A sunken city. A lost goddess … and the woman who longs to find her. Lara is part of a dive team exploring the sunken city of Thonis-Heraklion off the north coast of Egypt. When a storm threatens the site, there's only time for one last dive and Lara is determined to be on it – even if it means diving with the man who threatened her this summer. Because The Dark Queen is down there and Lara intends to find her before it's too late ... Sink beneath the waves in this supernatural short story from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, J.F.Penn

This is illustrated and translated version od the "Jaufry the Knight and the Fair Brunissende" & “A Tale of the Times of King Arthur" Now of a tale of chivalry, of proper fashion, great allurement, full of-wise and courteous instances, and wherein abound acts of great prowess, strange adventures, assaults, encounters, and dread battles, you may list the telling. An it amuse you, I will relate thereof all that I do know, or that it please you to give ear unto. Let me know only that which ye desire, and if ye be inclined to listen in good sooth. When the minstrel doth indeed recite, neither should hearers buy nor sell, nor in low voice hold council; for thus the recital is lost to him who speaketh, and they methinks who listen cannot find therein great pleasure. I come, then, to recount to you tidings of the court of good King Arthur; he who was so worthy, so valiant, and so wise, that his name shall never die, but whereof shall eternally be spoken the mighty things he did; and the good knights, all for their prowess known, whom he did gather at his famed Round Table. In that court, the fairest and most loyal that ever shone beneath the stars, all men did find that counsel and that aid of which they stood in need. There triumphed right, and there were wrongs redressed. There dames and damsels, widows and orphans attacked unjustly, or disinherited by force, ne'er failed to meet with champions. The oppressed of all conditions there did find a refuge, and none e'er sought protection there in vain. Give, then, sweet welcome to a poem the fruit of such good place, and deign to listen unto it in peace. The troubadour who rhymed it never knew King Arthur; but he heard the entire story told at the court of the king of Aragon, the best of monarchs in this world. * Don Pedro III., killed in 1213 at the battle of Muret. A worthy father and a famous son, lord of goodly fortunes, humble in heart, and frank in nature as in mind, the king of Aragon loveth God and feareth Him; he maintaineth faith and loyalty, peace and justice: thus God protecteth him, giveth him the victory when he raiseth his banner against the infidel, and placeth him above all those who are alike worthy and bold. Where shall we seek youthful brows wearing a crown which emitteth rays of greater splendour He giveth good gifts to minstrels and to knights, and his court is the resort of all those who are esteemed brave and courteous. It was before him the troubadour heard related, by a stranger-knight of kin to Arthur and Sir Gawain, the song he here hath rhymed; and whereof the first adventure occurred while the king of the Round Table held his court at Carlisle on the day of Pentecost. The Adventure of the Forest Twas on the day of Pentecost, a feast which to Carlisle had drawn a host of knights, that Arthur, King of Briton's isle, his crown placed on his brows, and to the old monastic church proceeded to hear mass. And with him went a brilliant train, the Knights of the Round Table. There were Sir Gawain, Lancelot du Lac, Tristrem, and Ivan bold, Eric frank of heart, and Quex the seneschal, Percival and Calogrant, Cliges the worthy, Coedis the handsome knight, and Caravis short i' the arm; the whole of his bright court, indeed, was there, and many more whose names I have forgot. When mass was done, they to the palace home returned 'mid laughter and loud noise, the thoughts of each on pleasure only bent. Each on arrival gave his humour play. Some spoke of love, and some of chivalry; and some of ventures they were going to seek. Quex at this moment came into the hall, holding a branch of apple in his hand. All made room for him; for there were few who did not fear his tongue and the hard words which it was wont to utter. This baron bold held nothing in respect. E'en of the best he ever said the worst. But this apart, he was a brave stout knight, in council sage, a valiant man of war, and lord of lineage high..

