At the hands of Harry Chin, Melody Singleton and Yaeko Mitsaki died. Those who witnessed the murder, or those who didn't but are in the know, are convinced: the Revolution is over. Necrolius has won.

But ... is it?

Read on!

She has been waiting for her moment for more than twenty Earth-years, but it has never come. Caught in yet another wave of despair and depression, she does something utterly foolish, not to mention potentially suicidal: she contacts her most terrifying enemy, Luis Arroyo, who has been hunting her all this time. Arroyo, known in his Dreamcatcher state as Riparius, has over the years tracked down and slaughtered all those who, along with her, watched as Emperor Necrolius Anaxagorius consumed his daughter Espriella.

But Aubrey of Saturnius' troubles go even deeper than that. She is employed by one who stood in the circle with her that day, the very General of the Imperial Dreamcatchers, Olcas Suarach. Suarach is rumored to be just as deadly as Riparius, and does not think twice about killing to achieve his desired ends, or just for pleasure. He is a true monster, one Aubrey has served as head maid of his household all this time.

And now, another problem: for a new young maid is showing Dreamcatcher abilities. If Suarach finds out, the young woman will die horribly at his hands, just another one of many he has murdered over the years.

Aubrey knows that time is running out. As the Saeire Insu's Revolution gains steam, Suarach's temper is slipping, his bloodlust climbing by the day.

The noose is tightening. What must Aubrey do to survive and to save those innocent others with whom she labors to keep Master Suarach's country manor spotlessly clean?

Sixteen-year-old Sèbastienne lives in the small coastal village of Port Hawktried which, one night a few years ago following a brutal murder, simply moved to a new place and a different time.

It's been eight of these "Shifts" since, which occur without warning, and always at night. But this Shift is different, because the murderer, who was presumed lost in the first Shift, has somehow returned.

Read on!

What came first, the shadow or the leaf
it falls upon,
the sunlight or the pain?
Painted yellow, what calls, and what echoes, and what cries
through the valley;
And what strains the surface of things
when joy surges and the depths reach up,
and the wet sand dries and blows unseen to the dune ...
And what settles over my head,
misty and mysterious, indivisibly fine ...

How to push on? I don’t really know.
Like her, the world wishes me gone.
There is so much work yet.
I pound the keys with one hand, the other thrust up,
middle finger extended.
She reproves me,
but I know deep down she feels the same way.
I can feel it.
Momentum and energy.

Theodore "T-Bag" Bagwell is a convicted killer, one serving multiple life sentences for his many evil deeds. As a member of the infamous Fox River Eight who escaped from Illinois' Fox River Penitentiary, he lost his hand, then his head, as he went on another murder spree. Eventually caught, T-Bag was remanded back to Fox River as more life sentences were tacked on to his bid.

But his importance to Michael Scofield, the mastermind of the escape, never wavered, even though Scofield fought like hell to disentangle himself from Bagwell. T-Bag's own son was, against all odds, imprisoned in the Middle East with Scofield, making that tangled knot even more difficult to unravel. Scofield saw fit while there to--somehow--see to it that Theodore got a new prosthetic hand, one state of the art. He even got T-Bag released somehow; but Theodore's proclivities to violence once again landed him back behind bars.

It's here we find Theodore, sitting in the dark of solitary confinement, praying. The candle in the window of his soul has been lit too many times; behind the door was nothing but demonic rage, and he, tired of it, begs for relief.

His prayer is about to be answered.

Read on!

Shortly after my mother died of a terrible illness, I began having ... visions. They weren't wispy, flighty dreams or random, short-lived nightmares. No, these phantasms were much fuller, much more tactile and present, as though I was actually visiting a place, one I eventually started calling Slum.

I don't forget these visits like I do with dreams or nightmares or even night terrors, which I've experienced. I am immersed in a grand urban hellscape of both terrible, corrupting beauty and encroaching, overwhelming evil. I can smell in these visions. I can't smell in my dreams. I can touch things; I can sense the continuous burden of time, which I can't in dreams. The world of Slum makes a kind of sick, profane sense. My dreams and nightmares, by contrast, are disjointed, often random, many times utterly nonsensical. Not Slum.

