cynosure

The pre-order period for Pleiades ends in 10 days, on Harry Potter’s birthday– July 31st– and with it, the personalized special gifts & the pre-order price of $15.
(What’s Pleiades? What special gifts? Can I read a never-before-released story from the book?)

Hurry and preorder Pleiades at this special preorder-exclusive price now before the price goes to $19 for all non-preorders.

Click here to get special gifts & pre-order Pleiades today!

If you still need convincing, read an excerpt from one of the short stories in the book:

from 8.

spacedying

We shouldn’t have chosen the tiniest apartment we could ever possibly find, the smallest one in the entire vast city.
We shouldn’t have chosen the one with only three rooms, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. We shouldn’t have said it would be cozy to be there, alone with ourselves and laughing over citrus juice and pecan-butter-and-jam delights.

We shouldn’t have moved across the sphere with our entire collection of books in tow, classics and Romantic poetry and trashy romance novels all forced to occupy the same space.

I shouldn’t have quit my job sweeping the cold floors of the local secondary school and claimed my lifelong dream was to be a nomad; you shouldn’t have sold your notebooks stuffed full to the brim of illegibly handwritten lyrics to a shady homeward-bound waving his arms madly on the street so that we wouldn’t have to worry anymore about the lights blacking out sporadically when we spent an entire week waking up at two a.m. to read Italian textbooks out loud to each other.

You shouldn’t have lied to your professor and said you were too sick to write a twenty-page tome on the significance of Scandinavian politics in international relations when in reality I was the one vomiting violently huddled in the bright corner of our cramped-but-cozy kitchen and you were the one holding me with the most gentle arms all the while through it not caring that whole sections of undigested clementines and bits of spicy Cajun sausage were finding their way onto your pale alabaster thrifted vintage shirt.

We shouldn’t have whispered to each other at three in the afternoon and nine at night and forgotten that morning ever existed; I shouldn’t have taken your hand and guided you around our modest dining table with the most ludicrously easy salsa steps I knew; the corners of your lips shouldn’t have turned up every time I tried to speak Spanish to you in vain. You shouldn’t have composed long Latin love letters to me and taught me how to roll my r’s properly by carefully massaging my mouth and I shouldn’t have tried to reciprocate with my frail French when the only thing I knew how to do anymore was whisper “je t’adore” quietly into your eager ears.

[cont...]

© 2010 Sui Solitaire. All rights reserved.

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tags: pleiades the book

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 21st, 2010 at 13:43 and is filed under writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.