were hoping
you could help us out with something.”
course. Fire away,” Void replies enthusiastically.
Lahar sits down in her chair. She feels as if the chair
will collapse at any moment, but even though she shifts as she tries to get
comfortable, it stays intact. She fixes her skirt. “I’m sorry if this comes off
rude, but there is something I am curious about. Is it really necessary for you
to speak through our thoughts?”
Void rubs the smooth surface where his mouth should be as
he speaks. “Well, it’s not like I have any other choice. I thought that was
pretty obvious. I know it’s strange, but it is really the only way I can
understands as she stares at his face. She glances away, knowing she is just
making it more obvious that she is staring.
Arena clears his throat. “This might take some time, but
we would like for you to be honest with us,” Arena says.
“Don’t worry. I’m not running on borrowed time,” Void
says as his flames flicker.
caught somewhat off guard by the statement but chooses to ignore it. “You see,
you and I have made homes here,” Arena says. “You below the fields in this
cavern. My home is on the beach not that far from here. Yet Lahar didn’t. She
was brought here against her will.”
sudden,” Lahar says as she clutches her skirt. She sits on the chair, her body
arm drapes behind the chair. He’s relaxed, except for his eyes. They are
piercing through Void, cautious of him. Void, on the other hand, is completely
calm. He slouches in his chair with his arms hanging to his sides, his gaze
turning to whoever is speaking.
His snow-colored flames gaze into her hazels as a soft
chill falls on her skin. She continues to speak. “I can’t remember how I got
here. I…I woke up in my bed, but I wasn’t in my apartment. I was surrounded by
grass under a tree. I wandered around and ended up on a beach and
found…well…him.” She points at Arena.
speaks in a calm manner. “She told me her story, and I decided to help. It
wasn’t much of a hard choice after I heard her story.” Arena leans forward and
looks directly at Void. “Is it safe to assume you know about magic?”
course I do! I am a talking mannequin! You two are asking quite a few obvious
“Well then, you know about aura,” Arena says. Void stays
quiet as he leans lower in his chair. “I can refresh your memory. It is the
magical equivalent of a fingerprint. When I first met Lahar, I knew whatever
brought her here had to be magical. We both know that the place we call home
smiles as he speaks arrogantly. “So I did a spell that allowed me to extract
the aura that brought her here. I worked on it for at least two days, so I know
it is as accurate as it can be. The aura would bring me to its owner.” Arena
points to the ground. “That led us here”—Arena raises his finger so that it now
points at Void—“and led us to you.”
like you want me to say that I am the one who brought her here.”
“Well, did you?” Lahar asks Void with a crack in her
“Of course I am. There is no reason to lie,” Void replies
caught off guard by his forwardness. Lahar’s eyebrows start to twitch.
“So you are the one who kidnapped me? You’re the one who
brought me to who knows where?” she yells, hearing her voice echo in the cave.
Her hands shake with anger as she runs one through her hair.
speaks, his arms flare around. He moves with his words, as if to emphasize
them. “I wouldn’t put it in those words. You make it sound so…what’s the word?
Deplorable. When you say it like that.” Void starts to speak in a calm,
rationalizing tone. “Why don’t we put it as, I whisked you away to a new land
as its new hero. You found this magical land’s prince, the man sitting next to
you. Now you both are on an adventure to find your way home.”
fairy tale?” Arena asks, confused.
“Exactly!” Void says with excitement. “This is a fairy
tale, and I am here to help you get home. I’m like the good witch.” Void may
lack a mouth, but if he were to smile, it would be at this moment.
“So this is the part in the story where you help me,
then. Right? You show us the way home, and we live happily ever after, right?”
Lahar asks, filling with hope.
course. I brought you here so it would be no trouble at all to send you back. I
did bring you here for a reason, though. It’s something only you can do.”
“Of course. If there is anything we can do, we will
help,” she says, volunteering Arena with her.
true, Arena? Will you help me, too?” Void asks as his flames flicker.
runs his hand through his hair as he stares into the flames. He taps his thighs
while he contemplates for a moment.
“Well, this is all happening really fast for me. Still, I
promised Lahar I would get her home any way I can.” He goes silent for a
moment. “Fine. I’ll help you out.”
you, Arena. This means a lot. I will find a way to pay you back, I promise,”
claps his hands together with joy. “This is great to hear. I’m overjoyed. Don’t
worry; I won’t ask for anything hard. In fact, this will benefit us both,
Arena, so there’s a bonus incentive,” Void says, bouncing in his chair. His
actions are reminiscent of a child who has been told he can have any toy he
wants in the store.
that’s good to hear,” Arena says. “So what will we have to do?”
turns his gaze to Arena directly. The flames burn brighter as he speaks. “As I
said, nothing is too difficult. I just need Lahar’s help to get your heart.”
I’m Enrique Rosado, a Puerto Rican who grew up on the island for a bit before landing in Killeen, Texas, a town that cultivated me and made me who I am today. Now I find myself in New York City writing any chance I get.