12 December 2013


Yesterdays Tomorrows
Available as a FREE e-book from Musa Publishing as a gift to readers.
Musa Christmas Free ReadsVisit http://musapublishing.com/ and download a copy in your preferred format.

Get a free copy of  
Yesterdays Tomorrows today.
I welcome all readers to leave a comment and let me know what you think of the story.

Yesterdays Tomorrows
Which day of your life would you choose to relive?


Tom Morgen is tired. Tired of work. Tired of marriage. Tired of life. Worst of all, he's tired of himself. Stargazing one sleepless night, he happens upon being given the chance to relive one single day of his life. But chasing through his past days, each a shadow of all others, he torments himself with indecision. How could he ever choose from all his faded yesterdays and their desolate tomorrows?


Upon that very thought, Tom felt the wind be still within him. He shivered. And staring still into the sky, he sensed a presence upon the face of the deep, reflecting his gaze. A haunting presence which he was powerless not to perceive. The sky was its eyes, with the stars for a stare.

And from the farthest reaches of surrounding silence, he heard a voice speak his name: ‘Tom Morgen’.

The voice echoed throughout him as he watched the blackness all around deepen into a shape—the shape of a shadow in darkness. The ethereal form approached him, its enshrouding robes flowing as if by a breath never to be breathed. It stood still before him. Tom clutched his chest. And then the shape raised its own eyes: two bright stars opening to gaze upon him.

“I am summoned.”

Tom stood in utter astoundment—utter and dreadful astoundment—before the black shadow. Its enchanting voice. Its star-shining eyes. He grasped ever tighter at his bloodless heart—innocent, as far as he knew, of calling forth the shadowy shape or ever summoning it in any way.

“Am I…Am I dreaming?” he whispered to himself. He did not know if he was dreaming, yet he did know that he was not asleep. Without turning away from the shadow’s starry gaze, he glanced suspiciously at his cold coffee but possessed not even the strength to drop the cup.

Tom gazed onwards at the shadow of stars, feeling it peer into his soul. “Who are you?” he finally asked. “What do you want of me?”

“Thine answer.”

“My answer?” whispered Tom, echoing the silence of the shadow’s voice, and fearing the question unasked.

“Bestowed unto thee is the chance to relive any day of thy life.”

Tom’s heart achingly fell away beneath the hooded shadow’s deepening gaze. He could not stand. He could not collapse. He could only stare in awe.

Which day of your life would you choose to relive?

29 November 2013

Publishing Announcements

My story "Yesterdays Tomorrows" is being released as a FREE e-book on December 12th.

Simply log on to Musa Publishing's website   <http://musapublishing.com/>   and enjoy a free download in the format of your choice.

The story is being released as part of Musa Publishing's celebration of the Holiday Season.

On Monday, December 2nd, all Musa titles are on sale for 50% off.

Also, starting on December 2nd, and running for thirteen days, free downloads are available from Musa's various imprints.

I am honoured to have my tale "Yesterdays Tomorrows" included in the celebration.

28 October 2013

Day Dreamer - Second Anniversary

"Day Dreamer"

October 28th marks the second anniversary of Urania Speculative Fiction’s release of Day Dreamer. That calls for a celebration! 

The first half dozen readers who leave a comment here, along with their contact information, shall receive a free electronic copy of Day Dreamer

I am also on Musa Publishing's blog today. http://musapublishing.blogspot.com
If you arrived here from there, simply comment and leave me your contact information. If you are one of the first half dozen or so visitors, you'll receive a free download of Day Dreamer. 

Perhaps I'll give away more than half a dozen. Just let me know what interests you in Day Dreamer.

My thanks!


Day Dreamer

To dream every night about the next day…so strange the future seems, asleep or awake.