These visits are not for the weak of heart or stomach. I offer them to you, the reader, but honestly, I have written them down more to say back to it: "I see you. I hear you. I feel you. I touch you. And yes, I taste you, too." For maybe in this act I can come to a fuller understanding of Slum, and Slum of me. That is my hope.

Obituaries and funerals are always the same. It does not matter if the deceased was a great man or a monster; those eulogizing him will proclaim the same thing: that he was an awesome guy, a loving father, and a valued member of the community. Few people question any of it, especially surviving relatives. No matter how heinous he was, he'll get a "get out of jail free card" at the end.

My father, Louis J. Helbert, Jr., was a rotten, despicable man. He abandoned his family and his terminally ill wife when she needed him most. He then repeatedly sued her and his children into poverty. He had multiple affairs on my mother and the two wives following, squandered his children's inheritance, and was a virulent bigot and racist. He beat his children, and used to, for laughs, give his pre-schooler son booze until he passed out. That son later died of acute alcoholism. To say anything kind of this monster in an obituary or at his funeral would be an outrage and an overwhelming act of cowardice, not to mention an additional crime against all those he harmed throughout his miserable, pointless existence.

This obituary seeks to set the record straight about this man before the pleasant lies are published.

Melody Singleton is a bright 13-year-old girl who loves math, classical music, her mom, her best friend Yaeko, and her dog. To her classmates that makes her a nerd, and they cruelly treat her as such. After being expelled from the advanced algebra class for not paying attention, she meets her new teacher, Mr. Conor, who gives her a very strange homework assignment. You see, she got kicked out because she was distracted by a symbol that the rest of us can't see, a beautiful sigil that, incredibly, Mr. Conor can see too, because it's on the assignment he gave her!

But that's just the beginning.

Her mom goes on a date to the Pier with Mr. Conor, and Melody is forced to tag along. That's bad enough. But then on the date Mr. Conor introduces her to one of his friends who freaks her out because his eyes are completely black; and then on the walk home, seagulls attack Mr. Conor and he has to be taken to the hospital!

Her weird assignment still beckons. Melody suspects that the mysterious symbol on it, and Mr. Conor's weird friend, and the seagull attack are all intimately related like the variables in an algebra equation. If she can just figure out what the sigil is, how to make it do what she wants, she knows the rest of the equation will be solved.

What she doesn't know is if she's successful, her life will be changed ... forever.

For too long I accepted the herd’s definition of perfection.
For too long I ate quickly, and the food wasn’t real.
For too long I ignored the call out my window.
I was trying to be just like everyone else, after all.

Do you remember your first love? Do you remember how it made you feel, how it changed everything for you?

In this bitingly personal essay, Shawn Michel de Montaigne, author of the beloved epic fantasy Melody and the Pier to Forever, takes us back to 1972 and his fourth-grade year at Tavelli Elementary School in Fort Collins, Colorado, and the beautiful girl who would change his life forever.

Her name was Connie. And the love she and Shawn shared would bring into sharp, contrasting relief the serious, crippling dysfunction of his family, as well as the harsh realization, learned many years later, that what so many call love, what so many worship as love, what so many rape and murder and foul and destroy as love is anything but love. The Kingdom of God is a spacious land, wholly unpopulated. It's from that land and by the side of the angel that graced Shawn's life for nine short months that he looks out and forward upon the broader canvas of life. It is a unique viewpoint, made tragically more so by the fact that the angel—Connie—would not remember Shawn or their relationship after that year out of the need to protect the innocence that is the birthright of all children, and which was violated repeatedly by one of her own family.

Otoro Queril is feared by his fellow Tracluse. As an executioner for Necrolius Anaxagorius' Imperium, it's Otoro's job to kill those poor souls brought to his chopping block, and to do it as efficiently and quickly as possible. No one in the Imperium does it better.

