About the Author
Matt Press - Storyteller
I can't remember a time when I wasn't conjuring up imaginary worlds and telling stories. I've always loved breathing life into characters and places that existed only in my head. By the age of ten I was writing fantasy stories and by the age of thirteen I was deeply involved in storytelling games, a pastime that continues to fire my imagination and keep me in good company. After growing up in South Bend, Indiana, I went off to spend my undergrad years at the University of Iowa, then I did my graduate studies at Indiana University. After that, I spent a solid decade learning about adulthood and myself and the real world. Eventually, and for more than twenty years, I came to live and work in Bloomington, Indiana, where I owned a property development company. These days, I live in Arlington, Virginia, where I dedicate my work-time to writing and the rest of my time (and heart) to my wife and two children.
May 28th, 1934:
My name is Henry Hollis and my life took a turn recently that I didn’t see coming. The easy way to say it is that I got a job offer, but that doesn't do justice to the situation. Maybe they should have told me the job would get me tangled up with mobsters and space aliens. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. Times being what they are, I took the job, and every day since has been just this side of madness.
I've met powerful men. I've been on the receiving end of death threats and bribe offers, and just yesterday, a .38 caliber slug to the leg. I've conversed with a 400-year-old child, beaten a perfectly decent man into unconsciousness at his request and been mistaken for a vengeful angel from beyond the veil. It's been quite a carnival ride, and I don't expect things to slow down any time soon.
After some reflection on the situation, I've decided to keep a journal of my experiences on this runaway train I'm riding. I have a few reasons for keeping this account of events and I can't say as yet if I'm being smart or stupid for writing it all down. Maybe this will all be nothing but a waste of good paper, but I'm following what you might call an educated hunch. I hope you'll forgive the coffee stains.