Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Me.

I had a dream a few nights ago about Red knowing the wolf for he was, yet she still feigned ignorance.  He called her on it, yet she still denied the truth of his character, his intent, his danger up until the moment he attacked.  In my dream version, the Wolf devours Red. I understand the fairy tale has a happy ending with the Huntsman showing up and destroying the wolf and saving Red, but we all know that’s not how it plays out in reality.  There’s never a Huntsman to save us from our own ignorance. 

I don’t blame, Red. I fear of being like her. I fear being just as naïve, just as stupid, just as blind, or be just as deceived. Wolves are cunning and they seem to be getting better and better at stalking their prey. 

I hate wolves.  Not the four-legged beautiful amazing creatures that live in the wild, but the predators who live next door – I’m talking about the deceivers, agents of deception, liars, cheaters, users, and vampires.  I’m talking about the cold-hearted, callus, selfish predators who destroy the souls of other human beings with their games.  The world is full of male and she-wolves, but God I pray not to be a Red, yet fear there’s more of her in me than I want to admit.

I don’t have a problem seeing wolves. I see them. I smell them. I recognize when they’re tracking, hunting, and stalking me.  I get their deceptive messages, I smell their scent of betrayal, yet I still walk through the dangerous forest alone, I still tell strangers my destination, I still trollop through the tulips with my basket of bread, with not much regard for my safety.  Being safe is being guarded, being suspect, being armored, and being cold and hard as steel.  I’ve been there. I’ve done that – and it didn’t protect me. A wolf disguised himself as another warrior and got me to lay my armor down before he decided to chew me up and leave me for dead.  So, even protected I was not safe.  Being aware, being awake, seeing the truth, and learning how to walk away, to change direction, to evade and avoid …is all I can really hope to do.  My weapons is now truth – by living in the light, not lurking in the shadows.  Wolves don’t like the light and they can’t play hide and seek or stalk prey sufficiently in the open.  So, I don’t hide. If a wolf comes at me, he will have to come at me in the light – and he will be met with a survivor who knows how to fight back, not a victim.

I hate the wolves of this world – both men and women.  Liars, deceivers, con-artists, players, users and manipulators destroy the souls of men and women more than anything else in this world. 

“Grandma, what big eyes you have – do you see me, because I see you.”

“Grandma, what big ears you have – can you hear me? You will hear me roar.”

“Grandma, what big teeth you have – mine are sharper. You will feel my bite!”

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? I am – not that it could or would hurt me – I only fear being naïve to not recognize him before it’s too late.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Cinderella Getting Restless

 

I’m so discouraged.  I’m trying to stay positive, because those of you who know me, know that I’m always chasing rainbows and glass slippers despite the world constantly telling me I’m a fool for doing things the way I do them, or thinking the way I think.  This is also the same world that wants to teach me about love, show forgiveness, obtain success, and walk with integrity. Have you seen the world’s version of those things?  Have you seen their interpretation?  No way!  That’s not for me.

I’ve accepted the fact that I walk my own path, knock down boxes that people try to place me into, and swim against the current, walk the narrow path, shovel the ashes, and any other metaphor that will describe how odd and out of touch with what is known as common that I am. I am covered in cinder. (It’s no secret.  Some people try to be different, spend their whole lives in a movement (along with a billion-other people), trying to prove it.  I try to be common and normal, to fit in, to act the part, but I fail – according to the world. But…. BUT, I succeed at being me.

So, having said that, can you imagine how frustrating it is for me trying to date?

I’m going to pause there for a little while. I’ll try to continue this thought later. I’m sure as I try to sort this confusion and discouragement out, and try to get a grip on this thing called dating, I’m going to go through many stages. These stages are very like those that go through addiction and depression counseling. 

This is stage one – acceptance.  I accept who and what I am. I’m an odd duck.  Took a loooooooonnnnnnnnngggggg time to get there, but I’m there.  I’m a princess without a prince, a castle, a father’s love, or a mother’s touch. I’ve been abandoned in a selfish world. Now what? Where do I go from here? What does this mean for the relationships in my life? Will I always be the woman that most men find fascinating, amazing, love the way I think, appreciate the way I am, and value me for my character, my integrity, my creativity and talent, but fall in love with ‘common’ women?  I gotta think about this.  

