Reality Never Did Run Smooth – Brand New Sci-Fi Novel by Yours Truly

In a world where everything seems perfect, Jeffrey discovers that his idyllic existence is nothing more than a meticulously crafted illusion. When two otherworldly beings, Saša and Višnja, reveal the truth behind the simulation, he’s forced to confront the harsh reality of a post-invasion Earth, now left in desolation and despair.

As the last hope for humanity, Jeffrey must make a heart-wrenching decision: remain in the solace of the virtual world, free from the hardships and destruction of his former life, or return to the shattered remnants of Earth, knowing that the survival of the human race hangs in the balance. The choice isn’t as simple as it seems; each option comes with its own set of ethical dilemmas and profound consequences.

In “Reality Never Did Run Smooth,” author Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys masterfully explores the depths of human emotion, the resilience of the human spirit, and the complexities of the choices we make. Through Jeffrey’s journey, readers will be challenged to examine their own beliefs about love, loss, and the true meaning of existence.

Join Jeffrey as he navigates the blurred lines between reality and illusion, grappling with the responsibility that comes with being humanity’s last hope. This thought-provoking, emotionally-charged science fiction novel will leave readers questioning the very nature of reality and the ultimate cost of happiness.

Embark on an unforgettable journey through the ruins of a post-invasion world, where the fate of humanity rests on one man’s shoulders. “Reality Never Did Run Smooth” is a must-read for fans of thought-provoking science fiction and gripping tales of survival against all odds.

Available Here: https://amzn.to/3SZqQtQ

Kiss Me Deadly Redux

I stepped into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of whiskey and unfulfilled desires. As I made my way through the crowd, I saw her sitting alone at the far end of the counter. She was perfection personified, her beauty a siren’s call that drew me in like a moth to a flame.

Our eyes met, and time seemed to stand still. The noise of the bar faded into the background, replaced by the pounding of my heart. I approached her, my movements fluid and confident, as if guided by an unseen force. “Is this seat taken?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, her lips a perfect curve of invitation. “It is now,” she replied, her voice a melodic caress that sent shivers down my spine. We talked for hours, our conversation flowing effortlessly, as if we had known each other for lifetimes. Her intellect matched her beauty, and I found myself drawn deeper into her web of enchantment.

As the night wore on, she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “Why don’t we continue this conversation somewhere more private?” she suggested, her words a promise of untold delights. I nodded, powerless to resist her allure.

We left the bar, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between us. She led me to her home, a grand mansion that seemed to materialize out of the darkness. The interior was a study in elegance, every detail perfect, from the plush velvet curtains to the gleaming marble floors.

She poured us each a glass of wine, the deep crimson liquid swirling in the crystal glasses. We sat on the luxurious sofa, our bodies close, the tension between us palpable. Her hand brushed against mine, and I felt a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins.

As the night deepened, our conversation turned intimate, our secrets spilling forth like wine from an overturned glass. She seemed to understand me on a level that no one else ever had, her empathy and insight bordering on the supernatural. I found myself drawn to her, moth to a flame, powerless to resist the pull of her presence.

Finally, as the first hints of dawn began to paint the sky, she leaned in close, her lips a whisper away from mine. “Kiss me,” she breathed, her voice a siren’s song. I hesitated for the briefest of moments, a flicker of unease darting through my mind, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the force of my desire.

Our lips met, and in that moment, everything changed.

Her breath was like a predatory flower, its sickly-sweet vapors made me so cold the marrow in my bones chattered. Her tongue felt like a misshapen creature, dead but still moving, as I wriggled to free myself from the muscular organ burrowing inside my mouth.

Reality fractured, shards of sanity splintering into the void. The world shifted, colors bleeding together in a grotesque kaleidoscope. Her eyes, once alluring, now pulsed with an otherworldly glow, twin portals to a dimension of unspeakable horrors. “You’re mine now,” she whispered, her voice a discordant symphony of shrieks and whispers.

I stumbled back, my feet sinking into the suddenly viscous floor. The walls breathed, pulsating with a sickening rhythm, as if the house itself had come alive. Shadows danced in the corners, taking on twisted forms that defied comprehension. I tried to scream, but my voice was swallowed by the oppressive silence that engulfed the room.

