As you no doubt recall, my book Secret Thoughts came out last year in the US and a few weeks ago in Israel, translated into Hebrew. The first review is in. If you can read Hebrew, check it out over at the online magazine, Don’t Panic.
Here’s the last line: “Together, the three stories, succeed well in unveiling the hidden and the unhidden in our humanity. The result is an interesting, at some parts emotional, and very human book.”
Secret Thoughts, by Guy Hasson
Secret Thoughts, now in Hebrew
Continuing the serialization of my epic fantasy novel, Tickling Butterflies, with new fairy tales every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Enjoy the latest fairy tale:
The Man with the Broken Heart
(Containing the disturbing tale in which John the Cute learns about injustice.)
Once upon a time, when John the Cute was eight years old, he met a man with a broken heart.
John the Cute had incurred a big scratch to his shin playing in the woods. He went to the doctor’s office to have the doctor dress his shin.
A man with a broken heart was sitting outside the doctor’s office, upset, looking only at the ground.
“Sir, sir,” John the Cute sat near the man with the broken heart. “How is it that your heart is so broken?”
The man sighed and told John the Cute the tale of the broken hearted.
It all began with my great-grandfather, the man with the broken heart began. He had fallen in love with a beautiful woman. The two had decided to marry and a wedding date had been set. But three days before the wedding date arrived, Prince Charming the First rode into town. Prince Charming the First charmed my great-grandfather’s fiancé and swept her away, never to be seen again.
When Prince Charming the First became King Charming the First and my great-grandfather’s betrothed became queen, my great-grandfather realized she would never come back.
On that day, in that moment, his heart broke into two.
Eventually, my great-grandfather recovered. He met another woman, fell in love again, and wed her. But his heart never mended. It was still broken and in two pieces.
And so when the woman gave birth to my great-grandfather’s son, my grandfather, he was born with a broken heart, a heart in two pieces.
The son, my grandfather, grew up, and fell in love with a woman, as all men do. But on the day of their marriage, Prince Charming the Second, son of King Charming the First, rode into town. Prince Charming the Second swept the bride off her feet. My grandfather was left at the altar, and each piece of his heart broke in two. Now my grandfather had a heart with four broken pieces.
Years passed. My grandfather met another woman, wed her, and had a child. That child, the man’s father, was born with a heart as broken as his father’s: his heart was in four pieces.
That son, my father, grew up, and lived a happy life until the age of eighteen, despite the awful pangs of his broken heart. At eighteen, he met a beautiful woman, and wanted to marry her. But on the night he was going to propose marriage to her, Prince Charming the Third, son of now King Charming the Second, rode into town and swept her away, never to be seen in the town again. My father’s heart broke, as hearts do, each piece breaking into two. Now my father’s heart was broken and in eight pieces.
Five years passed, and my father found a woman he kind-of liked. He wooed her, married her, and she had his child: me. I was born with a shattered heart: a heart already broken and in eight pieces.
“This is the tale of my broken heart,” said the man with the broken heart. “And now I have fallen in love with a wonderful woman. I want to propose marriage to her. But now… I am afraid. I am afraid my heart will break, and I am afraid my heart cannot break into even smaller pieces. And so I have come to the doctor, to find if he has a cure for a broken heart.
“I have just seen him, and he has informed me quite clearly that in all the Land of All Legends there is no cure for a broken heart. I must decide whether to risk an even more broken heart or to leave the woman I love. There is no other choice.” The man with the broken heart sighed deeply.
John the Cute had no advice to give and no smart response. The doctor called John the Cute in and dressed his wound.
When John the Cute came out of the doctor’s office, the man with the broken heart had gone.
It was on this day, at that exact second, that John the Cute understood that there was injustice in the world. He vowed, on that day, at that exact second, that if he had a chance, he would make sure that there would never be any injustice in the world ever again.
This has been the distressing tale in which John the Cute learned about injustice.
(To be continued on Tuesday…)
Continuing the serialization of my epic fantasy novel, Tickling Butterflies.
