Neapolitan Sky

What are you reading this weekend? For a limited time, you can get my new suspense/thriller for just $1.99 on Amazon Kindle.

Dreams of becoming a professional writer are abruptly put on hold for college student Nica Mitchell following the unexpected death of her mother and her father’s cancer diagnosis. Forced to return home when he’s hospitalized after encountering a near death experience, Nica learns that her father has been keeping a dark secret. Something in between the stages of life and death that, when revealed, will change her life forever.

Five-Star Amazon Reviews: 

“Don’t be taken in by the serene title, suggestive of an Italianate summer sojourn (which I theorize pays homage to a haunting Avett Brothers tune). Nothing is as it seems; so don’t plan on getting comfortable, or settling in. Just when you think you can anticipate what comes next, because you detect some familiar Serling-esque patterns in character development, this gifted writer repeatedly surprises and refreshes with equal portions of rapid-fire suspense and unforeseen plot twists.”

“It’s hard to believe that James Wood was able to tell a story with so many twists, turns and somersaults in 151 pages. No fluff, just a well-told tale that takes you to places that will blow you away. A perfect book for a beach weekend.”

“AMAZING! I connected to the characters immediately. I would have to say by far one of the best novellas I have ever read. Once I started, I had to finish. Would recommend to everyone!”

“I totally enjoyed reading “Neapolitan Sky”. With colorful and vivid descriptions James brought his characters to life. From beginning to end the suspense builds until the unexpected ending.”

Click here for more information and to order.

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Under A Neapolitan Sky

I am super-excited about the release of my new novella, “Neapolitan Sky”.  Right now, it’s going through a second round of test readers and the plan is to have a final edit done prior to publishing, which as it stands now appears to be in early spring.

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I’d like to use these next few articles to share with you more details about the book that will hopefully pique your interest. First, I should mention that a novella is about half the size of your traditional novel. Some of the all-time great novellas include “Animal Farm,” “Of Mice And Men,” “The Old Man And The Sea” and “A Christmas Carol”.  I’m in no way putting my book in the company of those classics, but if you’ve read any of them as part of your high school English class, or even for your own enjoyment, you’ll have an idea as to length of my story, which right now is 155 pages.

“Neapolitan Sky” is a thriller about a girl named Nica Mitchell; a college student with dreams of becoming a professional writer. Nica is forced to return home when her ailing father is hospitalized after suffering a near-death experience while receiving cancer treatment. While there, Nica learns about what happened to her father during those precious moments in between life and death. It’s a haunting secret that will change her world forever.

Interested? Please, read on!

The next thing I’d like to discuss is what actually inspired “Neapolitan Sky”. I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing hundreds of artists, musicians and actors over the last five years, and the idea for writing this story actually came about as a result of an interview I’d done with the amazing actress, Fiona Dourif, in the Summer of 2017.

For those who aren’t aware, Fiona’s father is Brad Dourif, whose film credits include “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest,” “Eyes of Laura Mars” and “The Lord of The Rings” among many others. He’s perhaps best known for being the voice of Chucky in the “Child’s Play” films, which has also featured Fiona in the last two installments.

Since Brad only plays the voice of the doll, Fiona hasn’t really had a chance to work face to face with her father on screen. So, one of my questions was to ask if she’d ever be interested in working with him in a role outside of “Chucky”, even if it was in a short film.

I remember her exact words to me were, “Absolutely! You write it. Let’s do it!”

Although I realized such a thing would most likely never happen, it nonetheless led me to write a story about a father and his daughter, using Fiona and Brad as inspiration for the main characters–and with that, “Neapolitan Sky” was born.

I hope you’ll stick around to learn more about the story in the days and weeks ahead. For me as a writer, it doesn’t get much better than this!

FionaBradFiona Dourif photo by Ryan West

‘A Different Life’: Author Rhonda Nelson Talks New Book On Life With Little River Band

What’s it like to grow up as a small town Southern girl and marry a rock star, and then discover you have to share the love of your life with the band and thousands of their fans? That’s exactly what happened to Rhonda Nelson, whose husband Wayne Nelson, is the lead singer and bassist for the legendary Little River Band.

Together, Rhonda and Wayne have built a solid foundation of love while traveled across the U.S. Sharing a love of classic rock as well as seeking out their favorite wineries and socializing with new and old friends alike.

