Reality upon the Wind is my debut novella, coming 2026.11.1.
“In the distant future, the world as we know it has been drowned by humanity’s past hubris. An orphan—blind and alone—embarks on a journey of self-discovery, and, with the help of a mysterious voice, comes to understand the fundamental nature of reality.”
DRAFT: v3.1.1
EXCERPT 1
The monk’s ears pricked up and he headed towards the cries, threading a thin, ill-defined track through the dense foliage and thick undergrowth. Following the distress, he eventually came to a small clearing, and there, face down in a large puddle was a young girl, no more than six. She was barely covered by a dirty and dishevelled tunic, it was more patchwork than fabric. Her forehead bore the unmistakable, hand-gouged word ‘AQU; forever cruelly marking her as a slave, as nothing more than property. Bruises and cuts were visible all over her arms and legs; no doubt her previous owner had inflicted one final act of brutal retribution, before leaving her here to die.
“Hello, qihiqihi,” the elderly monk called out, using a local colloquial word for ‘cicada’ in an attempt to not alarm her.
She cocked her head, directing an ear towards the tender voice. Cowered and cloistered up in a ball in the mud, as her small head raised from the mud, the monk noticed thick scarring across her eyes—opalescent pinks and reds in colour. Indeed, most of the left side of her face was covered with the same raised scar tissue; it’s patterning suggesting scolding and burning as its cause.
He slowly stepped towards her, pulling down his cowl, revealing a large white beard and a head shaved of its last remaining strands of hair.
“My name is Lhoōndrup, though my monk friends call me Rinpoche. You seem sore, can I help?”
EXCERPT 2
The monastery ship cut an imposing silhouette against the rising sun. A wooden ship several hundred metres long—a kaleidoscopic range of various woods revealing a Theseus’ Trireme of years of repairs—it housed a thousand monks and nuns. None had been born aboard, though many had grown up knowing the Shoōnyata-Maru as their only peace, their only refuge. The Deluge had forced humanity to take to the seas to survive, and religious orders were no different. Monastery ships were the most visible evidence of humanity’s continued—yet dwindling—spirituality. Four great pagodas rose from the deck, each several stories high, with terracotta-tied roofs and ornate and elaborately carved wooden gables and eaves, trimmed with teal and turquoise and gold. The towering buildings enclosing dormitories, kitchens, multiple dojo for training martial arts and zendo for meditation, several libraries loaded with rare and exquisite spiritual texts and treasures. These ships truly lived up to their name—a monastery upon the seas.