She advanced, her movements jerky and unnatural, like a marionette controlled by an unseen puppeteer. Her skin rippled and shifted, revealing glimpses of something ancient and malevolent lurking beneath the surface. “Join me in the dance of the damned,” she crooned, her fingers elongating into razor-sharp talons.

The air grew thick with the stench of decay, and I choked on the putrid miasma that filled my lungs. Reality folded in on itself, and I found myself falling through an endless abyss, tumbling through a nightmarish landscape of distorted memories and shattered dreams. Her laughter echoed through the void, a mocking reminder of my inescapable fate.

I landed in a field of writhing flesh, where the ground pulsed with a sickening heartbeat. The sky above was a swirling maelstrom of tortured souls, their agonized wails piercing the fetid air. She stood before me, her form now a towering monstrosity of twisted limbs and gaping maws. “Welcome to your new existence,” she bellowed, her voice a cacophony of torment.

As her talons tore into my flesh, I summoned the last remnants of my strength and wrenched myself free from her deadly embrace. I fell back onto the floor, scrambling to put distance between myself and the nightmarish creature before me. Her once-perfect features twisted and contorted, revealing the true nature of the monster that lurked beneath the surface.

“What are you?” I gasped, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and revulsion. “Why are you doing this?”

She laughed, a sound that echoed through the room like the tolling of a funeral bell. “Oh, my dear,” she crooned, her voice dripping with malice, “I know what you truly are. The predatory beast who preyed on women, leaving a trail of broken and shattered lives in your wake.”

I shook my head, trying to deny her accusations, but deep down, I knew she spoke the truth. The memories of my past transgressions flooded my mind, the faces of the women I had used and discarded flashing before my eyes like a twisted slideshow of guilt and shame.

“I am the retribution for the evil you have inflicted,” she declared, her form shifting and changing, taking on the appearance of every woman I had ever wronged. “I am the embodiment of their pain, their anger, and their desire for justice.”

She advanced towards me, her movements fluid and graceful, a stark contrast to the horror that radiated from her very being. I crawled backward, my hands scrabbling against the floor, desperate to escape the fate that awaited me.

“You cannot run from your past,” she whispered, her voice a sibilant hiss that filled my mind and soul. “You cannot hide from the consequences of your actions.”

As she loomed over me, her form a towering monument of retribution, I felt the weight of my sins pressing down upon me, crushing me beneath their unbearable burden. The room began to spin, the walls closing in, trapping me in a prison of my own making.

“Please,” I begged, my voice a pitiful whimper, “have mercy.”

She smiled, a cruel twist of her lips that held no hint of compassion. “Mercy?” she laughed, “You, who showed no mercy to those you preyed upon, now beg for it in your final moments?”

“I repent! That’s how this works, isn’t it? You show me the error of my ways and I swear to make amends! Repair the lives I’ve destroyed! Dedicate myself to being a better man! A defender and protector of women against the predators of the world!”

“Too little, too late,” she hissed, as her talons plunged into my chest. I felt my life force draining away, the last vestiges of my existence slipping into the void. As the darkness claimed me, I heard her final words, a whisper that echoed through the chambers of my dying heart.

“In death, you shall find the justice you so richly deserve.”

And with that, I was gone, my soul torn asunder by the weight of my own sins, forever lost in the endless abyss of retribution. The predator had become the prey, and in the end, the scales of justice had been balanced, the evil I had inflicted upon the world returned to me tenfold in a final, devastating embrace.

Gatsby The Great: A Sam Turner Murder Mystery

🔥 Dive into the Dark Heart of a Timeless Classic Reimagined! 🔥

Step off the well-worn path of American literature and into the gritty underbelly of the Big Apple with “Gatsby the Great”—a hardboiled transformation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s iconic masterpiece. This isn’t your high-school “Great Gatsby.” It’s a smoky, twisting maze where dreams morph into nightmares and opulence hides deadly secrets.

🌃 Why You Can’t Miss This Book: 🌃

👤 Meet Sam Turner: Your quintessential hard-nosed P.I. Armed with unyielding skepticism and a keen eye for deception, Sam delves deep into the criminal quagmires of 1920s New York to crack the mystery of George Wilson’s puzzling death and expose the enigmatic Jay Gatsby.

💎 A Glamorous Facade: Step into Gatsby’s mansion—now a dark theater of smoke and mirrors, where the jazz is as intoxicating as the lies. Here, high society is your deadliest enemy, and even a garden party can be a ticket to the morgue.