FLUX PERMANENT Scene ?i secven?e cur??ate de resorturile sugestiilor automate sunt eroii poeticii Ioanei Geac?r. ?pe scaunul de la cinema las? dinadins trandafirul/ lumina se va stinge/ ?i doar lic?ririle dinspre ecran sau dinspre u?a deschis?/ ?i vor m?ng?ia genunchii“ (?Cinema“) astfel de imagini ale singur?t??ii aflate ?n permanent? rela?ie cu tot ceea ce este ?n jur lumineaz? noul volum al Ioanei Geac?r. P?n? ?i titlul c?r?ii sale de la Casa de Pariuri Literare func?ioneaz? dup? aceea?i dinaminc? a izol?rii ?n mijlocul lucrurilor. Singur?tatea unui titlu ??Recviem pentru nuca verde? e un titlu de poem care m? b?ntuie de c?teva zile ?i uite unde a r?s?rit! Am pus si eu un nuc l?ng? bloc, c??iva ar?ari, plopi, tei, dar nu s-a prins dec?t un m?r care s-a dovedit a fi dud ?n cele din urm?. Toate vr?biile din cartier m? iubesc.“ scria Ioana Geac?r ?n urm? cu 5 ani pe un site literar. ?ntre timp, titlul acela pare s? fi preluat controlul asupra unui ?ntreg volum de poezii. Un volum ?n care nu este niciun poem care s? fie explicit recviem ?i nici de nuci nu vine vorba dec?t ?n interiorul cuv?ntului ?siNUCIdere“ sau c?nd ?sinuciga?ul alege din libr?rie c?teva c?r?i de pus sub picioare“. Verde ?n ce prive?te, ?ns?, felurile ?n care apare culoarea ?verde“ ?n volumul de fa?? al Ioanei Geac?r se pot scrie pagini consistente. De la fluturele care ??i schimb? culoarea, la ?zidul crescut ca un mu?chi“ cu op?iuni de ?tergere ro?ii ?i verzi, sau la acoperi?urile sm?l?uite ?n acela?i poem (?printre ruinurile T?rgovi?tei“), ?n amestecul cromatic al trupurilor dintre blocuri, sau ?mirosul de verde“ din ?emo?ii ?n ghips“, ochiul ?ncol?cit ?i rochia mamei, acela?i motiv leag? stabilizeaz? traseul poetic parcurs ?n aceast? carte care ?ncepe cu ?the end“ ?i se ?nchide cu ?ziua abia a-nceput“, ?naintea finalului ?ioana deseneaz? raze la sf?r?itul caietului de poezii“. Poveste vs. prezen?a uman? Multe poeme din acest volum alterneaz? personalul ?i impersonalul, articolul nehot?r?t ?i m?rci ale posesivit??ii la distan?? de c?teva versuri. Dac? ar fi s? aleg un mecanism care s? fie responsabil pentru demersul poetic al Ioanei Geac?r acesta ar fi tocmai amendarea jocului literar gratuit. Fie c? preia desf??ur?ri nostalgice ori tablouri ale purit??ii, nara?iunile sunt pulverizate aici pentru a face loc unui contur uman: ?mi-e team?/ c? dac? z?mbesc fa?a mi se va descompune“ (?humpty dumpty“). ?ntr-un volum ?n care singurele cuvinte scrise cu majuscule sunt T?rgovi?te, Breughel cel B?tr?n sau Hieronymus Bosch ?i unde nu exist? nici m?car o singur? virgul?, reperele poeziei sunt puse la ?ncercare, iar ?ncercarea suprem? este leg?tura dintre elemente aparent disparate, dintre m?rci ale fragilit??ii ?i ipostaze brutale, o c?utare expresiv? ?n flux permanent.

Az emberek, törpök, manók és tündék több mint száz esztend?n keresztül éltek békében egymás mellett. De ennek a békének vége, és a fajok ismét egymás ellen – és maguk ellen – harcolnak. Ebben a viharos id?ben születik egy gyermek, akire a világ összes vajákja várt. Ciri a Cintrai N?stényoroszlán, Calanthe királyné unokája. Különös hatalmakkal és még különösebb sorssal van megáldva, mert egy jövendölés Lángnak hívja ?t: lángnak, amely örökre megváltoztatja a világot – jó vagy rossz irányba… Ríviai Geralt, a vaják magával viszi Cirit a vajákok központjába, de Ciri egyáltalán nem hasonlít a többi tanítványhoz. Nem kell keresztülmenjen az átlagos vajákok számára a természetfeletti képességek eléréséhez szükséges mutációkon, amelyek gyakran kiirtják az érzelmeket és az emberi érzékenységet. Ciri valami egészen egyedülálló.

A humorous fantasy tale. An evil wizard has turned the entire royal family into frogs and set them loose in the marshes, and only a kiss can restore them to their natural forms . . . but there are so many frogs, and so much swamp, who is willing to kiss them all? Short story.

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