Review of Trapped on Draconica by Dan Wright

Trapped on Draconica by Dan Wright
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Readers, if you like non-stop action, look no further. Trapped on Draconica is like running a marathon while hooked to an amphetamine IV.

It all begins with your typical troubled teenage boy. Ben has fallen into the wrong crowd, shoplifting and generally being a pain in the butt to his adoptive mother. During one afternoon, a foiled heist leaves him running from the police, wishing he was anywhere but there, and suddenly, his wish comes true. He wakes up on a planet called Draconica, and that's when the marathon begins. An evil emperor named Gothon is bent on world domination and decides that Ben is the key to his goal. Lucky for Ben, he's got a VERY supportive team on his side. They all set out on a quest to stop Gothon and rally more armies to their cause.

Because so much happens over the course of this 400+ page book, I won't reiterate any more story line, but I'll talk about some of the characters, because they're what kept me enthralled.

Princess Daniar--She's a Dragonkin, as are her three sisters, part human, but imbued with the powers of an ancient dragon. She can fly, breathe fire, is super strong and resilient. What I liked best about her was that she never killed anyone if she could help it, though there were times when I WANTED her to, and she was very tempted to, yet she held to her convictions. Tough, tough heroine, extremely loyal and protective. I just didn't quite agree with her choice of men.

Which brings me to Prince Kalak. He's one of the few remaining Leonidans left after Emperor Gothon's army destroyed his people. Though he is a formidable ally in the team that's rallying around Ben, he's also got a personal grudge against Gothon, and he's determined to fulfill his vengeance, by whatever means necessary. Daniar ends up falling for him, and though I almost felt the connection as to why, it just wasn't convincing enough for me. He was a REAL jerk in the beginning, to say it lightly, and even with his softer side revealed, I needed more at the point of their connection to make me believe that he was good enough to deserve Daniar. He did suffer a lot, the poor guy, and in the end, I was in his camp, but I just needed a bit more a bit sooner.

Ritchie--He's Kalak's pet, a talking tiger with a speech impediment, and he's completely adorable. I love how he reminded me of Cringer from the He-Man series. What's best about him is that he is rather the glue that holds this volatile team together.

Taurok--He's a Shadori, with dark skin and pointed ears like a dark elf, and probably my favorite character of them all. As the General of Emperor Gothon's army, he's been ordered to kill Daniar and bring Ben to Gothon (alive). His motives are complex, and he comes across as an extremely sympathetic character. You don't want to see him succeed, but you still root for him to have some victory. This guy was just perfectly written, IMO.

In conclusion, Trapped on Draconica was my first experience with Manga-style literature. Some readers might feel the plot borders on cheesy at times with the one-liners and a few predictable outcomes, but after I read briefly on the history of Manga, I think it fits well with the genre. I'm still confused as to why there was no cursing at all. Having the troubled Ben say "Oi" instead of *&^% didn't seem to fit, unless it was written for a younger crowd (early teens?), in which case, it works.

Even with those minor issues, the story was captivating, the illustrations by Alexis Centino were stunning and fit perfectly, and I'm worn out having read it! For a great fantasy adventure with super artwork suited for young teens and up, I'd highly recommend Trapped on Draconica by Dan Wright. Go grab a copy today!

View all my reviews

MFF#7 First Flight by Thomas J Marshall

Welcome to Unwritten's  May Flash Fiction challenge! Every story (600 words max) begins with this sentence: 

 I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.

I am so enjoying the variety of these stories. Thomas J Marshall brings us a wonderfully different take on our challenge. It's something that's happening in every backyard in our hemisphere. A mother's worst nightmare? Perhaps. Either way, I'm certain you'll want to "tweet" about it later. Read on!

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First Flight

I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son. Every mother goes through this, of course, but he and his brother were all I have known since they hatched.

I watched as my boy fell from the tree.  I resisted the urge to fly down and scoop him up.  He had to learn, or die.   That was the way of things.

The confidence I had tried to leave me. The decision to send him now was made because he was strong; the strongest of the clutch and as of a moment ago, the first to leave the nest.  He had to be ready.

The memory of his first white feathers around his head came to mind.  I knew just by the look of them he was special. There wasn’t a speck of grey or black amongst them.  And his hooked beak and talons were strong.  Even as a hatchling, he was able to handle the small fish I laid before him.  This made him grow fast.  Much faster than his brother. He wouldn’t take this challenge for a week yet.

