Shivani Roy And The Demon King Of Lanka (A Plot Twist?)

Shivani stood in the empty hall, staring at Patrick.  What he was saying was impossible.

“If you want to help them, then you have to choose,” Patrick said, as pulled out a key from his pocket.  Shivani heard the click and he unlocked the door.  He held it open for her once it swung open.  “And it has to be your choice alone.”

“But, I’m not ready,” Shivani protested.  It was too soon.  Her mind still whirled from his revelation.  She needed more time to prepare.  Her stomach tightened as she followed him into the large dark room.  It looked like a library, with its shelves that spanned the walls from the floor to the ceiling.  “I didn’t even finish the school year.”

“I know.  I wish that we had more time,” Patrick said, frowning at her.  He flicked on the light switch.  His concern was obvious, as he placed his hands on her shoulders.  “I wouldn’t normally ask you to choose yet, but we need your help.”  He dropped his hands from her shoulders and walked over to a panel on the wall behind the desk.  “And we need it now.”

“Why can’t you come with me?” Shivani pleaded.  There was no way she could do this by herself.

“I wish I could go with you,” Patrick said.  A part of him was tempted to accompany her.  “I really do.  But I can’t.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

Patrick sighed.  There were two reasons, but he would only tell her what she needed to know.  “They know me.  As soon as I enter that realm, the energy will shift.  They have Seers who will recognize the change the minute I arrive.  But you have a chance to get in there undetected.”

“But you can disguise yourself,” Shivani protested.  There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she would lose this argument.  But she persisted.  “You can make them see what you want them to.”

“It’s not that simple,” Patrick replied, shaking his head.  “Humans in this realm are unaware.  It’s much easier for me to manipulate energy here.  But the Devas and Asuras aren’t so easily deceived.  It takes more energy to hide from them.”

Shivani couldn’t admit defeat so easily.  She needed Patrick by her side for her first trip to Bharat.  “What difference does it make if they do discover you?  They can’t hurt you.”

“No, they can’t hurt me,” Patrick replied, and looked her straight in the eye.  It was time to tell her the truth.  “But they can hurt your parents.”

Shivani started at his words.  “My parents?” she repeated, frowning.  “What does this have to do with my parents?  They’re dead.”

Patrick studied the emotions that flitted across her face.  He had to tell her.  It was the only way she would be ready to face the situation in Bharat.  “What do you know about your parents?”

“Well,” Shivani hesitated.  “Not a lot.  I mean, the people at the agency told me that I was left at an orphanage in India when I was a baby.”

“And?” Patrick tilted his head.  He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms.  “What else did they tell you?”

As Patrick’s gaze narrowed, it occurred to Shivani that she had never questioned the story.  “Not much more than that,” Shivani shrugged.  “Just that an American couple adopted me and brought me to this country.  But they were killed in a car accident when I was little.  No one else wanted to adopt me.  So I went back into the foster care system.”  Shivani studied the floor.  It sounded so much more pathetic when she said it out loud.  She didn’t like that at all.  “I’ve been there ever since then.”

“So, no one knew who left you at the orphanage?” Patrick persisted.  He suspected what her answer would be, but wanted to make sure.

“No,” Shivani whispered.  Was it possible that her parents were still alive?  That they were the ones who left her at the orphanage?  Her heart started beating wildly.

Patrick knew what she was thinking.  He hated to crush her hopes, but she had to know.  “They weren’t the ones who dropped you off at the orphanage,” he said softly.  He winced when he saw the light go out of her eyes.

Shivani’s shoulders slumped.  He was probably right, but that small sliver of hope prompted her to question him.  “How do you know that?  Did you see it?”

Patrick hesitated.  It didn’t take his Seer’s abilities to see that Shivani wasn’t going to respond well to the truth.  What was the best way to approach this revelation?  “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh,” Shivani muttered, disappointed.  Patrick’s visions were always accurate.  “Did you see what happened in a vision?”

“No,” Patrick replied.  “It wasn’t a vision.”  When Shivani looked at him with confusion, he gave up his feeble attempts at tactful disclosure.  “It was me, Shivani,” he stood up and looked into the golden eyes that reminded him so much of someone else he had once loved.  “I’m the one who left you at the orphanage in India.”

The Demon And The Deva (Chapter 1)

The two Devas stared at the boy in stunned silence.  Janaka was the first to speak.  “The son of Sage Vishrava?”  He turned to Vyasa.  “Why wasn’t I told that the King of Lanka has an heir?”

