Lately I’ve been…discontent. it has been tough go put my finger on exactly why because it seems to be everything at once. I’ve already rambled a bit on this topic not long ago so I won’t go into much more detail here for fear of sounding whiny again (we all need to vent now and then but making it a habit isn’t a good idea!)

Recently though I did figure out one thing I can do fo help myself. My writing has been simultaneously a source of great joy and frustration for me. Lately I was having difficulty working on my projects. They just could not hold my interest, and the writing was flat and uninspired. Once I sat down and looked at what I was doing, and realized my writing lacked focus. There are a lot of people who say a writer should have one genre associated with their name. Stephen King does horror. Terry Brooks does fantasy. That’s where they stakes their claims and made there names.

But me? I wanted go write epic fantasy. And horror novels. And novellas. And nonfiction books. My mind was constantly running down different rabbit holes, switching from one thing to another. Is it any surprise that I wound up exhausted and frustrated?

So I decided to go back to my roots as it were. Meaning, I returned to some short stories I wrote for my old horror anthology, intending to rewrite them from the ground up. Something odd happened; the short stories ballooned into full blown novel ideas, but more importantly I was enjoying myself again!

It hit me that focusing my efforts into one area would be my best bet both in terms of my personal enjoyment and from a business perspective when the time comes. There is such a thing of having too many choices. Sometimes a person has to limit themselves. Paradoxically there’s a freedom in limitation, because rather than being at the whim of fancy the person who decides to limit themselves can focus all there energy on the one thing they enjoy.

Long story short, I’m a horror author. Nothing else. The choice to pursue this genre, which chose me more than I chose it, involved foregoing my childhood dream of becoming a big fantasy author. But that’s okay. I tried it, and found while some of the ideas were sound there was a lot about writing straight fantasy that just doesn’t work for me. And that’s all right. Sometimes you have to admit something isn’t working for you, even if it’s something you’ve clung to for a long time. There’s no shame in it; the only shame is in not being honest with yourself and doing something that doesn’t work for you. Life’s too short to waste time chasing after something like that; sometimes you have to figure out what really matters and cut back everything else.

The Kola Superdeep Borehole, putative site of the gateway to hell, now welded shut due to lack of funding. Image Credit: Rakot13

It was the mid-1980′s, and the Cold War was still going strong. America had won the Space Race with the triumphant moon landings of the sixties and seventies. Now the superpowers  competed to pioneer a new space — the one beneath our feet.

To achieve those ends, the Soviet Union commissioned a deep drilling project in the icy wastes of Siberia. A team of geologists drilled about 14.4 kilometers (about 9 miles) beneath the Earth’s surface, when something strange happened — the bit started to spin wildly, and temperature sensors recorded temperatures over 2,000 degrees. No doubt baffled, the scientists lowered a mic down the well shaft to get a better idea of what they were dealing with. What they heard horrified them (the sounds start at about the 2:00 mark) and confirmed people’s worst fears for centuries; that Hell was real, and it lay right beneath our feet!

…er, except not.

This one is pretty classic in terms of urban legends. It isn’t exactly certain where the story began, and it has been elaborated on extensively over time. I remember seeing lurid headlines in the Weekly World News as a kid in the 90′s talking about the Devil coming screaming out of a well to hell drilled in Alaska, incinerating all the unfortunate scientists at the site and spreading doom and gloom all around. The story freaked me out as a kid, as the one-two punch of being A) a kid and B) a Bible literalist tends to make one a bit credulous. Even as a teen, hearing the clip featured in the above video scared the crap out of me.

Evidently a lot of people feel the same way, because this one still makes the rounds on paranormal and religious sites of all kinds. And why not? If Hell really did exist in a real, physical place, that would be a really scary thing. It would confirm many people’s worst anxieties about the after life and their potential place in it. It would also raise some pretty uncomfortable moral and theological implications, which we won’t get into here. The point is that Hell is scary, and that fear is what gives this urban legend (and most others while we’re at it) its staying power.