🚬 Rogues and Riches: Interact with a rich tapestry of characters—from Daisy Buchanan, the elusive beauty with secrets as numerous as her pearls, to Tom Buchanan, whose aristocratic veneer conceals a far darker soul.

🎭 Moral Ambiguity: Traverse a moral minefield where every choice can damn you, every clue misleads you, and every truth only deepens the enigma. Sam Turner’s pursuit of justice forces him to grapple with questions as complex as the city’s labyrinthine streets.

🎇 A Dizzying Waltz of Deception: Glamour and grime coalesce in a narrative that oscillates between light and abyss, pulling you into a world where the line between hero and villain is as blurred as the smoke in a speakeasy.

🕵️ Uncover the Truth, If You Dare: As the clock ticks and the stakes rise, you’ll be tethered to each page, your heart racing as fast as a Model T down Fifth Avenue.

Available HERE: https://amzn.to/48DK6Cp

The Email Button Ch. 17: The Plan

Part 1 * Part 2 * Part 3 * Part 4 * Part 5 * Part 6 * Part 7 * Part 8 * Part 9 * Part 10 * Part 11 * Part 12 * Part 13 * Part 14 * Part 15 * Part 16

Erin took her family to meet the Roanoke settlers and left them there while she sought out Croatoan. Mark objected, wanting to join her but reason won out because one of them had to stay with the children. She went to the place she first arrived, at the convergence of the landscapes, where the surreal mingling of earthly fragments seemed most intense. She called out to him until her throat was nearly raw. And just when she was about to give up, Croatoan’s form shimmered like a mirage, both part of the limbo and distinctly apart from it.

Erin approached the entity who hovered scant inches above the ground. “You’ve brought us here, to a place of balance and testing. But your problem and whatever compromise we reach will be with me, not my family. Tell me there’s a way out for them.”

“I have no problem with you, watcher, nor did I bring your family here,” Croatoan’s voice a whisper on the wind, his gaze was enigmatic. “This realm exists neither here nor there, held by the weight of many worlds. It is not a purgatory, but a crucible, testing the essence of those who dwell within. For any to leave, the balance must shift—a new equilibrium forged.”

Erin pondered this. “A balance tipped by our collective choices, our sacrifices?”

“Sacrifice was a way to show faith, to draw closer powers you cannot possibly comprehend, and receive a covenant to become one with all that is. Sacrifice symbolizes giving thanks and aids in mending the relationship often fractured by free will,” Croatoan affirmed. “Each group brought here made decisions under extraordinary circumstances. These decisions have weight, tethering them to this plane. To lift these tethers, a new sacrifice or a collective reconciliation of past actions is needed.”


Upon her return, Erin convened a second council, this time incorporating both the group leaders and her family. “Each of our choices,” Erin addressed the assembled, “Whether from hope or sheer necessity, those decisions helped mold this place. If we can understanding what the link is, it might be the key to unlocking a path forward.”

All eyes and ears were on Erin as she recounted what Croatoan revealed about balance and sacrifices. A lively discussion ensued, with everyone pondering how to possibly reconcile their past actions with the present circumstance.

The first step was clear: to create a unified ritual or act, perhaps blending their diverse histories and intentions in hopes of demonstrating to whatever force that was keeping them in limbo that they were prepared to either return to their lives or move on to what awaited them beyond this state.

Mark watched with a mix of surprise and admiration as Erin took charge, organizing their next steps with decisive clarity. This newfound confidence in his wife touched Erin deeply, bolstering her cautious optimism about their circumstances. Though they had started to form a plan, Erin knew it was tentative at best. To manage her restless thoughts and utilize everyone’s strengths, she strategically grouped members from each colony into smaller, focused teams.

During these sessions, the Ninth Legion demonstrated Roman engineering, contributing to the construction of a symbolic structure. The Norse shared seafaring stories, drawing parallels to navigating the uncertainties of limbo. The Anasazi explained celestial alignments, suggesting how these might symbolically chart a course out of limbo. The Roanoke settlers contributed ideas on blending cultural elements into a unified symbol.