Vyasa shook his head helplessly.  “Sire, I didn’t know.  My sources never revealed that King Pulastya had a grandson.”  He looked at the boy’s eyes again.  There was no mistaking his eye color.  “And certainly not an Asura grandson.”

“How would your sources know if we never told them?”  Mahish chuckled.  At Vyasa’s startled look, the Asura smiled.  “We are aware of your sources.  They only relay the information that we allow.”  The boy stood silently, listening intently to the exchange.  His sharp eyes absorbed the shock on the Devas’ faces.

“How did this happen?”  Janaka could barely contain his horror.  The kings of Lanka came from one of the most illustrious Deva bloodlines in Bharat.  To see it contaminated by Asura blood was appalling.

Mahish replied, “Vishrava has taken a second wife.”

“But after the death of his first wife, Vishrava renounced his claim to the throne,” Vyasa exclaimed, shaking his head in protest.  How had his sources missed this piece of critical information?  “He even vowed to remain celibate.”

“Well, even the most celibate man can be swayed by extraordinary beauty.”  Mahish laughed.  It was amusing to watch the Devas squirm at Lanka’s potential change in allegiance.  “Vishrava married the eldest daughter of King Sumali.  They now have four children.  Ravana is their eldest child.”

“Sumali’s daughter?”  Vyasa repeated.  The princesses of Daitya were renowned in Bharat for their beauty.  Mere mortal men couldn’t resist their charms.  But they were still the daughters of an Asura king who hungered for more power.  This new alliance didn’t bode well for the kingdom of Videha.  “And what of Prince Kubera?”  The younger son of Pulstya was second in the line of succession to the throne of Lanka.  Unless the birth of Ravana had changed that.

“The line of succession remains the same now that Vishrava has children.”  As Mahish continued to speak, King Janaka looked at him in horror.  “Ravana is the heir to the throne of Lanka.  But if Pulstya passes before Ravana comes of age, Kubera will rule in Ravana’s name.”  Mahish caught the look that was exchanged between King Janaka and Vyasa.  “Yes.  Therein lies the dilemma.”

“You fear harm will befall the boy before he comes of age?” Vyasa said softly.  “And if it does, Kubera ascends the throne.”

“Yes.  That is why I am here,” Mahish replied.  He turned to look at King Janaka.  “And that is why I will help you.  But I must have your word that you will protect Ravana with your lives.”

King Janaka could feel Ravana’s penetrating gaze.  He tried not to squirm, as he raised his hand.  “I have heard your plea for help.  I must speak with my advisors before I make a decision.”  He nodded to one of his guards, who left the throne room and returned with a young woman.  “My staff will escort you to your quarters. Please rest and refresh yourselves while I sit in deliberation on the matters we have just discussed.”

Mahish nodded, somewhat disappointed.  It had been foolish to hope for an immediate response.  “As you wish.  Thank you for your hospitality.”

Once Mahish and Ravana left the throne room, Vyasa turned to Janaka.  “Sire, shall I call the others?”

“No,” Janaka said grimly.  “I have no need of their counsel.  But I would hear your thoughts.”

******
As King Janaka sat on the throne, his advisor, Vyasa, paced the floor.  “This child changes everything,” Vyasa muttered.

“Well, this is a fine mess that your Asura Mahish has brought to my kingdom.  Age has addled Pulstya’s mind if he allowed this union.” Janaka’s jaw tightened.  It was inconceivable that Vishrava, the firstborn son of Pulstya, would have married an Asura.  And not just any Asura.  A daughter of Sumali, King of the Daityas.

“It’s an outrage,” Vyasa nodded in agreement.  The entire situation was unsettling.  Sumali was making a power play for Lanka.  “I feel certain that this was Sumali’s doing.”

“Yes,” Janaka pounded his fist on the arm of the throne.  “Sumali and one of his seductress daughters.”  It made sense.  Lanka was the wealthiest kingdom in Bharat.

“He hopes to acquire more weapons with Lanka’s wealth,” Vyasa continued to speculate out loud.  His face was grim.  Videha’s wealth, although plentiful, was no match for Lanka.  And Sumali had always eyed Videha’s fertile land.

“And now Sumali has what he wants.  The thrones of Lanka and Daitya will unite under that boy,” Janaka snarled.  He was consumed by one thought.  Eliminating the boy.

