A Huge eBook Giveaway for Everyone during November!


I will be making a huge giveaway of WHITE FOXES novel during the whole November! Anyone can get the Digital Advance Reader’s Edition, just contact me and I’ll sent your copy via email. There are no rules to get this book, because:

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I want to celebrate my late birthday as well as the birth of the 2nd book in the Royal Arcanum series, which is; WHITE FOXES that will be published in December 2016. This book is the sequel to Royal Arcanum novel, about 18-year-old Cathy Charlotte who moves with her mom to The Bronx, New York to continue her college life along with her best friend, Josh Kingsley. Unexpectedly, their life have to encounter such a phenomenal issue, involving the police, public media, and the bloody secret within one royal family that people are deathly fear of, which is known as White Foxes.

After you contact me via form below, I will add you to the waiting list, and your copy will be delivered to your email in the late November 2016.

\ (•◡•) / I am very excited for this celebration. \ (•◡•) /

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[Short Story] The Cryptic

The first time we moved in, we found an obsolete paper hung in front of the entrance door, the words said; this house is cursed, do not open!

My dad grimaced as he read that, that could be teenager’s prank. He had considered the whole sleepy town idea since some residents already warned us about the house, but there was no turning back, and he already bought it anyway.

The Victorian house looked uncanny and old. The dusts and cobwebs had been covering every corner of the space. I hated the idea if the house might be haunted by an old story and ghosts. More strangely, no mirrors hung in each bedroom, but the only one I found was in the living room. Some rumors said that the mirror was the heart of this house. Who would seriously believe that?

Continue reading “[Short Story] The Cryptic”

[Poem] The Fractal Debris

The house buried under the sun,

the shimmer they hid couldn’t run,

for the age they held,

no more than a hesitancy.

If one could shallow a sinner thought,

the old cabin would allure,

for the smoke and ashes to sue.

The tantrum was lifting a tragedy,

of what they said about the wood;

a frantic horror and panic.

For what they had consumed,

they might remain the same.

The cabin wouldn’t look alive,

and the brown shade would suffice.

as if the fractal debris were there to swirl.

As the only living place in the wood,

oh, the agony to lose that place has raging,

only for them to survive,

from the wild roses.

Once the wolf echoed,

they should know their place.