I cocked my head to the side and saw his silhouette shrink. A touch of fear struck me.  He should be flying by now.  What have I done?  I couldn’t let him die.  He was too young.  I know I shouldn’t go after him but I can’t watch him fall to his death.

His shape shrunk smaller still and I realized I may have been wrong.  I flapped my wings, dusting them out to prepare to make a dive.

I checked on him again. Now he flipped in the air out of control. He wasn’t ready.  I stepped out onto a limb and bent my legs, no longer caring this was not the way of things.

I jumped out and started my dive. The wind rushed past me and through my wings. I spotted him below, but see he no longer struggled. Would he level out?  Yes, he did it!

I pulled my wings in to slow my descent and watch him. My heart expands with pride as I see him flap his wings and start to climb.  Look at him go! His brown feathered body accented the white of his head as he sped off into the sunset.  Good bye son.

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I am 41 years old and have been in the Army for over 20 years.  I just started writing in January when I decided to take the F2k course.  I had so much fun with that course I decided to continue by joining WVU.  I have submitted a couple of flash fiction pieces, one to NPR for the Three Minute Fiction and another to an online publisher.  i am currently working on a fantasy adventure novel which I hope to have completed by the end of the year.

MFF#6: Banished by Cristina Rehn

Welcome to Unwritten's  May Flash Fiction challenge! Every story (600 words max) begins with this sentence: 

 I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.

Cristina Rehn lightens things up today in this sweet story about a milestone every mother or father faces at some point in their child's life. Read on and feel free to share your own memories!

Banished

I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.  But here he stood, a mere kindergartner, banishing me from the birthday party. 

“You want mommy to leave?”  I made my mock shocked face, mouth round and eyes wide.  It never failed to produce a giggle.

James didn’t giggle.  His little blond crew-cut bobbed up and down.  “Yes Mommy.  It’s a kid party.”

He yelled to his best bud, Caden, the birthday boy.  Caden flailed a greeting, bouncing with that boundless boy energy.  I smiled at Caden’s mom, Julie.  She gestured at a balloon-topped table as she conferred with the be-pierced waitress who ran the bowling alley parties.

James unzipped his coat and wriggled away as I pulled it off.  He tossed it onto an orange plastic chair by the lanes.  I stepped towards the table of moms, all clearly settling in for the duration.  “See, sweetie.  Other mommies are here.  There’s Drew’s mom.”

I waved to the woman, a familiar face from years of daycare drop-offs and pick-ups.  She leaned over Drew’s feet to fasten the Velcro on his blue and red bowling shoes as she chatted on her cell phone. 

“Drew can’t eat peanuts.  His mommy even comes to parties at school, in case he needs his special ‘lergic pen.”  James crossed his arms and eyed me over the top of his tiny wire-framed glasses.  He resembled my father, the judge, staring down a lawyer who’d made a ridiculous motion.

I regrouped.  “Honey, you wanted me to stay at Lyssa’s party just last month.  You cried.”

“MOMMM!  That was summer.  I’m in kindergarten now.”  

I cringed inside as my darling baby rolled his eyes, an expression he’d learned from me.  I scowled at him.  James stared right back.  I dithered in the heat of his adorable scorn and logic.  “Well… if you’re sure.”

His face lit in a victory grin and he yanked me towards the gift table.  “The present goes here.  I’m gonna get the orange bowling ball.” 

James pulled away, but I tugged back.  Yet another mother was joining the diet cola klatch at the table.  I couldn’t surrender now, not when I was obviously the only parent under orders to leave.

“James, I really think I’m supposed to stay.  Sienna’s mommy is staying too. ” I pointed to the curly-haired, blue-eyed pixie hugging the newcomer’s leg.

His grin morphed into a solemn frown.  He wiggled his finger for me to bend closer and cupped a hand over my ear.  “Sienna’s afraid of potties that flush by themselves.”

How does he know that?  I heaved a sigh, defeated by epi-pens and auto-flush toilets.  James darted to the ball rack.  Dismissed and dismayed, I could no longer ignore the fact that one of us was too old for me to stay. 

I caught Julie’s eye. “Pick-up at four?”

She nodded and waved goodbye.  I gazed towards the mommy table.  Drew squirmed while his mother tucked in his shirt.  Sienna’s mom struggled to free her thigh from her daughter’s death-grip.  Jackson’s grandmother carried his bowling ball, sneakers and juice-box, trailing him like a personal assistant.