“Sire, we must proceed with caution,” Vyasa said.  His mind was still whirling at the failure of his people.  Were his sources compromised?  How many years had his people been under the control of the Asuras?  The boy, Ravana, was at least five years old.  So, for five years, no one in the kingdom of Videha had known about his existence?  This failure was beyond unacceptable.  Janaka would view it as treason.  Heads would roll.

“Of course we must proceed with caution,” Janaka snapped.  He rubbed his temples, which were beginning to throb.  Once the boy was gone, Lanka would remain under the control of the Devas.  “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Forgive me, Sire,” Vyasa replied deferentially.  Janaka’s thoughts were obvious.  Vyasa knew that he had to tread lightly.  “I speak to myself as well as to you.”

“Enough, enough,” Janaka waved his hand, dismissing the apology.  Kubera must ascend Lanka’s throne after Pulstya.

“May I speak freely?” Vyasa asked.  It was best to change the subject.  Janaka nodded.  “It is in our best interest to have Lanka remain under Deva rule.”

“Agreed.  Kubera is a fool, but he’s a Deva.  He will remain our ally after his father’s death.”  Janaka leaned on the left arm of the throne, rested his chin on one hand.  His dark brows knit together.  “This is why we must return the Demon boy to him.”

“Ravana, sire,” Vyasa said.  He stifled a sigh.  Janaka was working himself up into one of his fits of rage.  It would be difficult to lead him to the larger picture.  “The boy’s name is Ravana.”

“What difference does his name make?”  King Janaka’s loud voice thundered through the throne room.  “He will never sit on the throne of Lanka.”

“Sire, Asura or not, Ravana is still the grandson of King Pulstya,” Vyasa said calmly.  “If we were to harm the boy, Pulstya will have no choice but to attack Videha.”

“I have no intention of harming the boy,” Janaka huffed.  He looked mildly offended.  “But he shouldn’t be here.  There is no need to antagonize Prince Kubera.  Send the boy back to his people and let them sort it out.”

“And what of your quest?  You will never have an heir without the help of Mahish.” Vyasa said.  He watched Janaka digest the reminder.  “And he will never help you unless you vow to protect Ravana.”

The two men were silent.  After a few moments, King Janaka leaned forward and scowled at Vyasa.  “Then find someone who isn’t a traitor and send a message to Pulstya.  We must find out his stance on this grandson.  Until then, the child will remain under my protection.” Janaka’s nostrils flared at Vyasa’s obvious sigh of relief.  “But only until then.”

The Demon and The Deva (Prologue)

Once upon a time, in a world very similar to our own, there was an ancient land called Bharat.  Within Bharat was a small kingdom called Videha.  This is where our story begins.

The ruler of Videha was King Janaka.  Under his long reign, Videha was prosperous.  The people were happy, and life was peaceful.  There was just one problem.  King Janaka was aging and he didn’t have an heir.  For many years, Janaka and his beautiful queen, Sunayana, prayed to the gods for a child.  But the gods remained silent.  No child was born.

One day, a senior advisor in Janaka’s court, named Vyasa, approached the king in the throne room.  “Sire,” Vyasa beseeched him.  “You have heard me talk of the Seers for years.  The time has finally come.  You need their help.”

Janaka’s brow furrowed.  Everyone in Bharat had heard of the Seers.  They were a group of golden-eyed mystics who lived in the kingdom of Mahishūru.  They followed the teachings of an Asura called Mahishasura.  “Demons,” Janaka sputtered at the thought of an Asura setting foot in his kingdom.  “You want me to ask those demon Asuras for help?”

“Janaka, I am your friend,” Vyasa looked him in the eye.  Few others would dare do the same thing.  “We have known each other since childhood.  I will not just sit beside you and feed you idle words in this time of need.”

“I still have time,” Janaka protested, flushing angrily.  He was older, but still one of the most powerful kings in Bharat.

Vyasa raised an eyebrow.  He was accustomed to Janaka’s ego, but the time for soothing injured pride had ended.  “Sire, please allow me to speak honestly,” When Janaka nodded, Vyasa continued.  “Your enemies are mobilizing against you.  They are waiting for the first sign of weakness to pounce on Videha.  You must have an heir and time to train him.  Without one, Videha is in danger.”

“But to ask an Asura for help is outrageous,” Janaka scowled.  His distaste for Asuras was deep-rooted.  Devas and Asuras had been fighting each other for centuries.  It was only in the last two decades that a tentative peace agreement had been forged between the two groups.  But the distrust still lingered.  “There must be another way.”