Needless to say, it isn’t true. The recording is believed to be a looped recording of a scene from the B-grade horror flick Baron Blood. To me it almost sounds like it could be a doctored recording of any public space, looped and made to sound all sinister. There is a small kernel of truth behind this sordid tale, as is the case with most good urban legends. There really was a deep drilling well that reached close to 9 miles underground in Soviet Russia. It was located on the Kola Peninsula, not in Siberia. The drill did hit an empty pocket, but there were no hellish sounds from within. Temperatures reached a toasty 180 degrees, and the geologists found water and natural gas, among other things of scientific interest.

The truth is a whole lot less exciting than a literal gateway to hell, but being the compassionate sort I’d rather that be the fact than to have millions of people suffering and burning forever.

I’ve mentioned before that I have anxiety problems, and that is definitely part of the issue. Things have been pretty stressful lately, what with illness in the family, being sick myself, and looming unemployment. I tend to be of a fairly morose mindset anyway, and my tendency to overthink things is not helping my situation any. Right now I feel…trapped. That is about the only way to describe it. Like I have few options, none of them good.

From what I understand, this isn’t an uncommon feeling in people of my age group. I don’t know if it is more limited to men, but I doubt it. I guess it’s being called a “quarter-life crisis”, which amuses me so I’ll use that term to describe it. Of course, it seems that many are saying they feel overwhelmed with TOO many options, while my feeling is more that I don’t have ANY. It’s a combination of frustration, apathy, anxiety, and helplessness. Point being, it sucks.

I do feel better now, after taking some time to calm myself down. I’ve been putting in applications and resumes everywhere I can think of, and that is really all I can do. I don’t know that I want to do education anymore, what with my experience as a sub and the deplorable condition of US schools, and the lack of anything resembling respect for the profession. Really I’m looking into anything right now. I’d like to write for a living, but it will take time to build that up. So, right now, I have to just muddle through as best I can. Nothing else to do.

Sorry for the rant — I generally don’t do that kind of thing, but I had nothing planned for today and that was what was on my mind anyway. Thursday I’ll have some of my regularly scheduled weirdness for you guys!

You see, old Elmer was a screw up. He was born in Maine in 1880. And up until a year before his death, that’s about it. In 1910 he joined the US Army, where he learned to work with explosives (albeit he had a bad reputation with the stuff). A year later, after wandering to Oklahoma, he had the bright idea to change careers and enter the up and coming field of train robbery.

In his first attempt, Elmer managed to blow the safe out the side of the train and melt $2000 worth of silver into slag. He and his gang managed to recover a small amount of the metal, and the other robbers dumped Elmer. Undeterred, our plucky hero(?) decided to continue his nefarious career, and his second try with a new gang he was successful: he made off with the princely sum of $46 and some whiskey. The authorities soon hunted Elmer down, and shot him dead in a gunfight.

The story should have ended there. However, the local embalmer was so proud of his work on poor old Elmer that he propped the former bandit up in the back of his funeral parlor and charged the local townspeople a nickel to see “The Bandit Who Wouldn’t Give Up.” Visitors popped their hard earned change into the corpse’s mouth, which is pretty ghoulish when you think about it. Especially when it came time to collect.

In any case, Elmer’s afterlife as a small town attraction continued a few years, since he didn’t have next of kin to claim the body. In 1915, two carnies claiming to be Elmer’s brother hauled the body off and Elmer began his new life on the side show circuit. He bounced around from owner to owner over the next sixty some years, until people lost track of the fact that their “mannequin” was actually a mummy.

It wasn’t until 1976 that the truth was revealed. A crew member at a shoot for The Six Million Dollar Man accidentally jostled a side show prop. The “prop’s” arm fell off, revealing a human bone. It was only after that the strange history of Elmer McCurdy came to light. After a thorough investigation to ascertain the corpse’s identity, the medical examiner ordered McCurdy’s mummy buried in Summit View Cemetery in Guthrie, OK. Two cubic yards of concrete were poured over the coffin, ensuring that unless there are some truly determined and well equipped grave robbers out there, Elmer McCurdy’s strange odyssey is over.

