Ravyn Karasu's Story Sampler: Story Samplers, #2

By Ravyn Karasu

Inside this sampler is 5 excerpts from 5 more publications. This volume contains excerpts from:

1. Lord of the Maples (2015)

2. Imaginary Friends: Not Just Kid Stuff (2016)

3. The Old Man (The Revenants of Embri: Revenant Tales) (2017)

4. Psyche & the Human Condition: A Psychoanalytical & Deconstructive Analysis of George Orwell's 1984 (2018)

5. A Ticket to Ride (The Revenants of Embri: Revenant Tales) (2018)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ravyn Karasu
• Release date: Jan 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386232179

Book preview

Ravyn Karasu’s

Story

Sampler

Volume II

All excerpts in this sampler are simply snippets of larger and complete works. This book merely serves as a chance to get a sneak peek at a few of my works. If you like them, feel free to seek out the digital or paperback copies of the original books

All Content © Ravyn Karasu

Lord of the Maples

Shifter Romance

Published: July 1, 2015

Jeremiah Bruin is a wealthy bear shifter that enjoys a life of simplicity and routine in the small Canadian town he lives in. When Mathieu Delacroix comes to live in the small town, Jeremiah can’t help but feel drawn to him, but he can’t understand why. Likewise, Mathieu finds that he is drawn to Jeremiah and equally cannot understand why. Their lives are full of confusion and frustration as they begin to question themselves and their sexuality as the time passes between them.

Who and what is Mathieu Delacroix and why is Jeremiah so fascinated by him? Is the city-born college student wannabe just that interesting? Or is he, perhaps, prey for the bear to hunt and devour? Could it just be destiny? Could it be...love?

The axe came down with great force. The log that had been set up flew in two separate directions due to the very clean split. With a well-rehearsed swing of his body, Jeremiah grabbed another small log and set it atop the stump and it too was the next victim of the trusty axe. He ran his arm over his forehead to wipe off the sweat.

Jeremiah was a very firm and fit man, but not broad and buff. He maintained this fitness in a narrower frame than some of his athletic childhood playmates. He used to be quite pretty as a boy. He was still quite attractive now, though the youthful prettiness had long since matured into a new level of manliness. His body had more hair on it now. His hair was light, a sandy brown colour. It was wavy from head to toe. The hair on his head was a little over shoulder length, and normally tied back in a short tail. He had a little stubble on his face, but he never allowed it to grow into a full beard, but rather liked the masculine feel of the scratchiness; therefore, he maintained it to be just right, neither beardy nor baby-faced. It went with the cold and serious stare of his blue-grey eyes. His body wasn’t necessarily covered in a thick fur of hair, but coarse curly hairs across the top of his chest, some prominence as a trail under his navel to his nethers, and coarse, light hairs on his forearms and down his legs. He wasn’t a bearish man, at least not in that sense, but he was very proud and manly.

He dressed in his usual attire: work pants, thick-soled work boots, and a red and black plaid button shirt. He had rolled up the sleeves midway up his biceps and the first few buttons in the front had been undone, exposing the sweaty, white undershirt. A pair of work gloves and a pair of dark sunglasses protected his hands and eyes from any stray flying splinters.

It was rather warm. Winter was over, and it seemed silly to fret over the wood now. That didn’t bother Jeremiah, though. It was something to do. There was always something to do. His life was purposefully compacted with chores and that’s how he liked it.

He worked for no man. His family had always been somewhat prestigious on the local levels. He was more than man and his ancestors had once been like gods and spirits among the people of old. When the Europeans came, blood had mixed between wealthy white folk and shifters from the Old World continents with those native to the New World. He had a bit of it all and maintained a strong presence. It had never been expressly stated, but it had become rather accepted that he was the lord of his family and highly respected. His family lived all throughout Canada and Europe. Jeremiah, however, loved this grand and spacious isolation from his relatives. He was less inclined to take advantage of modern luxuries than the others (not that he didn’t have a few secret luxuries for occasional use). They were occasional campers, usually on commercial campgrounds or cabins, utilizing RV’s, and generally having the ability to just barely make it if it came down to surviving in the wild. It was a sad thing for a kind such as themselves.

Jeremiah could survive with no handicaps. Sure, he had some features thanks to his wealth, but lived on a level of as much self-sufficiency as possible, enjoying the outside world in the same capacity as his relatives enjoyed his rustic one. If he truly wished, he could’ve become a complete hermit and opt never to see any part of the outside world. That just seemed extreme and while he was not extremely social, he did like to be around people from time to time. He was part of the world, not entirely separate from it, and that seemed fair.