The River and the Tigress
(Containing the surprising appearance of King Charming the Fourth.)
The River was always jealous of Kate the Catty.
Like Kate the Catty, the River also had a son, a small brook called the Bamboo Brook. But the seasons were dry after John the Cute was born. The Bamboo Brook dried up, and River believed she had lost her son forever. She did not realize that when it would rain, there would be water in the brook again, and her son would return.
Whenever Kate the Catty brought her young child to the River for a picnic, the River would always be jealous.
And so, when John the Cute was merely three years old, Kate the Catty accidentally dropped her son into the River, and the River quickly swept John the Cute away.
In less than a second, Kate the Catty’s arms were in the water. But her son had already been sped away by the River.
Kate the Catty at once sprang into action and ran in the direction of the River.
Her son’s face appeared, bobbing on top of the water, already at the horizon.
Kate the Catty ran alongside the River after her son, reaching the speed of the River. The River, seeing her prank was taken seriously, put a roar in the water, and the torrent of the stream grew faster. Running along the side of the River, Kate the Catty reached the speed of a tigress, matching the River’s speed.
The River, afraid of being caught, threw a Knife Fish out of the water at a nearby tree. The Knife Fish cut the branch it had landed on. The beehive on the branch broke, and all the bees, angry and upset, set their anger on Kate the Catty, which had just leapt over the branch.
Without giving it a second thought, Kate the Catty sprang into the River and began to swim underwater. Following her, the bees were confused and stung the River instead of Kate the Catty.
Now the River set a hippopotamus, an alligator and two piranha fish on Kate the Catty Without stopping for a second, Kate the Catty poked the hippopotamus in the eye, bit the alligator in the tail, and ate the two piranha fish. She continued on her way, slowly gaining on her son.
Now the River was truly frightened. She began to fashion massive waves and dangerous whirlpools in an attempt to stop the angry mother. Kate the Catty suddenly stood on her two feet and roared a roar so powerful and so frightening, that it was heard in three continents, one of which was on the other side of the Land of All Legends.
The roar quieted the River into submission. All at once, the River was calm, and the water in it had stopped running. Kate the Catty looked around. A white-haired man in his fifties, regal and charming, stood on River’s river bed. The man was wearing a crown. In his hands, he held the young John the Cute. At once relieved and in awe, Kate the Catty knew she was facing King Charming the Fourth. She bowed before him.
“Is this your son?” King Charming the Fourth asked Kate the Catty. “I had pulled him out of the River only seconds ago.”
Kate the Catty stepped out of the River and bowed again. “Your highness. My son fell into the water and was carried away. I have been fighting water, bees, wind, a hippopotamus, an alligator, and two piranha fish in order to get to him.”
King Charming the Fourth smiled. He liked strong women. “Rise,” he said. “What is your name?”
As per the king’s orders, Kate the Catty stopped bowing. “Kate the Catty, your highness.”
“And what is your son’s name?” asked the King, as he was about to give John the Cute back to his mother.
“John the Cute, your highness.”
King Charming the Fourth froze in place, the child still in his arms. “This is John the Cute?”
“Yes, your highness.”
King Charming the Fourth gave the child to his mother.
“You cannot have heard of him,” Kate the Catty said.
“I have. More than twenty years ago, when I inherited the throne from my father, King Charming the Third.”
Kate the Catty looked at her three year old son. “Twenty years ago?”
“There was a prophecy,” the King said. “For my ears alone. One day, it said, a man known as John the Cute would save the entire Land of All Legends, when no other could. It said that I would meet him four times and four times only.” King Charming the Fourth stared at the child. “I suppose this is the first time.”
Kate the Catty said hesitantly, “I have also heard a prophecy… before my son was born. It said that John the Cute would become king at the age of eighteen.”
King Charming the Fourth was surprised. “Instead of my son, Prince Charming the Fifth? Or instead of me?”
Kate the Catty shook her head. “The prophecy did not say, your highness.”
