Is all writing paradoxical, or do I just have serious lack of 'Times'? The author yawned because he couldn't be bothered to figure it out. 😂

@reading @joinin @bookstodon @books @humor@fedigroups.social @humor@lemmy.world @aiop

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Dickens: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Schrödinger: Nice.

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EVERYONE- I SOLD ONE MORE COPY JUST NOW! BE HAPPY FOR MEEEE 🕺🏽 #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #KU #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie

"What did you do at work today?" "Read half a book in one sitting." #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie

The Greenland Diaries: Day 62

Even with all the supplies I was carrying, I managed to run the entire way home in the heat and pollen. Snowy was right next to me in a sustained gallop. She doesn’t sleep when she’s had too much exercise, but rests on the cold floor of the shed and wags her tail in random intervals. She only falls asleep when I’m sitting around her, which is often. We’re practically attached to the hip.

Last night didn’t help with the intense feelings of danger. The Drum sounded before the sunset. The streetlights beamed on in artificial glows. Cars drove by in curling headlights. Music chimed between warm windows and distant alleys. 

I knew it would happen eventually, and sure enough last night in the dark it did.

Two men and a woman were lured out into the Drum. They dashed out of a house in the back alley, which had been long covered with lines of plants and flowers. They charged towards one of the cars. I’m not sure how long they’d been living inside there, or if they were just traveling through and had picked that spot to hide. It gives me hope and fear to know people were so close to me in all this thundering darkness.

I lost sight of the three people when they charged towards the car. The vehicle was sitting on the street just outside of the alley behind my house.  They called for help, like the machine could answer them. I could hear their voices. The lights of the car glowed between the edges of the plants and buildings. 

That’s when I saw the first one.

The Unnamed charged down the alley. A living shadow with claws. Four more followed it in a tight pack. They hardly broke a leaf as they moved. The streetlights quietly powered down behind them, like they were too afraid to witness what was about to occur. The big Unnamed appeared as well, the type with the mutilated arm. It charged beside my shed, nearly ripping it apart. The walls trembled like paper as it pursued. Snowy barked before I could grab her muzzle, but the monster was too concerned with the people to notice. They typically don’t care about dogs, but I didn’t want them to investigate the sound.

The moment the Unnamed rushed towards the car, the headlights, which were reflecting in the stuffy darkness, went out and the music was cut from the air.

“Spores, they’re just spores,” some man screamed.

Bullets rattled by my shed and the broken tree next to it. I hugged Snowy to my chest and turned my back to the battle. I didn’t want a random shot to come through the shed and hurt her. An explosion shook the air around us, a grenade or rocket launcher. Screams followed, along with hisses and roars. I was too afraid to turn around and watch the battle.

I heard some gurgling and splashing sounds, like water being thrown on the pavement. It had to be blood. It could be nothing else. After the wet sound, everything went back to the Drum. There were no more cars or melodies. The streetlights went silent and dark. Nothing moved.

I stayed close to the shed. The Unnamed I saw yesterday in the daylight looked lost and confused, but it’d probably still try to kill me. I’m not willing to find out. I’ll always keep a weapon close from now on. I checked for signs of the battle yesterday and found bloody clothes and shattered weapons. The guns being destroyed happen to be new, the Unnamed never cared about weapons before. 

The crater from the explosion yesterday has already been filled up by ivy and lines of plants, like those people never existed.

Snowy is based off my dog Millie from a decade or so ago. Millie taught me how to love and be more self-aware. Whenever I see a post from my story concerning the dog, I just remember her.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/15/the-greenland-diaries-day-62/

Omg I sold 1 book today !!!! #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie

Win for the day, my book was discovered and is being read Yippee!, Yahoo!, Wahoo! #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #author #readers #indie

Some one has found a page turner Go 93 pages... #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie

CHARMING COZY MYSTERY set in a lakeside town near the Indiana Dunes centers on a yarn and tea shop run by a Hollywood agent's daughter and his biggest client's slacker child. Appealing characterization and sense of place. B PLUS

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Krishna Prasanth Guttikonda: b...

