Getting ready for the launch party!

Well, The Prince of prophecy Vol. I: Destined is finally available in eBook, paperback, and hardcover! If you’d like to purchase it, you can do so at the following websites:

Amazon

Createspace

Nautilus Press

I am so excited for my launch party! I just received some of the last of my party favors today and I’m nearly finished with the decorations. This has been so much work, but I know the party is going to be awesome! I’ll post pictures here after the party–speaking of which, there won’t be a blog update this Saturday. My next post will be on Sunday and then we’ll get back to our “regular programming”.

Anyway, hope you guys have a great rest of the week and I’ll see ya’ll again on Sunday!

 

For new Prince of Prophecy and fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Advertisements

Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Emperor’s New Clothes”

p1

Many years ago there was an Emperor so exceedingly fond of new clothes that he spent all his money on being well dressed. He cared nothing about reviewing his soldiers, going to the theatre, or going for a ride in his carriage, except to show off his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day, and instead of saying, as one might, about any other ruler, “The King’s in council,” here they always said. “The Emperor’s in his dressing room.”

In the great city where he lived, life was always gay. Every day many strangers came to town, and among them one day came two swindlers. They let it be known they were weavers, and they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid.

“Those would be just the clothes for me,” thought the Emperor. “If I wore them I would be able to discover which men in my empire are unfit for their posts. And I could tell the wise men from the fools. Yes, I certainly must get some of the stuff woven for me right away.” He paid the two swindlers a large sum of money to start work at once.

They set up two looms and pretended to weave, though there was nothing on the looms. All the finest silk and the purest old thread which they demanded went into their traveling bags, while they worked the empty looms far into the night.

“I’d like to know how those weavers are getting on with the cloth,” the Emperor thought, but he felt slightly uncomfortable when he remembered that those who were unfit for their position would not be able to see the fabric. It couldn’t have been that he doubted himself, yet he thought he’d rather send someone else to see how things were going. The whole town knew about the cloth’s peculiar power, and all were impatient to find out how stupid their neighbors were.

“I’ll send my honest old minister to the weavers,” the Emperor decided. “He’ll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he’s a sensible man and no one does his duty better.”

So the honest old minister went to the room where the two swindlers sat working away at their empty looms.

“Heaven help me,” he thought as his eyes flew wide open, “I can’t see anything at all”. But he did not say so.

Both the swindlers begged him to be so kind as to come near to approve the excellent pattern, the beautiful colors. They pointed to the empty looms, and the poor old minister stared as hard as he dared. He couldn’t see anything, because there was nothing to see. “Heaven have mercy,” he thought. “Can it be that I’m a fool? I’d have never guessed it, and not a soul must know. Am I unfit to be the minister? It would never do to let on that I can’t see the cloth.”

“Don’t hesitate to tell us what you think of it,” said one of the weavers.

“Oh, it’s beautiful -it’s enchanting.” The old minister peered through his spectacles. “Such a pattern, what colors!” I’ll be sure to tell the Emperor how delighted I am with it.”

“We’re pleased to hear that,” the swindlers said. They proceeded to name all the colors and to explain the intricate pattern. The old minister paid the closest attention, so that he could tell it all to the Emperor. And so he did.

The swindlers at once asked for more money, more silk and gold thread, to get on with the weaving. But it all went into their pockets. Not a thread went into the looms, though they worked at their weaving as hard as ever.

The Emperor presently sent another trustworthy official to see how the work progressed and how soon it would be ready. The same thing happened to him that had happened to the minister. He looked and he looked, but as there was nothing to see in the looms he couldn’t see anything.

“Isn’t it a beautiful piece of goods?” the swindlers asked him, as they displayed and described their imaginary pattern.

“I know I’m not stupid,” the man thought, “so it must be that I’m unworthy of my good office. That’s strange. I mustn’t let anyone find it out, though.” So he praised the material he did not see. He declared he was delighted with the beautiful colors and the exquisite pattern. To the Emperor he said, “It held me spellbound.”

All the town was talking of this splendid cloth, and the Emperor wanted to see it for himself while it was still in the looms. Attended by a band of chosen men, among whom were his two old trusted officials-the ones who had been to the weavers-he set out to see the two swindlers. He found them weaving with might and main, but without a thread in their looms.

“Magnificent,” said the two officials already duped. “Just look, Your Majesty, what colors! What a design!” They pointed to the empty looms, each supposing that the others could see the stuff.

“What’s this?” thought the Emperor. “I can’t see anything. This is terrible!