Till next time,

~Lost Princess

24-Hours Later

Okay, I’ve thought about it. I’m sure there’s an odd duck out there like me who experiences the same difficulties I do, who dreams as I do, who dares to hope as I do, and refuses to give up no matter if the world calls them a fool.  I know there is a man out there that will love the way I love, who hopes the way I hope, who cares the way I care.  I don’t need a fairy godmother to give me a pretty dress and a pair of glass slippers to dance. But,  It doesn’t mean I’ll ever meet my Prince Charming and we fall in love with each other. There’s no guarantee in life. I’ve witnessed too many people die alone to believe that “other” fairy tale - that as long as I’m patient and show up to the dance that my ‘happily-ever-after’ will come along.  I not stupid.  I know damned well that I may never find my soul mate.  Actually, that’s not true. I’ve found my soul-mate twice already.  Once when I was a teenager, though a few years later he died.  The second time just recently, but he left.  I’m hoping the third time will be the charm… (pun intended).  But, I know free will, the ability to choose, determines much.  I can’t make someone love me, fall in love with me, want me, or choose me. I believe in magic, especially in the magic of love, but I don’t hold a magic wand. I refuse to manipulate and force a man to love or be with me in any way.  I don’t want someone because I need them or they need me, only because I want them and they want me.  I REFUSE to accept anything less.  That makes me odd.

I’ve had many opportunities to be in relationships, to not be alone, to have a companion, to have a lover, to have a convenience.  But, I believe I deserve so much more.  I want love. Real love. Deep love. When I love, I love with my whole heart, and so I want someone to love me with their whole heart.  I’m not their toy, their distraction, their fantasy, or their temporary place-holder.  I’ve been told so many times, and left behind for lesser women, that I’m loved, respected, admired, and valued, Bu….....t, they can’t choose me because I deserve better than they could give.

If I deserve anything, it’s simply to be loved. I don’t need anything to be given to me. I don’t need saved. I don’t need to be supported. I am not co-dependent, have low self-esteem, or incapable of doing anything for myself. I’m smart, I’m self-sufficient, independent, and driven.  I don’t need a man, a partner, a lover, or a friend.  I WANT one.  There’s a huge difference between need and want.  Someday… someday someone will ‘want’ ME, not my body, not my talent, or anything else I could give them, but want me, my heart, my mind, my love, and all my oddities. 

I’ve mentioned this before. I made a promise to myself, no a VOW, about 7-years ago, and it is still valid today. I have it posted on my refrigerator - “I will never again waste my time, love or energy into that which does not first invest those things into me”.

Oh, Prince Charming, come slide that glass slipper upon my foot and allow the magic to envelop us both, transforming us into something wonderful, and then let us disappear into the unknown to explore it together. I have my sword.  I’ve slayed a dragon or two in my time already.  I’ve got your back. 

Till next time,

~Cinderella getting restless

Howl of the Moon Goddess

Thump. Thump. The speakers vibrate as the heavy bass blares throughout the small apartment. Each beat moves Luna, stirs her soul, and stimulates her imagination.  Her head slightly bobs and she taps her foot to the steady beat, sometimes even moving her shoulders with each progression, but her mind isn’t on the music, she doesn’t even hear the lyrics she finds herself singing.  Her thoughts are on him. They’re always on him, or at least it seems that way to her lately.

“Concentrate, damn it. You’ve got a deadline.”

Luna’s fingers sit idly on the keys as she stares at the empty page on her laptop screen, but she doesn’t even see the white empty space.  She can only see flashes of his black eyes, those mysterious, sexy, exotic eyes, staring at her, undressing her, her wolf hungry and filled with a need to devour.

Butterflies flutter inside her, the music takes her deeper and deeper into her day dream.  She closes her eyes, leans back in her office chair and with the tips of her fingers she lightly touches her forehead, imaging it’s the soft, warm touch of his beautiful full lips.  She moves her middle finger between her brows and down to the tip of her nose and pauses.  She can see him clearly now in her mind.  His forehead rested upon her own and his dark eyes staring into her own, his warm breath upon her own lips, the tip of his nose pressed against hers. One hand cradles her head, while his strong thick thumb slowly rubs against her jawline.  She can feel him peering into her eyes, deeply, beyond her hazel irises and into the very depths of her soul. 