…yeah, about all that. Not gonna happen.

Don’t get me wrong, you CAN find success in this business. This isn’t some bitter polemic, and I’m far from an expert. Shoot, I don’t even have a book published at the moment; the two I did have up, I took down due to quality concerns (but more on that later). So, like anything else, take what is useful out of this mess and leave the rest. Without further ado, here are some harsh truths about writing I’ve learned both through personal experience and by watching others who are way, way more successful at this than I am.

1) Writing is a Business

It’s right in the title, so you knew this one was coming. Yes, writing is art and fun and wonderful, but if you want to “make it” as an author, you have to also look at it as a business. I don’t really believe in writing for the market, because fiction is notoriously hard to market, and what you write now could be out of vogue when it comes time to publish. You should write what you enjoy. If you like sparkly vampires involved in hackneyed, possibly abusive romances with underage girls, write stuff like that. I like fantasy and horror, so I write that. Be that as it may, this is still a business. You still have to do marketing, accounting, and all that good stuff. If you go through a traditional publisher, you’ll have some support, but if you choose to self pub, you’ll have to take care of all that on your own. Writing is not the glamorous, romantic profession people think it is; it’s as muddy and messy as any other, and there is a lot of drudgery involved.

2) Speaking of Traditional vs Self Publishing….

Lots of digital ink has been spilled on Traditional v. Self Publishing. The truth is that both have their pros and cons, and neither one is a guarantee of fame and fortune. The rule of thumb is that with traditional publishing you get more support from a publisher in terms of marketing, sales, editing, and all that good stuff, but get a smaller share of royalties. Self Pub nets you higher royalties, but you are in charge of everything from cover design to wrangling an editor to tracking sales and, of course, the dreaded marketing. The fact is that the bulk of authors, no matter what  method they pick, don’t make enough to quit their day job. Most traditionally published books don’t earn out their advances, and most self published books only net a few hundred sales, if that.

3) Oh, and No Matter Which You Pick, It’s Going to Take Forever

“Forever” being a relative term. I mean, it isn’t going to take until the end of the universe to get a book completed. When you’re as impatient as I am, it might FEEL that way, but trust me, that’s just your monkey brain babbling. Try to ignore it. The sad fact is that it takes a really long time to produce a high quality novel. You might, if you work really hard and learn the craft, or happen to hit on a good idea, produce something really good your first try. And that’s great if you do that. But it doesn’t end with draft one. There’s revisions to be done. You have to polish book up until it’s so shiny it makes your eyes bleed. That takes a lot of time — a friend of mine said it takes about 14 months, on average, to produce a novel from start to finish. Then there is one of two paths you can take. You can farm it out to an agent, and then IF you find one, they’ll try to sell it to a publisher. Most likely it will end up in the slush pile with all the other hopefuls, but just maybe you will get a deal and be published. However, this could take several years time; the publishing industry works on its own schedule, not yours.

If you chose self publishing, the process is a lot faster. The accessibility of self pub is both its strength and its Achilles Heel. Remember when you had your masterpiece all super shiny in the above paragraph? Well, good as it might look to you, there are mistakes in there. The little buggers multiply like rabbits, I swear. Anyway, the point is you need another set of eyes, preferably more than one, to look over it and fix your boo boos. There are a lot of different ways you can go about doing this; if you’re on a limited budget and can’t afford the equivalent of buying a used car (the going cost of many freelance editing services), you’re going to have to get creative. You could pester a friend with an English degree into submission, or offer them Ramen money in exchange for editorial services. Whatever. The point is, that once you reach this point, you’re involving other people, and you  have to work with their timetables, not yours. And it is going to take time. A lot of it. The best thing to do is focus on your next project, and write, write, write! You can control what you do, not what other people do. So focus on what you can do today to move yourself forward toward your goals.

4) So You’ve Put in All That Time and Effort…Now For the Big Pay Off!