Every night, Steve dreams about the next day. It's as if he is living each day twice--once asleep and once awake--and he is tired of it. When he learns his old girlfriend, Dawn, is home from college for the summer, he contacts her and begs her to help him find a way to stop dreaming of each day. As they grow close once again, she suggests he defy his dreams and do the opposite of whatever he dreams of each night. But then Steve is faced with a decision: does he follow his dream of being back with Dawn or does he do the opposite of what he dreamed and let go of her once again? How can he ever find the way to dream beyond tomorrow?

"I can't talk about this to anyone else," Steve said, his voice wavering. "I'm not even sure if I should tell you. But I have to tell you. Only you. Or else I'll go insane. Please believe me. Please try to understand."
Enwreathed in smoke, his eyes began to tear. Dawn drew close and took his hand back in hers. "What is it, Steven? Tell me, please."
He caught his breath to begin. "Have you ever experienced a moment, knowing you had dreamt of that moment before?"
"What, like dèjá vu?"
"Kinda. But instead of just some vague sense that you've seen something or been somewhere before, I mean absolutely knowing for sure that you had experienced the moment in a dream."
"Well, I guess—I've never really—"
"Well, every moment of every day is like that for me."
Dawn peered at him. "What do you mean?"
"Every night, I dream of the next day."
She peered at him still, expecting a more elaborate explanation. Steve tried to find the words, glad she was holding his hand, as if without her grasp he might slip away.

25 September 2013


Today is the twenty-fifth of September.

That's only three months 'til Christmas!

The Summer is gone, and here we are staring down another Fall into Winter. This year, the passage seems all the more like I am missing it entirely because I am devoting all my effort to finishing up my education degree with a successful semester of student-teaching.

Anyway, the phenomenon of the days slipping away has only seemed to progress at a faster and faster pace as I, myself, age. My Dad and I were talking about it once, and I asked him if it keeps accelerating as a man gets older. Without a moment's hesitation, he said, "Yes."

So, I have that to look forward to.

There's a story idea in it all--a "Quickening" which beckons to be explored in the pages of a tale. At the present rate, though, I need the "quickening" to slow a moment or two if I ever hope to write a word, let alone hope to keep wondering.

26 August 2013

The Hobbes Family by Dan O'Brien

This week, "The Hobbes Family" by Dan O'Brien.

Below you'll find an interview with the author, a short excerpt of the book, as well as more information on how to enter for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!

Welcome to the first day of the Hobbes Family blog tour. It will run until September 2nd and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

The world had ended abruptly and without warning. How will a family navigate a world that seems bent on destroying them? Follow them in this exciting new serial adventure.

A few questions for the author:

Is there anything you can’t let go of but you know you should?

There was a time when this would entailed a vast list indeed. However, I have become much better at letting the past stay in the past. Right now I just have goals and benchmarks that I want to reach. The past can wait.

Do you remember anyone you hated 10 years ago? Does it matter now?

Not in the slightest. There are few things in life that are worth carrying with you. Hate is most definitely not one of them. I am always reminded of the following saying when I consider carrying anger: “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” ~ Buddha

What makes you happier, forgive someone or hate someone forever?

I would be the happiest if people thought about their actions before I had to choose either of these options. At this point in my life, I would say forgiving someone is better in the long run; this point is, of course, moot if the transgression is such that I could not forgive.

What are you worrying about and what’s the difference if you stop worrying about it?

I am currently worrying about whether or not I will be an effective professor. I am teaching my first 300- level class this fall and I have a healthy concern about my efficacy. Once I have finished organizing the class and materials, my worry will fade away. 

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

The world had ended, or at least slowed for a spell, when the outbreak claimed the consciousness of humanity. There was a brief moment before the proverbial sky fell when many people thought the entire idea was just the shenanigans of the ne’er-do-wells who were pulling a fabulous hoax on the world. The first day brought skepticism and curiosity. Pop culture had engrained in people the fear of the unknown and a fair amount of preparation in the event of anything resembling a zombie plague. 