“I love you,” her wolf whispers.

Her breath catches.  She wants to say those three powerful words back to him, but she can’t breathe.  She’s paralyzed, filled with both fear and overwhelming emotion.  She’s longed to hear him say those words, but at the same time doesn’t trust them.  Too many other wolves have said them to only have never meant them, never even knowing the power of what they meant, and in their blindness walked away beneath the power of the moon. Staring into those black eyes, she knows she loves the spirit behind them, more than any wolf she’s ever loved before, yet she knows that someday he too will walk away. The wildness within him will howl, and he will run, just as all the wolves before him.

Warm tears well in Luna’s eyes as she opens them and stares once more at the empty screen in front of her. She covers her face with hands, props her elbows on the end of the table and lets the cries of pain escape through her lips, a howling cry, a wearisome wail. 

Why does she cry?  Luna knows she’s wild, and something truly wild cannot ever be caged, cannot ever be tamed, cannot ever be possessed – only equaled by something just as wild, just as strong, just as powerful, and just as free.  She is a she-wolf that needs to run and not be caged. Her coat is beautiful, yet delicate.  She’s been broken so many times before by violent teeth, iron bars, and messy nets.  She is now tattered, torn, and frail, but she can still run, it’s all she knows.  Her strength comes from the earth.  Her heart comes from the moon.  The stars call to her and guides her toward her destiny.  The waves sing to her, telling her of the deep things.  The wind speaks to her and howls her name.  The rain washes the heaviness from her soul. The thunder and lightning energizes her and fills her with strength.

Luna wipes her face, takes a deep breath, and once more sets her fingers to the keys.  She knows she’s going to run.  Perhaps she knows her wolf won’t run next to her, but she can’t let his choice stop her.  The moon is calling her.  Her destiny awaits her.  She is a she-wolf goddess and her throne waits for her to return. Her scepter is the words she writes.  Her crown is her vision and drive.  It is a heavy crown and comes with much sacrifice, but she knows nothing great comes without a great cost. She also knows to be part of a pack is the easy way for an ordinary she-wolf, but she’s not ordinary and cannot ever be ordinary.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.  Luna’s fingers fly across the keyboard.  With each stroke, her heart beats just a little bit faster.  Her hazel eyes widened with excitement.  Her gift flows through her, filling her, stirring her, pouring into her at the same time pouring out through her fingertips. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The heavy beat of the music behind her moves her, pushes her, builds the moment must like the way her wolf makes love to her… building within her an explosive pressure, leading her toward a great release.

The words pour from her like a great river following around bends, navigating through rocks, and then plunging down over great falls.  Her imagination runs through the forest of fantasy like the spirit of her she-wolf, her feet barely touching the moss-covered ground, her heart racing as she dodges in and out hidden trails, inhaling the earthy scents of the forest, seeing all the vibrant natural colors. How wonderful would it be if another ran and witnessed the same beauty, but Luna knows only a wild wolf possesses such vision.

Ring. Ring.  Luna snaps out of her vision and her fingers rest once more on the keys.  She reaches over and pushes the power button on her iPod and silence fills the air that was just pulsating with heavy bass and erotic, tribal percussions.  Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hey, babe,” Luna answers, eyeing the name of her wolf flash across the screen of her phone.

The tone of his voice through the phone tingles her ears, much like the way the drum beats just did a few moments ago through the music and she can’t help but smile. His soul draws her out of her imagination, leaving her wild trails to fade back into the recesses of her mind. Her mind now focuses on him, the memory of his touch, the intoxication of his scent, of the wildness inside him that is an explosive combination when it comes together with her own.  His bite is infectious.  His growl is erotic.

“What you doing tonight?” Luna’s nipples begin to ache and her breath shallows. Her soul knows it’s a new moon and she wants to howl tonight, to run and hunt with her wild wolf.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” Luna laid her phone down on the desk, glanced at the black font filling the page and smiled. Her wild-woman hazel eyes glowed as she shut the cover of her laptop. 