Am I a fool? Am I unfit to be the Emperor? What a thing to happen to me of all people! – Oh! It’s very pretty,” he said. “It has my highest approval.” And he nodded approbation at the empty loom. Nothing could make him say that he couldn’t see anything.

His whole retinue stared and stared. One saw no more than another, but they all joined the Emperor in exclaiming, “Oh! It’s very pretty,” and they advised him to wear clothes made of this wonderful cloth especially for the great procession he was soon to lead. “Magnificent! Excellent! Unsurpassed!” were bandied from mouth to mouth, and everyone did his best to seem well pleased. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a cross to wear in his buttonhole, and the title of “Sir Weaver.”

Before the procession the swindlers sat up all night and burned more than six candles, to show how busy they were finishing the Emperor’s new clothes. They pretended to take the cloth off the loom. They made cuts in the air with huge scissors. And at last they said, “Now the Emperor’s new clothes are ready for him.”

Then the Emperor himself came with his noblest noblemen, and the swindlers each raised an arm as if they were holding something. They said, “These are the trousers, here’s the coat, and this is the mantle,” naming each garment. “All of them are as light as a spider web. One would almost think he had nothing on, but that’s what makes them so fine.”

“Exactly,” all the noblemen agreed, though they could see nothing, for there was nothing to see.

“If Your Imperial Majesty will condescend to take your clothes off,” said the swindlers, “we will help you on with your new ones here in front of the long mirror.”

The Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him, one garment after another. They took him around the waist and seemed to be fastening something – that was his train-as the Emperor turned round and round before the looking glass.

“How well Your Majesty’s new clothes look. Aren’t they becoming!” He heard on all sides, “That pattern, so perfect! Those colors, so suitable! It is a magnificent outfit.”

Then the minister of public processions announced: “Your Majesty’s canopy is waiting outside.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be ready,” the Emperor said, and turned again for one last look in the mirror. “It is a remarkable fit, isn’t it?” He seemed to regard his costume with the greatest interest.

The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn’t dare admit they had nothing to hold.

So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the streets and the windows said, “Oh, how fine are the Emperor’s new clothes! Don’t they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!” Nobody would confess that he couldn’t see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success.

“But he hasn’t got anything on,” a little child said.

“Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?” said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, “He hasn’t anything on. A child says he hasn’t anything on.”

“But he hasn’t got anything on!” the whole town cried out at last.

The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, “This procession has got to go on.” So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn’t there at all.

 

For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

“The Prince of Prophecy” Special Update: BOOK LAUNCHED!

Balloons-for-Birthday-Party

The Prince of Prophecy Vol. I: Destined is finally here! You can purchase the paperback book for $20.00 right here: https://www.createspace.com/4457906

OR

You can also buy the paperback and hardcover versions on my publishing website: http://nautiluspress3.wix.com/nautiluspress#!books/cnec
There, the paperback is $15.00 and the hardcover is $25.00

Happy reading!

 

For new Prince of Prophecy and fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Lewis Carroll’s “Punctuality”

the_grandfather_paradox

Man naturally loves delay,

And to procrastinate;

Business put off from day to day

Is always done too late.

 

Let every hour be in its place

Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,

And well enjoy the vacant space,

As though a birthday gift.

 

And when the hour arrives, be there,

Where’er that “there” may be;

Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair

Let no one ever see.

 

If dinner at “half-past” be placed,

At “half-past” then be dressed.

If at a “quarter-past” make haste

to be down with the rest.

 

Better to be before your time,

Than e’er to be behind;

To open the door while strikes the chime,

That shows a punctual mind.

 

MORAL:

Let punctuality and care,

Seize every flitting hour,

So shalt thou cull a floweret fair,

E’en from a fading flower.

 

For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Three Days Until Book Launch!

I can’t believe how quickly the week has gone by! Everything is just about set for TPoP Vol. I: Destined‘s paperback and hardcover book launch which will be at midnight on the 29th. Man oh man has this been a ton of hard work, but I’m so proud of how far it’s come! For those of you interested in purchasing the book, you’ll find  the best prices at my publishing website nautiluspress3.wix.com/nautiluspress. If you can’t wait, you can buy the eBook version of The Prince of Prophecy Vol. I: Destined right now for your nook, kindle, or apple products (via the iBook app).

Getting everything together for my book launch party has been a task, but I know it’s going to be amazing in the end. I’m going to have swag bags, a paperback raffle, physical copies of my books to sell, a laptop station to buy the books from my website (just in case I run out of physical copies), TPoP themed food and drinks, and hopefully even a couple of games for my guests to play. I can’t wait!

