998 Chapters
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Medium 9780861967254

Chapter 10

Tony Grey John Libbey Publishing ePub

The Hsiung-nu seem to be showing a concern for the safety of the Romans above what might be expected. Of course it’s in their interests to have the potential mercenaries arrive intact but they could just leave them to their own devices along the way and defend them only if an attack materializes. Instead, Jiyu has split his escort so that it protects the Romans in both front and rear. Just what they’re protecting them from isn’t clear. Perhaps it’s the Parthians who might catch up once they notice the escape but that’s not likely now that so much time has passed. It’s certainly not the peaceful Sogdians, nor the usual marauders of the Road; it’s the Hsiung-nu themselves who’re the bandits. Anyway, it’s refreshing to see Roman soldiers valued again – something not evident for such a long time.

Jiyu rides in front by himself, silent and aloof. Just behind are Marcus and Lushan. The merchant is riding competently and is as voluble as ever. As the sun comes up he says;

“We are entering the fearsome Red Desert, home of cobras. Tell your men to be on their guard. These snakes can be very aggressive. Sometimes they even spit their venom. They are liable to slither into the camp looking for food and warmth, even sliding into the bedclothes. Check them every night before you get in. Stamping around usually gets rid of them. Be careful. Their bite out here in the desert will mean certain death”.

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Medium 9780253010476

Chapter 3

William Williams Indiana University Press ePub

How long I slept I knew not untill the great motion of the boat awoke me; and as I was rubbing my Eyes to my great wonder I missed the Schooner. The consternation soon sobered me, and what to do or how to act I knew not in the least. Horrible was now my condition as the wind freshed up more and more. At last I saw a flash and heard a gun go off, but a great way out. But for me to pretend to gain the Vessel again was impossible, so I at once gave over the thought. Thus I drove and baled as I drove in a Sort of despair untill the dawn of the day.

I was now close inshore and put into a small beach where I ran the Canoa on shore, jumped out, and haled her up. I could just discern the Privateer in the offing a great way out. Now while I was standing thus eagerly gazing about I saw a large brigg streatching out as in quest of our Vessel. She was near enough for me to see that she was a Cruiser. Thus I marched about, sometimes seating myself on the gunwale of the Canoa. It is impossible for me to give a just idea of the state of my mind, but thus I remain’d untill I lost sight of both the Vessels. I now looked round me and could see nothing but a wild country of Palmetto trees and Shrubs, but if inhabited or not-as being an utter stranger in this part of the world—I knew not.

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Medium 9780253002365

Chapter Twenty-Five

Gregory Schwipps Indiana University Press ePub

Loss,” the preacher said, trying to look him in the eyes, “this is not something God meant for us to understand infallibly.” They sat on the hard pew in the little church on the edge of Logjam. The preacher’s eyes were magnified by his glasses and any time Frank tried to look elsewhere the preacher would touch him on the knee and affix him with a fresh stare. Frank had never spoken to this man and he’d barely set foot inside these walls. There’d been a few weddings and funerals—only funerals over the last ten years—and this particular preacher was new. He’d served elsewhere, though, because he was older than Frank. The sanctuary looked the same: chips of plaster had fallen off the low ceiling and Jesus hung from a cross on the wall. It was not an astounding likeness, Frank assumed.

He sat there and examined the curve of his cane handle, held upright between his knees. Metal worn smoother than any machine could sand it. Only a leaning hand could do such work, and only over years.

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Medium 9781942496656

Chapter 34

Charlotte Jones Solution Tree Press ePub

“She got away?”

Kaelo stood before his relatives and multiple officers of the Cloudic military. They stared at him in shock, unable to believe what he had just told him.

“What a waste,” his sister said coldly. “You never could manage to finish the job.”

He shot her a withering look, but she held his glare. Like the rest, she was livid.

“What do we do now?” one of the dukes demanded. “She will accuse you immediately! She will accuse all of us!”

“The king will find out! We will all be killed for treason!”

“How did she escape? Why did you let her into the sunlight?”

“She needs almost four minutes in the light to be capable of performing magic,” General Shevo said sharply from one side. “She was not in light for more than ten seconds. She did not escape by her own accord. Something else got her out.”