King Charming the Fourth looked at the child again. “Well, I must go. I suppose we will meet again, John the Cute, since this has been only our first meeting. Perhaps the next time, you will be mature enough to talk.”
King Charming the Fourth climbed on his horse, which had waited just out of sight. The king addressed Kate the Catty, “Allow me to leave you with this, mother of John the Cute. According to your behavior today, I decree that your name shall no longer be Kate the Catty. Henceforth, it shall be Kate the Tigress.”
And with that, King Charming the Fourth rode into the sunset.
This has been the surprising story of how Kate the Tigress got her name and of the first meeting (out of four) of King Charming the Fourth and John the Cute.
(To be continued on Sunday…)
My epic fantasy novel, Tickling Butterflies, is being serialized with a new installment every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Here is the latest installment:
His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers
(Containing the distressing story of John the Cute’s cuteness.)
John the Cute was the cutest baby that had ever lived.
He was cuter than kittens. He was cuter than puppies. He was even cuter than bunnies.
He had a cute button nose, small and beautiful ears, and a smile that caught sunlight and reflected rainbows.
By the time John the Cute was five years old, all the male rabbits in Bambooville were jealous of John the Cute’s cuteness. In particular, His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers was dreadfully upset.
Whenever John the Cute left his house to walk in the forest, His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers and his other male rabbit friends gathered around him and performed tricks to impress the female rabbits hiding in the bushes. But the female rabbits always said that John the Cute was the cutest of them all.
His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers and a few of his friends went to the famous rabbit plastic surgeon, His Rabbit Lord Mr. Soxworth, and asked him to make their ears even cuter. His Rabbit Lord Mr. Soxworth agreed to change the looks of their ears, and, indeed, created even cuter ears.
When next John the Cute came into the forest, the rabbits converged around him. But when he was gone, the female rabbits agreed that John the Cute was still the cutest one in the bunch. His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers was dreadfully upset yet again.
But Her Rabbit Highness Ms. Pixie took a liking to His Rabbit Lord Mr. Teeth, even though he was not the cutest one in the bunch. The two left the trail and lived happily ever after.
His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers and a few of his friends visited His Rabbit Lord Mr. Soxworth again, asking him to change their cheeks. Even after this change, John the Cute was deemed the cutest one of all. But this time, Her Rabbit Highness Wabbity Wabbita liked His Rabbit Lord Quidditch, who did not have any plastic surgery at all and was not the cutest one in the bunch. The two went far away and lived happily ever after.
His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers became obsessed. He went again and again to the plastic surgeon, even though no other rabbit would come with him anymore. And yet, inexplicably, John the Cute would always be deemed the cutest one of all by the female rabbits. And yet, equally inexplicably, a male rabbit and a female rabbit would always like each other and leave together to live happily ever after.
By the end of thirteen years, His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers had changed his hears, his lips, his cheeks, his feet, his fur, his nose, his eyelashes, his tongue, his chin, and even his voice.
But by this time he was alone in the woods, since all rabbits of this forest were living happily ever after elsewhere.
By this time, John the Cute was no longer in the farm but had moved on to the palace to be king. Sadly, His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers had changed his looks so much that he looked like a dog. To his great misfortune, he did not look like a cute dog, but like an ugly dog.
The lesson of the story is that we must be content with the way we look or we would end up like His Rabbit Lord Mr. Snickers.
This has been the upsetting story of John the Cute’s cuteness.
(To be continued on Thursday…)
My epic fantasy novel, Tickling Butterflies, is being serialized with a new installment every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Here is the latest installment:
PART 1
JOHN THE CUTE’S CHILDHOOD
The Birth of John the Cute
(Containing the sad story of how John the Cute was born.)
Nine months before John the Cute was born, two mysterious travelers came upon a small farmhouse outside Bambooville, a tiny town in the farthest corner of the farthest shire in the farthest land of the Land of All Legends.