“My brother, there is no other way,” Vyasa said softly.  It pained him to admit it.  He didn’t want to approach the Asuras for help either.  “I’ve seen it.  This is the only path to an heir.”

“So, who do you propose we call?”  When Vyasa raised an eyebrow, Janaka shook his head.  “He won’t come,” Janaka crossed his arms.  “Even if I ask him to.  There is too much bad blood between our kingdoms.”

“Yes, he will.”  Vyasa smiled.  When his visions were clear, they were never wrong.  “Ask him and he will come.”

One week later, Vyasa’s statement was proven correct.  He rushed into the throne room and found King Janaka conducting his daily meeting with his ministers.  Conversation halted as Vyasa approached the king.

“Sire, he’s here,” Vyasa whispered into the Janaka’s ear.

The king waved his hands, dismissing the ministers.  Once they scurried out of the room, Janaka nodded to two of his guardsmen.

The heavy doors at the opposite end of the room swung open.  An Asura named Mahishasura entered.  He surveyed the room with one sweeping glance as he strode across the marble floor.  Despite his towering height, Mahishasura looked up at the throne from the bottom of the steps.  “Janaka.”

“So, we finally meet,” King Janaka nodded back, and remained seated.  He pointedly lowered his head to look down at the Asura.  It was customary for two royals of equal status to greet each other on level ground.  “I’m told that you are the legendary Mahishasura.”

Mahishasura’s golden eyes eyes narrowed.  He recognized the insult.  “I am.”

“You look more human than I expected,” Janaka remarked casually.  He scanned the Asura from head to toe.  “I’ve heard that you are part water buffalo.  If the stories are true, where are your horns?”

Mahishasura smiled, baring even white teeth.  “Stories don’t always contain truth.”

Vyasa fluttered around Janaka nervously.  He said softly, “Sire, I must remind you that we invited him here.  We need his help.”

“Yes, yes,” Janaka lifted one hand and waved Vyasa away.  The internal struggle was apparent on his face.  After a few moments of silence, he stood up and walked down the steps.  “My advisor has reminded me that you have done us a great favor by appearing in our court.”  He extended his hand.  “Please forgive me.  You have shown us a great honor with your visit.”

Mahishasura raised an eyebrow.  After pausing, he took Janaka’s hand and clasped it in greeting.  “You are forgiven.  Now, what is the purpose of my visit?”

“I have been told that your people have special,” Janaka hesitated.  He searched for the word.  “Abilities.”  When Mahishasura remained silent, Janaka continued.  “I have need of such abilities.”

“Is that so?”  The expression on Mahishasura’s face was mild interest.  “And why is that?”

Janaka grimaced, as if he spotted something distasteful.  He squared his shoulders.  “My advisors tell me that I will never have an heir without your help.”

“I see,” Mahishasura replied evenly.  He didn’t appear surprised by the revelation.  “And if this is true, why should I help you?”

The Asura was trying to bargain with him.  Well, this was something that Janaka could understand.  “What do you want from us in exchange for your help?”  He extended his hand to point out the splendors of the room.  “Gold?  Jewels?  I will pay your fee.”

Mahishasura snorted.  “I am the rightful King of Mahishuru.  It is one of the wealthiest kingdoms in Bharat.  Do you think I could be bought so easily?”

“But you’re not,” Vyasa interjected.  When Mahishasura turned his gaze to Vyasa, the old advisor stammered.  “Your Highness, I mean no disrespect.  But I have been told that you gave up your right to the throne to follow the teachings of the Seers.”

Mahishasura nodded.  “You speak the truth.  I am no longer the King of Mahishuru. But my people still follow my words as law.”

“Then why are you here?” King Janaka demanded.  He didn’t have time to banter with an Asura.  “If not for gold or wealth, why are you here?”

Mahishasura’s brow furrowed.  Why indeed?  “I will help you.  But for a price.”

King Janaka threw up his hands in exasperation.  “What price?  I just offered you all of the gold you could ever want.”

“My price isn’t wealth,” Mahishsura replied.  He glanced over his shoulder and nodded at someone waiting outside the throne room.  “I need your protection.  For him.”

A woman holding the hand of a boy walked up to the group.  The boy was young and handsome.  While the woman kept her eyes cast downward, the boy boldly met the penetrating gaze of Vyasa.  He grinned, showing a flash of even white teeth, before turning his golden eyes to King Janaka.

