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An old man meets a young man who asks:
“Do you remember me?”
And the old man says no. Then the young man tells him he was his student, And the teacher asks:
“What do you do, what do you do in life?”
The young man answers:
“Well, I became a teacher.”
“Ah, how good, like me?” asks the old man.
“Well, yes. In fact, I became a teacher because you inspired me to be like you.”
The old man, curious, asks the young man at what time he decided to become a teacher. And the young man tells him the following story:
“One day, a friend of mine, also a student, came in with a nice new watch, and I decided I wanted it.
I stole it, I took it out of his pocket.
Shortly after, my friend noticed the his watch was missing and immediately complained to our teacher, who was you.
Then you addressed the class saying, ‘This student's watch was stolen during classes today. Whoever stole it, please return it.’
I didn't give it back because I didn't want to.
You closed the door and told us all to stand up and form a circle.
You were going to search our pockets one by one until the watch was found.
However, you told us to close our eyes, because you would only look for his watch if we all had our eyes closed.
We did as instructed.
You went from pocket to pocket, and when you went through my pocket, you found the watch and took it. You kept searching everyone's pockets, and when you were done you said ‘Open your eyes. We have the watch.’
You didn't tell on me and you never mentioned the episode. You never said who stole the watch either. That day you saved my dignity forever. It was the most shameful day of my life.
But this is also the day I decided not to become a thief, a bad person. You never said anything, nor did you even scold me or take me aside to give me a moral lesson.
I received your message clearly.
Thanks to you, I understood what a real educator needs to do.
Do you remember this episode, professor?
The old professor answered, ‘Yes, I remember the situation with the stolen watch, which I was looking for in everyone’s pocket. I didn't remember you, because I also closed my eyes while looking.’
This is the essence of teaching:
If to correct you must humiliate; you don't know how to teach
A legend is truth wrapped in layers of time. And those that endure, endure for a reason.
SAKHAN is born a third son, a half-blood, and an abomination. Nothing is expected of him. So, when a seer foretells his power and greatness, the people are mystified as to how it will come to pass.
Join the young chief on this epic adventure as he fights for the legend of his promised greatness.
Reviews:
"It explores African folklore in extremely intriguing new ways mixed really well with fantasy elements! It's epic, glorious, intense, and dramatic!" - Lia (Goodreads Review)
"An epic cover, an epic title, and an epic continuation to The Half Tales series that is a must-read for fans of fantasy, riveting character journeys, or African folklore." - Angela (Goodreads Review)
"This book is so amazing! It's got everything you need in a book. Good characters, suspense, beautiful writing, intrigue." - Fallingleave (Goodreads Review)
This is your chance to win a copy of Half a Legend. It is a sequel to Half a Lion, but can be read as a standalone. Click HERE to enter the free book giveaway (US only). It ends 03/14/23.
Or click HERE to pre-order for only $0.99.
Thanks and looking forward to what you think of this installment.
On a riverbank in the sacred jungle known as Abu Maa, new Chief Sakhan and his tribesmen make a desperate last stand against the long-prophesied return of the slavers.
Unmatched in determination and savagery, this whirlpool of conquest and bloodlust will embroil their world in one of the bloodiest conflicts it has ever known, shaping destinies and giving birth to legends. And what is this brief mortal life, if not the writing of legend?
Coming 03/13/23
Half a Legend is already getting rave reviews HERE
SAKHAN is born a third son, a half-blood, and an abomination. Nothing is expected of him. So, when a seer foretells his power and greatness, the people are mystified as to how it will come to pass.
Life's so treacherous. One moment you're lost in a carnival of delights, with poignant childhood memories, the flashing wishes of puberty, all that sentimental candy-floss. The next, it leads you somewhere you don't want to go. Somewhere damp and cold, filled with the ambiguous shapes of wishes unfulfilled. So when you find yourself facing that incoming anxiety of a life barely lived, wondering where all the time went. Remember there's always books. Books are the emergency portal. You can just step in, and embrace all those beautiful things you wished to enjoy. You can experience a thousand lifetimes, one page at a time.
Experience a new world with HALF A LION for a thunderous adventure.