“What, then? What could possibly remove her from the center of the Evron without a trace?”

“We don’t know. We interrogated young Captain de Solis. He was no help.”

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Medium 9780253001801


Robin Hemley Indiana University Press ePub

Ray constantly tamped down his self-doubts and dissatisfactions, but they kept reaching up like zombies out of the grave. And what was there to be dissatisfied about? He owned a moderately successful restaurant, Raisin D'etre (serving raisin- and grape- inspired dishes) on Railroad Avenue in Bellingham, frequented by artist types and professors and students from Western Washington University.

There were people he knew who would die to be him, but this did not help. What helped was a light box—he suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder—a prescription of Zoloft, and once-a-week visits to a therapist in Seattle. These helped enormously. But what helped the most was living life unselfishly, trying to give back to the community in which he lived. He and his wife Bridget, who worked as a realtor, donated their time and leftovers from the restaurant to a soup kitchen. He also allowed local artists to display their work on the walls of his restaurant, free of charge. Was this sufficient? He didn't know. Sometimes, he felt he wasn't being unselfish enough and this added to his sense of overall dissatisfaction. Sometimes, he wondered what would happen if he died on some uneventful day, as he knew he would someday, overcome with petty worries about broken plumbing, or debt, or the waiter he knew he had to fire. In an instant, these worries would mean nothing. They would evaporate on his death. The debt would be paid by Bridget or it wouldn't. The plumbing would be fixed eventually. The waiter would continue to work there after new management took over, or he'd find another job, completely unaware that his old boss had intended to fire him, but had suffered a fatal heart attack instead from worry over it. And the boss? A spirit wandering in the afterlife, chasing his dissatisfaction, mourning everything in life he'd forgotten to be thankful for.

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Medium 9789351380511


A.J. Sebastian SDB Laxmi Publications PDF



Angst or anguish is a Germanic word for fear or anxiety. Heidegger’s Sein und Zeit could be rendered as Anxiety, uneasiness or malaise suggesting our daily anxieties. For Kierkegaard

Angst meant dread while for Sartre anguish. However, the word Angst does not have the same meaning for every existentialist writer (Macquarrie 164-5). Kierkegaard’s Angst

(dread) describes an innate spiritual state of insecurity and despair centering on his conception of original sin. According to him, “anxiety is a qualification of dreaming spirit, and as such it has its place in psychology… In anxiety it (innocence) is related to the forbidden and to the punishment. Innocence is not guilty, yet there is anxiety as though it were lost…” ( Kierkegaard 41- 5).

The concept of anxiety further draws our attention to the origin and meaning of evil and temptation to sin. Virgilius Haufniensis’s interpretation throws further light on it.

In his view the origin of sinfulness is sheer possibility as it is neither ‘absolute necessity’ or ‘arbitrary wilfulness.’ ‘Anxiety or apprehensiveness is an innocent sense of oneself as possibility rather than actuality.’ (Chamberlain 178).

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Medium 9789814358156

A Perfect Exit by Aaron Ang

Stephen Leather Monsoon Books Pte. Ltd. ePub

If you could, would you choose the way you were going to die? What would it be? More importantly, would you use it when the time was right?These were questions Koh Kwan How and his friends often tossed around when he was much younger. Now almost all those friends were gone, and Kwan How was looking at joining them soon. At eighty-three, he had seen a lot of life and too much of death. And now he knew, very much so, which way he would choose. And yes, he was ready to use it. He knew what constituted the perfect exit. And he also knew that it was just about the right time.All his pleasures were being snatched from him: old friends, loved ones, places he had known and loved. And now even simple, everyday pleasures were being stripped away. It seemed every time he went to his doctor, the man had another list of things he had to deny himself. Kwan How had begun calling the man Dr No: no spicy food, no Kopi-O, no alcohol, no pets … no, no, no. And, of course, no major physical exertion. His heart was far too weak, his doctor warned, just couldn’t take sudden exertion. “No sex, of course,” the pompous shit had instructed him. Then he had the gall to add, with that smug grin men like him seemed to take pleasure in, “But I guess in your case, that hasn’t been any real temptation for a long time, has it, Mr Koh?”