“Who is this child?”  King Janaka demanded.  There was something about the boy that made him uneasy.

Mahishasura smiled.  He rested his hand on the boy’s thick black hair.  “He is the younger son of the Sage Vishrava.  His name is Ravana.”

DAY #20: A Modified “NaNoWriMo” Challenge (Write 15 Minutes of Garbage Every Day)

Does anyone else have this problem?  Loss of momentum in the middle of writing a story?  It’s Day 20 of this challenge and I’m trying to pick up the story from where I left off yesterday.  I had tons of ideas for the direction I wanted to go when I stopped typing yesterday afternoon, but all of them flew out of my mind…..

Sigh.  Well, let me retype the last paragraph or two from yesterday, and see if I can generate some momentum again.  (NOTE:  I won’t include the retyped portion in my final word count.)

Shivani couldn’t admit defeat so easily.  She needed Patrick by her side for her first trip to Bharat.  “What difference does it make if they do discover you?  They can’t hurt you.”

“No, they can’t hurt me,” Patrick replied, and looked her straight in the eye.  It was time to tell her the truth.  “But they can hurt your parents.”

Shivani started at his words.  “My parents?” she repeated, frowning.  “What does this have to do with my parents?  They’re dead.”

Patrick studied the emotions that flitted across her face.  He had to tell her.  It was the only way she would be ready to face the situation in Bharat.  “What do you know about your parents?”

“Well,” Shivani hesitated.  “Not a lot.  I mean, the people at the agency told me that I was left at an orphanage in India when I was a baby.”

“And?” Patrick tilted his head.  He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms.  “What else did they tell you?”

As Patrick’s gaze narrowed, it occurred to Shivani that she had never questioned the story.  “Not much more than that,” Shivani shrugged.  “Just that an American couple adopted me and brought me to this country.  But they were killed in a car accident when I was little.  No one else wanted to adopt me.  So I went back into the foster care system.”  Shivani studied the floor.  It sounded so much more pathetic when she said it out loud.  She didn’t like that at all.  “I’ve been there ever since then.”

“So, no one knew who left you at the orphanage?” Patrick persisted.  He suspected what her answer would be, but wanted to make sure.

“No,” Shivani whispered.  Was it possible that her parents were still alive?  That they were the ones who left her at the orphanage?  Her heart started beating wildly.

Patrick knew what she was thinking.  He hated to crush her hopes, but she had to know.  “They weren’t the ones who dropped you off at the orphanage,” he said softly.  He winced when he saw the light go out of her eyes.

Shivani’s shoulders slumped.  He was probably right, but that small sliver of hope prompted her to question him.  “How do you know that?  Did you see it?”

Patrick hesitated.  It didn’t take his Seer’s abilities to see that Shivani wasn’t going to respond well to the truth.  What was the best way to approach this revelation?  “I guess you could say that.”

“Oh,” Shivani muttered, disappointed.  Patrick’s visions were always accurate.  “Did you see what happened in a vision?”

“No,” Patrick replied.  “It wasn’t a vision.”  When Shivani looked at him with confusion, he gave up his feeble attempts at tactful disclosure.  “It was me, Shivani,” he stood up and looked into the golden eyes that reminded him so much of someone else he had once loved.  “I’m the one who left you at the orphanage in India.”

DAY #19: A Modified “NaNoWriMo” Challenge (Write 15 Minutes of Garbage Every Day)

Well, it’s Day 19 in the 30-day challenge and I’ve completely run off track from a story perspective.  But the good news is that I’ve been writing for more than 15 minutes each day.

I want to try and get back into the story writing groove, so here goes:

Shivani stood in the empty hall, staring at Patrick.  His words were impossible.

“If you want to help them, then you have to choose,” Patrick said, as pulled out a key from his pocket.  Shivani heard the click and he unlocked the door.  He held it open for her once it swung open.  “And it has to be your choice alone.”

“But, I’m not ready,” Shivani protested.  It was too soon.  Her mind still whirled from his revelation.  She needed more time to prepare.  Her stomach tightened as she followed him into the large dark room.  It looked like a library, with its shelves that spanned the walls from the floor to the ceiling.  “I didn’t even finish the school year.”

“I know.  I wish that we had more time,” Patrick said, frowning at her.  He flicked on the light switch.  His concern was obvious, as he placed his hands on her shoulders.  “I wouldn’t normally ask you to choose yet, but we need your help.”  He dropped his hands from her shoulders and walked over to a panel on the wall behind the desk.  “And we need it now.”

