Twinn Swan

The Little Light is no grave philosopher; it’s an adventurous spark that’s just been given a cosmic passport. One moment, it’s squeezing through metaphysical customs; the next, it’s puzzling over why planets squabble or why souls seem to have stage fright about reincarnation. Unlike so many tales weighed down by existential dread, mine moves with irreverence and delight, poking fun at the cosmic script while quietly wondering what’s behind the curtain.

I wrote The Little Light not as a solemn lecture on mortality, but as an invitation to play with the mysteries we usually tiptoe around. Death, rebirth, the grand cosmic dance. We usually speak of these things in hushed voices, but I wanted my story to bring a wink and a chuckle to the conversation.

I drew from myths and teachings across continents, but never to flatten the story into dogma. Instead, my characters squabble, joke, and stumble—reminding us that the soul’s journey is full of surprises and pitfalls, not just solemn silences or heavy truths. Life and death, in this book, are part of a cosmic comedy in which compassion is the punchline, not the moral of a fable.

If you’re searching for a book to lighten your heart and offer a sly wink at the universe’s biggest questions, The Little Light is meant for you. Spirits wander, stars bicker, destinies are debated—all with a sense of mischief that refuses to let darkness steal the show.