Greetings from Romania! I am Cristin Slobozeanu, a Romanian Orthodox writer. I would like to share the first volume of my debut novel, Ignorance, the Freedom of the Weak. It is a story about coming of age in a dystopian society, about the inner and outer stuggles for freedom of two teenagers. "Prison. The only place in this society where everyone is equal.Case fights for wings in a place where the sky is a ceiling. The spreading curtain of globalitarism stands in his way. A world without doors is in the making.While he is rebelling against the world, Sayanne walks the border between the present and the past. When everything dies, the illusion crumbles and unveils the enemy. Herself.To each their own war." Enjoy your journey!In Christ,C.S.
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Two excerpts from Chapter 1:Resting in the middle of the amphitheater, the sleek red-striped interceptors awaited their spectators. They radiated valiantly toward the audience, arranged in a star-shaped formation.Even if aircraft such as these were used for teaching purposes and were not military-grade, they commanded deference. With their arrogant, aggressive yet gracious curved lines, barely containing the fierceness within their small stature, they reigned tranquilly over the anxious crowd.The image of composed authority and strength ready to be unleashed at any moment but casually restrained by a sort of proud benevolence mesmerized a lot of little boys who dreamed of riding through the stars. They yearned to tame and harness the might of these machines, to imbue their warrior souls with it and command the same reverence upon others.This was not a challenge for everyone. This was not a challenge even for the ones who bore the virtues required to triumph.And so, many boys who had seen their dreams crushed by the cold hull of their idols became fathers themselves. Mesmerized to this day, they brought their sons with them so they could have their dreams crushed as well.[...]Instead of his usual worn-out institutional greet, he settled for raising his left eyebrow and slightly tilting his head back. Case pushed the tablet in his face, but Novak moved it away and tried to put a few words together.“My boy… He’s very smart. A genius! He built—” Novak stopped short, realizing he was heading into dangerous territory. “He could build a whole shuttle out of scraps.”The clerk was too distracted by the audacity to notice the slip. His face was stone cold, though.“I would like to enroll in your flight program, sir!” said Case, eloquent and determined, putting hard emphasis on sir.The clerk could not maintain his composure anymore and twitched so hard he almost broke his neck. His tiny eyes doubled in size, now staring at Case.“But… sewage workers cannot become pilots… It’s. The. Law!” he said, suffocating.
An excerpt from Chapter 2 of Ignorance, the Freedom of the Weak, volume one:Large tear drops escaped her gentle eyelids, rolled down in slow motion and softly caressed the sculptural contours of the cheeks. Sayanne sang her pain away. She never screamed, never begged, never crumbled. She just sang, lighting the path to the ephemeral past, cheating herself with the surrogate of faded happiness.The pain would return. It always crept back subtly after the last echo of the pan flute died. And when the trees felt distant, it had no more places to hide. Sorrow’s notes resonated in the far corners of the forest, flowing with her tears. She struggled to keep them both fluent.In the clearing, blades of grass were bowing down like being enchanted.Her eyes were running out of tears. It was time to come back. The pan flute froze, inarticulate, receiving the last kiss. She gently wiped away the tears, and with a first glance, she noticed the reverence of the golden grass. Impressed, she blushed and let a large smile brighten her face.Yet the blades were not bowing down to her. They were being overwhelmed by a five-hundred-kilogram savage predator rising from the ground. Sayanne saw a black ball of shiny fur blooming in the sunlight, suppressing the tall grass as it emerged from its hideout and unraveled into a massive beast.
An excerpt from Chapter 3:Late at night was the best part of the day for Novak. Those simple moments that came before unconsciousness, when he would let himself fall in his resting place. When he would separate himself from the filth and the pain and be a human being once again. Only then, he would come before her memory, cleansed, worthy.Falling in love was Novak’s rebellion. He stopped there, always too busy to dare for more, too busy paying the price.
An excerpt from Chapter 19:"A strong battle cry resounds into the world. The music subsides. Coming out of the blur, two feeble arms escape from under the lid of a cold blue sheet, reaching to share a first and last touch. Two bouquets of delicate fingers grasp once into thin air, aiming for the cries, and collapse for good as the veil settles over them.A brief moment before she surrenders her hands, a Most Holy Mother and Child descend from above. The Empress inquires in firm, gentle voice if she would receive the one true Orthodox faith. Her face is covered, to the world she is dead, but underneath the sheet, she accepts with one last nod of the head. There is no need to uncover the veil of death for the eyes of the soul to witness their grace. The Baptism of desire opens the gates. The Child blesses, and all three ascend, leaving behind the blind and the dead. They carry on with their tasks. They have long sealed their paths.A departing gurney hovers her body away on a bright corridor. The ceiling fixtures turn into suns. An immaterial light that has never graced the sewers overwhelms even its most darkest corners. The filth dissolves under its intense purity, and soon the tubes, the landfill and the world are redeemed from the immaculate canvas of life.Fade to white. The beginning ends. White settles."