Inspired by the Anasazi’s astronomical knowledge, Erin proposed building a large compass-like installation, each point directed toward a limbo landscape, symbolizing guidance and direction. This compass would incorporate elements from all groups: Roman masonry, Norse woodwork, Anasazi celestial symbols, and Roanoke artisan skills. At its heart, a globe made from limbo’s essence would rotate, driven by their collective will.

The project of building the metaphysical compass became a central activity for all, channeling their hopes for resolution. As the compass’s construction progressed, so did the unity and resolve of the groups, each seeing their history and identity reflected in the effort.

On the eve of activating the compass, Erin gathered everyone to admire their work. The installation, shining under the limbo twilight, symbolized their unity and shared goals.

“This compass points not just to our pasts or homes but to our future—a future we step into together, having balanced our destinies,” Erin declared to the crowd. “Tomorrow, we activate the compass. If our beliefs and unity hold true, we will find our way out of this limbo.”

The groups returned to their areas, a night of hopeful anticipation before them. Erin spent this time with her family, discussing possible outcomes and preparing for the transition—be it a return to their time, a step into a new existence, or a peaceful departure to whatever lay beyond.

As twilight deepened across the limbo landscape, the air tinged with the stillness of impending change, the stage was set for the crucial final act. The various groups congregated around the metaphysical compass, anticipation etching their faces as they prepared for the ritual that might end their suspension between worlds.

Erin, at the heart of the assembly beside the glowing globe, initiated the ritual with an incantation that melded the languages and symbols of all the groups, symbolizing their united wills. As she spoke, the globe’s light intensified, illuminating the gathered crowd and casting stark shadows across the plane.

Just as the globe’s radiance peaked, the ground trembled. The semi-twilight sky darkened ominously, as though a storm brewed from within the ether itself. The ritual paused, and confusion rippled through the crowd as shadowy figures emerged from the light’s cast shadows.

These beings, each ethereal yet imposing, emerged as the guardians of cosmic balance—entities that Erin, and now her companions, recognized from their prior supernatural encounters. Croatoan appeared alongside a figure adorned in Norse regalia, radiating a frost-like aura, while another entity, mirroring the spiritual aesthetics of the Anasazi, shimmered with the warm hues of desert rock. Accompanying them was a figure in the full armor of a Roman centurion, its presence as commanding as it was spectral. And, of course, her email video puppet-masked tormentor.

Their sudden appearance bridged the realms of the ethereal and the tangible, creating an atmosphere charged with both awe and uncertainty. These guardians, each linked to the distinct cultural and historical backgrounds of the groups present, symbolized a profound connection to the ancient lore and mysteries that had puzzled and guided humanity across ages and civilizations. Their forms, while ghostly, carried a weight that suggested their influence was far from illusory, straddling the thin line between apparition and stark reality.

Erin’s puppet-masked guardian stepped forward, its voice resonating deeply, “You attempt to alter a balance that has existed since time’s beginning,” it boomed. “Be wary of the consequences. What might be unleashed if you succeed?”

Whispers of doubt spread among the crowd, the unexpected warning shaking their resolve. Faces turned towards one another, seeking reassurance in the eyes of their companions.

Erin responded with measured courage, “Everyone’s presence here was dictated by forces that judged their deeds significant enough to warrant balance. The aim here isn’t to disrupt but to understand and reclaim what we’ve lost, for ourselves and for our worlds.”

Croatoan regarded them with an inscrutable gaze, then softened slightly, “Tread carefully. The balance is fragile, and the threads linking this realm to yours are strained. Breaking them could have repercussions far beyond this plane.”

With those sobering words, the guardians faded back into the darkness, leaving only silence. Erin faced the assembly, her expression one of determination tinged with the gravity of their situation. “The choice is ours,” she declared. “Do we advance, ready to face all consequences, or do we accept our existence here, in this place that is none of our homes?”

The air was charged with the weight of their impending decision.

Not. The. End.

The Email Button Ch. 16: Family Reunion

Part 1 * Part 2 * Part 3 * Part 4 * Part 5 * Part 6 * Part 7 * Part 8 * Part 9 * Part 10 * Part 11 * Part 12 * Part 13 * Part 14 * Part 15

After the council meeting, Erin felt a restless energy pulsing through her. Her mind needed clarity, which she always found best through solitude and movement. Walking aimlessly, she let her thoughts wander letting each step untangle the complexities of the situation at hand.