My Personal Epic Fantasy

On my jog this morning I noticed something peculiar that set my mind pondering all sorts of odd ideas. Not new ideas, but really a particular idea that’s been percolating in my mind for a very long time. It’s been years of study really. It’s also been a subject, or at least part of the subject, that’s come up recently in a few casual conversations. Mind you, these conversations are with the male species ranging from 18 to 45. You see, I’m an avid gamer, well, I’m a Destiny gamer, and 99% of the gamers I meet online are male. So, it’s reasonable to expect that 99% of my daily conversations are with the male species. I’m thankful at the moment that my roommate is female, so that way I get a splash of female perspective at times. But, then again, she’s not your typical female roommate, because if we were a lesbian couple I’d definitely be the feminine aspect of that coupling. Not to stray too far from the topic, let me bring it back to my peculiar finding.

It’s very populated where I live now. What a stark contrast from just a couple months ago when I practically lived in a Siberian wasteland and could go a whole week seeing only 2 or 3 people, if I was lucky, and only have to talk to maybe half of those if I was extremely lucky. I now can’t walk out my front door without being greeted by a neighbor or two. So, jogging around the bungalow complex, or down and around the park, or along the sidewalks by the various strip malls, I see a lot of people. Typically, I’d have my earbuds blasting away an upbeat tune to keep me motivated and moving, but mostly as an excuse so I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I also usually glance at the people I pass but keep my eyes forward to avoid contact. Well, that’s NOT what I did this morning. I made eye contact with everyone I passed (mostly men, btw), smiled at them, waved, but kept moving. Every one of them responded, even the ones who moved as I normally do with only a glance and eyes forward to avoid contact.

So, what was this deep thought I had? It involves porn, but I’ll get to that in a minute. Well, this thought occurred to me when this older gentleman, clearly in his mid-50’s, perhaps early 60’s since he’s running and in shape, made no subtle attempt in letting me know he really liked what he saw. He stopped in front of me, took his ear buds out of his ears, and put both his hands up to his heart…as if to say he’s having a heart attack, but certainly not under any true duress. The smile on his face lit up his whole countenance. Against my usual judgment, I stopped. “Darlin’, I just have to say, “Wowzers”. There’s no other expression I can imagine that would fit any better.” You must remember, I’m not 25 with legs that go on forever. I’m 44, short, curvy, and have a wrinkle and a gray hair or two (with hair dye you’ll never see those). Though I look young for my age, it’s clear to see I’m a mature woman, not a ‘young, hot, thang’. I smiled and thanked him for his compliment and continued my run.

That’s not the first ‘older’ gentleman to hit on me since I’ve been here. I live on the Space Coast in sunny Florida, where the rich recreate and the elderly retire out their golden years. If I so choose, I could easily snatch up a “Sugar Daddy” or two, IF material possessions and money really meant anything to me. Unfortunately, I’m sort of a gypsy, a wild soul looking for adventure more than possessions, love more than money, and living life more than just surviving it. I’ve been in survival mode for too long. It’s time I got back to being my wild, adventurous self.

I can’t help but think about what men really want in women. What do the young want, the old want, or the lover want? I listen to the guys talk in the game chats, and while they talk a big game (in most cases dehumanizing women into sexual objects, something to be fucked and tolerated… seriously… I NEVER hear the guys talk about how a woman is beautiful, smart, amazing, something to be cherished, adored, appreciated, and such… what a culture we live in), but I believe they all want the same thing; they just have different ideas of how to obtain it. I.e. I have this one friend that falls in love easily and often. While he’s very wise on a lot of things, very knowledgeable on a lot more things, very brave in almost everything, I wouldn’t take love advice from him because he doesn’t even know what it is he really wants. While being in ‘love’ with one woman, he keeps a small circle of good female ‘friends’ on a string (not too loose they disappear, not too close to be committed) just in case things don’t work out, more than likely so he won’t be alone until he falls in love again. I’m pretty sure he feels deeply, but he doesn’t express those deep emotions, in a failed attempt at protecting his heart from getting hurt. He hurts. He’s human. Failed relationships hurt, no matter how badass you might be. He’d be quick to protest that he doesn’t fear anything, or isn’t affected when something falls apart. But what is it he’s really looking for? What is it he hasn’t been able to find yet in choices he’s already made? What was it about the women chosen before where he thought he’d found it, to only discover a short time later he can’t see that same thing to sustain it?