In her uniquely interesting new book, “A Different Life”, Rhonda pulls back the curtain on celebrity life. Offering readers a chance to hear stories and enjoy treasured family recipes and photos while experiencing all things pertaining to life on the road.

“A Different Life” is not a scathing tell all or a collection of recipes. It’s the story of one woman’s journey with an iconic band that’s sold more than thirty million albums over the course of their four-decade career, and one told from the heart.

I recently spoke with Rhonda Nelson about “A Different Life” and more in this exclusive new interview.

What made you decide to write “A Different Life”?

About two years ago, I wanted to start a blog, just writing about our life on the road. Then as I started working on it, the idea came about doing a book. I thought it would be a cool way for people to see some of the back things that we do. I think that when your name is attached to a band, people can sometimes get the wrong perception and think that it’s always glamorous and that you live inside of this bubble, but that’s not really the case. I wanted people to see that we share the same highs and lows that everyone else does.

What was the writing process like?

As I got to meet other authors and talk to people about writing, I realized that the way I did it was not the way most people do. I didn’t dedicate a certain amount of time each day to write. As I dug through old photos and memorabilia, stories would come back to me. The other interesting thing about the process was that no one really knew what to expect. It was never meant to be a tell all. It was meant to be something that people would enjoy about Little River Band and something they would have to treasure. 

Was cooking something you always intended to include as part of the book?

Cooking has always been a big passion of mine and I pride myself in what I do with it. Originally (and unrelated to the band), I had intended to write a cookbook, but then I realized I wasn’t a trained chef. So I thought I’d revisit that book a little bit down the road. But as I was doing this book, I realized there was a common denominator, which was food and beverage. That’s when I decided to give it a bit of a twist and throw that in as well.

What’s the toughest part about being married to a working musician?

In the beginning it was hard because I wasn’t used to the band being gone for three or four weeks at a stretch, and one of the things I really had to teach myself to work on was trust. All relationships require that but if you’re living this kind of life and you’re always questioning things it will eat your relationship alive. You’ve got to know that you’re on a firm foundation and believe in that.

What’s been the most rewarding part?

The best thing that’s come from it, and especially over the last four years or so, was when Wayne and I decided on an avenue to give back, and that avenue is Little River Band and LRB music. There are organizations all over the country we feel strongly about, and we support them by doing concerts or helping them organize their fundraisers. It’s been an awesome thing to do and we’ve been so blessed to be able to give back.

Was there anything you learned about yourself in writing “A Different Life”?

For me, it really was realizing that no matter how much you doubt about what your dream is, just continue to push and you can make it happen. I can’t tell you how many times I’d say to myself, “What am I doing writing a book? People will think it’s ridiculous.” But then I’d say, “So what?” It was a goal I had and something I wanted to do and be proud of. That was the biggest thing I walked away with.

Are there any other projects you’re currently working on?

Last December, myself and some of the guys went out and did a “writers in the round” type of event where the guys played songs acoustically and I tell stories from the book. Right now, we’re working on putting another run together for December of this year. Wayne and I are also working on a similar motivational project about overcoming what life has dealt you and how to persevere and believe in yourself.

Is there a message you’d like readers to take away from reading “A Different Life”?

It all goes back to my reasons for wanting to write a book. I want people to know that we are real and experience the same highs and lows as everyone else. Whenever we meet you, we really listen to your stories. They resonate with us and touch our hearts. The other part; as you can tell when you read the stories, is that this is a path to the next project. Don’t give up on your goals and dreams. Just keep pushing through and live the life that you love. That’s the message I want people to take from it.

www.rhondaraves.com

For more on Little River Band: www.littleriverband.com

New James Hetfield Biography: An Interview with Author Mark Eglinton

Mark Eglinton’s So Let It Be Written: The Biography of Metallica’s James Hetfield is the first biography of a living member of Metallica.

In the book, which will hit shelves April 11 via Lesser Gods, Eglinton uses exclusive, firsthand interviews with artists and celebrities who have crossed paths with the guitarist, including other members of Metallica, Testament’s Chuck Billy (who wrote the book’s foreword), Charlie Benante (Anthrax), Jerry Cantrell (Alice In Chains) and Rex Brown (Pantera), to construct the definitive account of Hetfield—at least up to this point.