This sense of a participatory chain of events signaling the end of Hobbes’ civilization was far more abrupt than for which many were ready. People had hoarded and stockpiled. Nary a person could be found who did not have an assault rifle or nail-bat prepped and ready for the staggering undead. 

It was the deed, however, that proved far more difficult for most. Even though necrotic flesh and a certain vacancy behind the eyes announced the undead to those passable as living, it was the possibility that this momentary lapse of humanity could be overcome. This idea quickly faded as the disease spread, claiming metropolitan areas and rural areas alike. 

By the end of the first week, skepticism had turned into panic. Stores were raided and cities were emptied as quickly as possible. 

Roads were congested with cars fleeing to a transient safe haven just beyond the boundaries of memory and the known. The problem with being surrounded by water is that eventually you hit a coast, no matter which direction you drove. Cars were abandoned as power grids wavered and then went silent. Soon, the nights were as dark as the inside of a coffin and the days unperturbed by the sounds of the city. 

Philosophers had for the majority of human civilization discussed what man would be like in this state of nature. Great minds debated the merits and pitfalls of a world unperturbed by the guiding force of norms and mores. It appeared that something drawn from nightmares and the fiendish, albeit amusing, minds of writers who envisioned a world where the rebuilding of a civilization was juxtaposed against a frightening dystopia burdened by moral ambiguity and vagary of purpose. The great apocalypse proved to be a grand thought experiment, much to the chagrin of everyone.

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

Follow Me On Twitter

All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!

Download Hobbes Family for free on Kindle from 8/28 until 9/1!

Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

Visit http:/ /thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!

19 August 2013

Mondays With Mephistopheles by Dan O'Brien

This week: "Mondays With Mephistopheles" by Dan O'Brien.
Check out a short interview with the author, an excerpt, and links for more information.

Welcome to the second day of the Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9am - Rhys blog tour. It will run until August 9th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

Abraham Rogers has an unusual psychotherapy practice: monsters. This first installment is a session with Rhys, the IT vampire who can’t quite connect with the modern world the way he would like.

A few questions for the author:

When have you been most satisfied in your life?

Right this moment. I have been moving toward writing full-time and consulting for publishing and writing. I married my best friend and I am publishing on a consistent basis. I couldn't be happier. 

Who is your role model, and why?

From a writing perspective, I really respect Neil Gaiman. He knew what he wanted out of writing and life and pursued it. I think that kind of commitment is important no matter what you want out of life. Go out and get it. 

What things do you not like to do?

I like everything to be planned out and organized, at least a sketch of what is going on. Even if there is a single constant, I am a happy guy. Whenever I attend completely unplanned events, I find that I do not have a good time. As I get older, I find that I like well-defined goals and only certain activities. 

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

As he took the seat across from the couch, Abe gestured with his hand. There was something to the necessity of pleasantries in his particular profession. 

“How are you doing this morning, Rhys?”

The leaner man seemed not to acknowledge Abe’s presence in the room; instead, he seemed keen on a sliver of light that emerged through the thick drapes behind Rogers’ desk. “Can we do something about that light?”

Abe nodded and attended to the drapery, tugging and moving it until the shaft of luminance was expunged from the room. “Is that better?”

“Quite,” came the terse reply.

With a huff, Abe was seated once more. He crossed one leg over the other and placed a tattered notepad on his knee. “Where would you like to start today?”

“Must you use such a raggedy journal, my good doctor?”


Rhys waved a dismissive hand, his pale fingers tracing the air irritably. “Of course, we must maintain a conversational tone here.”

“Would you prefer to call me Dr. Rogers?”

Rhys exhaled and adjusted one of his legs underneath his body. “I would prefer to accomplish something during this session, Abe.”

Abe knew that Rhys grew impatient with a surprising quickness, though the vexation passed after a moment if allowed to marinate in the darkness.

“Have you given any further thought to the treatment we discussed?”