“Why can’t you come with me?” Shivani pleaded.  There was no way she could do this by herself.

“I wish I could go with you,” Patrick said.  A part of him was tempted to accompany her.  “I really do.  But I can’t.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

Patrick sighed.  There were two reasons, but he would only tell her what she needed to know.  “They know me.  As soon as I enter that realm, the energy will shift.  They have Seers who will recognize the change the minute I arrive.  But you have a chance to get in there undetected.”

“But you can disguise yourself,” Shivani protested.  There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she would lose this argument.  But she persisted.  “You can make them see what you want them to.”

“It’s not that simple,” Patrick replied, shaking his head.  “Humans in this realm are unaware.  It’s much easier for me to manipulate energy here.  But the Devas and Asuras aren’t so easily deceived.  It takes more energy to hide from them.”

Shivani couldn’t admit defeat so easily.  She needed Patrick by her side for her first trip to Bharat.  “What difference does it make if they do discover you?  They can’t hurt you.”

“No, they can’t hurt me,” Patrick replied, and looked her straight in the eye.  It was time to tell her the truth.  “But they can hurt your parents.”

DAY #16: A Modified “NaNoWriMo” Challenge (Write 15 Minutes of Garbage Every Day)

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was check my email.  This single action could be the focus of an entire blog post about screen time addicts, but I digress.  I checked my inbox and was surprised to discover a message from the website Nugget Tales.  It contained the following message:

[New post on Nugget Tales] Shivani Roy and The Demon King of Lanka

Another piece here from a brand new writer, this is an excerpt from a novel they are working on and they would really appreciate some feedback from our readers. We hope you enjoy it!

YOU CAN CHECK OUT THE STORY HERE:  http://nuggettales.com/2015/10/10/shivani-roy-and-the-demon-king-of-lanka/

I stared at the screen in shock.  OH MY GOD!  THAT’S MY STORY!!!!  I knew that it was supposed to appear sometime in October, but I still wasn’t prepared for the surprise.  I would have shrieked, if not for the fact that the house was quiet.

I clicked the link to Nugget Tales and to my incredible delight, saw my story PUBLISHED LIVE ON THEIR SITE.  For a few moments, I just sat in the dark, basking in the glow of that incredible screen image.  Someone actually thought enough of my story to post it on their site.  Unreal.

After a few minutes, my husband walked into the room to inform me that the kids were up and saw me just sitting on the bed and staring.  He beamed when I told him the news, hugged me and said, “Congratulations!  I’m so proud of you!  You’re a published author now.”

I pushed him back and automatically replied, “No, I’m not.”

He looked at me strangely and tilted his head towards the screen.  “Isn’t that your story?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Isn’t it posted on that website?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

He shrugged.  “Then you’re a published author to me.”

I didn’t argue with him, but had trouble accepting his words as truth.  Which is why I’m writing this post.  I have it in my head that to be considered a “published author,” I must have a published book or be a regular writing contributor to a large website.

So, is this my own personal issue?  Or do other people share my views?  What does a writer have to do to be considered a “Published Author?”

I recently read an article on Kristen Lamb’s blog about women not “owning” their achievements.  Men own their achievements, while women minimize them.  Is this my problem?  Is it because I’m female that I feel so insecure about owning this title?

After struggling with this internal debate all afternoon, I finally updated my LinkedIn profile with the following title:  “Published Author.”  I still feel guilty about putting it up there.  I have this image in my head that people will see it, roll their eyes and snicker about it.  But I’m going to try and own it.  We shall see.

Shivani Roy and the Demon King of Lanka

So excited! An excerpt from a book that I’m working on has been published on a website called Nugget Tales! Please check it out! Any “Likes” would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!

DAY #14: A Modified “NaNoWriMo” Challenge (Write 15 Minutes of Garbage Every Day)

It’s Day 14 of this 30-day writing challenge.  So far, I’ve been able to follow a sequential story progression but I admit that I’m stuck.  I don’t know what the next logical scene should be.  So, I thought that I’d jump forward in the story and try writing an “out of sequence” scene today.  Here goes:

The fire blazed higher as Mahish poured the ghee onto the embers.  King Janaka could feel its heat on his face.  There were two ornate mats on the ground in front of the fire.  He sat down on one of them, while Queen Sunayna sat on the other one beside him.  Vyasa stood on Janaka’s right side, holding a large bowl.