…whoa now. Hold on a second. Remember how I said that there is no guarantee that self pub or trad pub are going to net you fame and fortune on par with the Rowlings or Kings of this world? Yeah. You can do EVERYTHING right, and still tank miserably. You could have a great book, a sound marketing strategy, and a great support team, but the fact is that not everything is going to sell. The first book you publish isn’t likely to make a killing. Most writers who are successful, especially in self pub, have a pretty huge back list. It takes a lot of time to build that up, and even that is still not a guarantee. There ARE no guarantees. Sure, working hard can go a long way toward making you successful, but the universe isn’t going to crap out a golden goose just because you did everything “right”. Go tell some poor farmer in sub-Saharan Africa that if she works hard and pays her dues, she’ll make it some day. Or perhaps tell that to some kid working in a sweat shop over in China. The fact is, for centuries people have performed back breaking labor for a pittance, and never gotten anywhere for it. You aren’t any different.

5) Now That I’ve Completely Crushed Your Spirits…

…I know, that last one was harsh. Want a hug? *squeeze*…okay, now that that’s done, let’s do a bit of spirit rebuilding, shall we? We don’t want things to end on a note of doom and gloom, because that’s not my intention. I’ve tossed around the word “success” a lot during this post, but what does that mean, exactly? Frankly, that’s up to you. That’s what is cool about all of this: you can sit there, read everything I just wrote, and ignore it completely, if you want. That is because if your definition of writing success is: “Finish a novel and let a few friends read it,” or “Just have something published,” then most of what I said up until now doesn’t apply to you. If you are content that your books sales cover your car payment each month, more power to you. The real secret to success is to ENJOY what you are doing. If you don’t enjoy writing, what is the point in doing it in the first place? So what if you make a crap load of money doing it, if it’s all drudgery and frustration? I mean, if you don’t have a deep passion for writing you probably won’t make it very far anyway, but still.

Never forget why you started to write in the first place. Don’t let sales figures or notions of “success” cloud your vision for yourself. If you do want to make a living at the writing game, don’t deceive yourself by thinking that you’ll make millions right out the gate. The fact is, you won’t. But that’s okay, because most of us don’t NEED that much to be comfortable. If you write well, work smart, and figure out what works for your unique situation, it is possible to make a decent living doing something you love to do. I’ve come across people who have done it, and that is what I want for myself. That, to me, sounds like the definition of success.

The Bermuda Triangle is such a facet of pop culture at this point that I won’t spend a ton of time describing it. It is described as a big slice of ocean (between half a million and 1.5 million square miles) that forms, big shock here, a triangle, with the vertices centered in Bermuda, Miami, and San Juan. The Triangle is alleged to be the site of strange phenomena: metallic fogs, strange magnetic disturbances, freak storms, and unexplained lights in the sky. Believers claim that the Triangle swallows ships and planes whole, leaving not a trace for befuddled rescuers to recover.

Believers posit various reasons for the phenomena. Perhaps Atlantis sank beneath the waves under the Triangle, or there’s an alien colony on the sea floor abducting people for nefarious purposes. Since those of us who don’t regularly sport tinfoil hats can easily discount those two, let’s move on to a third, more entertaining option: the Hutchinson Effect.

Known was the H-Effect, it was allegedly discovered by an eccentric inventor named John Hutchinson, who was monkeying around with the various electronic gizmos that he packed his apartment with over the years when, lo and behold,  something (it’s never said what) whacked him in the shoulder! Turns out whatever it was had started levitating due to…something. Something that can also cause unlike materials (metal and wood, for example) to meld together, metals to melt without heat, and other strange phenomena, including metallic fogs similar to those allegedly reported above the Bermuda Triangle.. The best explanation that supporters can come up with for the alleged effect is that scalar waves tap into zero point energy, thus producing the phenomena observed. How exactly that happens, they have no explanation.