Caden and James rushed by in stocking feet.  They stood on tiptoe at the counter to request their bowling shoes.  I looked at the lane.  The orange bowling ball sat in the semi-circle at the end of the ball return, procured and waiting.  I called to him.  “Have fun, pumpkin.”

James glanced over with a heart-melting smile.  “Bye-bye, Mommy.”

I walked away, aching with sadness and pride.  Saying goodbye so soon hurt, but letting my boy grow felt great.

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Cristina Rehn lives in Upstate NY with her husband, daughter and mother.  A full-time job, a full-time family  and two demanding cats don't leave much time for writing, so it's still a hobby.  She hopes someday she'll shine and polish up something enough to be published, but for now she just enjoys learning from other writers about both the craft and the business.  Her hobbies are writing and reading, and eking out as much solitude and silence as she can to do both.  Her daughter banished her from birthday parties years ago.

Cristina's Blog: http://cristinarehn.blogspot.com/

MFF#5- Elliott: Lost and Found by Tori L. Ridgewood

Welcome to Unwritten's  May Flash Fiction challenge! Every story (600 words max) begins with this sentence: 

 I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.

Today's selection from author Tori L. Ridgewood will take you on a mother's emotional journey, with an unexpected twist at the end. I think you'll like it! Read and be generous with comments!

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Elliott: Lost and Found

I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.  

      I paced the waiting room floor, counting the gleaming tiles under my feet.  Fourteen steps from the entrance to the spotless floor-to-ceiling windows.  Outside, in the corridor, nurses moved placidly in their quiet white shoes, unhurriedly completing their duties.

      Meanwhile, somewhere down the hall, Elliott, my only child, was disappearing.

      I desperately wanted a cigarette, even though I had never been a smoker.

      Don’t think of it as disappearing, I told my faint reflection.  He’s being reborn.  Becoming.  

      Realizing.

      Outside, on the lawn two stories below, a young woman accepted a dandelion offered by her own toddling boy.  I knew every inch of my son’s body, at that age.  I had taught him how to pee without wetting the seat, and reassured him that sitting was just as good as standing.  (Was that an early indicator?  What other signs had I missed?)  I remembered how he’d squawked when I first bathed his tiny limbs, the aimlessly waving hands and feet which were now the same size as my own.  I had held him close to my heart, and in the blink of an eye, he was grown.  Only the photo albums and my own memory remained as proof that this wonderful, intelligent, athletic person had once clasped me around the knees in order to keep from falling, as he took his first steps.

      In a way, I felt as though my son were dying.

      My throat burned uncomfortably.  I coughed to clear it, earning myself a sympathetic glance from a little old lady seated nearby on the peach vinyl couch.  Was her child here, as well, being reshaped by doctors into a more comfortable form?  Was she waiting to meet a person who was brand-new all over again, while still remaining the same?  Was she as confused, heartbroken, and hopeful as myself?

I wanted to ask her these questions, but my mouth was dry.

      I recalled a coffee station down the hall.

      Offering a half-smile by way of apology, I turned and walked the fourteen steps to the door and followed the neatly printed signage to the galley kitchen which was available to staff, patients, and visitors alike.  A fresh pot was brewing; its nutty aroma should have relaxed me with its familiarity, but instead my stomach jumped into knots.

      Elliott wouldn’t be different where it counted.  His interests were still the same.  His beautiful hands, long-fingered and delicate even in infancy, now produced award-winning abstract paintings.  His boisterous laughter had lightened in tone over the past months, but it still carried me along in its infectious joy.  We still shared our loves for running, camping, fishing, and cooking.  But after all the subtle and not-so-subtle alterations, I couldn’t help but mourn for the loss of the child I had raised.  I was proud of him for speaking out, for knowing himself so well, and beating the demon which had tempted him to take his own life.  The complete loss of my child would have been absolutely unbearable.  That he had even considered suicide devastated me.  

      The coffee was ready.

      I poured a cup with a surprisingly steady hand.  The worst had come and gone.  He was in the best hands, coming at last into himself.  My beloved son would be my beloved daughter.  And I would be there to welcome her, to hold her, as I had done before.  But when I wept for the loss of the boy she had been, would she understand?

