words in her soul

a letter to my best friend

by Brooke Riley - 9:00 AM

tomorrow is your birthday

and that means it's a very special day

it means tomorrow is the day of birth of someone who impacted my life greatly

and showed me what it means to have a best friend

the person I know will never betray or hurt me

we've been through a lot

we've been through hell and back

apart and together

we've watched as people leave us behind

we've watched as things crumbled apart around us

you've stood with me in my darkest of nights

you've stood with me in my brightest of days

you've watched me rise, fall, and repeat

often you've been the one to help dust me off and start me back up on the right path again

you've used the Edna Mode method of slapping me with a metaphorical newspaper roll when I've fallen too deep in the dark abyss

you can't even BEGIN to comprehend how much you've changed my life for the better

a lot of people tend to focus on a romantic soulmate, but not enough attention goes to friendship soulmates.

You are my best friend soulmate, the person meant to be there in the highs and lows.

The person meant to smack me around with a newspaper roll when I get too ridiculous.

you accept me as I am and you want me as nothing less

I hope I'm half the friend to you that you are to me because you deserve the WORLD.

I love you, Faith.

May your day be filled with blessings and light and love and hope.

Also, this was sappy but I hope you know you're stuck with me for the rest of your life because I am the parasite that will stick to you forever.

love you boo.

17 comments

Cover Reveal// The Crownless King by Kara Linaburg

by Brooke Riley - 10:00 AM

Hello, dear soul.

Today I have the cover reveal for Kara Linaburg's new novel, The Crownless King. Kara is an amazing blogger and dear friend. She has been so kind and caring to literally everyone in the blogosphere, so if you haven't heard of her... where have you been?

Without any delay, here is the beautiful cover and back cover blurb.

She won't meet her worst enemy on the battlefield...

War is brewing and the kingdom of Sindaleer is torn as the Knights of Norcir draw the folk to their side. When Sabriel, a specially Gifted, pledges her blood to their cause, she is ready to give all to bring the peace her leader promises. She understands Tirich's deep hatred toward the king, and has prepared for this moment nearly all her life.

But when her identity as a Knight is discovered by the childhood friend who betrayed her years ago, Sabriel's plans for justice come toppling down. Now distracted by what once was, Sabriel fights to hold onto what she's believed to be true for so long.

Nick never forgot the red-headed lass of years past, but she's not the friend he remembers. As enemies connected by their past take opposing sides on the battlefield, Nick refuses to believe what she's become.

Voices in Sabriel's head warning her she'll never succeed and loyalties torn, she begins to realize that all is not as it seems. Tirich's power is growing stronger, and she fears she was wrong about the good she once saw in him. The concluding book following The Broken Prince, reminds us of the inner wars we all face, and what it means to rise from the ashes when all hope feels lost.

Isn't it just beautiful!?

Make sure you go follow Kara on Instagram. All her links are down below.

ADD on Goodreaders: Here

The Blog

Instagram

The Broken Prince on Amazon HERE

12 comments

::Drowning Again::

by Brooke Riley - 9:00 AM

I wrote this in March. I had no intention to share it, but then I decided someone may need it. If you want the mood of this short piece, listen to DIVING BELL by STARSET.

how dark the waters that rise above me

shifting, churning

waves hitting me like a slap in the face

heart bruised more than anything

my mind a deep cave

where my thoughts take a turn

bending, twisting

cold

unforgiving

yet...familiar

and not at all safe

drowning below the merciless waves

depression, anxiety

betrayal

loss

numbness encompasses me

and all at once

my thoughts turn dark again

and all at once, I'm alone

I try to swim

but can't seem to break the surface

drowning in my own despair

hating myself all the more

praying fiercely

feeling as though my words go unheard

And then there is light

and air

breathe

inhale

exhale

repeat

12 comments

but if I choose darkness instead...

by Brooke Riley - 12:00 PM

Back in March, (as if it was that long ago) I held a short story contest.

Only one person entered.

But that's okay, this story is so amazing that I know it would have been a serious contender.

Lisa Elis, an amazing blogger and epic friend, wrote a wonderful story based on the prompt. And today, I'm sharing her story with you! Without further ado, here's Lisa's beautiful short story.

If You Choose Darkness

When you were born, little brother, I was five.

