Beyond the Pale

I write fairy tales. My fantasy, horror and science fiction are all weird stories about strange entities. I have been asked why I never write anything “normal” or “real” or whatever else we call the mundane. My knowledge of history has begged the question why I never write historical fiction.

I am spiritual. I see the material for the thin veneer of reality that it is. My thoughts and feelings run deeper than its superficial layer. My fantasies are not whimsical. My stories and their characters are all about reality.

The soul is first and foremost in all my thoughts. Who we are before we act and what we become afterwards are all that matters.

The humans in my stories are always foolish weaklings. Most of them are nonentities who languish or perish for being witless and helpless. The few who are bold in their foolishness and resourceful in their weakness are the relevant characters. These few may die and even suffer an inglorious death but never are they tossed onto the pile of the irrelevant many.

The strange characters in my stories are either corrupted humans, not entirely human or simply not human. They are typically stronger, tougher, faster and smarter than humans. They slaughter our nonentities with ease and impunity. Only those of us beyond our paltry sum of being mortal and only human can hope to best them.

The soul, not our feral and temporal meat, is our humanity. Our imagination, not our intellect, is what enables us to see and act beyond the pale. I write fairy tales because anything less is rambling in vain.

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