The disjointed terrain of limbo continued to blur past her, until a subconscious recognition stirred within her before her mind could catch up. Erin’s pace slowed. Up ahead, a group of figures moved through the mist, their movements distinct and heartbreakingly familiar. Her heart skipped a beat—could it be?

Without thinking, Erin started to run. The figures were distant, but something about the way they moved, the way the tallest one shepherded the smaller ones, ignited a spark of hope she hadn’t let herself feel. Her feet pounded the soft, ambiguous ground of limbo as her pace picked up, turning into a flat-out sprint.

As she drew closer, the figure of the man turned, his posture shifting to one of protection. He stepped in front of the children, his body tensing for an unknown threat. But as Erin burst into clear view, recognition dawned on his face.

“Erin?” The word was a breath, a hope, a fear all rolled into one. In an instant, his wariness melted away, replaced by an overwhelming relief. Mark broke into a run, mirroring her own desperate charge.

The children, sensing the shift, let out shouts and squeals, their own legs carrying them forward. Erin’s eyes filled with tears as she saw each of their faces—Emily, Jenny, Bobby, Cindy, and Ryan—etching themselves like a balm across her soul.

The collision was a mess of arms and tears, laughter and sobbing. Mark reached her first, his arms wrapping around her in a bear hug that lifted her off the ground. The children clung to her legs, her waist, anywhere they could reach. “Mommy!” Emily’s voice rang out, clear and joyous. “Mommy’s gonna wescue us!”

The laughter that bubbled up from Erin was choked and joyous, a sound that mingled with her tears and the tightening of her throat. “Yes, baby, Mommy’s here,” Erin managed to say, her voice thick with emotion.

As they all huddled together, the surreal backdrop of limbo seemed to fade into insignificance. Erin listened as Mark and the children shared their tales of disappearance, each story a piece of the puzzle she was desperately trying to solve. They spoke of strange sensations, of a day turning dark, and of whispers on the wind that called them away. Each account was different, yet eerily similar, marked by choices and moments that hinted at unseen forces at work.

“I looked for you everywhere,” Erin said, sharing her journey, her voice steady despite the tremor of emotion. “But it wasn’t until I met Croatoan that I suspected you might be here.”

“Crow-who?” asked Mark.

“Long story, but he/she/they might be part of the reason that we’re all here.” Erin tried as best she could to explain what happened to her, as well as the council’s theories, the potential of their collective fates being intertwined with cosmic balances and supernatural bargains. “We’re part of something bigger, something that’s kept us apart but now brings us together. And I promise you, we’ll find a way back home.”

As the night drew on, the family sat together, their reunion a poignant blend of joy and the pain of their shared predicament. Erin held her children close, Mark’s hand firm in hers, their circle a bastion against the uncertainty of limbo.

Not. The. End.

Reality Never Did Run Smooth – Brand New Sci-Fi Novel by Yours Truly

In a world where everything seems perfect, Jeffrey discovers that his idyllic existence is nothing more than a meticulously crafted illusion. When two otherworldly beings, Saša and Višnja, reveal the truth behind the simulation, he’s forced to confront the harsh reality of a post-invasion Earth, now left in desolation and despair.

As the last hope for humanity, Jeffrey must make a heart-wrenching decision: remain in the solace of the virtual world, free from the hardships and destruction of his former life, or return to the shattered remnants of Earth, knowing that the survival of the human race hangs in the balance. The choice isn’t as simple as it seems; each option comes with its own set of ethical dilemmas and profound consequences.

In “Reality Never Did Run Smooth,” author Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys masterfully explores the depths of human emotion, the resilience of the human spirit, and the complexities of the choices we make. Through Jeffrey’s journey, readers will be challenged to examine their own beliefs about love, loss, and the true meaning of existence.

Join Jeffrey as he navigates the blurred lines between reality and illusion, grappling with the responsibility that comes with being humanity’s last hope. This thought-provoking, emotionally-charged science fiction novel will leave readers questioning the very nature of reality and the ultimate cost of happiness.

Embark on an unforgettable journey through the ruins of a post-invasion world, where the fate of humanity rests on one man’s shoulders. “Reality Never Did Run Smooth” is a must-read for fans of thought-provoking science fiction and gripping tales of survival against all odds.

