Why Is English Spelling So Curious And Extraordinary?

Hands. So many hands. They're everywhere, sliding up my thighs, gripping my hips, tangling in my hair. I can't see their faces, but I don't need to. I feel them. Three of them, surrounding me, claiming me. One behind me, his chest pressed against my back, his breath hot against my neck. Another in front, his mouth trailing fire down my throat. The third watching, waiting, his presence a dark promise.* "You're ours," one of them growls, and the sound vibrates through my entire body.

"Our heart beats only with their permission." For as long as she can remember, the bookworm Synecdoche Rochet, 23, has lived a simple life in Maharlika Nation—hiding in the grasses and grains of District G to avoid the terrifying power of the Embassy and its ruthless Ambassador. In a dystopian world that is controlled with surveillance, Synecdoche Rochet embarks on a mission to get back their rights on their district's valuable resources—the grains. When she discovered her intellectual ability, she found herself drawn to the charismatic Giovanni, the long-lost Ambassador's privileged son together with other intelligent students, Ulap, Token, and Keithwarth. They found themselves being the tributes on the 2nd Maharlika Spelling TwistBee—trapped in the Word Arena. An annually commemorated game where each district will represent one letter in the Alphabet, spell the given English words not verbally, but by beating other competitors who have letter tattoos on their arms. The rules are to Spell and beat them. Within the competitor's reach, the team-up of Synecdoche, Giovanni, Ulap, Token, and Keithwarth isn't a coincidence, it's a conspiracy. What if Synecdoche's age will be reversed? Will they use their intelligence for vengeance? Will they compel love and trust to survive the competition? Is their life the price or the prize? "Even the shortest word has the longest meaning."

I have always had an almost pathological sense of paranoia. Ever since I was a child, I was convinced that the people around me were out to get me. Back in elementary school, when everyone was lining up for their student ID photos, I flatly refused to have mine taken. I insisted that the district office was going to use my picture for identity theft. The situation escalated so badly that the principal had to personally sit me down and spend half an hour trying to convince me otherwise. Then, there was the fingerprint registration system in middle school. The school required every student to submit their fingerprints to access the campus buildings. I was so terrified that someone would steal my biometric data that I literally rubbed the skin off all ten fingertips to make them unreadable. Even when my fingers were bleeding, I kept shouting that they were trying to steal my identity. I would rather climb over the school fence every day than cooperate. Every relative I had called me crazy. My parents were so fed up that they seriously considered having me admitted to a psychiatric hospital. I did not care. I guarded my privacy with obsessive determination, gritting my teeth and holding my ground all the way up to the eve of the final exams. Then came the day before the exam. That afternoon, our homeroom teacher, Tracy Collins, walked into the classroom carrying a metal lockbox. A warm, motherly smile spread across her face as she set it down on the desk. "Everyone," she said, "to make sure nobody forgets their documents tomorrow, I'd like you to hand over your IDs and exam admission slips for safekeeping tonight." She patted the lockbox reassuringly. "Tomorrow morning, I'll personally return them to each of you outside the testing center. This way, there's absolutely nothing that can go wrong." The class was deeply moved by her thoughtfulness. Some students even looked close to tears as they eagerly pulled out their documents and lined up to hand them over. Everyone except me. My hand clamped down over my pocket so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Cold sweat poured down my back. A sharp alarm bell was ringing in my head. Trying not to attract attention, I fished out a spare flip phone from my bag, ducked beneath my desk, and dialed emergency services. As soon as the call connected, I lowered my voice and spoke into the receiver. "Hello. I'd like to report a crime. My name is Charles. "I believe a teacher at St. Alden High is working with an identity-fraud ring and is planning a large-scale operation tonight involving examination fraud and identity theft."

From New York to Rome, Istanbul, Cairo, Iceland, and beyond, Adrian races against an invisible enemy that has protected the truth for over five hundred years. But as the final cipher draws closer, he realizes the greatest danger isn't unlocking the secret... it's surviving it.

MAGICAL (Everything about us... is magical.) Melanie Spears thought she was an ordinary high school girl until she learned she wasn’t. Dragged into a hidden realm where magic rules and royal blood matters, she’s faced with choices no teenager should ever make. Torn between homework and hidden powers, a mysterious stranger guides her toward a destiny she never asked for. As she steps into her royal role, Melanie discovers perks she never imagined, and dangers that could destroy everything she loves. With supernatural forces stirring in both her world and the human realm, she’ll have to be braver than she’s ever been. School assignments clash with forbidden secrets. Friendships are tested. Emotions run wild and so does her magic. When she hears the word “danger,” it’s not a warning. It’s a prophecy. Can she balance teenage life and a destiny she didn’t ask for? Excerpt from the story: "Melanie, can you please stay back?" "What do you mean?" "Can you not go to school today? Stay at home, please." She pleaded with glassy eyes. I pulled her into an embrace. "Can you tell me why you don't want me to leave?" "Danger." she whispered. "I wouldn't have wished for the latter. I should have just maintained the first prayer. All because what I saw...was going to be the end of me, what I saw was terrifying. It was death!"

In the madness of life, we find the madness of life in ourselves. We are a reflection of the madness of life. We are the embodiment of a crazy life.