He did go to town every day. It was what he called the pre-town. It was a small community (or sub-community) of cabins and handmade shops. It had everything he’d want and it felt more private. There was a café/diner and a little general store among other quaint shops. It was a nice place for the rustic hermits to gather without having to bend to the will of the quickly developing British Columbian town.

That was enough chopping for now. It was more of a workout anyway. Jeremiah gathered up the split wood and added it to his little pile. Speaking of wood, he expected the saplings he had ordered would be available. Like rotating livestock in different pastures, Jeremiah cut wood in specific sections and then replaced them with saplings to grow into new trees. The area was very heavy with trees, but that didn’t mean that Jeremiah couldn’t give back to a world from which he took so much. Maybe that was why he built his world within the confines of Mother Nature as much as possible, rather than bend her to his will.

The cabin was built by hand. It was spacious with two levels (Perhaps three if one counted the exposed loft area). It had mostly features of a pure rustic nature, but he couldn’t isolate himself entirely from the more pleasing upgrades. Still, in this part of his property, it was still simple, even if he had to cheat a little.

He went inside and opened his refrigerator to retrieve the jug of orange juice. It was one of the list of groceries he did still buy, simply because he enjoyed them and less out of a specific need. He had glasses, but he drank right out of the jug, turning it up and guzzling it down as if he had crossed a desert. He was able to drink down half of it before stopping to breathe. He licked his lips and let out a loud, refreshed sigh. That certainly hit the spot. He returned the jug to its place and headed into the bathroom to toss a little cologne onto himself. He didn’t mind smelling rustic, but he didn’t want to offend people with too rustic of a smell. Pine and dirt was one thing and a slight sweat, maybe, but a stank just wasn’t appropriate. It was enough. It covered up the smell to make him bearable.

He had been up rather early, fixing a small breakfast for himself and a cup of black coffee to start his day. It held him over until his second breakfast, the one where he truly ate. It was his social time and a chance to people-watch, be it the same locals each time or some adventurous tourists. He’d seen visitors and city slickers from all over Canada pass through, and a good many tender-footed Americans as well. This land was a nice retreat, but living in it just wasn’t for everybody, regardless of their birthplace.

He grabbed his wallet from his night stand and trotted down the stairs and to the front of the house where his truck waited. He could have afforded himself the most prestigious car in the town or more. He wasn’t much for cars or collecting. He had simple vehicles to work his land when needed, though he did give special attention to his truck. It was sturdy and he took good care of it, though it didn’t necessarily look that way. It was dinged and scratched, a faded blue colour on the body. It ran like a monster though. It could pull and it could carry. It was his beast and he loved it, even if it wasn’t that pretty. It was a hard worker, just like him. It always got him to and from any place he wanted to go.

He wasn’t much of a wanderer and was rather content to live in the small town. He had been to a few larger cities in his youth and often found them too overwhelming. He was very much a hands-on sort of man and the idea of a world where everything was becoming more and more automated made him feel incompetent. He liked turning the faucets on and off. He was content flushing the toilet himself. He could dry his hands just fine on paper towels (though he did understand the environmental plus to air dryers). Automated doors were okay in the right places. The department and grocery stores got the pass, since one’s cart was cumbersome and one’s hands were often full.

He could handle a television and a radio, but he didn’t own a computer currently. He wrote everything by hand and since he never did official business with outsiders, there was no need for such things. He could have afforded one, but chose against it. What would he ever use it for? He had enough electronics. He had that big television and he had a radio, though not a bursting sound system. He didn’t need that. He just needed something to listen to while he piddled about. He owned few movies and, when the mood hit him, he simply rented an old favourite from the local rental store or sampled something newer from the sporadically placed Red Box booths.

He did enjoy other features too, mostly for the purpose of keeping up with the world outside. He had satellite, but kept a very basic package. He wanted to watch the news from time to time, but found it so depressing that it hardly felt worth it. He rarely watched television, but should a big storm come along, or a major political change, he wanted to know what would affect him and how. It rarely mattered, as he was much his own little micro-nation, if one could joke about the status. Within the borders of his property, his word ruled the land as law and he defended it fiercely.

Jeremiah was almost happy. Money couldn’t buy his happiness, but it