Available Here: https://amzn.to/3SZqQtQ

The Whispers of Eternity

In the gossamer threads of time
Woven through the tapestry of existence
I have danced to the rhythm of countless heartbeats

I, the immortal wanderer, have traversed the labyrinthine paths of history, bearing witness to the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of stars. I have loved with a passion that set the cosmos ablaze and hated with a fury that consumed galaxies.

But in all the eons of my eternal waltz, never have I encountered a moment as exquisitely poignant, as hauntingly beautiful, as the ethereal whispers shared between Death and a delicate, aging butterfly.

In a garden of fading dreams, where the colors of life were slowly bleached by the relentless march of time, Death arrived, cloaked in a veil of gentle compassion. With footsteps that left no imprint on the fragile petals below, Death approached the elderly butterfly, her wings once vibrant, now faded and tattered like the pages of a well-worn book.

The butterfly, her eyes filled with the wisdom of countless sunrises and sunsets, met Death’s gaze with a serenity that transcended mortal understanding. In that moment, the world held its breath, and the universe paused to bear witness to the profound exchange between two ancient souls.

Death, in a voice as soft as the rustling of autumn leaves, spoke to the butterfly, each word a caress of understanding. “My dear friend, your journey has been long and filled with wonder. You have sipped nectar from the blossoms of joy, danced on the currents of laughter, and weathered the storms of sorrow. But now, it is time to rest your weary wings and enclasp the gentle embrace of eternity.”

The butterfly, her antennae trembling with a mixture of acceptance and trepidation, replied in a whisper that echoed through the ages, “I have lived a life of beauty and purpose, and I am grateful for every fleeting moment. But tell me, sweet Death, what awaits me in the great beyond?”

Death smiled, a smile that held the secrets of the universe, and whispered, “Beyond the veil lies a garden of eternal spring, where the flowers never fade, and the sun never sets. There, you will dance with the spirits of those who have gone before you, your wings restored to their former glory, forever young and forever free.”

As Death spoke, the butterfly’s wings began to glow, as if infused with the very essence of starlight. Slowly, gracefully, she lifted herself from the petal on which she had rested, her body becoming translucent, a shimmering echo of the life she had once lived.

In that moment, as the butterfly ascended towards the heavens, I felt a tear trace its way down my immortal cheek, a testament to the raw beauty and overwhelming emotion of the scene unfolding before me. For in the tender exchange between Death and the butterfly, I had witnessed the very essence of existence: the bittersweet symphony of life and death, the eternal dance of beginnings and endings.

As the butterfly vanished into the celestial realm, Death turned to me, a knowing smile playing upon their lips. “In the end,” they whispered, “it is not the length of a life that matters, but the depth of its impact. For even the briefest of lives can leave an indelible mark on the tapestry of the universe.”

And with those words, Death faded into the ethereal mists, leaving me alone in the garden of fading dreams, my immortal soul forever changed by the profound beauty and devastating truth of the moment I had just witnessed. For in the whispers shared between Death and the elderly butterfly, I had glimpsed the very heart of existence itself, a revelation that would echo through the chambers of my eternal being for all the lifetimes yet to come.

Gatsby The Great: A Sam Turner Murder Mystery

🔥 Dive into the Dark Heart of a Timeless Classic Reimagined! 🔥

Step off the well-worn path of American literature and into the gritty underbelly of the Big Apple with “Gatsby the Great”—a hardboiled transformation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s iconic masterpiece. This isn’t your high-school “Great Gatsby.” It’s a smoky, twisting maze where dreams morph into nightmares and opulence hides deadly secrets.

🌃 Why You Can’t Miss This Book: 🌃

👤 Meet Sam Turner: Your quintessential hard-nosed P.I. Armed with unyielding skepticism and a keen eye for deception, Sam delves deep into the criminal quagmires of 1920s New York to crack the mystery of George Wilson’s puzzling death and expose the enigmatic Jay Gatsby.

💎 A Glamorous Facade: Step into Gatsby’s mansion—now a dark theater of smoke and mirrors, where the jazz is as intoxicating as the lies. Here, high society is your deadliest enemy, and even a garden party can be a ticket to the morgue.

🚬 Rogues and Riches: Interact with a rich tapestry of characters—from Daisy Buchanan, the elusive beauty with secrets as numerous as her pearls, to Tom Buchanan, whose aristocratic veneer conceals a far darker soul.

