by casblomberg | Nov 2, 2014 | Book, Fantasy, fiction, Jakob's Journal, Reading, SFF, Writing
9th Day of Harvest Season “How long will you allow that charlatan to run the temple? To lay hands on people in the name of the Seven Holies?” “Master Gryst, it’s complicated.” “Complicated? How complicated can it be? She’s starving everyone. Last I checked, that was...
by casblomberg | Oct 19, 2014 | Book, Fantasy, fiction, Jakob's Journal, Reading, SFF, Writing
7th Day of Harvest Season, 342 Years After Mourning I spent all day debating with myself, only to discover I have lost the argument. At least the hopeful side of me has. The side that is still a little boy filled with a child’s belief that all will turn out for the...
by casblomberg | Oct 12, 2014 | Book, Fantasy, fiction, Jakob's Journal, Reading, SFF, Writing
6th Day of Harvest Season, 342 Days After Mourning The message arrived before dawn, and mine were the only eyes to see it. For two days, I have risen before first prayer to check on the birds in the early morning silence, hidden from watchful eyes. Thankfully, we are...
by casblomberg | Oct 5, 2014 | Book, Courage, Fantasy, fiction, Jakob's Journal, Reading, SFF, Writing
4th Day of Harvest Season, 342 Years After Mourning Today marks the second day Brother Trinn and I walked among the families of the sick. He pressed a crisp sheet of baked wheat mixed with bark into eager hands, while I followed behind and offered sips of weak ale...
by casblomberg | Sep 28, 2014 | Book, Courage, Fantasy, fiction, Jakob's Journal, Reading, SFF, Writing
2nd Day of Harvest Season, 342 Years After Mourning When I heard the footsteps, I knew they didn’t belong to Hilla; her feet traveled a different path, one filled with the soft lift of the sun and hope. Two wardens took her place, shuffling down the damp, stone...
by casblomberg | Sep 21, 2014 | Book, Courage, Fantasy, fiction, Jakob's Journal, Reading, SFF, Writing
1st Day of Harvest Season, 342 Years After Mourning “Twin rowans guard the bend where the river turns east. Count off fourteen paces—nay, double that for your young legs—and you’ll find the overhang. If you don’t see it immediately, sweep away the vines. Sleep there....