If Rhys had wanted to speak about a course of treatment, it was not revealed in the pursing of his pink lips. “I understand your propensity to use the flavor of the day, Abe, but I fear my affliction cannot be overcome with simple exposure.” He paused for effect. “It is that precise contact that causes me harm.”

“Do you feel like you are afflicted, Rhys?”

Rhys took off his sunglasses, revealing equally pale eyes that swam in shadow. “Do I not appear afflicted to you?”

“Who has burdened you with this affliction, Rhys? Who do you hold responsible for this suffering?”

Rhys’ long throat did not pulse, nor did his heart beat faster. One would have to have the appropriate equipment to have elevated blood pressure. 

Vampires lacked the requisite parts.

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten</ i>, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

12 August 2013

The Twins Of Devonshire And The Curse Of The Widow by Dan O'Brien

This week I am hosting Dan O'Brien and his book "The Twins Of Devonshire And The Curse Of The Widow."

Below you'll find a few questions and answers from the author, an excerpt of the book, and links for more information on Dan O'Brien and his work.

All his books are only 99 cents on Amazon right now, and "The Twins Of Devonshire And The Curse Of The Widow" will be available as a free download August 13th-17th!

Plus, follow Dan O'Brien's blog at http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!

and heroes must rise. Xeno Lobo, enigmatic and cryptic, hunts the Widow, seeking an object taken from him years before. Will he be able to stem the tide of violence and horror that sweeps the land?

A few questions for the author:

When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards, and just go ahead and do what you know is right?Welcome to the third day of The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow blog tour. It will run until August 17th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

A plague has covered the land, a single word on the lips of the frightened masses: the Widow. Washing a wave of terror over the countryside and then disappearing like a thief in the night, the Widow holds a kingdom in the palm of her hand. The eyes of Chaos have settled on Prima Terra

This is an interesting question because without any kind of preparation, we doom ourselves to failure without understanding why. I think there is a time and a place for organizing your plans, but then the real work begins. You need to be willing to go as far as your possibly can, even push the limits of what you consider comfortable.  

If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make a mistake? 

I think it is the pressure from others to live up to how they perceive us. Often, we trade in self-esteem for group perception and it becomes all that matters. When we are concerned how people will judge what we have done, we want there to be as little ammo for a public humiliation as possible. 

What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?

I do things even though I know I will be judged by others. To me, stepping outside of your comfort zone and challenging the static ideas about who you is at the core of really living your life. People will always let you know how they would do it, or how they think you should live your life. The reality is pretty simple: You decide. In the end, if it doesn't hurt you or others, then why not?

Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

The Nighen, an unnatural creature spawned of evil, consumed and murdered all along the western providence for the weeks after the emergence of Chaos. Its appetite had grown astronomically since its birth. 

The blood moon of Chaos drove it forward. 

Swollen clouds drifted lazily overhead. Bruised and disfigured skies threatened to drench the land in rain and storm, something in which the slowly-aging hills would find great comfort. The mixture of deep shadow and moonlight allowed the cloaked figure to move through the dense forest unnoticed––his hood wrapped tightly and his decadent robes drifting out behind him. 

He hummed quietly. Along his back was the outline of a sheath, the blade hidden. The moon made a kaleidoscope of images across the paths of the forest, and the man moved through them. His figure melded and conformed to the bizarre shapes. His features were hidden beneath the hood, the bitter winds that periodically slapped against his frame could not loosen the bond the cloak held over him. 

The forest around him shifted in the winds. Branches scraped against one another. The gales howled, creating sounds in the night far more morose than the ones that truly haunted the rich shrubbery. The man did not hesitate as he walked, not even when the unnatural sounds of forest silenced and the low, throaty growl of a night terror emanated from beside him. 

Amber eyes were translucent in the darkness. The lack of iris was eerie as if shifted, watching the man move past its vantage point. The creature groaned loudly and stood. Scaly claws dug deep into the already-frozen earth as it moved forward in leaps. It hit hard upon the ground, shaking the earth as it rose from a crouch. 

