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Marcel M. du Plessis Books

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The Doom of Balar

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The Bright Report

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“Choose your company with care,” he said. “In life, careful casting is essential. Be sure to find someone who knows the full measure of your stupidity. They will keep you anchored amid a torrent of praise. They will remember you when everyone else turns away — just as this person said they would. It is then when you lift yourself out of whatever gutter you’re floating in and try to prove them wrong. You would do well to remember that illusions are cheap. Honesty is rare.”

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Book:The Doom of Balar
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“The pre-meal ritual involved flashing the plate with your rectangle. It is not entirely clear why this is done. At first, I assumed that they flashed everything they were unsure about. In this case, having your meal prepared entirely by a neighboring tribe can have its risks. My working theory is that, by chronicling his every meal, a tribesman can identify what exactly did him in – should illness arise.”

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Book:The Bright Report
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“Just outside the walls of the City, trouble was brewing. They came in boats from a land far across the sea. Many boats crammed with many hopefuls washed up on the shores in the shadow of the great cliffs. Like driftwood. These flotsam people were dazed, broken – perhaps at an extreme – optimistic. Surely there would be salvation within the thick city walls? They appeared in a whisper – like the hissing of the surf. No citizen came to welcome them. No delegates. No photo-ops for ambitious politicians. Instead, only the City’s military – soldiers and officers with faces as hard and blank as the cliff the City teetered upon – were waiting. They were herded in silence. Those without papers were left on the stony beach. There would be tents, bunks, and prefab houses in time. The lucky ones were escorted up the great lifts and transported along the subway system – out of sight. A Downtown station would process them. See this crowd of Driftwood people, Eva. See them huddle together in the dark, the glint of hope in their eyes. The color of their skin, how the women covered their hair, and how the men wore their beards – these were the superficial differences that would mark them so starkly here. The label of ‘other’ already hung around their necks without them even knowing.”

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Book:The Silent Symphony
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“Zaqar Publishing House, a beast of red brick and chipped plaster, protruded from the surrounding buildings like a broken branch in swamp muck. You could hear the whirring of the massive printing presses from the street. Soot and smoke coated the walls, making it look like a smudge. This was, of course, in the days before the paper’s façade had to yellow for it to survive.”

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Book:The Silent Symphony
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“Strange how his entire life could fit on a table, for he was that most despicable of creatures, a serial novelist. A battlefield of failures in the form of crumpled paper littered the ground around the chair. He stared at them forlornly. It was not that they were empty, just that they were full of poison. Ink in the shape of ghosts and curses. Beauty corrupted by darkness.”

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Book:The Curse of Balar
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