Not getting off topic, but shifting gears to come at it from another angle. There’s another discussion in my gaming chat groups about pornography. The guys love it. Many of them watch it regularly, especially the friend mentioned above. They think I’m a prude because I don’t watch porn. I don’t not watch it because I’m a prude or think I’m too ‘goody’ to watch it, as if it’s garbage. I don’t watch it because it isn’t necessary and I feel sends the wrong message about sex, love, AND relationships. I love porn… but not to watch. I love making porn with someone I love. Not filming our sexual acts, but sharing our sexual, emotional, and psychological expressions together, using our imagination to play, have fun, and be together in every way. Being intimate. Porn lacks ALL that intimacy and imagination. I’m not anti-porn, I’m pro-intimacy. I love to be kinky, sexy, and fun. There’s NOTHING in porn that can beat my imagination, but when I feel a man expects what he watches in porn, it stifles my imagination. I can’t fake it, so I shut down. What little porn I’ve watched was filled with a lack of emotion, lack of imagination, and minimizes sex to a mere physical act - with strangers. Does a stranger deserve to see and share that part of me, that part of my imagination, that part of my intimacy? Hell NO. Yes, I’ve done it. I’ve had a casual experience with a stranger. While it was a little fun, and sexually charged, once it was over… it was over and I was empty. Yet, I’ve had a better experience when a man I loved very much simply ran his fingers over my hair. So, I’m sorry… I just can’t get excited or get off watching other people who don’t love or care for one another fucking, and doing it in a boring way. If your sex life is like a porn scene, that’s boring and I feel sorry for you, because your love life is going to be just as emotionally empty, because you’re training your mind and your body that ‘the porn way’ is the way sex is supposed to be done. I also believe that this is the number one killer in relationships for guys, because they’ve set up their relationships like a porn scene < Boy meets girl, sparks fly, they fuck, think they’ve fallen in love because they had chemistry and the orgasms were great, but then the orgasms subside and when they look at each other all they see is a stranger. They might fuck a few more times, but then that episode gets old, that page is starting to stick, and they want to see another one, meet another stranger>… and so the cycle goes.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying ALL men are like this, but many are… and they don’t even know it. I’m not harping on just men, either. There are many women in the same boat. I hope my friend someday learns to shut the porn off and swim into deeper waters, because I’d love to see him truly happy. I hope all the Sugar Daddy’s out there finds beauty in the older women they may overlook, while they’re tripping all over themselves over the pretty plastic ones. As for this gypsy, I’m still not going to watch porn, and I’ll still avoid the Sugar Daddy’s and their pockets of sweets, and keep running and smiling until I find my personal epic fantasy. I suppose that’s why porn doesn’t work for me, I’m not into the small and empty, but epic and fantastical magic. It’s no wonder my gamertag is Kvothe from The Name of the Wind. The music this Edema Rue plays has a meaning so deep the Chandrian will try to hunt me down and silence me, and the Arcanum doesn’t have enough room to record it.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

My Own Fairy Tale

I can do so many amazing things. I’ve accomplished countless great things in my life already and have the ability, talent, and drive to be successful at many more. I never run from a fight, I stand up for who I am and what I want, and I try to be as fair as I possibly can in an unfair world. So, why am I so scared? Why do my hands literally shake at the thought of exposing my fiery heart and letting someone in?

I don’t lack for self-esteem. I have come to love myself greatly. I’ve learned to appreciate myself for the rare beauty that I am, respect myself for my opened mind, and know without doubt I’m worth fighting for. I’ve learned to love and appreciate the simplistic beauty of a soul, to see beyond masks, and choose to love anyway – just as they are, not trying to change them to fit into an old fantasy or idea of who they should be. But deep inside there is still this scared little beast who doesn’t believe she’s capable of being loved, of being chosen, that the glass slipper will fit, or the curse be broken with a simple kiss.