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This explains why reading is an act of rebellion... 😁

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Anakana Schofield’s new novel, Library of Brothel, is available at the VPL.
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https://thewalrus.ca/the-most-un-canadian-novel-of-the-year-has-arrived/

"Who’s in, who’s out, and how many have you read? The story behind our 100 best novels list"

https://www.theguardian.com/books/ng-interactive/2026/may/16/story-behind-100-best-novels-all-time

#books #reading #novels #fiction

Beware the Ills: Part 47

She cuts her way through in a wild swing, cutting down her own troops along with Ills. The machines are firing on the melee, creating clouds of dark blue energy and arrows. The Ills are slaughtering the ground troops rather easily, but the machines still fire into the swarms, leaving the figures pulverized and mutilated. I’ve never really seen anything quite like this before.

I’m watching her cut through the Ills towards the prince at the end of their formation. He has bodyguards with red paint on their armor. I’m holding out hope that one of the Ills will step into her, evade the simple attack, and then stab her through the chest with one of their short spears.

None do though, she’s living thunder.

Besides her reckless slashing, the invaders are on their heels. I don’t think they expected these types of monsters to be living in the mountains or have this inherent furiousness. The Ills were built to brawl in tunnels and caves; a melee like this is practically second nature to them.

They cannot stop her. A new Ill, even multiple, step-in front of her, and are cleaved into portions with her ridiculous blade. They fall to the ground in green and bloody stumps. Her scream follows them as they topple, aching above the souring cold. She’s out of control, completely wild, a human animal. I feel sorry for her in a way. I don’t want to kill her. It’s something in my stomach, not quite sure what, but it’s there. I can feel it. I can disable the thick tube of metal running along her spin, which delivers power to the rest of her body. If I disable it, I should cease these berserker tendencies. She might’ve been a decent human being before this hideous alteration occurred.

It seems distasteful to engineer someone biologically to be a killer.

More Ills fall. I run. She’s becoming more savage the closer she gets to the prince. Her white body glows with the blue fire, and the bandages around her have been ripped and shredded by the battle. I cannot allow her to kill him. If the prince falls under her axe, there will be no peace, no armistice, only endless killing.

I must save him. There can be no more killing. If I fall to Haukter, who will protect the Ills? Who will protect the Diamond Town?

I run.

The Ills are clashing savagely with the encroachers as I run through. The steel mixes with crunching bones into a sinewy red cauldron. Shields fall upon shields, tendon and vein mixing in each strike. I dart so fast they can barely sense me, let alone see me. I count the number of Ills between the berserker woman, and the prince. I count ten. No tattooed bodyguards from earlier. They would be able to hold her strikes, those were scarred fighters. They must be out commanding the wings, taking down the machines. Some men scream and aim their crossbows in the direction of my dash. I cut their faces off in one vertical swipe. I hear quick and throaty gurgles. I’m running even faster than before. I can see the prince’s face through the bloody, twisting masses.

He cannot die.

She’s in front of him. The axe looks wild and gleaming in the sunlight. She’s drenched in blood, making her blond hair black and tangled. The prince has fallen down on his back but holds his curved sword in front of him. He doesn’t look scared. I’m impressed. He won’t be able to stop the massive axe head.

I leap. I pray. She’s swinging her axe down at him.

She takes her time in the middle of her vertical stroke. She must be relishing the moment. Her animal mind can still be sadistic. I get in-between her axe blade, and the prince in a black-metal blur. I’ve got both hands on my sword. I kick him back away from me. Some of his grizzled troops run to circle him.

The axe comes down, and I swing my sword to collide.

The shock of steel knocks everyone away from us, like the white sand upon the black waves. The berserker must be at peak strength. My hands tremble under the pressure of the grinding axe, it’s impressive. Her face shines pale and fades blue. The energy must be bleeding out of her. Her face glows with blue tears. You cannot see a single drop of blood, only the fiery indigo.

What have they made her into? She’s inhuman.

Her bloody hair billows angrily in the wind. She’s bitten her lip, and a blue glow runs down her pale narrow chin. She’s bent over me, pouring all her strength and pressure into the obscene axe.

I imagine only Haukter will be stronger than her.

We cannot stay locked like this much longer. Neither soldier nor Ill interferes. She’s panting over the edge of the axe. More inhumanity. I can’t maintain this strength any longer, the pressure pushes beyond comprehension. I swing my left shoulder with its steel black point. The spike knocks the axe off balance, and I slide my sword out from underneath. The axe smashes a small crater into the ground in a rocky flourish. I break away from her running full speed. I need to get away from the crowds, so I can maneuver my long sword more when countering that axe.