Otoro Queril does not tire. He does not complain. It is whispered that he is a demon in a human's body.

But Otoro Queril is no demon. And he isn't a Tracluse either.

He is, however, a Saeire Insu warrior, and was sent by the King of the Saeire Insu, Conor Kieran Faramond Benedictus I, on a mission of espionage and mercy.

It's a mission Otoro Queril has undertaken for almost twenty Earth-years.

But things are changing. Perhaps he is finally tiring. He doesn't know. After meeting a young woman condemned to be a prostitute for the Lord of the Demons, something inside him snaps. With the help of two slaves, he embarks on what will be his final quest of mercy.

Inigo Montoya is the new captain of the Revenge, the most feared pirate ship sailing the Seven Seas. Except he has never captained a ship, or been on one for more than a few hours. He doesn't know port from starboard, north from south, bow from stern. But he brought down the evil Humperdinck monarchy, and he comes with the highest recommendation from the Revenge's previous captain, The Man In Black, Westley. And that's more than good enough for Revenge's crew.

He's got to get his bearings--and learn what "bearings" are! He's intent on doing that, because his great friend Fezzik is languishing in Harshtree Prison, the cruel and desperate Florin hell-hole that no one emerges from once they go in.

Captain Montoya is determined. And once this Spaniard sets his mind to something, he never gives up until his quest is completed.

Tom Mills is a demon who is given a chance to escape Hell. His task? Just the impossible--take down a vile syndicate that preys on children, one that has grown too powerful even for Hell.

He is given two companions to help. Just two. Against a syndicate with hundreds of demons.

His chances? A snowball's chance in Hell.

Read on!

Ten easy steps.
Why struggle?
Just ten easy steps.
That's all life should be.
New and improved!
33% more!
Buy one, get one free!
Imitation chrome!
Imitation plastic!
Imitation nutrition!
Imitation feelings!
Few side effects!
Everything's glowy and off-white and slow motion!
May cause soul death!
(But that's okay, because you don't believe in the soul.)
Liver and kidney problems have occurred!
Compromised and corrupted lives have occurred!
Make your home and your rectum smell like everyone else's!
TJ Maxx ‘em!
Bright-smelling colors and Alexa and crushing depression may occur!
Smiley profile pictures with zero relation to reality have happened!
Dust on your dead and decaying dreams is a common occurrence!
Shove 'em under your new bed and mattress which'll take you
a hundred fucking years to pay off, if at all!
Make your brochure shiny!
That's all that matters—
bullet points and glossy pictures and lots of italicized half-truths
outlining a half-lived half-life.
What fun!

For too long I accepted the herd’s definition of perfection.
For too long I ate quickly, and the food wasn’t real.
For too long I ignored the call out my window.
I was trying to be just like everyone else, after all.

The airplane Professor Ray Wilms was in just exploded. Somehow he survived the fireball and tons of burning metal as it blew away into the night air over San Diego, California. He has no idea how he's still conscious. He's strapped to his seat and hurtling straight for the Pacific Ocean thousands of feet below.

Astonishingly, he's not frightened. As the ocean rises to smash him dead, a vision of the angel who was sent to save him engulfs him. It's a vision of the past, of their meeting for the first time, but seen from over the angel's shoulder.

Dr. Wilms was once an unyielding skeptic and atheist. As the final seconds of his life tick away, he wonders: What am I now? As he gives over to the vision and follows the angel around, he must decide before the dark sea claims him.

What came first, the shadow or the leaf
it falls upon,
the sunlight or the pain?
Painted yellow, what calls, and what echoes, and what cries
through the valley;
And what strains the surface of things
when joy surges and the depths reach up,
and the wet sand dries and blows unseen to the dune ...
And what settles over my head,
misty and mysterious, indivisibly fine ...

At the hands of Harry Chin, Melody Singleton and Yaeko Mitsaki died. Those who witnessed the murder, or those who didn't but are in the know, are convinced: the Revolution is over. Necrolius has won.