Half a Legend, The Half Tales #2
A bigger, wilder blockbuster. The epic thrill ride continues. This book is the hardest I've written. As much as I was chosen by the story, I've been inspired by the characters. I can't wait for you to experience their growth. As the stars fade, the moon dips and the sun rises, the earth dries up and the seasons come anew, a warleader must break the bloody circle. 🐺
"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage against the dying of the light." ⚔️
I'll rate it ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
But don't take my word for it. I might be biased as I wrote it 😁
Take a look for yourself. Add on Goodreads for news on giveaways and publication. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60581925-half-a-legend
Follow me on Twitter @pekoswald
Illustration by Nicole Cardiff
“Drink water from the spring where horses drink. The horse will never drink bad water.
Lay your bed where the cat sleeps.
Eat the fruit that has been touched by a worm.
Boldly pick the mushroom on which the insects sit.
Plant the tree where the mole digs.
Build your house where the snake sits to warm itself.
Dig your fountain where the birds hide from heat.
Go to sleep and wake up at the same time with the birds — you will reap all of the day’s golden grains.
Eat more green — you will have strong legs and a resistant heart, like the beings of the forest.
Swim often and you will feel on earth like the fish in the water.
Look at the sky as often as possible and your thoughts will become light and clear.
Be quiet a lot, speak little — and silence will come in your heart, and your spirit will be calm and full of peace.”
Saint Seraphim of Sarov
"What inspired you to write this story?"
A very good question that I get often. However, the answer is not as simple as the question seems. I do not come from a reading culture. Not enough extra cash to spend on novels, and even less spare time to read them. Reading for pleasure was a luxury that a struggling family could not afford. Writing them is even more alien. So how did I get here?
I was a child in-between. The only child to a single mother, I grew up in a household of grandparents, uncles and aunts. So I was conscious enough to not be as childish as my age mates, but not "mature" enough to be considered in older circles. Smart enough to be in the same class as older children, but not "big" enough to truly belong. Luckily, my grandfather worked at a printing press, so there were always reading materials lying about. My imagination became my closest friend, and I drifted towards books as water to the desert of my bountiful curiosity. Between those pages, I could be anything. In the quiet spaces, I could be anyone.
Novels are often a reflection of the human condition - the struggle to overcome hardship. Hence, reading them is escapist. You can consider my writing as homage to that human condition. Writing took me out of a dark place. Not only could I experience a different life, I could create different world. So what better place to write about than a place I've heard fun tales about, and what better story to write about than a boy overcoming a tough time.
Enter Half a Lion, a fantasy story of siblings fighting for a throne set in Africa. It is a world in which any number of wonderous things can happen, like employing animalistic magic for one's bidding, or manipulating nature to one's purpose. Africans would tell you there is nothing fantastically about such things. Witchcraft is real. Whether these elements are make-believe or not, the story carries a very human story at its core. For me, Half a Lion is a book that goes beyond the words used to describe it. I still aspire to be as loving, as loyal and as determined as its protagonist. For a reader, I hope the experience is the same.
There is something about books that stirs the human spirit and puts fire in the heart. Hardship inspired me to write, and writing helped me. May our struggles spur us into action, and not into depression. Without adversity, success has no punchline. Keep the faith.
THE DISTANT MUSIC gradually faded as Adah walked into the Haunted Forest overran
with ancient trees. The tribesmen
believed the spirits of those who died fighting the Guth Honkai lingered here, hence the name. She had
come to savor these private moments, away from the gossiping of the women. There were moments she truly felt like
an outsider. She did not even look like one of them. Where they bore large
bosoms and firm breasts, she had a tiny frame and small buds on her chest just enough to convince everyone she was a girl. After all
these years, she would still
see a few tribesmen staring at her with fear and suspicion.
Her
only true friend was Sakhan, her bone brother and earliest memory. Adah had
little recollection prior to the
night the Lions found them wandering the outskirts of the village, tired and
starving. She still remembered the chief pale with sickness. At six,
Adah emptied her bladder when she
saw the head of a lion staring down at her from the huge man's shoulders. It
was a long time ago, but the memory
was still fresh in her mind. Even though they were on the brink of exhaustion, there was no pity in the chief's
eyes as the council debated, his hands lingering over a wound on his chest. If he had thrown
them out, it would have meant certain death. The Lions were still agitated after their recent clash with the Abun
raiders. But just when the chief was about to pronounce a verdict, a lanky
boy sneaked from behind
the throne and ran up
to Adah.
''Who let him in here?'' the chief
snapped.