Up close, the axe has complete dominion.

She follows me faster and more wildly than before. She swings the axe at my shadow, just barely missing my legs. The sun hits us with heavy rays, and the valley glints stars with all its fallen steel. This sprint moves us quickly past the battlefield, soon we’ll be at the foot of the mountains and hidden paths.

She’s beyond fast, I can’t outrun her anymore.

She leaps in the air in a blue bound and slams her axe into me. My sword swings up to counter. I grip it with both hands. Sparks shower and rocks split. Each strike echoes towards the Ills and encroachers. They have completely stopped fighting to watch us.

I would prefer for them to kill one another.

I’ll be releasing my novel Beware the Ills in segments every Friday. You can find out more about the book right here, or check out Amazon’s info. I love this book. Happy to simply share it. 

It is difficult to cut these sections into pieces when at such a pivotal moment. Hope you're enjoying your trip to the Cursed Island. Not a whole lot more left.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #novels #horror #fantasy #darkfantasy #steampunk

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/12/beware-the-ills-part-47-2/

Win for the day, my book was discovered and is being read, Yippee!, Yahoo!, Wahoo! #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #author #readers #indie

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RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:5zca2ola2zxpkw37w4f3wxtu/post/3mnumbbr6hs2g

Check out this guide for buying DRM free ebooks in 2026 😁

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No more #AI - influenced #writing go to the #forest
https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2026/jun/08/can-trees-boost-creativity-forest-walks-changed-how-i-write?shem=dsdf,sharefoc,agadiscoversdl,,sh/x/discover/m1/4
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And then it was Monday. The best way to escape the heinous return to monotony is with faceless monsters. As one does. Enjoy, and thank you for reading my series.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/08/the-greenland-diaries-day-61/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 61

Last night, I employed the same desensitizing strategy to avoid the sights and sounds of the old world. The Drum still boomed about the darkness, and my headphones didn’t do anything to stifle the shadow thunder.

I’ll never get away from it.

I’m happy with the name I gave the monsters, even if it’s soaked with irony. It’s not easy inventing a title for an unknown creature. Based on their flowing appearance I could call them phantoms or wraiths. If the criteria happen to be their look, then I could call them spikes, claws, or faceless. The Unnamed fits the unknown, so I’ll stick with it. I hope those kids pass on the name to whatever survivors they find by Highway 100.

The heat drifted off the plants this morning. The whole world has been tethered in this green. Houses have been completely covered and invaded. Trees are in full bloom. The grass on the lawns has grown up to my knees. Snowy can barely walk through it. Cotton-willow seeds fill the breeze and occasionally my mouth. It’s annoying.

I was happy to see those people yesterday, despite the awkwardness of the situation. Those kids looked rough, dirty, and ready for death. I hope their father gets them to a safe place. There are still people in worse shape than me, and that’s slightly comforting.

Does it make me wicked for being happy about their hardship? 

I wish someone could answer me.

Today, I explored Crystal Lake some more. I took some more water for washing and bathing. I pulled a red wagon with me I found next to a playground. I filled up some plastic containers. I’m going to try and build a fire tomorrow and boil the water. That should kill any bacteria inside of it. I’ll drink a little bit and see if it hurts my system. I’ve got a bunch of bottles of water still, at least enough for a few months, but I’m terrified about running out of it with this heat. I stopped at the Rainbow too and rummaged in the darkness with my flashlight. I found some more cans, but no boxed food.

The lake was overgrown along the paths and shore with vines. There were a few public beaches. The sand had been spared the vegetation; in fact, they crawled around it in their wormy paths. The water was clean and clear. The strange shape in the center looked untouched and pure. I wonder if it moves when the Drum does. 

Most of the walk was uneventful and quiet. I kept an eye and ear out for Gerald, but there were no signs of anything around. No shadows moved in their absent windows or shattered doors.

On our walk back, Snowy and I saw something rather disturbing. 

I’d run from it before. I’d fought it before. I’d killed it before. 

It was the Unnamed.

It was going up a hill towards the park when we saw it. It looked like a walking cloud of dragging darkness, with no real shape or definition. It had a cloak of sorts, only it was a mixing blue, green, and black. It had the golden blades from before, dangling from its fluid sleeves. Gold horns pulled up from the blackness beneath its hooded cloak. No feet touched the ground as the monster walked.