The travelers were hungry and weary of what they claimed to be a week-long walk without rest. The farmers, Kate the Catty and Frank the Frank, were humble people. When they saw the distress of the travelers, they offered them their barn to sleep in and their water and food to drink and eat.
Come morning, when the farmers and the travelers breakfasted at the same table, the two strangers suddenly pointed at Kate the Catty and began to speak as one.
Years later, when Kate the Catty would recount this tale to her son, she would always quote the strangers’ words thusly:
In a land of legends torn and worn,
A special infant will be born.
At eighteen years, shrewd and wise,
To the throne the child will rise.
To save the land from danger’s strife,
He’ll pay the price with his own life.
Prince Charming’s sword will pierce his heart
Two years after his reign will start.
Before Kate the Catty and Frank the Frank found it within them to respond to the enigmatic poem, the mysterious strangers had vanished, leaving their plates clean of food.
A big argument ensued, in which Frank the Frank accused Kate the Catty of becoming pregnant with a future king on purpose. Frank the Frank, in his frank manner, told Kate the Catty the truth: He did not want his children to be royalty, he wanted them to be farmers, as his parents were and as their parents were, and so on for generations. Most of all, he did not want a son who would surely die at the age of twenty.
Kate the Catty said she did not even know she was pregnant. And even if it turned out that she was, there was no way to know if the strangers spoke truly.
But Kate the Catty, not being as frank as Frank the Frank, lied. When the seers relayed their terrible message, she realized that she truly was pregnant. This discovery made her happy. More than this, she was happier still that a child born of her and her humble heritage would grow up to be king of the Land of All Legends.
With this argument, a rift began to form between the couple. As Kate the Catty’s stomach grew during pregnancy, so did the rift between her and her dutiful husband.
On the day John the Cute was born, his father, Frank the Frank, took one look at his newborn son and fell in love. He named him, fittingly, John the Cute. But immediately afterwards, Frank the Frank became so upset that his cute son may die as the strangers foresaw, that he became enraged and left the new mother in bed to take a long walk in the woods.
Frank the Frank was so distraught that he did not look where he was going and strayed into the dangerous part of the woods.
In the woods, wolves attacked Frank the Frank and ate him.
Later, lions ate the wolves.
Later still, elephants stomped on the lions and vultures ate the lions’ carcasses.
A hunter shot the vultures, and his family ate them for dinner.
The hunter’s family died later that year of a horrible disease that wiped his village, and they were all buried in their family’s plot, on the highest spot of a hill called Burial Hill.
Years later, beautiful yellow flowers with streaks of orange, flowers the likes of which have never been seen in the Land of All Legends, grew in the ground on the highest spot of Burial Hill.
This has been the sad story of John the Cute’s birth.
(To be continued on Tuesday…)
The daily Israeli newspaper Israel Today published this nice little article, including a paragraph about me and the path I took to get here.
INTRODUCTION
Stories have power.
Stories transform you. Stories transport you. A story leaves your body here and takes your mind to other lands. In those other lands there is magic and wonder. In those other lands anything is possible for a moment. Real heroes exist. Real witches cast real curses.
There are many, many stories. But there are only a few hundred fairy tales.
Fairy tales are special stories. Fairy tales are stories for children, stories with lessons, stories with events and characters that make less sense than do stories for grownups. In fairy tales wolves talk, houses are made of candy, lions get help from mice, and clicking your shoes can take you back home.
Parents all over the world want to teach their children the lessons of fairy tales. And so all over the world, children are told the same fairy tales. Generation after generation. Again and again and again.
Stories have power. The more a story is told, the more power it has.
When a story is told exactly one million and eleven times, then in a special world, in a special land, it becomes real. That special land in which these fairy tales come true is called the Land of All Legends.
In it, all stories that have been told one million and eleven times or more have come to life. Some have come to life so long ago, that they have been dead for thousands of years. The fairy tales we tell live full lives in the Land of All Legends. Some live happily ever after. Some don’t. Some give birth to children that cannot be found in any fairy tales.
In our world, with the help of the power of a story, we look in on them and their lives.