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Tori L. Ridgewood is a full-time secondary school teacher, a mother, a partner, and a writer and reader of all things fiction and non-fiction.  Her published works include “Mist and Midnight” (Midnight Thirsts, 2011), “Telltale Signs” (Spellbound 2011), “A Living Specimen” (Midnight Thirsts 2, May 2012), and “Tabitha’s Solution” (Having My Baby, tbd).  Tori enjoys writing plays for her students, watching thunderstorms, walking her dog, needlework (quilting, cross-stitching, and embroidery), collecting miniature furniture, traveling, and watching movies.  Currently working on a trilogy of adult vampire novels to follow “Mist and Midnight”, Tori also plans to write young adult fiction in the near future.

Available titles:

MFF#4: Disposable Heroes by Dan Wright

Welcome to Unwritten's  May Flash Fiction challenge! Every story (600 words max) begins with this sentence: 

 I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.

It's the news no parent wants to receive. Yet, countless families of fallen heroes around the world must say goodbye to their children in this way. Read this story by author Dan Wright and feel free to share your own experiences. Most importantly, don't forget to keep the men and women in our armed forces in your thoughts and prayers!

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Disposable Heroes

 

I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.

It’s never the easiest thing for a parent to say goodbye to their child – even though we know that sooner or later we must let them leave the nest, it still fills us with fear, sending out children out to the world. But we let them go, because we know it’s the best thing and goodbye doesn’t have to mean a final farewell – sometimes we know that our children will return to us.

But this time, when I said goodbye to my boy, I knew that he wouldn’t be coming back.

I held my head to my son’s chest, hoping that I could still hear a vague heartbeat. There was none. His heart had stopped beating long before he was brought to me. Yet he looked so peaceful, as if he was sleeping. I shook him, as I did when he refused to wake up for school, hoping that he was only asleep and fooling around. His eyes did not open. I placed one hand over his face, hoping to feel warmth, but touching only cold flesh. I beg, I pray, I ask my son to open his eyes – but I can barely see him anymore as my eyes are filled with tears. It makes him look as if  he is underwater.

Why him? Why? What did he do to deserve this? He was a good boy, a good husband to his wife, a good father to his daughter. He never did anything wrong in life. All he wanted was to do his duty. Was this the price for his loyalty?

I scream at the heavens, begging them to bring him back to me. Surely this wasn’t his time – he was too young. I scream until my lungs explode, hoping that my prayers would be answered. But even that isn’t enough. It’s a cruel irony that we are taught to show Him undivided attention and love – but when we need something from him, he tends to go deaf.

They tell me that he was a hero that he would be remembered for all time. He would be honoured, given a ceremony, his name going down in history and that I should be proud of him.

I was always proud of him. He was my son. He didn’t have to go through this to know that I was proud of him.

What do I have to proud of now? Proud that I must bury my son when he should be burying me in years to come? Proud that I must now tell his daughter that her Daddy won’t be coming back? Proud that I have to tell his wife my son died in service to his country?

If that’s something to be proud of, then I’d rather be ashamed.

I wonder if any of those people would say that I should be proud if it was their child that they lost?

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Dan lives in the UK, his hometown being Canterbury, Kent. A huge fan of both Fantasy and Manga, he has a style that combines both within his writing, which lets him tell stories that are both dramatic and tongue-in-cheek at the same time.

Dan also runs his own website, blog and even a wiki page that goes into detail of the world of Draconica. He is also a reviewer for the website Read2Review and will soon be reviewing books independently on his own website.

Authors who have inspired Dan are Douglas Adams, J.R.R Tolkien, Harlan Ellison, Alan Moore, Joss Whedon and Hiromu Arakawa.

Contact Dan via the following links:

WEBSITE: www.pandragondan.co.uk

FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/PandragonDanWright

TWITTER: @PandragonDan

EMAIL: pandragonpublishing@gmail.com

Books currently available – check out website for details

MFF#3: The Bulldancer by Jenny Twist

Welcome to Unwritten's  May Flash Fiction challenge! Every story (600 words max) begins with this sentence: 

 I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.

This short and sweet entry from author Jenny Twist reminds me of that immortal line: "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned." I'd also add: "And man is clueless as to how it comes about." Hee hee. Read on!

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THE BULL-DANCER

I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son. He is chosen as one of the twelve. My husband says I should be proud. They only take the best as bull-dancers.

I am proud of my strong, beautiful son, but I am not proud of my husband. If I were a man I would not meekly offer my son up for sacrifice. I would raise an army. I would sail to Krete and destroy the Minotaur.

But I am a woman with only a woman's weapons. I have wrapped my son in magic – the strongest I possess. He is fair shining with it.

They are sailing under a black sail, the twelve chosen ones. My son says he will return. He will slay the Minotaur himself and he will return. He will return under a white sail as a message to say he is alive and victorious.