It was a foot-soldier, not the big type with the mutilated arm. It was out in the middle of the day without the Drum. The cloak that disguised them so well in the darkness was disorienting in the daylight, like a shifting fog of undecided matter. I grabbed Snowy and crawled underneath a bench just downwind of it. I had my M16 with me, and I focused the black sight on it.

It passed by me without a second thought. I could’ve killed it, but who knows how many more are lurking out there without the Drum guiding them. The Unnamed vanished into a small patch of woods by the street. The cluster couldn’t have been more than twenty trees, and it disappeared completely into them like a sealed door.

I didn’t wait around for any more observations. I ran home pulling the water containers. I almost soiled myself when I saw it. It made me sick to my stomach to see it in the daylight.

Why can’t the nightmares ever stay the same?

I learnt today of the death of Kay Patrick, a member of the community group I helped found, Promoting Yorkshire Authors. She worked for the BBC earlier in her career and especially liked working on the original Dr Who featuring William Hartnell or 'Lovely Bill' as she used to call him.

She became an author and wrote 'The Trial of Marie Montrecourt' an Edwardian tale of a distressed marriage and a trial for murder. Kay donated all of the proceeds to Dementia Research so, if you can, please buy her book and support the charity.

#Reading #AmReading #Books #Novels #Dementia

I would read this story about the weird observations of Dana Holmes and her sarcastic boyfriend I assume is called Watson 🤔😂

@reading @bookstodon @books @humor@fedigroups.social @humor@lemmy.world @aiop

#SherlockHolmes
#BookMemes #Meme #Memes #Humor #Humour #Funny
#ReadingMemes #Reading #Readers #ReadingCommunity
#Litterature #Novel #Novels #Bookshelf
#Books #Bookstodon

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Post by dana bad My bf was like “sometimes you act like sherlock holmes but without the genius. Like you're always making weird observations but they're inaccurate.”

Flicka's LOVERS is a romp. Today is my share date for this Book Funnel Promo for steamy romance romps. https://books.bookfunnel.com/may_rom_mayhem/vhku7bo89m
#saturday #share #promo #promotion #books #bookstodon #book #book #bookLovers #bookTok #bookfunnel #novel #novels #romancelandia #romance #erotic #eroticmusings #erotica #romantic #mastodon #bookcovers #flickaslovers

Alt...

Flicka's LOVERS is a romp. Today I'm sharing the cover of the audiobook. It's out in audiobook, paperback, hardcover, and ebook. A promo on Book Funnel is running through July 16th, featuring Flicka's LOVERS.

Tears and underlining: Reading "Doktor Faustus" (1947), by Thomas Mann (1875-1955). #111Words #ThomasMann #TonioKröger #DerTodInVenedig #DerZauberberg #DoktorFaustus #Novels #Novellas #Fiction #Literature #GermanLiterature #DeutscheLiteratur #HorstDaemmrich #Philadelphia #WestPhiladelphia #UniversityOfPennsylvania #ComparativeLiterature #PhD #GraduateSchool #Reading #Distance #Emotions https://111-words.ghost.io/tears-and-underlining-reading-doktor-faustus-1947-by-thomas-mann-1875-1955/

Beware the Ills: Part 46

The invaders from the south end of the valley, where the city ends before the open space, are past the civilians rushing towards a melee by the mountain. They’ll form themselves into a streak and cut down the Ills with their arrows and artificial fire. Smart, very smart. There are so many Ills by the mountain, and so many invaders in the valley you can barely see the earth beneath their feet. The civilians, who were originally pinned in that valley, rush back inside the city in massive droves. The ground quakes to the thousands of feet running, charging, and sprinting.

I’m ashamed of their panic.

The invaders are about to fire into the Ills. All the encroachers have been killed beneath the mountains. They were swarmed by the Ill’s writhing green forms and didn’t have a chance. I don’t really remember what I said to their prince, or king, whatever. It must have been something inspiring? I remember Haukter appearing, and our little skirmish, and then running to the river. I remember smashing Haukter’s chest with my hilt.

The crossbows suddenly rattle like a bunch of hollow snakes. They jolt me back to reality. The waves of armored Ills are mowed down by the long arrows. The crossbows crackle in unison, their commanders must have them trained to fire in a timed fashion.

