Welcome to Day 2 of SteamU Finals Week! Today we have a lecture by author Evelyn Ink. SteamU Professor Ink provides us with a teaser, a dispatch from the characters of Ill-Fated. Below, you will find a The Adventures of Leila in Shadowland. In this novel teaser, you will find a dispatch to the House of Edgewick. Witherspine, Bainland. What a lovely literary amuse bouche! Evelyn Ink's Ill-fated is available at Amazon.com. Be sure to grab a copy this holiday season. And make sure to take notes and stop by tomorrow for your another lecture from a fabulous author during this SteamU cram session.
Today’s Lecture by SteamU Professor: Evelyn Ink
Author of: Ill-fated
Further Discourses Available: Amazon
The Adventures of Leila in Shadowland
Dispatch to the House of Edgewick. Witherspine, Bainland
From Leila Edgewick. Port Eliora, Southland
By Evelyn Ink
Have crossed over the Shodowan Strait by way of ferry. Just out of Spinewall the sea cliffs rose too high and jagged to sustain a passable road. Thus the Iron Spine has taken over. Crookedly twisting its way along the coast, it is a patchwork of iron bridges arching over ravines, gaping great pots of scorchmire, and zigzagging around all the rugged bits between. It is barely wide enough for two carts to pass and I am always on the edge of a terrifying precipice. There is no shade from the sun and no escape from the wind. The reek of sulfur constantly blows up from the scorchmire, saturating my clothes and hair. It is a stench so thick I have begun to taste it. Am thirsty all the time, but the water is terrible- no matter what inn, well, or stream I get it from– always bitter and slightly briny. On top of that, the inns are uniformly filthy– cramped and not one offering a bath. Each and every morning the Iron Spine stretches out before me jagged, spiky, and endless.
Moonday, Month of Gales
Without warning, have been tossed onto a green sea of savage grass with Port Eliora sinking its teeth into the horizon. Am faced with a dilemma. Have been told the port city is terribly dangerous, but won’t be able to make it to Jasperjade before nightfall, unsure what to do...
Am hungry and tired, need a bath and a real bed. Have decided to go into the city…
Moonspell, same day: Have found a room at the Mythwood. There is a fair in town and I have seen things both strange and terrible. Puppets that move without a puppet master, machines that make music without a musician, and a metalwork automaton that wrote my fortune out on parchment. A man has taken my portrait! He says it will be ready in the morning. He has shown me what it will look like. It is called a tintype. I will be drained of all color, forever tiny and still. I do not wish to be on display with all the other little ghost-souls, must remember to purchase it in the morning.
There is a strange woman in the lodger. I feel I have seen her before. She has wild red hair and a mean face stretched tight like a pumpkin. She has been watching me and I have taken my coin purse and boots to bed with me...
About the Author
Evelyn Ink was formally trained to be a parachutist, but found it did not fit her longstanding desire to avoid heights and thus decided to study the much less vertically horrifying subject of English Literature.
Due to the world-wide web of conspiracy which surrounds Evelyn Ink, she rarely appears in public, but when she does it’s best to avoid her due to her enduring history of social disrepute. There has been more than one regrettable event regarding bent cameras and shattered umbrellas.
It’s hard to say how old she is, but it is likely she was born well before you were. Her childhood home, deep in some unknown, but undoubtedly pleasant countryside, was turned into a plastic bubblepuck factory forcing her family to move far into the Stonegrave Mountains. These Mountains were unfortunately chosen to be used as an experimental avalanche catastrophe (EAC) site and once again the Ink Family was forced to move. It seems ill-fortune struck again and again as they were repeatedly obligated to change locations: once due to a plague of urban badgers, a fracking sinkhole, and then again when a tuna factory’s waste disposal sight was established just outside their home.
As an adult she has continued on in this nomadic lifestyle, crossing oceans and continents when necessary. Necessary being: under the scrutiny of the press, unwarranted investigations, and an ill-timed anarchist fan base. Evelyn was quoted saying, “The prompt, brutal reports of the local tabloids are most inaccurate. Unrelated to that, I advise everyone to avoid the Newspaper as it is insufferably dull these days.” Mrs. Ink also prefers the term “vacation” to “exile.”
That said, Mrs. Ink continues on writing and publishing while in exile . . . sorry, on vacation, with her husband, who (name unknown) is thought by many to be both an anarchist and mad philosopher.
You may choose to follow Evelyn Ink on her blog, although due to her absolute terror of electronics and a crippling phobia of the social media (technical term: Socmephobia), her blog posts tend to be infrequent and erratic. Also, due to several post exile investigations and her current relocation program, she is generally prevented from giving specific information regarding her whereabouts (Though, by the hollowly echo and vintage-like hum of a rotary phone, I would suspect from our last conversation, she is somewhere deep underground).
This report was conducted by:
Mr. Edwin Riddle
Of Public Relations, Personal Investigates, and Subterfuge