The story goes that the H-effect occurs over the Triangle all the time, due to vortexes in the Earth’s electromagnetic field over the area. The strange phenomena associated with the H-effect are, they say, responsible for the disappearances. Never mind that the H-Effect has never been independently verified, and Hutchinson himself admits he hasn’t been able to replicate it since 1991. Not only that, he’s faked demonstrations since then, using magnets and string to simulate levitation and other phenomena associated with the H-Effect.

TBF Avengers flying in formation. Similar planes made up Flight 19, one of the most infamous disappearances to occur over the Bermuda Triangle

“Scalar waves” are apparently made up — I can find no reliable source mentioning them at all, nor explaining what they are. Zero point energy is a real thing though. It is the lowest possible amount of energy in a quantum mechanical system. Since I majored in Biology rather than quantum physics, I can’t comment much on how it works since I don’t understand it myself. Every source I’ve seen says that it is either impossible or impractical to tap into zero point energy as an energy source. Given the dubious veracity of Hutchinson’s demonstrations, the lack of independent proof, and the fact that physics as we know it doesn’t allow for it, it’s pretty safe to say that the H-Effect lay more in the realm of pseudoscience than reality.

But what about the Bermuda Triangle? Even if the H-Effect is bunk, isn’t it still true that there’s a deadly area of sea off the US coast?  Turns out the answer is “no, not at all.” The US Navy, who know a thing or two about the ocean, doesn’t believe it exists. The US Board of Geographic Names doesn’t recognized “Bermuda Triangle” as an official name. The Coast Guard, who would know a dangerous hot spot pretty intimately since it is their job to rescue endangered sailors, also discounts the Triangle’s existence. The fact is that the Triangle is no more dangerous than any other stretch of ocean. It is a busy shipping area, so accidents are bound to happen. The Gulf Stream, a powerful ocean current, passes through the area, and it is prone to severe storms (in part due to the Gulf Stream). The combination of a lot of ships moving through, strong currents, bad weather, and inevitable human error have given rise to the myth of the Bermuda Triangle.

So, when I heard Jurassic Park was going back to the big screen in 3D, I got excited. Not about the 3D — I could take it or leave it, and I’ll personally be glad when the fad is over, mainly because theaters will no longer be able to tack on an extra $2 or so for a gimmick that makes little or no difference in the viewing experience. Yeah, Avatar looked pretty good in full 3D glory, but most  movies shot in 3D are pretty ‘meh’, if I may use the term.

…but I digress. Sort of. The fact is that the 3D treatment didn’t add much to Jurassic Park, in my opinion. But it also didn’t take anything away, which is what is really important. The movie looked as good today as it looked twenty years ago. It isn’t often you can say that about a film, especially with all the advances in visual technology over the last ten years or so. But Jurassic Park‘s unique mix of animatronics and CGI (yes, they had CGI in 1993) has stood the test of time. The dinosaurs, particularly the raptors, looked fluid and life-like. If anything, I found JP preferable to many modern movies, who rely too heavily on CGI effects in my humble opinion.

I almost feel like it’s silly to do a review of Jurassic Park, since it’s widely considered a classic. However, some folks were skeptical about it being in 3D, so I feel the urge to explain that it doesn’t really harm the movie at all. Except for a couple of moments where it is a little distracting, you barely notice. So, if you’re a fan of the movie, or have never seen it, go out and give it a watch on the big screen. You won’t regret it.

***

In 1988 I was the assigned Security Supervisor for the Wenigerath Munitions Storage Area. Although it was just on the other side of the Village of Wenigerath we called it Morbach. We were assigned to Hahn Air Base and not Morbach. Morbach is a town just down the road on the 327. As we drove through town, I was driving the bus, some of the guys noticed that the candle in the shrine was not lit and there was a full moon. We all knew of the local legend. We sort of just laughed about it.