Before becoming one of metal’s biggest personalities, Hetfield overcame several barriers throughout his adolescence, including his parents’ divorce, his mother’s death and severe alcoholism. Eglinton’s book provides the ultimate insider’s look at the man who turned it all around and became a metal god.

I recently spoke to Eglinton about So Let It Be Written, and you can check out our interview below. For more about Eglinton, visit mark-eglinton.com.

What made you decide to write a biography about Hetfield?

I’ve been a fan of the band my whole life, and this idea probably goes back to when I met James for the first time in 1986. I met James and Cliff Burton when Metallica played in my hometown, Edinburgh, Scotland. This was the week before Cliff died, so in retrospect, it was a pretty significant meeting.

James struck me as someone who had a lot of thinking going on but maybe didn’t know how to express it. As time went on, it became an interesting idea to see how he had evolved. On a basic level, it also surprised me that no biography had ever been written about him. Those two things in combination made it a pretty easy decision.

What made the music of Metallica so special for you back then?

I was into a lot of the bands that were around at that time—1984 to ’86—but was looking for something a bit heavier. When I heard Metallica for the first time, it was like inventing the wheel. It was a sound that was so different, so new and so aggressive. It wasn’t radically different from heavy metal but it was being done in a way that no one had ever done before. They’ve always maintained that interest for me.

Read the rest of my
Interview with Mark Eglinton by Clicking Here!

‘Disappearance At Devil’s Rock’: Author Paul Tremblay Discusses His New Emotional Thrill Ride

DrockFollowing the success of his psychological thriller, “A Head Full of Ghosts”, author Paul Tremblay spent most of the summer of 2014 trying to figure out what his next book would be about. He began by asking himself the same question most horror writers do – “What scares me?”

Tremblay eventually found the answer to his question while spending time in the woods near his home. The result would become his page-turning thrill ride, “Disappearance at Devil’s Rock”.

Although its title may conjure up images of 1970’s Hardy Boys mysteries, this is a 21st century tale of fear and intrigue. Elizabeth Sanderson gets the call in the middle of the night that all parent’s dread. Her son, Tommy is at a sleep over at a park when Tommy suddenly wanders off and disappears.

The supernatural element and emotional struggles of the family and neighbors in their desperate attempt to find Tommy make “Disappearance at Devil’s Rock” one of the highlight reads of summer.

Tremblay is no stranger to accolades. His previous book, “A Head Full of Ghosts” was recently awarded The Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a Novel. It was also optioned for the big screen by Focus Features and has even received praise by the master of horror himself, Stephen King. A U.K. version of “A Head Full of Ghosts” will be available in late September.

I recently spoke with Paul Tremblay about the new book and more in this exclusive interview.

Where did the idea for “Disappearance at Devil’s Rock” begin?

I started by asking myself the question, “Of all the things that scare me now, which one scares me the most?” As a parent myself, the obvious answer would have to be to have one of your children go missing. Then I started thinking about Borderland State Park. It features prominently in the book and is a real place I used to hike in all the time. I decided to put those two things together, and make one of my favorite places kind of creepy.

Can you tell me a little about your writing process? Are you a plotter or a pantser?

I’ve done both. With “A Head Full of Ghosts” I did a lot of plotting and pantsing. For this one, I started by doing a sixteen-page summary that took quite a bit of time to complete. I learned a lot about structural work as I prepared for the story; right from the beginning and through the whole process of writing. The first draft took about eleven months to complete. When I first finished, it was by far the longest thing I had ever written.

Did you have to do much research in preparation to write?

My son was actually my Minecraft expert. Both he and my daughter grew up playing the game. I didn’t know a whole lot about Snapchat, and most of that research was done online and figuring out what police would be able to get from it. There’s this idea of how using social media makes us safe and closer than we actually are. I decided to use it to make it harder to find Tommy.

PaulTremblay

Do you have a set daily goal of time or words in mind when you sit down to write?

I usually don’t set a time when I’m working a project but I do try to set a goal of 500 words a day—and that could be in the morning, afternoon or night. I always try to fit it in but also give myself permission to miss that mark. More times than not, I’ll make those 500 and some days will even surpass that.

Did you encounter any challenges while writing “Disappearance at Devil’s Rock”?

This book took me out of my comfort zone a little bit. All of my previous novels were done in first person point of view. This one was third person jumping around to different characters. It’s good to push yourself as a writer and continue to get better.

What’s the best bit of advice you can give to aspiring writers?