Before the guards could
grab the boy, he held out a small piece of meat to her. ''Are you hungry?'' Sakhan asked.
The men watched in a trance
as she took the chunk of beef and shared it with her mother.
Before any of them recovered, Sakhan
grabbed her arm and led her away.
If the chief had truly wanted them to stay remained a secret
between the chief and the skyfather.
The
events of that night came back to Adah whenever her mother had her sudden fits
of fever. The old woman
was sick that night as well and
every turn of the moon since. So Adah had to
find spirit flowers for her healing tea. pa
Wukhem had always allowed her in his farm to harvest some. But for some reason,
the man denied this time.
Adah
was still hopeful though. Her mother always said everything could be found in
the Haunted Forest if one knew where
to look. These woods were sacred to the Lions through the generations. There was even a popular
story of how Sakhan's mother healed the chief by following a sick dog around the woods
and taking note of the grasses it ate.
One of them was a spirit flower.
The
grey orb was bright overhead as Adah cut through a small pine grove, itchy
grasses brushing against her shin. She had a bow slung over her shoulder
and a quiver strapped to her hip. If beasts prowled here, they would not make a meal of her. Adah was about to clear the grove when, out of nowhere, the woods began to
whisper. She halted and listened. The Haunted Forest was not a place for night-time meetings. They must be runaway
lovers, she thought. Giggling, Adah
quietly tip-toed toward the voices.
''And the general wants me to bring it to him?''
a familiar voice asked.
''The ancestral blade will lift the curse,
he is certain. When should
we expect you?''
There was no reply, only the chirping of crickets.
''I will come as soon as I can. Tell him the boy and his mother are well.''
The
voices came from behind an enormous pine tree. The ancestral blade? This
meeting was a deliberate secret, she realized, and a dangerous one as
well. Adah backed away, trying to slip into a nearby bush when she stumbled on a half-buried root and crashed into a pile of cones.
The whispering stopped and a strained silence followed her fall. Then
she heard movement behind the tree. Adah quickly stood up and sprinted into the darkness.
The
tall grasses whipped and lashed at her, the moaning of the wind in her ears.
She leaped and ran, stumbled and
staggered, pine needles and cones pressing underfoot. Before long, Adah
cleared the pine grove and was racing
into the thicker woods. She heard the pounding
of hooves gaining on her. Adah tried to remember the direction of old Charchar's
cabin but her mind was blank. All it
said was run. She sprinted blindly now and tripped over a fallen sapling,
tumbling onto her chest just as something zoomed past inches from her head. Her
face scrubbed the forest floor and
pain blazed in her head.
The bow had
jolted from her grasp, and when Adah struggled
to her knees again, three horses encircled her, their riders
cutting dark silhouettes in the moonlight. For
a moment, she caressed her sprained wrist, moaning. None of the riders made to
move. The drummers could barely be
heard now. The chase had led them further away from the palace. Adah looked up at the faces and recognized they were not Lions. What was happening?
A fourth rider trotted up to the scene. ''Kill her,'' the familiar voice commanded and a bow began to creak, picking its mark.
Enjoyed this sample, you can continue reading Half a Lion HERE
A family lived on a small plot of land at the outskirts of a remote village. The family owned one cow and they lived totally off its milk. If the cow produce little milk, they eat little, if much, they eat much.
A traveler tired after a long day’s journey arrived at the village. He had no place to stay and he’s hungry. But this family invites him in and shares their little food with him.
He feels so thankful and grateful to this family for their kind gesture to a lonely and worn traveler. He was genuinely grateful and thought, “What can I do to show my appreciation to this family?”
As he was thinking about it, he walked down to the center of town. He sits on a bench and next to him sat a very famous wise man. He turns to the wise man and says, “Wise man, there’s a magnificent family that helped me today. They gave me their food. They shared with me their table. I want to return the favor.”
The wise man looks at him and said “Kill the cow.”
Shocked, the traveler looks at the wise man and said “How can I? It’s their only possession. I can’t do that.”
The traveler, on second thought, knowing the reputation of the wise man thought to himself “there must be something to this.” And just as he was about to live the town, he decided he’s going to do it.
So, late at night, he crept into the home of this family that so graciously helped him. He slaughtered the cow and heads off.
A year later, the traveler returned to the village, and immediately noticed something has changed. He noticed new shops and a thriving market. He saw a new hotel that provided beds and food to the travelers who came for the market.