The prophet looked in your eyes and declared, he is the chosen. I did not know what that meant then. All I knew was that my parents suddenly devoted all energy into looking after you, all while I sat in the corner, wondering why they had forgotten me. I wished I had been chosen, not you.

When they died, little brother, I was seven. There was a raid—screaming from neighboring houses, bangs from pistol shots, and violent pounding on our front door.

Kane, take Ren, and go to the prophet's house. Mother shoved your tiny fist into my hand and led me to the secret door in the cellar. Run. We will come after you.

It was a drill we had all practiced time and time again. But this time it was just me and you. I took you through the dark tunnels and I found the prophet.

But our parents never came.

Why did they stay? I asked

Because Ren is the chosen one, the prophet told me. And that was when I understood what chosen meant. It was that you were meant to live. And that I was meant to make sure of that, no matter what, like my parents had.

I failed you, little brother, when I was twenty two.

He will save the world by defeating the Dark One, the prophet always said, But only when he is older.

So we waited, and the civil war waged on. Fifteen years of running, fighting, and starving. You might have been the chosen, but you sure didn't act like it. You were a rebel—joined the resistance gangs and set fire to soldier barracks, bombed bridges, and smuggled weapons. You laughed at me when I told you you had to stay alive and stay safe. Every time you ran away, I followed you, and every time you got into trouble, I was there. I bribed someone for you. I spent a month in jail for you. I killed someone for you.

Then you met a pretty girl, and finally it was she who convinced you to take care of yourself. Not me. Her. The person who had not been there, for ten years, to save you. But two months later, they caught her with secret letters to resistance leaders. They shot her point blank in a field, and when we found her body, you held it for hours, crying.

You were a different person after that.

Why do I have to wait to defeat the Dark One? you asked.

Because only when you are older can you join the army, rise in the ranks, and get close to him. That was the answer we had been giving you, for fifteen years.

But like always, you wouldn't listen. My life has been a hole, you said, it's time to climb out of it.

You stayed up night after night after night, for five months. You gathered plans, researched, and sat for hours at my desk, scheming. I brought you coffee; I brought you soup; I brought you a blanket when your head dropped onto the table out of sheer exhaustion.

Finally you called together four of the resistance leaders—our friends—and said, we will infiltrate the Tower, we will find the Dark One, and we will put an end to him.

I said, you can't.

You said, I shall die trying.

Fine, I'm coming too.

No, you're staying.

Don't tell me what to do, I hissed, and you gave up.

So we went, the six of us, through the sewers, climbed into the Tower through pipes, and stole into the deadly white halls. We reached the security room, which was, surprisingly, empty.

Where's everyone? someone asked.

You said nothing.

A siren started wailing, and through the footage of the security cameras, I saw troops of armed men rushing down the halls.

They're coming here! one of us yelled. Let's go.

Everyone bolted from the room. I was running out the door when you grabbed my arm.

Kane. Your brows were furrowed, eyes dead serious, the dark circles under your them, disturbing.

I stopped.

Do you hate me?

Of course not. How could you ever have thought that, after everything I’d done?

But only because I’m the chosen one. Right?

I paused. No.

But if I choose the darkness instead? Would you hate me then?

You grinned, and it looked terrifying with your sleep-deprived face and your dark hood and your large fierce eyes.

You.

Yes, Kane. It was me. You gestured at the screens where there was running, there was shooting, there was blood.

I didn’t want you to come. But here you are. If you want to see tomorrow, hide in the broom closet. Now.

You're saving me? I barked a laugh.

Just get in there, idiot. You shoved me into the cupboard with vicious strength and closed the door.

I sank to the floor. Hours passed and in the pitch black of night, I made my way home, the way I came.

The prophet was waiting.

The chosen one, I spat. He betrayed us all.

He gestured at the television.

Footage showed two bodies lying on the floor in pools of blood. One was a middle-aged man, thin pale and dressed in black robes. The other, a few feet from him, was a boy. He wore a dark hood, and his large eyes stared blankly, dark circles beneath his eyes.

Why, I whispered at the picture, choking.

The prophet handed me an envelope. I pulled out the note from inside.

"Dear Kane, if you are reading this, you survived, and I did not. I did what I had to do. There was no other way to get him. ~ Ren."

I finally understood what it meant to be chosen. I just wish, as I did when I was five, that it had been me instead of you.

______

Isn't Lisa's story AMAZING! I know I loved it the moment I read it. Go give her some love by clicking here.

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