For someone starting out the biggest thing is read…read… read! If you want to be a writer, you can’t sacrifice anything else for reading. Also, give yourself a reason to be patient. If the first book doesn’t sell, use that process to stick with it. You’ll learn a lot as a writer from being rejected and from listening to what editors say. Take their comments about your work and use it to get better!

You’ve recently won The Bram Stoker award and Stephen King has even mentioned how much he loves your work. As a writer, when comes to mind when you think about those things?

 It’s very affirming and humbling. I actually started writing because of Stephen King. So getting accolades from one of my heroes tells me that the work has paid off. Winning an award by a horror association is also one of the highlights of my professional life and something I’ll never take for granted.

What would you like people to take away from reading “Disappearance at Devil’s Rock”?

I don’t want to add to the culture of fear and have people be freaked out and afraid for their children. But I’d really like for people to come away feeling empathy for all of the characters –even the ones that don’t do good things. As a writer, that’s important to me. Readers don’t always have to feel sympathy for the characters but they should understand the decisions that they make and why they do what they do.

Lita Ford Talks New Memoir, ‘Living Like a Runaway’

LitaBookLita Ford’s new memoir, Living Like a Runaway, is jam packed with stories of a truly eventful—and impressive—rock and roll life.

In the autobiography, Ford details her years as a teenager with the Runaways, getting caught with a young Eddie Van Halen in a bathroom, her battles with management and trysts with guys like Nikki Sixx, Tony Iommi, Ritchie Blackmore and Glenn Tipton.

She even devotes ample space to her turbulent marriage and how she subsequently lost access to her sons through parental alienation. Simply put, Living Like a Runaway is a story of life and love from the reigning Queen of Metal.

I recently spoke with Ford about the book and her new album, Time Capsule, which is a collection of previouly unreleased material from the Eighties. You can check out our full interview below.

What made you decide to write a book at this stage of your career?

I really wanted to tell my story. As a female in the music industry—a man’s world—trying to become successful, I wanted to document it, and I wanted to be able to leave something behind so people would know what was going on inside of my life. The hurdles I had to jump and the things I had to do to be where I’m at today and to hopefully carve a path for others.

What was the writing process like?

At first, it was difficult trying to get a co-writer who could follow me. Because there’s so much crammed into my life, it was sometimes hard for me to get the point across. But I didn’t want the book to come out in any other shape or form. It had to be true and it had to be real…and we did it.

You can read the rest of my
gw_logoInterview with Lita Ford by Clicking Here!

The Aperature

Aperatureap·er·ture  (noun):
1. an opening, hole, or gap.
2. a space through which light passes in an optical or photographic instrument, especially the variable opening by which light enters a camera.

***

It was underneath the smell of cut grass and gasoline that I first noticed the hole. A medium-sized perforation about the size of a tennis ball that was sticking out like a pockmark on the face of my freshly manicured lawn.

On first glance I estimated its size to be approximately three-inches wide by four-inches deep. A perfectly shaped cylinder unlike any of the typical oblong-shaped chasms that are dug by man. On the contrary, I was certain this particular hole was delivered by one of the masters of dirt and dig – a varmint. The enemy of perfectionist yard enthusiasts everywhere.

Now, I’ve always prided myself in keeping a tidy yard and have been mowing my one-third of an acre plot religiously every Saturday morning during the mowing season. Always making a point to follow-up the proper mow with a good trimming around the base perimeter of the fence line as well as going the extra mile to get every rogue dandelion that curiously survives the spraying by the professional weed service I pay top dollar to in order to make my lawn the envy of the neighborhood.

And now — there’s a freaking hole in it.

For the last twenty years mowing the grass has been the only thing that has really given me any sort of happiness. During that same span of time the long, blondish lawn on my own head has disappeared and the chiseled abs I once had have succumbed to the inevitable phenomenon I like to call age mass. I’ve been in and out of jobs over the years, habitually single and even survived a bout with colon cancer at the tender age of thirty-six. For the most part you could say that my life has been pretty much status quo.

But I wasn’t always the lawn-loving, bald, thick in the middle-man you see here before you. At one point in my life I actually had dreams. Dreams of becoming the next Edward Van Halen as guitarist for the hair metal band, Silent Rage.

You’ve heard of us, right?