When we first came on duty my patrols would do a sweep of their assigned sectors. As I was in the Security Trailer with the security controller (radio dispatch) reading the previous shifts logs, one of my foot patrols found 3 dead deer within one of the wooded areas and radioed us. When I arrived on scene I noticed that their throats were damaged and 2 had their entrails and hind quarters eaten along with what appeared to be their internal organs (Liver, heart). We did have wild bore in and out of the area and these were a small barking deer species. We placed a call to the local Forest Meister so he could remove the deer carcasses.

I went back to the Security Control Trailer to phone the base on the incident. After that I radioed all patrols for an area briefing at Control. As the patrols rolled in we heard a low level but loud growl/howl coming from the direction of our only alarmed structures to the west of our location. I radioed the foot patrol assigned to that area since they were still enroute. As I did, they came running out of the darkness yelling “Did you guys hear that?!” About that time it howled again. Low, deep, long and loud. It sounded like it was within our fence line. I called the entry control point to see if they had permitted any K-9 patrols in the area. They said no and also reported the howling. One of the guys said “What if it’s the Werewolf? We all kind of giggled but then it howled again. This time from the center of the site but this howl was unreal. It vibrated you inside. Hard to describe.

I called the base and updated them that we had a breach of some kind of animal. Sounded like a large dog or possibly a wild animal. They stated that the Forest Meister had been called and was on his way. I asked the patrols if they wanted me to turn on the area lighting. They said no. The area lighting usually made matters worse since they casts too many shadows and ruined your night vision. As it was with the full moon we could see pretty good. I issued Night Vision Scopes to two of the patrol leaders. They mounted on our M-16′s. I informed them that they did not have permission to “Lock and Load”. Since it was peacetime (Cold War) we carried our weapons with a loaded magazine, weapon on safe and no round in the chamber. When it was about to get noisy, lock and load meant to charge your weapon (jack a round in the chamber) and get ready to Rock and Roll Baby!

I took one of the foot patrols with me (strength in numbers) and headed to the perimeter in case it tried to circle my guys. I went by the fallen deer to show the patrol. When we got there I noticed that the third deer had also been snacked on. I immediately called all the patrols. It had come back and fed on the third deer. About that time one of the mounted patrols (vehicle), had made contact and was pursuing a large dark K-9. We ran in a circular route as to try to out flank whatever it was they were chasing. The Entry gate radioed me saying that our K-9 patrol had arrived. I had them dispatch to the western fence line since that’s where we were all going. The pursuing patrol radioed that it was turning towards the Command Trailer. Here’s a funny part. Alpha Control radioed that he was locking down and wasn’t opening the door ’til daylight.

I took the foot patrol and headed to the fence line since we had 2 patrols going to Control. The K-9 patrol was already there and I dispatched him to the alarmed structures to stand by. I did this since they were between Control and the perimeter fence. When we got to the fence I put one of the guys near the fence line and I with the patrol leader headed to a small hill to over-watch his position. I asked for status reports because I could hear a lot of yelling. They said it was coming toward us. I radioed Control to turn on our sectors lighting. Our area was mostly open with trees on the right side. We switched off our scopes and in that instant that we reached to turn off the units our guy on the fence started screaming. We turned in time to see a huge dark mass clear our 9 foot fence! It quickly faded from our perimeter lighting into the darkness. I asked for the area lighting to be turned off. I walked further up to the hill and switched on my night scope. I looked in the direction it had ran. Since the magnification was weak I really didn’t expect to see anything then I saw it. It was leaned up against a tree looking at us on it’s hind legs breathing heavily. I yelled 2 o’clock 200 meters! Then it turned and faded into the trees. Only one other patrol leader saw it.

It was now 2:30 am. The Forest Meister arrived at the entry gate. I had to sign him in. I asked the K-9 unit to foot patrol the fence but the dog had retreated to his kennel and would not come out. I put all units back on active patrol and to remain extra vigilant. As I escorted the Forest Meister to the dead deer I explained what had happened. He listened carefully and seemed to be absorbing it all in. He took pictures of the deer for records then bagged the bodies. He said that it didn’t appear to be the work of Wild Boer. It had all the markings of a wolf attack. He said wolves usually didn’t kill their prey, they usually died from shock and blood loss. They would knock it down and start eating the hind quarters with the animal still alive. This one killed them then ate them as evidenced by the neck injuries. I asked if they could jump 9 foot fence. He said this one could and laughed.