 

For new Prince of Prophecy and fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Six Days Until “TPoP: Destined’s” Paperback and Hardcover Book Launch!

WP_20140723_003

I just received my very first LCCN (Library of Congress Control Number), which means the final step in the editing process is complete! I’ve submitted my final drafts for both the paperback and hardcover, and they should be approved for production by tomorrow.  After that, I’m all set for the book launch on the 29th on this month!

The paperback will be priced at $20.00 USD, and the hardcover will be priced at $30.00 USD on Amazon and various other online retailers (complete list soon to come). However, if you buy the book directly from my Nautilus Press publishing website, you can purchase the paperback for only $15.00 USD and the hardcover for $25.00 USD.

I’m also getting ready for my book launch party on the 2nd of August, which is the reason for the big poster pictured above. I’m so excited! I’m going to raffle off a book, have a few paperbacks to sell, and I’m even going to set up a laptop purchasing station where my guests can buy The Prince of Prophecy Vol. I: Destined online. All in all I think the launch party is going to be awesome! But, bottom line, I can’t wait until the book’s published–then I can finally relax!

NAUTILUS PRESS WEBSITE

For new fairy tale and Prince of Prophecy updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Rudyard Kipling’s “Mowgli’s Song”

image08

That he sang at the Council Rock when he danced on Shere Khan’s hide

The Song of Mowgli — I, Mowgli, am singing. Let the jungle listen to the things I have done.

Shere Khan said he would kill — would kill! At the gates in the twilight he would kill Mowgli, the Frog!

He ate and he drank. Drink deep, Shere Khan, for when wilt thou drink again? Sleep and dream of the kill.

I am alone on the grazing-grounds. Gray Brother, come to me!

Come to me, Lone Wolf, for there is big game afoot!

Bring up the great bull buffaloes, the blue-skinned herd bulls with the angry eyes. Drive them to and fro as I order.

Sleepest thou still, Shere Khan? Wake, oh, wake! Here come I, and the bulls are behind.

Rama, the King of the Buffaloes, stamped with his foot. Waters of the Waingunga, whither went Shere Khan?

He is not Ikki to dig holes, nor Mao, the Peacock, that he should fly. He is not Mang the Bat, to hang in the branches. Little bamboos that creak together, tell me where he ran?

Ow! He is there. Ahoo! He is there. Under the feet of Rama lies the Lame One! Up, Shere Khan!

Up and kill! Here is meat; break the necks of the bulls!

Hsh! He is asleep. We will not wake him, for his strength is very great. The kites have come down to see it. The black ants have come up to know it. There is a great assembly in his honor.

Alala! I have no cloth to wrap me. The kites will see that I am naked. I am ashamed to meet all these people.

Lend me thy coat, Shere Khan. Lend me thy gay striped coat that I may go to the Council Rock.

By the Bull that bought me I made a promise — a little promise.

Only thy coat is lacking before I keep my word.

With the knife, with the knife that men use, with the knife of the hunter, I will stoop down for my gift.

Waters of the Waingunga, Shere Khan gives me his coat for the love that he bears me. Pull, Gray Brother! Pull, Akela! Heavy is the hide of Shere Khan.

The Man Pack are angry. They throw stones and talk child’s talk.

My mouth is bleeding. Let me run away.

Through the night, through the hot night, run swiftly with me, my brothers. We will leave the lights of the village and go to the low moon.

Waters of the Waingunga, the Man-Pack have cast me out. I did them no harm, but they were afraid of me. Why?

Wolf Pack, ye have cast me out too. The jungle is shut to me and the village gates are shut. Why?

As Mang flies between the beasts and birds, so fly I between the village and the jungle. Why?

I dance on the hide of Shere Khan, but my heart is very heavy. My mouth is cut and wounded with the stones from the village, but my heart is very light, because I have come back to the jungle. Why?

These two things fight together in me as the snakes fight in the spring. The water comes out of my eyes; yet I laugh while it falls. Why?

I am two Mowglis, but the hide of Shere Khan is under my feet.

All the jungle knows that I have killed Shere Khan. Look — look well, O Wolves!

Ahae! My heart is heavy with the things that I do not understand.

 

This has to be one of my favorite poems from The Jungle Books. Poor Mowgli has been cast out of both packs–this is one of the reasons why I think many adolescents can relate to Mowgli’s struggles even in this day and age. Rejection and feeling like an outsider is, unfortunately, still a prevalent issue in today’s society. For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm’s “King Thrushbeard”

Arthur_Rackham_King_Thrushbeard

A King had a daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure, but so proud and haughty withal that no suitor was good enough for her. She sent away one after the other, and ridiculed them as well.