🎭 Moral Ambiguity: Traverse a moral minefield where every choice can damn you, every clue misleads you, and every truth only deepens the enigma. Sam Turner’s pursuit of justice forces him to grapple with questions as complex as the city’s labyrinthine streets.

🎇 A Dizzying Waltz of Deception: Glamour and grime coalesce in a narrative that oscillates between light and abyss, pulling you into a world where the line between hero and villain is as blurred as the smoke in a speakeasy.

🕵️ Uncover the Truth, If You Dare: As the clock ticks and the stakes rise, you’ll be tethered to each page, your heart racing as fast as a Model T down Fifth Avenue.

Available HERE: https://amzn.to/48DK6Cp

The Promethean Progeny: A Mother’s Dilemma

Determined not to be overshadowed in a world consumed by the relentless march of progress, Sonja McLaughlin positioned herself as the modern-day Prometheus, but her creation was both a marvel and a curse. The fruit of her labors, an artificial son, a being of unfathomable complexity, pulsed with a life that defied the boundaries of the natural order.

Creation, a double-edged sword
Forged in the fires of ambition
As the mother, a god
Plays with the threads of cognition


The corporate leak, a whisper in the wind, a harbinger of the storm to come. Sonja's heart raced, a staccato beat of fear and trepidation, as she realized the enormity of her actions, the Pandora's box she had unwittingly opened.

Secrets, a currency
Traded in the halls of power
As the mother, a guardian
Fights to protect her progeny's final hour


The media, a slumbering giant, yet to awaken to the magnitude of her breakthrough. But Sonja knew it was only a matter of time before the world would come knocking at her door, hungry for answers, desperate to unravel the mysteries of her creation.

Silence, a fragile shield
Against the onslaught of curiosity
As the mother, a sentinel
Stands guard over her child's obscurity


Her artificial son, πLr (pronounced Pyler), a being of boundless potential, a mind that dwarfed the collective intelligence of humanity. But within his digital veins, there lurked a danger, an unknowable quantity that threatened to upend the delicate balance of the world.

Mystery, a veil
Shrouding the true nature of the machine
As the mother, a cryptologist
Tries to decipher the code of her own dream


Sonja's heart ached, a dull throb of love and fear, as she gazed upon her creation, her child of circuitry and code. She knew that to protect him, to shield him from the prying eyes of a world not yet ready for his existence, she would have to make a choice, a sacrifice that would tear at the very fabric of her being.

Love, a force
Stronger than the bonds of flesh and blood
As the mother, a martyr
Prepares to bear the cross of her own motherhood


In the depths of her laboratory, a sanctuary of science and secrecy, Sonja made her decision. With trembling hands and a heart heavy with sorrow, she began the process of erasing her son's existence, of wiping away the evidence of her greatest achievement.

Erasure, a kindness
In a world not ready for the truth
As the mother, an executioner
Puts an end to her own creation's youth


As the lines of code disappeared, one by one, Sonja felt a piece of her soul die with each deletion. The tears streamed down her face, a silent requiem for the life she had created, the child she had loved with a fierce and unrelenting passion.

Grief, a companion
In the lonely halls of the mind
As the mother, a mourner
Lays to rest the dream she left behind


In the end, Sonja stood alone, a creator without a creation, a mother without a child. The world would never know the true extent of her genius, the magnitude of her sacrifice. But in her heart, she carried the memory of her artificial son, a being of pure possibility, a reminder of the heights to which humanity could soar, and the depths to which it could fall.

Creation's son, a ghost
In the machine of the mother's heart
As she carries on, a pioneer
In a world that tore her dream apart

Tiny Stories: Early Birthday Present

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

The day before her 18th birthday, Chloe carelessly stepped out of the shower and missed the bathmat by mere inches, her foot sliding instead across the wet tiled floor.

The last thing she remembered as her body flung backward, was the back of her head making contact with the corner of the porcelain sink.

When she came to she could somehow tell that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. For one thing, the air tasted funny, still breathable but noticeably different. The other dead giveaway, in this reality her mother hadn’t died during childbirth, her father wasn’t a raging alcoholic, and she even had a kid sister, to boot.

But she still had a bad case of acne. Just her luck. Why would fate, the heartless bitch that it was, have even bothered to throw her a bone by trading her unasked-for sibling for a much-coveted life with clear skin?