Amaris

@amarisfarr.bsky.social

57 Followers 53 Following

Fantasy & scifi author / Copyeditor & proofreader Working on my novel, Sacred Bell (I call her SB for short) amarisfarr.com

A set of book series by John Flanagan: The Brotherband Chronicles and The Ranger's Apprentice, with Book 1: The Ruins of Gorlan in front.
"We're gonna be okay, aren't we?" she asked, not sure if she was talking to Jassin or to the stars themselves. Yet it seemed that both answered, for even as Jassin responded, one star shot across the sky, leaving a trail of glittering dust in its wake. "We are. We're gonna be okay."
One evening, Grandfather Casper gathers us around a bush. At first all I see are its delicate, twining branches mottled in shades of brown, but then he draws our attention to a tiny bud at the end of one of those branches. I draw in a breath. "Mark this color," Grandfather Casper intones, "for it is the most pervasive of them all. It is called 'green,' and you will see it often and in many shades. It may seem harmless and subtle now, but when it covers all the earth you may become disoriented and easily lost." Signs of Spring
"Do you need anything else?" The mother's name was Anaya. "We've some medicine, some bandages if you're hurt. A change of clothes, perhaps? You're about Tulli's size." Keria shook her head. For some reason, now that her stomach was full she felt guilty, like she was tricking these people somehow. She'd only told them a little bit of a lie, and they hadn't questioned her. Even so, because she could never be truly honest with them, their sincerity made her feel all the worse.
The powder is a revelation and a relief to the other youngs. It tells them that we will not be helpless, that there will be answers and cures for the trials brought on by Spring. But I am not so comforted. Spring has not even properly arrived, yet it turns our world and even the very air—something I have never given a second thought to before—against us. If this is only the beginning, what other, greater threats await us? Signs of Spring
Kal finally tightened the last strap on his overstuffed knapsack. He looked at Keria again, his face very serious. "It's up to you to take care of your mother while I'm gone." "By myself? What about Herro?" Kal's face hardened. "Herro's given up. We can't trust him now. But you and I haven't given up, have we?" He waited until Keria shook her head. "Good. You take care of your mother, Keria, and I'll be back soon."
"Ah-ha!" Grinning, the man dug into the satchel on his shoulder and pulled out a small glass bottle with twine wrapped around the top. He held it up to the light, and Keria saw a viscous honey-colored liquid swirling around inside. "Let me introduce you to Anson's Miracle Cat-Fur Elixir, created by yours truly—" Here he gave a small bow. "—designed to untangle even the worst knots and leave your cat's fur clean and beautiful, softer than even the downiest of pillows."
I know it's a mistake as soon as I set foot on the first plank. The wood is slippery underfoot, and the ropes are slick. The movement of the bridge is unpredictable, so that I am thrown wildly about. Only the strength of my grip keeps me from those dark, raging waters. Other youngs crowd behind me, leaving me no choice but to move forward. The far shore seems impossibly distant. Signs of Spring
Looking upon the faces of the lost, I think I understand why the growns could not tell us what we needed to know, for simply knowing could never have prepared us and certainly would not have made us strong. Only by experiencing Spring ourselves could we become strong, and only by choosing strength could we become brave. Signs of Spring
Death is not a thing we youngs are familiar with. No one has died in our lifetime. The closest thing we've known was when Grandmother Hollis went to her final rest beneath the bent oak just outside the garden. How lucky she is to have escaped seeing one final Spring. Signs of Spring
The word rattles my bones. It's a word of myth and legend, a whispered rumor, a word to warn naughty youngs to behave. It's an idea, not a reality. Except—I know better than to belive that. Signs of Spring
Keria remembered that horrible sound Isel had made and she wondered if Kal would find that it was already too late. But he leaned over the bed and gently arranged Isel into a more comfortable position, setting her head straight on the pillow and bringing her hands to rest on her empty belly, and while he did this she sighed quietly, and Keria saw that she was breathing, shallow but steady. Not gone yet.
Picture of the novel Tom's Crossing by Mark Z. Danielewski. His novel House of Leaves peeks out from the background.
Signs of Spring I can see the defiance in some of my friends’ eyes, but so can Grandfather Casper. Before anyone has the chance to voice their objections, he asks if we want our people to die, as others have before us. We all know about the ancient beings who came before us. Not so much who they were, but that they perished because they could not adapt to a changing world. The same will happen to our people if we let it.
A blue-tinted picture of a lone white flower, set behind a green-tinted text box. The text reads "The word rattles my bones. It's a word of myth and legend, a whispered rumor, a word to warn naughty youngs to behave. It's an idea, not a reality. Except—I know better than to believe that." "Signs of Spring"
Amaris Farr Author Editor in front of a light brown quill pen and inkwell set against a white colored page of text