Unveiled
  • Reads 186
  • Votes 39
  • Parts 20
  • Time 50m
  • Reads 186
  • Votes 39
  • Parts 20
  • Time 50m
Complete, First published Sep 28, 2020
Picking up the pieces. Book 1

In a kingdom far, far away, in a land only dreamers can conjure up, lives a princess named Naya Foltenhearte. 

She has everything you can possibly dream of, Perfect parents, perfect family, peaceful kingdom and everybody adores her. But to Naya it feels like she doesn't belong in the castle of the kingdom, Tendora.

Firstly, magic is outlawed. Anybody who wields,  or practises magic, will be publicly executed. At least Naya keeps hers under wraps.
Secondly, Naya wants to have fun. No rules. No protocol. Nobody telling her what her what she can and cannot do.

So at the age of 14, it is finally time for Naya to discover who she truly is.
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It was the summer of 1976 when my father left us. It was a particularly memorable summer and my mother suffered terribly. My father had left her for a younger woman and moved into her apartment which was above a flower shop where she worked. My mother struggled making ends meet and got a job as a nursing assistant at Peaceful Haven, an old folks home that still exists although it is very badly run down now. Because she could not afford a baby sitter, my mother took me to work where I sat in the lounge and watched TV and read books. On her lunch breaks she took me across the street to Faulkner Park where she made out with Fred while I wandered around eating my sandwich. But I quickly grew bored. I was 8 then, a bright young girl with an active imagination. I imagined doors in the sandbox, swings into the sky, doors to another world. And in the rooms of the old lost souls were more doors only waiting to be opened. I took those souls with me on my adventures and eased their loneliness and age with my contagious eagerness to believe anything. And then a terrible thing happened to me, so terrible I could not speak of it. I was in hospital, unable to believe anymore and my old friends came to visit me and to believe for me. I am 30 now, and as I write this and look back I wonder if I still believe. And yes, I do. Believing got me through that summer and believing got my father to come home again.