Don’t worry. I won’t shed a tear if you haven’t. But I will say that Silent Rage was one of the 80s most well-known hard rock groups. I mean, we played gigs everywhere from Maine to South Florida; opening for bands like Winger, KIX and Heaven’s Edge. We even had a showcase for the Adverse City Records honchos in New York City, who promised us a two-album recording deal in early 1991.

Yep, the world was going to be our oyster. That is until Kurt Cobain, Alice in Chains and the rest of those Seattle grunge lunatics shot that dream to hell. Forcing the band to dissolve and me to have to sell off most of my gear and take on the first of countless jobs just to make ends meet. Eventually leading to the middle-aged conundrum I now find myself in.

In a world where age, health and hair have forsaken me, mowing the lawn is the only thing I have any sort of control over. So you’ll have to excuse me if I get a little upset when a rabbit or groundhog comes into my inner sanctum and decides to dig a hole.

How did I not notice this obtrusive hole while I was mowing, you ask? Good question. I pondered the same thing myself. Surely I would have seen a tennis ball sized hole as I was making passes over it with the lawn mower, yet I must have somehow overlooked it.

But what made the whole thing even stranger was the fact that there was no dug-up loose dirt in the area surrounding the hole. In fact, the earth near the hole was hard packed and completely dry. Giving every indication that the hole had actually been there for a long, long time.

Now, I may be forty-five years old and been diagnosed with presbyopia at my last eye doctor visit, but even I would have noticed a blatant hole sticking out like a sore thumb several weeks into the mowing season. I decided to kneel down to get a closer look at the intruder’s work, hoping to find a clue as to what brand of rodent had been infiltrating my land.

As I started moving loose grass clippings out of the way a drop of sweat slipped off of my brow and fell into the hole. There, beneath the warm June sky something began shining out of its depth. At first I thought it might be a quarter or some small piece of glass or stone reflecting off the hot summer sun. Instead, it turned out to be nothing material at all.

It was a beam of light. A light shining out from somewhere within the hole. It was almost as if someone was on the other side of the hole shining a flashlight outward and into my eyes.

A lump began to develop in my throat and I actually felt my heart skip a beat. I’ll be honest with you here. I seriously gave consideration to making a run for it. Something about this whole thing just didn’t seem right. But instead of running, I decided to do what only a fool would do. I laid down flat on my stomach and peered my eye right inside that cantankerous hole.

Screw you, Alice in Wonderland.

What I felt when I first looked into the hole was reminiscent of a pirate who had been lost at sea for months. A pirate who would spend most of the day peeping through his spyglass in a vain search to find land but only finding endless sea. Until one day, just as he’s about to run out of food and water, he discovers the thing he had been searching for. The only thing that mattered.

As I looked down into the hole I could see a white-colored, cloudy canvas. Like I was flying through a sea of cumulus clouds, with edges clean and soft. A canvas whose brightness covered the entire spectrum of my senses and then; as if on cue, having already known of my intentions to see what lied beyond, the canvas of clouds quickly parted into some dream-state dimension

From a third-person perspective I saw myself in this surreal state just as clear as day. Only it wasn’t the forty-five year old me I saw. Instead, it was a much younger version of me, no more than twenty-one.

Nearly forty pounds from my midsection had all but disappeared and every last one of my long blond hairs had miraculously returned. The real me had a sense of confidence he hadn’t felt in a long time.

For all intents and purposes, it felt like the year 1990. Like watching some old home movie, but in the highest of definition. One where every nuance of every movement was noticeable – the sights, the sounds, the feeling. From that moment, I realized I no longer wanted to just look into the light inside of the hole. Instead, I wanted to become a part of it.

I watched from above as this younger version of me stood somberly next to his idling, green, 1976 Chevrolet Vega wagon. A dark brown suitcase sat next to the car as it sputtered in and out of stalling. I was certain that it wouldn’t be long into my trip before the car would leave me sitting on the side of the road.

Vega1

It was 1990.

The familiar sounds of Westminster Chimes began to play from the St. Agnes Church a few blocks away. I had enough time to count each chime as it signaled the hour of day.

One…two…three….four….

By the time it reached the ninth chime I had already determined that it was early morning based on the positioning of the sun in the eastern sky and by the faint sounds of another lawn mower leveling the landscape some distance away. It was also at that moment that I realized I was at West Chester University again and even more importantly, I was fully aware of what was about to happen next.