Once the King made a great feast and invited thereto, from far and near, all the young men likely to marry. They were all marshaled in a row according to their rank and standing; first came the kings, then the grand-dukes, then the princes, the earls, the barons, and the gentry. Then the King’s daughter was led through the ranks, but to every one she had some objection to make; one was too fat, “The wine-cask,” she said. Another was too tall, “Long and thin has little in.” The third was too short, “Short and thick is never quick.” The fourth was too pale, “As pale as death.” The fifth too red, “A fighting-cock.” The sixth was not straight enough, “A green log dried behind the stove.”

So she had something to say against every one, but she made herself especially merry over a good king who stood quite high up in the row, and whose chin had grown a little crooked. “Well,” she cried and laughed, “he has a chin like a thrush’s beak!” and from that time he got the name of King Thrushbeard.

But the old King, when he saw that his daughter did nothing but mock the people, and despised all the suitors who were gathered there, was very angry, and swore that she should have for her husband the very first beggar that came to his doors.

A few days afterwards a fiddler came and sang beneath the windows, trying to earn a small alms. When the King heard him he said, “Let him come up.” So the fiddler came in, in his dirty, ragged clothes, and sang before the King and his daughter, and when he had ended he asked for a trifling gift. The King said, “Your song has pleased me so well that I will give you my daughter there, to wife.”

The King’s daughter shuddered, but the King said, “I have taken an oath to give you to the very first beggar-man, and I will keep it.” All she could say was in vain; the priest was brought, and she had to let herself be wedded to the fiddler on the spot. When that was done the King said, “Now it is not proper for you, a beggar-woman, to stay any longer in my palace, you may just go away with your husband.”

The beggar-man led her out by the hand, and she was obliged to walk away on foot with him. When they came to a large forest she asked, “To whom does that beautiful forest belong?” “It belongs to King Thrushbeard; if you had taken him, it would have been yours.” “Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken King Thrushbeard!”

Afterwards they came to a meadow, and she asked again, “To whom does this beautiful green meadow belong?” “It belongs to King Thrushbeard; if you had taken him, it would have been yours.” “Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken King Thrushbeard!”

Then they came to a large town, and she asked again, “To whom does this fine large town belong?” “It belongs to King Thrushbeard; if you had taken him, it would have been yours.” “Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I had but taken King Thrushbeard!”

“It does not please me,” said the fiddler, “to hear you always wishing for another husband; am I not good enough for you?” At last they came to a very little hut, and she said, “Oh goodness! what a small house; to whom does this miserable, mean hovel belong?” The fiddler answered, “That is my house and yours, where we shall live together.”

She had to stoop in order to go in at the low door. “Where are the servants?” said the King’s daughter. “What servants?” answered the beggar-man; “you must yourself do what you wish to have done. Just make a fire at once, and set on water to cook my supper, I am quite tired.” But the King’s daughter knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking, and the beggar-man had to lend a hand himself to get anything fairly done. When they had finished their scanty meal they went to bed; but he forced her to get up quite early in the morning in order to look after the house.

For a few days they lived in this way as well as might be, and came to the end of all their provisions. Then the man said, “Wife, we cannot go on any longer eating and drinking here and earning nothing. You weave baskets.” He went out, cut some willows, and brought them home. Then she began to weave, but the tough willows wounded her delicate hands.

“I see that this will not do,” said the man; “you had better spin, perhaps you can do that better.” She sat down and tried to spin, but the hard thread soon cut her soft fingers so that the blood ran down. “See,” said the man, “you are fit for no sort of work; I have made a bad bargain with you. Now I will try to make a business with pots and earthenware; you must sit in the market-place and sell the ware.” “Alas,” thought she, “if any of the people from my father’s kingdom come to the market and see me sitting there, selling, how they will mock me?” But it was of no use, she had to yield unless she chose to die of hunger.

For the first time she succeeded well, for the people were glad to buy the woman’s wares because she was good-looking, and they paid her what she asked; many even gave her the money and left the pots with her as well. So they lived on what she had earned as long as it lasted, then the husband bought a lot of new crockery. With this she sat down at the corner of the market-place, and set it out round about her ready for sale. But suddenly there came a drunken hussar galloping along, and he rode right amongst the pots so that they were all broken into a thousand bits. She began to weep, and did now know what to do for fear. “Alas! what will happen to me?” cried she; “what will my husband say to this?”