They weren’t this coordinated when they fought me.

The Ills look ready for war. They’re dressed less like articulate beasts. They’re not covered in their typical tattered equipment, but plated and smooth armor, like men. Their weapons aren’t rusted and worn. Their steel looks silver, sharp, and sterile. It’s unfortunate, in their new classy look, that they’re dying at an alarming rate.

The angle of the valley allows the arrows full velocity as they strike. The black-red shields of the Ills can’t hold back their fury. Still, thousands of Ills run forward from the mountains. More arrows though, and open spots start to form in their ranks.

Piles of corpses form.

The invader’s arrows are stopping the Ills from advancing further into the valley. The cold helps the invaders, not a single breath of wind throws their arrows off their mark. I will have to intervene soon, but too much distance separates the Ills from their formations. I couldn’t even survive this swarm of troops. There has to be some sort of break to the battle.

The walking machines lined up between the firing troops. The same formation they used at the river, when Blue and I tore them apart. It’s a bloody memory. The machines shutter and drift to the ground, and howl with the insidious buzzing sound. The metallic thrumming begins in their curved chests. I can already imagine those luminous bubbles growing in their centers like sculptured fire.

The Ills will be completely wiped out.

For some inexplicable reason, I don’t want them to be slaughtered. It’s strange having this concern for them.

The machines fire a buzzing barrage of emerald orbs. They make a high-pitched cackling sound after they release their condensed blaze. The spheres fly straight into the Ill’s massed ranks. Rocks exploded beneath the sizzling light, sending debris into the Ills and leaving their shapes bloody and obscene. Their black blood clouds the snow. The arrows continue to fly at them. Some of the Ills have closely formed their shields together to repel them. The encroachers fire heavily on these clumps, breaking shields and splitting green skin. Ills have lined up behind them, despite the deluge of points, and begun firing arrows back at them with their crude bows.

A poorly shot arrow flies by my head wistfully. They need to adjust their range.

Still, I appreciate their strategy.

The arrows are falling more consistently now. A few of the invaders have fallen with an arrow to the throat or face. The leverage from the high angle of their bows allows the points to pierce their armor. Ills charge out as the crossbows start to pause and quiet in the ranks. The machines stay silent and steaming in the cold. The snow falls silently and deliberately.

It’s good killing weather.

I see the woman towards the center of the formation. She survived what occurred on the lake with Blue. I’m very impressed. I’m sure Haukter’s near the city now. He might be inside the walls in fact. I survived his poison. I shouldn’t underestimate him.

It would be foolish.

A screeching sound carves upward from inside the invader’s formation, as a burst of jade light pillars into the sky in a disheveled line. The machines are priming again. They fire immediately at the Ill’s coming swarms. Everything along the valley explodes in rock and blue fire. No more watching and planning my next move. No more waiting. The city behind me has gone quiet as the Ills and outlanders have killed one another. I must drive the invaders away from the city, even if I can’t kill them all. After they’re gone, I will find Haukter and kill him. I breathe hard and unsheathe my sword and grip its long handle. Something far away inside of me, tells me not to kill.

I fall.

I’m on the invaders before they can turn around, before they can even breathe, before they can hear my cutting sword.

I cut twelve men down on the backside of their formation. They scream and cry beneath my sword swings. I don’t move as fast running along their edges as I could. I want their backside flank to turn to me, to see what I’ve just accomplished. They bite. Men fire at me, but I outrun the majority of their arrows and knock the stragglers away with my sword.

Someone yells, it’s her, she’s transforming within the maelstrom. A few arrows dart towards me from inside the city. Sharp shooters no doubt, I knock them away quickly with my sword. I run towards a machine that hasn’t turned around to face me. The sharp shooters follow, peppering the back of the contraption and lancing the man inside. I pull on the machine and tip it over. As we topple, I stab the handle of my sword where the dials and buttons sit glowing. The gears hum with surprise, and the heart begins to glow. Emerald explosions shatter the formation throwing rock and blood everywhere, leaving a red smear across the ground.

They’ve finally turned to me. All their hundreds of eyes are on me.

The Ills are coming. The empty space between the two armies dwindles beneath the glowing sun. A man runs out from the formation. He dives and swings his broad sword at me. I catch the blade with the gauntlet on my left hand and slit his throat. They circle around me. The man was a decoy.     