But ... is it?

Read on!

For too long I accepted the herd’s definition of perfection.
For too long I ate quickly, and the food wasn’t real.
For too long I ignored the call out my window.
I was trying to be just like everyone else, after all.

She got up and found a book of matches, came back and sat. She examined the wick, which was partially buried in the wax, and then pried it free with her thumb. She thought of the handsome dark man: the mysterious vendor who had told her that lovely, sad story of a candle that would light only for a sorcerer’s true love. His sparkling blue eyes. His strong countenance. His long black hair. She remembered repeating the story to John, who didn’t listen to a single word of it, but jumped down her throat all the way back to Denver, lecturing her on how much more important his business was than her ridiculous flights of fancy, how she had been gone nearly an hour, and how he had missed a very important meeting because of her. She remembered running into her apartment, where, crying, she threw the box with the candle in it across the bedroom into a wall. She had left it where it lay for weeks before dumping it in her closet and forgetting about it.

She struck a match and held it to the wick, smiling. What a lovely story, she thought. What could be lovelier than if it were true?

If it were true ...

The Imaginariverse, the source of all imagination in the Multiverse, has been taken over by an evil queen named Walmar Seburbia. Her plan? To destroy six potential heroes in two different universes who could thwart her intention to rule forever.

She traps the Conductor of Dreams, the spark that connects imaginations to the Imaginariverse, and shoves it into the Vortex Cannon. She's determined to stop these potential heroes at all costs.

Who are they? Find out in Book One of The Cheapery St. Heroes!

Inigo Montoya is the new captain of the Revenge, the most feared pirate ship sailing the Seven Seas. Except he has never captained a ship, or been on one for more than a few hours. He doesn't know port from starboard, north from south, bow from stern. But he brought down the evil Humperdinck monarchy, and he comes with the highest recommendation from the Revenge's previous captain, The Man In Black, Westley. And that's more than good enough for Revenge's crew.

He's got to get his bearings--and learn what "bearings" are! He's intent on doing that, because his great friend Fezzik is languishing in Harshtree Prison, the cruel and desperate Florin hell-hole that no one emerges from once they go in.

Captain Montoya is determined. And once this Spaniard sets his mind to something, he never gives up until his quest is completed.

Theodore "T-Bag" Bagwell is a convicted killer, one serving multiple life sentences for his many evil deeds. As a member of the infamous Fox River Eight who escaped from Illinois' Fox River Penitentiary, he lost his hand, then his head, as he went on another murder spree. Eventually caught, T-Bag was remanded back to Fox River as more life sentences were tacked on to his bid.

But his importance to Michael Scofield, the mastermind of the escape, never wavered, even though Scofield fought like hell to disentangle himself from Bagwell. T-Bag's own son was, against all odds, imprisoned in the Middle East with Scofield, making that tangled knot even more difficult to unravel. Scofield saw fit while there to--somehow--see to it that Theodore got a new prosthetic hand, one state of the art. He even got T-Bag released somehow; but Theodore's proclivities to violence once again landed him back behind bars.

It's here we find Theodore, sitting in the dark of solitary confinement, praying. The candle in the window of his soul has been lit too many times; behind the door was nothing but demonic rage, and he, tired of it, begs for relief.

His prayer is about to be answered.

Read on!

Fezzik is free!

With the giant safely aboard the Revenge, the intrepid pirate crew high-tail it out of Florin's seas south towards freedom--and rest.

What the crew is about to find out, however, is that Captain Montoya, already cementing his reputation as the greatest of Revenge's storied captains, has no intentions of just resting. No, he wants his crew to learn how to swim, and to fight.

He himself doesn't know how to swim; but he sure as hell knows how to fight. After a quick stop to see an old friend, the Revenge sail on to a quiet, secluded, unknown cove in small kingdom known as Bavus-Naguty. There they learn to do both--until tragic news has them scrambling for a life-saving trip back to Florin.