David M Hogan

I am quite excited for the premiere of my first novel. It’s been a long, long time for the completion of this book. I wrote most of Heroes Unknown – An Epic Fantasy in the late eighties, in my late teens and early twenties. I believe that it took me about three years to complete. I give thanks to all the waitresses in local Denny’s near my home. Their patience and courtesy really helped me. I eventually my persuaded my favorite waitress to write the last line of the book, and sign it. (Grin.)...

Reclined in his throne, the emaciated figure grinned maliciously. His black robes fell around him loosely, exposing his gaunt torso. His bony fingers gently clutched the sides of the armrests, feeling the slight gelatinous texture of its surface. He peered at the exposed portion of it, just beyond his fingertip, intimately running a finger on its slick surface. Korm had magickally labored many years to manifest the apparatus. It was the most ineffable artifact ever crafted.

Slowly. Calmly. Completely.

Edit - this article was slated for publication in Synchronicity Magazine, but a series of unfortunate incidents occurred, and the magazine shut down publication shortly thereafter. 

For many years the gurus and learned have been telling us that we are all connected.  Using phrases like “We are all one” or “Universal Consciousness” to try and describe the relationship that seems to exist with all of us.  Many readers of this genrè will not have to have the idea explained to them that we all have that inter-connectedness that seems to govern us, but why is this so?  Why is it that we can know people without ever having met them, or we can like or dislike a person right from the moment of seeing them across the room, or sometimes just hearing the name?  Why is it that some people seem to have foreknowledge of events that they are not even connected with? 

The wind blew cold, a telling sign of the winter soon to set in as the warm days of September were coming to an end. On the lawn, the leaves piled up as they fell freely from the trees, swaths of auburn, yellow and brown covering up the dusky greens of the grass as it too faded to a blanched brown with the coolness of the nights – despite the fact that the sunlight hours were still quite warm. In the half-dozen or so trees that bordered the whitewashed fence, as much fruit still hung heavily in the branches as littered the lawn; sticky, squishy little pools of rotting muck to get caught in the treads of your shoes like the offal from the dog.

So, I had an idea. I thought it was a good one, but had to dodge and weave all the wrenches that were thrown into my evil plans.

With all the things running around in my mind, I grasped on to one - a particular story that has been brewing somewhere in my subconscious for years, but never really implemented, because I only had pieces of the puzzle. Now, I've finally realized the extent of what I want to create and started to search for help, as this is something I've never attempted to attempted to do.