Very clever indeed.

I sprint directly into the thick lines of troops. I’m running to the edge where the Ills will meet them shortly. Something moves on my left. It’s too fast to be one of the pawns.

I know it’s her.

I sprint faster to the front. I’m slashing left and right, as men rise and fall against my sword. I hear her scream following me. The front line cannot fail, or else the Ills will overrun them, and they’re outnumbered despite the earlier slaughter with arrows and blasts. I duck beneath a swinging sword and grab one of the men’s crossbows. I smash his face open and watch his blue eyes go different directions.

It distracts me slightly, I sprint again.

I fire the crossbow. A dead man falls on me. I pick him up at his ankles and throw him over my shoulder. I hold him in front of me as I dash. His body shutters a wild amount and becomes intensely heavy with arrows. 

The ground starts to tremble below the metal tempest. The Ills have collided with the invaders, and it’s an outright storm of close combat. More screams, smashes, and the sound of metal grinding on uncooperative skin. I’ve seen my fair share of whirlwind clashing, but never one with this colliding force. I cannot help but feel responsible for the massive battle. I’m unhappy with all these colliding monsters on the footsteps of the Diamond Town.

I’m very unhappy.

I sprint to the south side of the tempest, where the Ills are fewer in number. I have no urge to kill them, but I don’t want to instigate one with my presence and break this unspoken peace. The invaders are completely focused on the Ills. The Ills have the advantage in close combat. They have superior physical strength and numbers. The clacking of swords and shields thunders remarkably. The invaders move into brown armored clusters and lock their shields together. It’s not useful though, the Ills spill over them like a green tide, and crush the men to death underneath.

I can hear her blaring over the bloody din. She’s on the northern edge of the formation, killing Ills left and right with her ridiculous axe. Her howls are high, gurgled, and ear piercing. The blue light from her skin and forced strength glow through the thrashing crowd. She breaks free and loops out of the melee. She’s looking for someone inside the battle. It’s not me either. I’m not hard to spot. She’s going after the prince, the king, and the key to peace.

How does she know?

I’ll be releasing my novel Beware the Ills in segments every Friday. You can find out more about the book right here, or check out Amazon’s info. I love this book. Happy to simply share it. 

Unwritten poems #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie

Omg I sold 1 more book today !!!! (2 copies) #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:p6si4w333k4rcflapekprz3e/post/3mnblrcz6nk2v

Author Krishna Prasanth Guttikonda » 🌐 2026-06-02
@krishna-author.bsky.social@bsky.brid.gy

Omg I sold 1 more book today !!!! #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie

Omg I sold 1 more book today !!!! #booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie

Finished "Before they are Hanged" by Joe Abercrombie. Good middle-book. Lands a bit flat but carried well, well set up for the end. Starting Tad Williams's "The Dragonbone Chair" since I'm sunsetting Abercrombie's series in one more book.

It's um,... a bit jarring to go from cynical backstabbing to whimsical tale starring a young hopeful teenage lad, but rather than shun it for more hopeful and optimistic outlooks(which ain't happening), I'm trudging on with the hope it grows with maturity as the protagonist ages, if Simon even is the protagonist - NO SPOILERS.

On the backburner, and why I refuse to watch the film right now, is Andy Weir's "Hail Mary". I'm halfway done, but it keeps getting sidetracked by the fantasy novels... and...

Last night I read "Careless People..." by Sarah Wynn-Williams, in pseudo-entirety, a biography from a leading Facebook executive. I skipped a lot of info dumps I already knew from other sources, but a lot I did not know, especially anything pre-2016. I'm 38, but I wasn't politically "engaged" until around 2015.

So that's that!

no Sanderson!? No PRATCHETT?!

#books #literature #scifi #novels #fantasy #reading #kindle #kobo

The Greenland Diaries: Day 60

Last night, I wanted to go to them.

The images stayed the same; warm streetlights, piano chords rising out of open windows, and the random car motoring down the blackness. They have to be tricks. I covered my eyes with an old towel and plugged my ears with headphones. The light was blocked well enough, but the sounds still bled through in distant melodies and roars. The Drum mixed with the phantom echoes in uneven, throaty intervals, like they’re in correlation. They have to be. A living trick built by the Unnamed.