A young, attractive woman slowly approaches the vehicle. She had fair skin, a creamy complexion and the familiar long brown hair that ran down beneath her shoulders. With deep blue eyes that breathed a life in me that I’ve never felt before nor ever will again. She wore the blue denim jacket her parents had bought for her in high school, with matching jeans and scuffed up Chuck Taylor’s that have seen a lot of miles from the long walks we had taken together over the last two years. The smile she had that could light up a room was now replaced with sadness. I knew going in this was not going to be easy.

Christine is was my everything.

“Have everything you need?” Christine asked in her casual, nonchalant fashion. The faux me was already quick to answer.

“Yes. Enough to get me through to Scranton.” I said. Of course, I was lying. As Christine already knew from our many journeys in the beat-up old wagon, the Vega constantly burned oil and overheated. I figured I might only make it as far as Allentown before I’d have to stop.

“Did you get all of your paperwork complete?” she said, hoping that somehow I might have overlooked something. Something that would have delayed the inevitable.

“Uh-huh. Got the final papers from the bursar’s office yesterday. It’s all done. Turned in my keys to the resident advisor this morning, gassed up the car and here we are.”

“You know, you don’t have to do this.” Christine said solemnly. “Can’t you at least stay until the end of the semester and see what happens?”

Tears began to fill her eyes.

“ I can’t.” I said. “You know I’ve waited a long time for my music to take off. This gig up north promises shows for the next three months. Good pay too. Mike our drummer even says that it may lead us to a showcase in New York City if we’re good enough.”

There was an odd silence and then she said those same five words I still ask myself in my darkest nights.

“Are you good enough, Jim?”

Am I?

Even though I already knew the answer, at that moment someone greater than me had pressed “pause” on this supernatural VCR.

“Choose.” a voice said.

“Choose?” I asked looking at the now frozen in time Christine. I could not take my eyes off of her.

“You can change the outcome. I’ve given you the choice.” the voice responded.

“But I already know what happens” I thought to myself, now knowing that whatever voice was speaking to me could also read my mind.

“Twenty-five years ago you decided to leave college for music.” the voice responded. “You now have the chance to change it.”

“Change it?” my conscience said. Could I really sacrifice these last twenty-five years? Is it possible to get a second chance in this life?

It’s true. I did turn my back on college and Christine [who was already halfway through her second year of pre-med] in exchange for a chance to become the guitarist for Silent Rage – the next great hair metal band. But instead of staying in school to get my teaching degree, marrying Christine and living happily every after, I took my beat-up Fender Strat on the road for two years performing to semi-packed crowds before the advent of grunge destroyed me and nearly every other 80’s hard rock band that existed and ended my musical dream.

During those ensuing years Christine and I fell out of touch. I don’t know if she ever did become that doctor but I am sure that her end result was better than mine. I did try looking her up on Facebook and LinkedIn after my battle with cancer [being face to face with death has a tendency to make you want to tie up loose ends] but came up empty-handed.

“Are you good enough, Jim?” the voice asked me again.

“This isn’t that movie, ‘Groundhog Day’.” my conscience told me. “No one can really go back. You only get one life and the trick is to make the most of it.”

Sure, grunge was a setback. And I know that if I had been made that decision back in 1987 instead of 1990 things might have been completely different. But age, health, relationships, job-hopping and even that little drinking episode I had that led to a night in the drunk tank were all setbacks. But none of those things really destroyed me. They only made me who I am

“Are you good enough, Jim?”

I looked at the frozen Christine. I looked at the frozen twenty-one year old me. I looked at the idling Vega that would wind up stalling out halfway to Pottstown, leaving me stranded on the side of Route 100 for two hours. Until a friendly trucker came by and offered me a lift into town where we talked about music and The Gulf War over a six-pack of Coors Light.

What happened next I can’t explain. It was as if the dream sequence I had become immersed in had suddenly become a puddle and a huge omnipotent hand had disturbed the still water. I saw Christine and the Vega and the young me ripple away into darkness while the real me drifted off into another stream of consciousness. I woke up lying face down next to the hole on a warm bed of freshly cut grass.

As I was pulling myself up off the ground I noticed that the sun had already begun its soft descent into the deep western sky. I smiled. The light and hole that once seemed so painfully intrusive to me was now gone and in its place was a breach that no longer seemed like it was the end of the world.