She ran home and told him of the misfortune. “Who would seat herself at a corner of the market-place with crockery?” said the man; “leave off crying, I see very well that you cannot do any ordinary work, so I have been to our King’s palace and have asked whether they cannot find a place for a kitchen-maid, and they have promised me to take you; in that way you will get your food for nothing.”

The King’s daughter was now a kitchen-maid, and had to be at the cook’s beck and call, and do the dirtiest work. In both her pockets she fastened a little jar, in which she took home her share of the leavings, and upon this they lived.

It happened that the wedding of the King’s eldest son was to be celebrated, so the poor woman went up and placed herself by the door of the hall to look on. When all the candles were lit, and people, each more beautiful than the other, entered, and all was full of pomp and splendour, she thought of her lot with a sad heart, and cursed the pride and haughtiness which had humbled her and brought her to so great poverty.

The smell of the delicious dishes which were being taken in and out reached her, and now and then the servants threw her a few morsels of them: these she put in her jars to take home.

All at once the King’s son entered, clothed in velvet and silk, with gold chains about his neck. And when he saw the beautiful woman standing by the door he seized her by the hand, and would have danced with her; but she refused and shrank with fear, for she saw that it was King Thrushbeard, her suitor whom she had driven away with scorn. Her struggles were of no avail, he drew her into the hall; but the string by which her pockets were hung broke, the pots fell down, the soup ran out, and the scraps were scattered all about. And when the people saw it, there arose general laughter and derision, and she was so ashamed that she would rather have been a thousand fathoms below the ground. She sprang to the door and would have run away, but on the stairs a man caught her and brought her back; and when she looked at him it was King Thrushbeard again. He said to her kindly, “Do not be afraid, I and the fiddler who has been living with you in that wretched hovel are one. For love of you I disguised myself so; and I also was the hussar who rode through your crockery. This was all done to humble your proud spirit, and to punish you for the insolence with which you mocked me.”

Then she wept bitterly and said, “I have done great wrong, and am not worthy to be your wife.” But he said, “Be comforted, the evil days are past; now we will celebrate our wedding.” Then the maids-in-waiting came and put on her the most splendid clothing, and her father and his whole court came and wished her happiness in her marriage with King Thrushbeard, and the joy now began in earnest. I wish you and I had been there too.

 

Another spoiled princess gets a happy ending (still, this is one of my favorites from Grimm’s)! I hope you liked King Thrushbeard! For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Hans Christian Andersen’s “This Fable is Intended for You”

Dog-Illustration

WISE men of ancient times ingeniously discovered how to tell people the truth without being blunt to their faces. You see, they held a magic mirror before the people, in which all sorts of animals and various wondrous things appeared, producing amusing as well as instructive pictures. They called these fables, and whatever wise or foolish deeds the animals preformed, the people were to imagine themselves in their places and thereby think, “This fable is intended for you!” In this way no one’s feelings were hurt. Let us give you an example.

There were two high mountains, and at the top of each stood a castle. In the valley below ran a hungry dog, sniffing along the ground as if in search of mice or quail. Suddenly a trumpet sounded from one of the castles, to announce that mealtime was approaching. The dog immediately started running up the mountain, hoping to get his share; but when he was halfway up, the trumpeter ceased blowing, and a trumpet from the other castle commenced. “Up here,” thought the dog, “they will have finished eating before I arrive, but over there they are just getting ready to eat.” So he ran down, and up the other mountain. But now the first trumpet started again, while the second stopped. The dog ran down again, and up again; and this he continued until both trumpets stopped blowing, and the meals were over in both castles.

Now guess what the wise men of ancient times would have said about this fable, and who the fool could be who runs himself ragged without gaining anything, either here or there?

 

For new fairy tale updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!

Back from the grave!

I’ve felt a bit under the weather this past week, which is why I haven’t got around to posting. To prevent this from happening again, I’ll be putting my blog posts in a cue from now on. That way new posts will be released exactly when I want them to regardless if I’m sick or not. Hooray for technology!

Anyway, the physical release (paperback and hardcover) for The Prince of Prophecy Vol. I: Destined will be on the 29th of July! I’m so excited that it’s finally going to be available in paperback and hardcover, and I hope you’re all as excited as I am!

Also, the first part of my author interview is up right now at THIS LINK. The second part of the interview will be up soon.

 

For new fairy tale and Prince of Prophecy updates every Wednesday and Saturday, follow this blog!