Here’s the hard part. I’m not without love. I am already very much loved. I have some good friends who love all the complicated mess that makes me who I am. They’re in my corner. They believe in me. They see me… all of me, my true self, and love me anyway. I know if they could, they’d wave their magic wands and transform my life into the dream I desire, but they can’t. They’re not fairy godmothers, mice who turn into men, pumpkins who transform into carriages to take me directly to my Prince Charming. In my world, I have to make my own damned clothes, hike all the way to the castle, declare my right to be there no matter what anyone else says, ignore all the stares and judgments from all the snobs because I’m different, walk with my head high among the whispers, and keep telling myself that I’m worth it and somewhere among all these frogs there is a Prince just for me.

It’s hard attending this ball. I’ve witnessed time and again other princesses kiss their frogs and have them transform into beautiful princes. So far, all the princes I’ve kissed have remained frogs. While our meeting, conversation, and dance has been beautiful and even magical, it hasn’t been enough to break the spell. Yet I still hope. Not that a kiss will save me or wake me from a deep sleep… but that it will set me on fire and I unfurl my wings and soar into the heavens. What prince ever loves the dragon?

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Fantasy by MS MR featured in Songplaces.com

Check out my latest article in Songlplaces.com featuring the song "Fantasy" by MS MR.

Here's a snippet:

"Every time I hear the soft, sultry tunes of "Fantasy," clearly recognizable as the Brooklyn/London duo MS MR (pronounced Miz Mister - made up of Lizzy Plapinger and Max Hershenaw), I’m instantly propelled into the most beautiful memory I’ve ever had. It was the first time I ever visited the beautiful mountains of the Olympic National Park in the Pacific Northwest."

http://www.songplaces.com/Fantasy/Vassar_College_Poughkeepsie_New_York


Visit SongPlaces to read the rest of the article.

Review - Prophecy - R.T. Kaelin

*Review Published in The West Georgia Living Magazine - Nov/Dec 2012 edition

Book: Prophecy (The Children of the White Lions #2)

Author: R.T. Kaelin

Publisher: Terrene Press

Genre: Fantasy

 

Book Description:

Publication Date: September 30, 2012

The God of Chaos is marching.  The Borderlands are nearly over-run, shredded by his army.  In a dusty village, ninety-four residents led by two soldiers make a last stand.  During the assault, one of the enemies isolates Rhohn Larus, a Dust Man.  Yet rather than kill, the monster gives him a cryptic message and begs he carries it east, claiming it could halt the war.

At Storm Island, Nikalys, Kenders and Jak are adjusting to their new lives as leader, mage and soldier.  In the nation’s capital, nobles spar, some conspire with the enemy, while others ally together to halt Chaos’ advance.  New friends will be made, old rivals rediscovered and secrets revealed.

The stage is set.  War is here. And the Progeny must rise to stop it.

Review:  

I feel very privileged that I was one of the lucky ones to receive an ARC (Advanced Readers Copy) of the second book of The Children of the White Lions series, The Prophecy from author R.T. Kaelin.  I was so excited that I put aside another project I was reading to dive right in, and I was NOT disappointed.

This story picks right up where the first book left off, with our heroes having survived their first huge battle.  They suffered loss and experienced a bit of tragedy, but instead of being defeated and depressed, they rose to the challenge and put on a shield of determination.

One of the first things I loved about this second installment was the way R.T. Kaelin brought us back to the basics and these powerful, wonderful heroes back to earth by showing their weaknesses and frailties.  Though they may be the “Progeny”, something prophesied by the great heroes that come before them, and had won their first victory, they were still far from where they needed to be in order to fulfill their destiny.  They still had a lot to learn, a lot more to overcome, and they realized they were inept and didn’t know everything.  This is called Character Building, and is true in both life and fiction.  THIS is what I love about story-telling – using fiction as a tool for teaching an inspirational message through example; giving readers something to think about and a hope to overcome their own challenges in life.  Showing that our titles, inheritance and privilege (or lack thereof) isn’t what makes us who we are – but the choices we make during moments of adversity.  

Kaelin does an excellent job with not only the progression of our characters development of magical skill, talents or latent abilities, but in personality, courage and strength of character.  He doesn’t just instantly fill our characters with greatness and then sends them off into battle to prove it.  Kaelin takes the time to build their true character through bits and pieces of moments that build that greatness within them - and expose their weaknesses.  I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing this – but it’s done really well. 