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Medium 9780253010476

Chapter 14

William Williams Indiana University Press ePub

Now while matters were thus in agitation how they should act for the future We had much trouble to encounter, as thus. Altho Mr. Vantulden and the Boatswain used every method to keep good Order while on Shore, yet as there was plenty of Liquor it was totally out of their power to keep the people sober. Then Somer acquainted me that if I did not provide to secure some of it for my own use, it would soon be all gone, and privately conveyed by Mr. Van Tuldens order four Anchors of Brandy and some few kegs of Gin away by the assistance of Harry and Toby, while they were all sleeping.

After they had concluded to go to the southward in ye longboat and to leave the Yawl with me, I asked them where they intended first to touch at, and they told me at Puertobela1 if they could reach it, that they intended to keep in shore along the coast. I then desired they would inform me what lattitude they thought we were then in, and they said they judged about IId and 30 m North. Then I enquired what name the country bore, and they said they believed it was Costa Rica.2 I desired Mr. Van Tulden to leave the date of the Year and day of the Month as I was quite ignorant as to any certainty about it. He then asked me for the bottle he had given me and I told Harry to fetch it, then expressed a desire that I would contrive some sort of a pen. This I was under the necessity of being beholden to one of the Parrots for, and made a sort of a pen with one of her feathers He then bid Harry get a little water in a small shell, and when it was brought he took the bottle and emptied forth a powder of a grey colour and then with his finger produced Inck, being the first Ink powder I had ever seen. He then told me that Somer should speak it in English or I should not understand his writing, so I had best to write it myself. This was done and I found that It was thus: Anno 1754 and the Month of August the 5th day; so that by my own account I had missed in my reckoning about six week, some how or other, but it was a matter of no great moment to me.

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Medium 9789810861131

I Got You, Babe by Dawn Farnham

Goodwin, Temari & Hoye (Editors) Monsoon Books ePub
"I Got You, Babe" by Dawn Farnham

A romance/erotica short story set in Singapore, first published in "Love and Lust in Singapore" (Monsoon Books, Singapore)

He came right to the point. ‘I want you to get the dirty cheating bitch.’ He had a physique-like landscape. All the dips and furrows of his muscles in all the right places. His black almond eyes had lazy lids and I felt ready for bed just looking in them. ‘Can you do that, Miss Tan?’ His voice was husky like he’d spent his life around cheap gin joints and loose women.
‘Ray,’ I said. ‘Take a seat.’
He sat, spreading his legs the way men do, as if their balls are too big to keep their legs together. His shorts were very loose and unless his underwear was made of cellophane he wasn’t wearing any. I swallowed and pushed some paper around my desk. The room was hot but just got hotter. I’d been in the private dick business for a year and couldn’t think of a better reason for staying in it. I made a specialty of cheating spouses. Usually it was husbands I watched and women I interviewed. This was a first and, so far, I was enjoying the chat … See All Chapters
Medium 9780253007919


Alain Mabanckou Indiana University Press ePub
Medium 9780253019028


IU Press Journals Indiana University Press ePub

This Muslim girl attends a Koranic school where lessons are in Arabic. The board she carries serves as her writing pad. Sokoto, Nigeria 1989. © Betty Press

THE INSURGENTS HAD acted swiftly, killing all the whitemen they encountered as government soldiers attempted a rescue. The blood of the whitemen is not on the insurgents’ hands but on the government’s, because they were warned but refused to listen. The above I learned from Turaki, my only friend and a dedicated rumormonger. Though he’s older than me, we’re like twin brothers. We eat together from the same plate when the food is not enough to go around; we go everywhere together, even to the newsstand, where all the rumors emerge before travelling to every nook and cranny of Zungari.

All we do is read the headlines as much as we can and start discussing. Then the rumors start building up in the crowd, gaining form and weight: developing limbs and wings and then start roaming and soaring over Zungari.