He walked into the hotel, behind reception, he sees a young man standing tall, smiling and happy. He noticed this young man is the son of the family that helped him a year ago. He walked up to him and said “Young man, the town has changed. This hotel is new. What happened?”
The young man answered him, “Last year, our family lived off one cow. And one night the cow died. We woke up in the morning, we had nothing. We had to go out and do something to eat. We took some of the other things we owned and sold them in the market. People came and bought from us. We built a small place to serve food for the people that came for the market. And we also built an hotel for the people who come to the market and eat at the restaurant. And its thriving.”
“Life has changed for the better. I’m so glad our cow died.”
A man and his wife traveled to the zoo. They found a monkey who was passionately playing with his female. His wife said to him, "What a romantic couple."
Then, they found a lion and his lioness separated from each other; the silent lion sat alone in his corner as if the lioness did not exist. His wife said to him, "What a sad scene without love."
Her husband then said to her, “Throw that stone at the lioness and watch.” When she threw the stone at her, the lion roared to defend his lioness. Then they saw the monkeys again and she did the same by throwing a stone; the monkey then jumped up and abandoned his female to save his own skin.
Her husband then told her, “Do not be deceived by what you see as romance in some, often it is a deceiving appearance that hides an empty heart; there are others on the contrary who show nothing, but their hearts are full of sincere love."
"Sadly we have so many monkeys, and so few lions nowadays."
What is the name of the book and when was it published?
HALF A LION by PALLE E.K. OSWALD published on January 27,
2022.
What’s the book’s first line?
Dying is easy, dying well is hard.
What’s the book about? Give us the “pitch”.
Apocalypto meets Game of Thrones in this
blockbuster debut about a land trapped in eternal warfare and a young warrior
who must rise above the clash of princes to bring a new age.
What inspired you to write the book? A particular person?
An event?
The stories that I am. I have always been an avid reader. As
a kid growing up in a small town and a lowly neighborhood, I never knew we were
poor, even though my mother constantly reminded me of it. How could I be poor
when I had magical powers going to a boarding school for the gifted (Harry
Potter), or a mysterious man who recently came into some fortune and seeks
revenge (The Count of Monte Cristo)? I sought refuge in those stories. Even
more, I would listen to my grandfather tell stories of our tribe and family, of
personal legends (like an ancestor who fought off a tiger with bare hands and
earned the moniker HAND OF A TIGER, a name I inherited), and gruesome battles
(like magically burying the raiders of a rival army and allowing one survivor
to return with the demoralizing news that stopped further incursions). The
stories never left me. It was my name after all. Half A Lion is inspired by,
and taps into, that rich vein of legends and folklore.
What’s the main reason someone should really read this
book?
To those looking for a refreshing setting and culture, a
mythical tale of conflicted heroes, intricate plotting, and blockbuster action.
The story will show you the power of unconditional love and only break your
heart when it matters. You will bathe in a storm and find warmth in a blazing
bushfire. You will taste betrayal and wash it down with a sip of vengeance. You
will ride wildebeests through haunted jungles and live a dozen lives. You will
dance with giant wolves under a red sun, and rest on the beast throne. If that
is your kind of adventure, you have found a LION to run with.
What’s the most distinctive thing about the main
character?
Love. Not the romantic love that is a staple of the genre.
My main character has immense loyalty and is ready to die a hundred thousand
times if only to protect those he loves. He abandons all safety and comfort to
journey into a brutal, unforgiving world for a chance to prove his love.
And he speaks to the dead.
Who-real or fictional-would you say the character reminds
you of?
Karsa Orlong (Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson).
Uncompromising loyalty and ragged determination. A character naïve and pure in
spirit, and whose justice might be savage, but it is just.
When did you first decide to become an author?
When I traveled to Sweden for Undergraduate Studies. At
seventeen, being alone in a foreign country, studying and working full-time was
hard. It was difficult balancing all of that and having time for any social
life. I struggled with an emotional storm. For me, reading had been an escape.
I began writing as a release, and it helped me ride the storm.
Is this the first book you’ve written?
Yes, this is my first novel. I have written short stories.
But HALF A LION is my debut novel.
What’s the best and the hardest part of being an indie?