The guys were jazzed to say the least. We had a group meeting around 4:00am. I said that I needed written reports by the shifts end at 6:30 so to take turns patrolling. Alpha 2 (Command Trailer) opened his door even though it was still dark out. I remember sitting there sipping some coffee saying “Are they going to believe this?” He said we were all going to “piss in the bottle”. That meant a Urine Analysis to see if we were on drugs. We laughed about it.

When we got back to the Armory I was pulled aside by my Flight Chief and Shift Commander. I briefed them on what had happened. My Flight Chief asked me to take home the statements and proof read them first then to turn them in before Guardmount.

When I arrived I noticed that the roster had been amended. We were all going back to Morbach. It was very rare to have the same patrol twice let alone the entire area. On the bus ride out there we were pretty much quiet. I stopped the bus at the alter to make sure the candle were lit and the old guy awake. Thumbs up! The Flight Chief showed up around mid-night and we had a pow wow. He said we had two choices. We could turn in the statements but omit the “werewolf” references or shred the statements and have me write in the log book that a wild animal had killed some deer in the wooded area behind the ammo building and that the Forest Meister had been dispatched…end of story. As we all looked at each other he stated that our PRP would be called into question. PRP is a program that enables us to work around Nuclear Resources. To lose your PRP cast a dark cloud over you plus you got crap details while you were being re-evaluated. Took up to 45 days. So we opted for the later.

Some of us choose not to talk about it but obviously some did. It really happened. It wasn’t some story to scare the jeeps. Jeeps are FNG’s, rookies, etc. Was it a Werewolf? Was it an endangered European Wolf? Was it a coincidence that the candle was out that night of a full moon? You decide. As for me…I’ll say this. The above statement is true to the best of my knowledge.

***

The author of the above statement hoped to clear the air regarding what happened that night. My original post told the “standard” distorted story. Like any story, this one has changed with the telling. Especially since the original statements were shredded. My aim was to help with that as best I could. So if anyone out there also has a story to tell about that night, feel free to share it in the comments!

In other news, my novel Aral-Kahn is being edited. I wait with eager anticipation of the suggestions, because I know there are parts that could be improved quite a bit with some outside input. Now it’s only a matter of not driving myself crazy while I wait! So in order to stave off insanity, I’ve started writing the second book of Gods and Emperors, called The Immaculate. I don’t want to reveal much more since Aral-Kahn isn’t available yet. So far it’s coming along nicely, except for a little blip where I changed something from the outline that didn’t really need to be changed. I considered making the changes yesterday, but decided against it. I don’t much like editing while I’m working on the first draft. It sucks away all the momentum, because I have neurotic tendencies and once I start nitpicking, that’s it. Better to save that anal-retentiveness for the editing phase.

Oh and I’ve been writing science articles on Examiner for a few months now. I do hold a biology degree, so I figured writing for Examiner.com would be a fun way to keep up with the field. You can see my articles here, if that kind of thing trips your trigger.

That’s all that has been going on in my world lately. But enough about me, my friends. I want to know: How are you? What are you up to?

***

Night had fallen, and I had just slipped into my easy chair after a long day’s work.

Someone knocked on my door.

“Who could that be?” I grumbled, wondering at the same time why a feeling of cold dread had settled in my gut. It grew as I approached the door and opened it.

Two children, a boy and a girl, dressed in clothing from another century stood on my doorstep.

“Can I help you?” I said, voice quivering.

“May we use your telephone?” the boy said. The girl stared at me, silent.

I nearly said yes, despite my fear. They’re just kids, I thought.

Then I noticed their eyes.

They were completely black.

Needless to say, I didn’t let them in.

Now every knock gives me a panic attack. I can’t step outside without wondering if those black-eyed kids are nearby. Watching…