“This is absurd,” Janaka muttered, and shifted uncomfortably on the mat.  Was sitting on the ground really necessary?  He could have just as easily sat down on a cushion for this ceremony.

“Sire, please,” Sunayna whispered, as she glanced at Mahish.  The Asura was standing on the other side of the fire, with his eyes closed.  She could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply.  “He may hear you.”

“And what if he does?”  Janaka snapped, before turning to scowl at Vyasa.  “Please tell me why I agreed to do this.  How will some demon fire ritual produce an heir?”

“It’s called an Agni Yajna, Sire,” Vyasa offered, watching Mahish with obvious interest.  He looked down to study the contents of the bowl in his hands, but Vyasa didn’t recognize most of them.  “The Devas used to perform them as well.  I can still remember my grandfather performing one.”

“I know what it is,” Janaka huffed, slightly outraged by the indignity of sitting on the ground.  He didn’t know what had possessed him to agree to it.  “What I fail to understand is how throwing ghee and demon herbs into a fire will produce an heir.”

“We must be patient, Sire,” Vayasa replied.  It was entirely possible that the king would stand up and walk away in the middle of the ceremony.  Offending their Asura guest was the last thing Vyasa wanted to do.  “What harm does it do perform a simple ceremony?  You have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”

Mahish walked around the fire to Vayasa and reached into the bowl.  He picked up a fistful of herbs, and held them to his forehead before throwing them into the fire.  The flames crackled, as a silver mist emerged from the fire.  Sunaya watched the mist, mesmerized as it slowly encircled the small group.  When her skin began to tingle, she closed her eyes and started slow, rhythmic breathing.

On a table to the right of Vyasa sat two small bowls.  Mahish picked one up, swirled the contents and offered it to Janaka.

“What is this?” the king asked, reaching for the bowl.  He sniffed the cloudy liquid and shrugged.  At least the demon brew wasn’t offensive to the nose.

“Havana samagri.  It’s a mixture of special herbs from Mahishuru,” Mahish replied, stirring the second bowl.  He studied Sunayna’s face before carefully balancing the bowl in her lap.  Janaka didn’t notice that his wife was in a trance.  Manish continued,  “They promote fertility.”

“How?”  Janaka asked, before his eyes widened with the realization.  “Must I drink this?”  He held the bowl gingerly, frowning slightly.  Although the bowl emitted a fragrant aroma, the murky liquid didn’t appear visually appetizing.

“Yes,” Mahish said, turning away from the king to reach for a cloth.  He smothered a grin before turning back to the couple.  “You must drink this every night before the fire for thirty days.”

“And after thirty days?”  Vyasa asked, relieved that the king remained seated on the mat.

Mahish tilted his head towards the king.  “King Janaka will perform a final penance.”

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DAY #12: A Modified “NaNoWriMo” Challenge (Write 15 Minutes of Garbage Every Day)

Ravana could taste the fear.  His heart pounded as Niku and Rajesh each grabbed one of his arms.  They dragged Ravana kicking and screaming towards the water trough.

“So, demon boy?  Can you do it?”  Niku snarled, as Rajesh pushed Ravana to his knees on the ground and held him there.  Niku grabbed the back of Ravana’s hair and pulled his head back.  “Can you breathe under water?”

Rajesh chuckled.  It was all in good fun.  He would pull the younger boy up after a few minutes.  No one would really get hurt.  “He’ll learn fast if he can’t.”

Ravana took one last gulp of air before Niku pushed his head into the trough.  The cold water hit him like a wall.  He kept his mouth tightly sealed while struggling against Niku’s grip.  Was Niku really going to kill him?  Panic set in until an image of Master Mahish entered his thoughts.  The Master always told him not to waste critical energy on fear.  After what seemed like an eternity, Ravana closed his eyes and exhaled the breathe that he had been clinging to like a lifeline.  When he stopped struggling, his body went limp.

Ravana could hear the panic in Rajesh’s voice.  “He isn’t moving, Niku.  Pull him up.”

As Niku lifted Ravana’s head out of the water, a surge of energy propelled Ravana to snap his head backwards.  He hit Niku squarely in the face.  There was a loud crunch.

“Aaaarrrrgggghhh,” Niku screamed, releasing his grip from Ravana to reach for his nose.  Blood dripped through his fingers, down his face.  Without thinking, Ravana dropped to the ground.  He stuck his leg out and swept it around, knocking Niku down.  Ravana quickly scrambled on top of Niku’s chest.  He grabbed Niku’s head by the hair and slammed it into the ground until Niku’s eyes rolled backwards.