This section of the story is a little bit more mature than the one before (as it should be), so my recommendation would be for an older audience (but not too much older).  It’s still clean, positive and an absolutely beautiful story.  There are battles, magic, love and loss, but on a more mature level – on the same level of our characters.  R.T. Kaelin is also hereby inducted into the Evil Author’s Guild, which is a club for authors with a propensity to kill off beloved characters.  Be prepared to laugh out loud, but also to shed a few tears. 

Thank goodness R.T. Kaelin is busy writing the third book of this series, because I’m sitting on edge waiting to get my hands on it – and you will too.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Author of the Arcainian Series

Review - Progeny - R.T. Kaelin

Review – Progeny - R.T. Kaelin

Published in The West Georgia Living Magazine - Nov/Dec Edition 2012

Book: Progeny (The Children of the White Lions #1)

Author: R.T. Kaelin

Publisher: Terrene Press

Genre: Fantasy

Book Description: 

Publication Date: November 27, 2010

Nikalys and his sister Kenders have grown up living a peaceful life in the small village of Yellow Mud. On a blistering hot day, brother and sister head to the lake for a swim. There, they witness a mysterious stranger send forth a massive, living wave that swallows their village. Believing they are the sole survivors, the two strike out on their own, hoping to discover why their home and family have been destroyed. They must make their way through a countryside where magic is outlawed while struggling with the revelation that one of them can “weave the Strands.”

Through their travels, these siblings discover that their simple life was an illusion. An epic, divine struggle has been underway for ages, and Nikalys and Kenders are at the center of it. Ancient, powerful forces have sought them since before their birth and hunt them to this day. Some wish to eliminate the threat they pose while others want to help the pair fulfill a destiny of which they are unaware. Myths and legends come to life, whisking the pair along a grand journey neither could have imagined possible.

  

Review:  

There are many reasons authors write stories.  Sometimes it’s to share a little bit of magic in a practical world.  Sometimes it’s cathartic, a release of pent up emotions and hurts that others can identify and share. Sometimes it’s to take a break from the harsh realities and escape in a bit of fantasy.  Sometimes it’s a vehicle used to spread a message, a moral code, a bit of wisdom or advice to pass down to the next generation.  There are many reasons.  In history, story-telling was very crucial to the development and understanding of humanity’s way of life, passing down traditions, values and knowledge to educate and survive.  Today, with the easy access to self-publishing and lowering of standards of excellence by traditional publishing, bookshelves and eBook readers are being filled most often with sensationalized stories, demoralizing values and re-telling of superficial history.  I’m guilty of a bit of this myself.  But, it has me wondering what future generations will look like because of this practice.  It also caused me to pause and re-evaluate the stories I read.

 

R.T. Kaelin has reminded me in his Children of the White Lions series of what it was that first had me fall in love with reading as a child.  It’s not full of sensationalism, pushing the boundaries of the moral code, or even re-writing history to fit modern-day ideals.  It’s about coming-of-age magic, destiny and first loves.  It’s about discovering who you are, regardless of what you’re told.  It’s about facing fears and adversity, but finding the strength to overcome them within yourself – not waiting on a superhero to swoop down out of the sky to rescue you – most often from your own messes. It’s about failing and finding the courage to get back up.  All these wonderful elements are brilliantly placed within a beautiful story centered on two brave teenaged boys and their rambunctious sister. 

Surrounding the central heroes are powerful minor characters, full of flaws, beauty, scars and well-developed personalities, along with a refreshing and straight forward magical system, and a battle for dominance from an imperfect and fallible antagonist.  This story isn’t just about the battles, the quest, freedom from oppression or victory of the war, but it’s about the lives that are involved.  This is a character-driven story, my favorite kind.  Kaelin stays true to the youth and inexperience of the main characters, allowing plenty of room for growth and development through the series.  I absolutely love them all – including many of the minor characters. 

I would recommend this book from young adult (10yrs – up) to adult.  It’s a wonderful story of loss, love, and leadership.  It’s a great example of reluctant heroes rising to the greatness that’s been thrust upon them.  It’s clean, it’s magical and it leaves the reader with hope instead of despair.  I can’t wait to read more.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Author of the Arcainian Series