The man’s pace quickened now. He moved with renewed speed, head lowered. The blade upon his back protruded from his hunched frame like a sore that had grown from his spine. 

The creature moved alongside him, the crashing sounds as it charged through the forest thunderous. The man threw back the tight folds of his cloak and moved with the grace of a practiced runner. His shoulder-length hair emerged from beneath the hood, cascading off his back. 

The creature ran on all four limbs, end over end like a feral animal. Its breathing was ragged and intense. Cold air exhaled from his nostrils as it charged after the dexterous man dodging through the forest. 

He jumped over a dislodged collection of roots, and then spun past a tree that stood directly in his path as he landed. The creature just slammed its gigantic horned frame into the trees, splintering the wood and knocking them from its path. 

The forest ended abruptly. The thick mass of roots and trees disappeared from sight. The sheet of grass, stained brown, extended for a few feet until it ended in a monumental plunge to the canyons and plains below. The man skidded to a stop and threw back his cloak, drawing his blade from around his back. 

The hilt of the sword was cast in ivory––the pearly construction was crafted like a dragon’s head. Its guard was formed of the beast’s hellish wings, the spiraling, sinewy protrusions spreading symmetrically on each side. 

His brown hair was thrown across his face, hiding his cold blue eyes buried behind sleep-deprived circles. A beard carved his jaw line, his lips drawn tight in apprehension. The winds tore at his frame, the fold of his cloak whipping like tendrils in the cold gales. 

The creature emerged from the forest and rolled to a stop, rising on its hunches and glaring at the man. It opened its maw, licking at exposed, rotten teeth. Black, soulless eyes were obscured in the darkness. It tilted its head and made a thin sound, like a bird chirping. 

“Man flesh,” spoke the creature. 

The words were guttural and strangled. 

The man looked at the creature, its shoulders rising far above him. Grayish skin covered its entire body juxtaposed with black, spiked scales. Its arms were long like an ape. Claws were sharpened into half the length of the sword the man wielded. 

“Not much for conversation, are you?” the warrior spoke breathlessly. 

“Kill. Eat. Man flesh,” growled the creature once again. The creature took a few steps forward. 

The warrior turned his blade out and it glistened in the half light of the moon. The flash captured the soulless sockets of the creature. His feet parted slightly, rooting him as he prepared to lunge. In one motion, he leapt forward. The point of his blade sung through the air as he did so. 

The creature roared. Swinging one of its massive claws across the front of its frame, it tried to catch the man mid-flight as he descended. The man shifted in mid-air, his body tightening and then rolling to the ground. His blade was tucked tight with his body and as he landed; he lunged forward. Catching the creature across its mammoth legs, the creature howled in pain as it reached down to block the strike. 

It glowered at the man as he returned to his stance. His blade was held across his chest at an angle, eyes set firmly at the throat of the beast. They circled each other, the beast snarling and sputtering as its green puss oozed from the wound and covered its leg. 

It burned the earth beneath them. 

The creature roared––its mouth agape, saliva glistening as it strung from fang to fang. Its stale breath was like a fog from its mouth. The man moved forward again, the blade slamming into the flank of the creature. Blood splattered across his cloak and the stricken ground. 

He turned as he remained crouched beneath the haunches of the beast and drove his blade through its chin. The creature groaned as the crack of the splintered skull echoed in the hills. Sliding down as the man pulled his blade free, it was no more. The creature’s face was a macabre death mask. 

The warrior stood over his prey. 

The lifeless eyes of the beast were listless, departed. He raised his blade and decapitated the creature in one smooth movement. Reaching down, he grasped his prize: the head of the Nighen.

Bio: A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World PlaylistBittenThe JourneyThe Ocean and the HourglassThe Path of the FallenThe Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!

Download The Twins of Devonshire and the Curse of the Widow for free on Kindle from 8/13 until 8/17!

Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

Visit http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!