It is great to see characters come alive just as I imagined
them, and the creative freedom of telling their story. To create pages laced
with magic and dreams trapped in ink. Though the input from beta readers and
editors are important, the indie author dictates. Also, the control over the
publication process (book design, cover, release date, etc.). In a way, the
book is my Horcrux, and it feels nice to have shaped it as I wish.
However, as a relative unknown, it is hard to break out as
an indie author. I lack the established machinery (budget and tried-and-trusted
processes) and relationships enjoyed by traditional publishers or well-known
indie authors. Nonetheless, it is sweet pain.
What’s a great piece of advice that you can share with
fellow indie authors?
Writing can be a lonely road, relatable only to those who
have walked it. The writing community is littered with both great authors
(traditional and indie) and fine individuals. The bond between authors has been
beautiful to experience. For whatever it’s worth, I’ll tell fellow indie
authors to support and celebrate each other’s success as frequently and proudly
as if it’s theirs. When your neighbor receives gifts, it means Santa is in your
neighborhood.
Is there something in particular that motivates you?
Immortality. I know that sounds pretentious. I fancy the
idea though. Long when I’m gone, on chilly November night, I wish somebody will
close a book and as they set it down beside a cup of tea, they would wonder,
“Who is this PALLE E.K. OSWALD fellow? Good author.”
Paying the bills would be nice too.
Which book do you wish you could have written?
None. All the books that I love are so because they were
well-done. But someday, I wish to write a canon that exports African gods and
legends to the world. Something to entertain and educate, like an African Iliad.
***
Interested in reading HALF A LION? Here is an excerpt| Excerpt 2
OR
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a COVER. Before you
ask, no lions were burnt in the making of this beauty. The journey enters a new
horizon. Now you must make a choice. This story will show you the face of unconditional
love and only break your heart when it matters. You will bathe in a storm and
find warmth in a blazing bushfire. You will taste betrayal and wash it off with
a sip of vengeance. You will ride through haunting jungles and live a dozen
lives. You will dance with wolves under a red sun. The adventure might not be
for everyone, but if you are half as curious as I think you are, you have found
a LION to run with.
“Destiny is a choice.”
Follow on Facebook and Goodreads| Palle E.K. Oswald, and Twitter| @pekoswald
Below is an excerpt from my upcoming debut novel HALF A LION. Stories and songs have been favored staples of the oral African traditions passed down the generations. In this book, I combine two of my great loves; history and poetry. Happy reading and watch this space.
***
Mansah loosened
his sword in its scabbard
and checked the arrows in his quiver.
Then he wrapped his robe tighter
around himself and settled
down to listen to a group
of warriors chant A Song of
Blood and Feathers.
“Long ago, lived
a warrior with dreams untold
With hair of glowing
coal, eyes of a fiery gold
His blade was
fine and bow of pine
Into the darkness, he braved the cold
The White Garden
held a fate unknown
For what was beyond,
he longed to own
A haunted boy
ached for honor's sake
And in the jungle, you wish
you take
Blood on stones, pinch
of scathing daggers
The warrior
climbed, each step on weak boulders
The Garden fought
back with flashes in the dark
Yet willing
hearts triumph where strength staggers
Under the moonlit shower, the injured
bird lay
Words unhurried, to beg and pray
For a chance
to see the eagle dance
And the moon blinded
in a feathery trance
Far away, a
dozen winged beasts soared
And in the twilight,
the great warrior
roared
They came
swooping to answer a master's call
Where no one dares,
there you will find your all.”
“Feels good to
hear the words of our forefathers,” someone said behind him.
Mansah
looked over his shoulder to see the chief frowning. He had not even heard the man approach. He sighed. “The songs always
talk of glorious victories, but never of untimely deaths, my chief,”
he said, thinking
of the tribesmen who had screamed
for help as the bushfires seized them.
Kheng sat down beside him, his armor creaking.
“The songs are not meant to
remind us of death, but to
celebrate a great life,” the chief said. “The skyfather makes some people
faster, some louder, some stronger.
But in death, one skeleton
is the same as the other. It is the gift of life
that matters, the hearts given to each of us, and what we
do with it. When it is all
done, the skyfather will ask you what
you did with that strong heart he gave to you, that keen nose, that sharp eye. The songs of the tribe will answer for you.”
When you walk through a storm Hold your head up high And don't be afraid of the dark At the end of a storm There's a golden sky An...