But not all fairy tales are what they seem. Because sometimes, on extremely rare occasions, some of the fairy tale creatures find a way to look in on us…
This is the story of King John the Cute. His mother and father were not born through the power of story. They never appeared in any tales. Nor did their parents. Nor did their parents. And so on, seven generations back. Only his grand-grand-grand-grand-grand-grandparents appeared in our fairy tales. They appeared in European fairy tales that haven’t been told for over two hundred years in our world. Ever since, John the Cute’s family has not appeared in a single fairy tale. Not one.
This is the real fairy tale of King John the Cute, who found a way to look into our world and discover our secrets. This is the real fairy tale of the king who discovered the power that stories have over the Land of All Legends, but also the power that fairy tales have over us.
Everything in this book is true.
(To be continued on Sunday…)
It’s time to embark on an electronic adventure. My next novel Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy novel. It’s due out in Israel in 2013, translated into Hebrew. But, seeing as I think it’s my best work so far, and seeing as this is a new electronic age, I wanted to share it with you directly, without intermediates, and for free.
I’m going to serialize Tickling Butterflies in this blog, publishing a new entry every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday.
Tickling Butterflies is an epic fantasy made out of 128 separate fairy tales that can be read independently (supposedly) but together weave one epic fairy tale about its main character, from his birth to his (perhaps) death. That makes it ideal for serialization in the blog.
I won’t say any more about the story. Read it to find out what it’s about.
I’d love to hear what you think in the comments and if you enjoy it, share with your friends.
You’re about to go for a ride that will lead you to many unexpected new places. Sit back. Enjoy the ride.
In my next post, I’ll start serializing the novel. Let’s start.
My newest book, The Emoticon Generation, has just been published.
You can find it on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AMLVNEE/ref=as_li_tf_tl?tag=infiplusthesffan
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00AMLVNEE/ref=as_li_tf_tl?tag=infiniplusthe-21
And Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/264139
And Kobo:
http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Emoticon-Generation/book-HJWot6o000aAN_6Jl6TrTQ/page1.html
Here’s what the book is about, taken from the back cover:
Guy Hasson’s The Emoticon Generation features seven stories about life-changes brought about by our new electronic generation: stories that blur the borders between our world and science fiction, stories that make you ask, ‘Has this already happened? Is that actually true?’
In this collection you’ll find a man who, after losing his fiancée to a terrible accident, seeks to learn if true love really exists; a girl, hardly a teen, who searches for her father only to learn a terrible truth about herself; a man who wants to immortalize his genius but ends up tricking himself out of it; an old hero whose entire life unravels when the truth about his heroic act is revealed; a harmless birthday gift that triggers a profound search into the depths of a young couple’s relationship; and more.
Guy Hasson is one of the freshest new science fiction authors out there, with a knack for finding the human heart in the biggest ideas.
The Emoticon Generation by Guy Hasson
The day finally came to shoot the film, but Murphy’s Law attacked us in full force. Here’s an excerpt:
The weekend in which we were to shoot seven of the film’s eight scenes was upon us. And then Murphy’s Law struck once, twice, three times, and kept on bombarding us.
The climax was four hours before the shoot. Tamara Pearlman, one of the two leading actresses, was to wear a certain top to the shoot. We chose it months ago, one of her personal shirts, and when we did I said clearly: “From this point on you’re not wearing this shirt until the shoot. You’ll keep it stored, no one will touch it. It can’t get any stains on it, it can’t get torn. It needs to stay in the closet, safe and cozy and safe.” She said, “Sure.”
That was months ago. Four hours before the shoot, I get a text from her: “My husband tore the shirt in two.”
And the great battle of The Indestructibles crew versus Murphy’s Law began.
To read the full entry, click here.
The Indestructibles – Poster
The Emoticon Generation
The Indestructibles - Underground SF Film
Secret Thoughts
Secret Thoughts
Heart of Stone
Life: The Video Game
Hatchling
Hope for Utopia
Guy Hasson's Imagination 