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Medium 9789810861131

Room 2109 by Jacyntha England

Goodwin, Temari & Hoye (Editors) Monsoon Books ePub
"Room 2109" by Jacyntha England

A romance short story set in Singapore, first published in "Love and Lust in Singapore" (Monsoon Books, Singapore)

When your life completely fucks up and you need to get the hell out of Dodge, you close your eyes, put your finger on a map and go. Jenny’s finger ended up in Singapore, which seemed as good a place as any. She didn’t know much about Singapore, just that people called it the red-dot city and that it was famous for caning foreign tourists who did things that people in every other normal city on the planet did every day, like spitting and chewing gum. Her father had been there too, on R & R during his stints in Vietnam. He didn’t talk about it much, saying only that the scene there had been tame compared to Bangkok, but a soldier could still get a meal, a night’s worth of beer and a girl for less than fifty bucks. When she heard her Dad talk like this, Jenny always imagined that she had dozens of half-brothers and sisters running around Southeast Asia, all dressed up in fake Armani and waiting for him to come and rescue them … See All Chapters
Medium 9789810861131

The Middle of the World by Peter Myers

Goodwin, Temari & Hoye (Editors) Monsoon Books ePub
"The Middle of the World" by Peter Myers

A romance short story set in Singapore, first published in "Love and Lust in Singapore" (Monsoon Books, Singapore)

The ‘hot yoga’ class was in its final throes. Graham and I were lying side by side, a mat’s width distance apart. We were surrounded by exceedingly supple people, mainly women, all of whom ignored us. Was this because they presumed we were a couple, or they realized we weren’t, and were therefore self-conscious about performing far-fetched contortions centimetres away from potentially leering eyes? ‘Now relax your jaw, your tongue.’ Our sinewy instructor Kate was leading the wind down routine. ‘Breathe into your spine, your thighs. There was great energy in the class tonight. I want you all to thank yourselves for coming here this evening; what a wonderful way to end your week … I can see some of you starting to move. Stay still. Stop your brain from thinking. This is your chance to really stop thinking. Just focus on your breath. Good. Namaste.’ I can’t vouch for Graham, whose poker face rarely betrayed signs of cerebral activity, but I didn’t think I had ever stopped thinking … See All Chapters
Medium 9780253019028

Ali Mazrui (1933–2014)

IU Press Journals Indiana University Press ePub

Ali Mazrui. Photo by Seifudein Adem. ©2011

THE RANKS KEEP thinning, bringing sadness both for the individual loss and for the inevitable receding of an era whose seizure owed so much to the intellectual industry of scholars such as Ali Mazrui.

Ali and I were unflagging adversaries. Indeed, it is only by dint of a hard effort of recollection that I find myself able to cite a few areas of absolute concordance on any critical issue that concerned the “Africa Project”! Fortunately, I was able to participate—at his touching insistence!—in the colloquium at Binghamton University to mark his seventieth birthday. He was the perfect host, presiding affably over the multidisciplinary motley of African scholars and Africanists, including statesmen and -women, that he had labored very hard to bring together.

Among these was another adversary of a different kind—General Yakubu Gowon, former Military Head of Nigeria. We were meeting for the first time since my emergence from prison detention in 1969. Gowon was obviously ill at ease, understandably, since he had signed the detention order that had kept me in prison for over two years during the Biafran war of secession. Many knew this already, so the tension was not confined to the General alone; certainly, Ali was on the watchful side, especially as he had seated the two ‘enemies’ side by side.

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Medium 9781574416473


Polly Buckingham University of North Texas Press ePub

The neighbor is in jail. The words snitch, rat, and dead man and two frowny faces are spray-painted the color of charcoal across his trailer. What idiot thinks a frowny face is threatening? Her laughter, edgily uncontrollable, feels inappropriate. Beside the trailer is a half dismembered motorcycle chained to cinderblocks, and below it, a large oil stain. Everything has the appearance of having been disrupted and abandoned without warning.

It's April, and the branches of the Siberian elm are lined with golden buds, each a tiny replica of the sun, and the sun is finally warm enough to warm her face. Everything is in transition—the meth head is gone, new neighbors moved into the house behind the trailer, and she herself is a transplant with a new job and no new friends. It hurts to swallow, as if glass is stuck in her throat. It's no surprise she would be getting sick, a danger at the core of any great transit. Last night's bottle of wine hasn't helped. But at least the sun warms even her hands and hair. She's picked up the wayward garbage blown in from other people's yards and collected branches and sticks. After a few more slugs of coffee, she'll head to the woodshed for the ax, hoping the exertion of chopping might push away the hangover and illness.

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