Before I blindfolded myself in the cramped darkness of the shed, no bugs buzzed around the streetlights or glowing windows. Legions of moths would ascend on a real light, especially with how insects have thrived under this new ecosystem. I hope other survivors notice this very important detail about the images and ignore them.

I imagine there are loads of survivors in much worse shape than me who might run out into the night dreaming of the pre-drum world. I’m still waiting for it to happen around me, to have someone charge the lights. How will the monsters react? I haven’t noticed them lurking in the booming shadows for days now.

I rearranged my shed and concealed more of my supplies inside the ground. I ate a can of Ravioli today for lunch. I still have plenty of dog food and treats for Snowy, though I’ve rationed her down to two servings per day. The two armfuls of supplies I retrieved from Rainbow had a few boxes of dog treats. I’d feed her human food if I had to.

I sat inside my house for a while today finishing The Hobbit. I liked the ending, I read the Battle of Five Armies at least five times. I can’t imagine writing such a pivotal scene with so many characters interacting. If they’d ever finished making the films, I imagine one entire movie would be this battle. I’m not sure what I’m going to read next, probably something lighter like Calvin and Hobbes. I remember reading them when I was younger and loving them. I keep the bookshelf in my old bedroom stocked full of books. A vine sits over the side of it, but otherwise it’s been unscathed by the post-drum growth. I could take them out of there, and the Unnamed probably wouldn’t notice, but the shelf wouldn’t look right. I’d be lying if I didn’t like a hint of normality in this green land.

I was sitting in my house, watching the street, when the husky came bouncing down the road. It was a pretty dog. It was colored dusty gray with blue-ice eyes. I wish I could say I was happy about its appearance, but I wasn’t. I quickly put Snowy in my backpack, which I’d reinforced with patches of Kevlar. I didn’t want her running around while bullets flew. I ducked down on the floor and watched. The father and the two children walked slowly down the road behind it. One of the children stopped and peeked into a car with broken windows and a burnt dashboard. It’d been there since the first night. The father walked over to the child and soundly slapped him in the head. A patch of sweat flew off the child’s face. The little boy immediately started crying. He couldn’t have been older than eight.

I stepped out onto the street behind and clicked the safety off the M16. The husky immediately stopped and turned around with a growing growl.

“Don’t move, and tell your dog to behave,” I said. The father immediately froze along with the two children.

“You move at all with that rifle, and you’ll die. This is an assault weapon,” I said. The man didn’t move. His side was facing me.

“Why’d you shoot at me?” 

The man didn’t say anything. He just stared at me with his rifle angled at the ground. He was covered in torn clothes and a shredded backpack. His face had some patterns of dried blood.

“Don’t hurt him, he’s deaf, and he’s been protecting us for a while now. He doesn’t know what to do anymore,” the little boy said.

“Is he your father?”

“Yes, he’s our dad, our mom’s dead. They killed her on the first night.”

“The Unnamed?” I asked, like it could be anything else.

“What?”  

“Just keep moving through here. I don’t want to hurt anyone or anything. Tell your dad not to do anything crazy.”

The child made signs with his grimy hands. The father nodded and looked back at me with stone-serious eyes. He replied to his son, who walked over to me.

“He says we’re walking to 100 to go south. There are more survivors there. We won’t bother you again, just let us go.” 

“That’s fine, just watch out for images at night, I think they’re traps by the Unnamed.”

“The who?” The little girl said.

“The monsters, I’ve named them.”

“Okay, well good luck,” she said waving at me as they started off.

“Oh, have you seen an old man walking around here?” I asked with a hint of desperation.

The little boy shook his head and grimaced back.

“We’ve seen only dead ones,” he said.

It’d been my first bit of real conversation in days. It looks strange writing down the dialogue on paper. 

Hearing the children’s voices made me smile.

Monday. Faceless monsters. Haunting drum. Illusions. Darkness. Hiding in basements. Listening for survivors. Enjoy the Greenland Diaries.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/01/the-greenland-diaries-day-60/

#booksky #books #Kindleunlimited #thriller #suspense #romance #novels #geopolitical #mythological #darkromance #women #contemporary #fiction #fantasy #crime #amazon #sifi #sff #readingcommunity #writingcommunity #author #readers #indie