I look sideways at my worthless husband, smiling and waving as the ship leaves the harbour.

I have reserved some of my magic for him.

If the ship returns with a black sail, I shall cast him onto the rocks and he will be swept away by the sea!

****

Jenny Twist left school at fifteen and went to work in an asbestos factory. After working in various jobs, including bacon-packer and an escapologist’s assistant, she returned to full-time education and did a BA in history at Manchester and post-graduate studies at Oxford.

In 2001 she and her husband moved to Southern Spain where they live with their rather eccentric dog and cat.

Her published novels are Domingo's Angel – a romance set in Spain - and Take One At Bedtime – an anthology of short stories. All in the Mind –  about an old woman getting younger – will be released Sept 2012.

MFF#2: A Sudden Farewell by Dixie Barnes

Welcome to Unwritten's  May Flash Fiction challenge! Every story (600 words max) begins with this sentence: 

 I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.

Mothers worldwide can relate to this story by Dixie Barnes. How many of you have said goodbye to a son who's leaving for the military? Perhaps it went something like this:

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A Sudden Farewell

I never expected to be in this position so soon, saying goodbye to my son.  I know every mother understands that eventually her son will be graduating from high school and leaving for college, a job, or the military.  But it’s something you tend to pull a Scarlett O’Hara about.  Just like in Gone With The Wind, I always pushed that thought to the back of my mind with the thought “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”  Somehow, tomorrow never came.

So, when Brady got up one bright summer morning and came downstairs for breakfast, and announced that he was taking a job in California and would be leaving in two days, I was blindsided.  My mouth dropped open.  My heart started racing, and my knees were shaking.  I grabbed the back of the nearest chair to support myself until I was able to sit down.  I felt the beginnings of a pounding headache.  I know I turned pale, because Brady ran over to me and put a hand on my arm.

“Oh my God, Mom, are you ok?”  Brady quickly got a glass of water and offered it to me to drink.  He sat down in the chair next to mine and gave me a hug.  I stared at him with eyes wide and moist.  I nodded.

“Yes, I’m ok…I think,” I stammered.  “When did this all come about?  I thought you were going to college next fall.”

“Yeah, well, I was planning to, but I got a call from this job recruiter for a demolitions crew.  They go around imploding all those old bridges and buildings.  You know, Mom, like we watched on tv last week.  They demolish a lot of the old Las Vegas casinos that way.”

“Uh.  Isn’t that pretty dangerous, Brady? No, I don’t think this is a good idea at all.  You need a college education.  I think you’d better stick with the original plan to go to K-State this fall.  Demolitions is very risky.”

“Not if you know what you’re doing.  They will train me to do it right.  They make awesome money, Mom.  After I’ve worked there a while, I will go back to school and study engineering, like I talked about before.”

I sat, staring at my son, like he was someone I barely knew.  I realized at that moment that my son was no longer the little baby or the little boy I once cradled in my lap. 

I patted Brady’s cheek and reached for him with both arms, hugging him as tightly as I could.  “So, what are you going to need?  Should we go shopping? 

“Whoa, Mom!” Brady laughed, holding up his hands to ward off any more questions.  “I think I’m ok with the clothes, and the company has the tools. The only thing I’d like to do is…”  Brady looked at me, unsure of himself suddenly.

“Yes?  What is it, son?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could have a few of my friends over for a quick party.  Nothing fancy.  But I want to tell them all goodbye before I leave.  I was thinking maybe just some sandwiches, cookies, and some tea or something.  I know you’re busy, but could we do that before I leave?” 

“I think that would be a wonderful idea, Brady.  You need to say your goodbyes to your friends.  You make some phone calls while I run to the store for sandwich supplies and cookies.”  I grinned and hugged him again so he wouldn’t see my tears. "My baby’s all grown up to be a man. Oh Good Lord, what next?” 

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Dixie Barnes is a registered nurse who dreams of writing and illustrating children’s books. She lives in Kansas with her husband of over forty years, and two Shih Tzu dogs.  She loves spending time with her three children and nine grandchildren. She mentors the F2K Free Writing Fiction class in Writer’s Village University and writes fiction, including YA novels and short stories, essays, and poetry, which she posts on her blog Living Fossil Images at http://livingfossilimages.blogspot.com/2010/09/living-fossil-images.html?spref=fb.  She paints in watercolors and oils, and enjoys working in colored pencil.