Rajesh stared in shock, as Ravana wiped dripping water from his eyes with the dry edge of his sleeve and ran over to Sukha, who was still lying motionless on the ground.

“Don’t just stand there,” Ravana yelled at Rajesh, as he placed his fingers on Sukha’s temples.  “Check on Niku.”

Ravana’s voice snapped Rajesh into action.  He moved quickly and knelt on the ground beside Niku, but then looked helplessly at Ravana.  “What do I do?”

The answer came to Ravana without any thought.  “Clear the blood from his face.  Make sure that he’s still breathing.”

Rajesh nodded and used his sleeve to wipe the blood from Niku’s face.  Ravana closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.  Sukha still hadn’t regained consciousness.  Ravana focused his energy on finding the injury.  When he found the ruptured vessel, warmth seeped from his finger tips.  Ravana could feel himself losing strength, but he maintained his physical contact with Sukha.  When Sukha coughed, Ravana dropped his hands, exhausted.  He collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

“What happened?”  Sukha mumbled, as he tried to sit up.  He rubbed his temples and twisted his head.

DAY #11: A Modified “NaNoWriMo” Challenge (Write 15 Minutes of Garbage Every Day)

Ravana could hear the cries coming from the garden.  When he approached a clearing, Ravana saw two larger boys standing on the roof of a small shed.  They were holding a smaller boy upside down by the ankles over the edge of the roof.  Below the small boy, on the side of the shed, was a water trough.

“Where is our money, Sukha?”  One of the boys on the roof was wearing a red shirt.  He snarled and shook the small boy’s leg.  “You were supposed to give it to us today.”

“I don’t have it for you yet,” the smaller boy, Sukha, sobbed.  “Please, Niku.  Get me up from here.  If you give me more time, I’ll get it for you.”

“What do you think about that, Rajesh?  Should we give him more time?”  Niku’s lip curled into a smirk.  Both boys laughed and lowered Sukha closer to the water.  “Or should we find out if he can breathe underwater?”

Ravana could feel the young boy’s fear.  It wasn’t just getting wet.  He’s terrified by water, he realized.  Master Mahish had told him that he could amuse himself in the palace gardens until the evening meal, as long as he stayed out of trouble.  Interrupting a fight wasn’t what the Master had intended.

But Sukha’s fear was palpable.  Without thinking, Ravana squared his shoulders and ran towards the shed.  “Stop that,” he shouted.  “Leave him alone.”

The two large boys started.  After a moment, they pulled Sukha up onto the roof with them.  Then, after flashing a smirk at Ravana, Niku pushed the smaller boy from the roof.  Ravana watched in shock as Sukha landed on the ground with a loud thud.  The two larger boys jumped off from the roof and landed on their feet.  Sukha remained motionless.

Ravana rushed towards Sukha.  The boy still hadn’t moved.  Ravana knelt on the ground and placed his fingers on the boy’s temple.  Warmth seeped from his fingers into the boy’s skull.  “He needs help,” Ravana said, trying to recall his lessons.  It was the first time that he had tried to heal anybody without guidance.  Ravana closed his eyes and focused on the blood flow.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Niku smirked.  Rajesh picked up Ravana and slammed him against the wall of the shed.  Both of them scanned Ravana up and down before resting their gaze on Ravana’s face.  Surprised, Niku nudged his friend.  “Rajesh, look at his eyes.  They’re yellow.”

Rajesh’s brown eyes widened.  “It’s the demon boy.”  He dropped his hands from Ravana and stepped back from the shed.  When Ravana tried to walk away, Niku pushed him against the shed, placing an arm across Ravana’s chest.  When Ravana struggled, Niku leaned on him with his full weight.

Rajesh put a hand on Niku’s shoulder.  “Let him go, Niku.  Asuras have special powers.  We haven’t been taught how to fight them yet.”

Niku snorted.  “I’m the son of one of the greatest warriors in Bharat.  Do you think this boy scares me?”  When Rajesh remained silent, Nicu looked at him scornfully.  “Are you afraid, Rajesh?  There’s nothing to be afraid of.  I’ve always wanted to see if the demons were as powerful as the stories.”  An odd look came on Niku’s face as he studied the water trough.  “Now we can find out.  Let’s see if this demon can breathe underwater.”