Friday, August 25, 2017

Skro ~ an interview and his novel ~ Sonspot


TITLE: Sonspot
RELEASE DATE: March 15, 2017
CATEGORIES: Fantasy/Adventure
ISBN: 978-1543108477
IMPRINT: Devil’s Tower

Skro is a pseudonym.. but an actual being that was wrangled in from some faraway place, deep within the caverns of imagination. His mortal self lives in the outskirts of Atlantic City, New Jersey. He was born in 1989. Sonspot is his first novel. He loves everybody; no exception.. because we all emanate from the same source, and all eventually find our way back there; no exceptions.


Q: Tell me something you would like your readers (fans) to know about you.
A: I don’t care what you’ve done, that’s between you and your conscious. I love you.

Q: What kind of music do you listen to? Do you have an all time favorite song?
A: Definitely a metal head, but classical music can take me home at any moment. I have a lot of favorite songs, but there’s this one song by The Devil Wears Prada, Assistant to the Regional Manager that’s sticking out. Also, Sailor’s Prayer by them. But then anything by A Day to Remember… I may be a dude but I have the enthusiasm of a ‘fan girl’.

Q: If your life were a movie would it be considered an action film, comedy, drama, romance, fantasy or a combination?
A: Fantasy action with insane bouts of comedy. But then where’s the horror? Because horror… there’s just something about horror that gets me. It’s that feeling of; ‘I have no clue what the heck is going on. Am I dreaming awake? OMG, is this permanent?’

Q: Dress up or dress down?
A: I’m basically a beach bum, but I do like it when I’m dressed up and about whatever occasion I’m going to… What’s naked and rolling around in soft grass considered? Dressed up? Down? Just pure joy to me.

Q: How do you feel about exercise?
A: Our minds may be the gateways to free our spirits, but the body can trap us if we don’t give it the stimulation it requires. Apathy may be the worst evil of them all. But then going overboard can be just as bad. It’s that golden range, just like everything else.


Q: Where do you get your ideas?
A: The only place they come from… imagination. Without it, we’re nothing but analytical computers with no joy. Ahhhhh! What a dreadful existence without joy! That’s death. And not that good and honorable death that gets you into Valhalla, but that death that’s akin to waiting in line at a busy supermarket and you let out a nuclear fart with five people ahead of you. Actually, at that point, I’d claim it and laugh.

Q: What do you think is the hardest part of writing a book?
A: Editing. Plain and simple.

Q: What is your favorite part of writing?
A: The rawest most crude draft, full of typos, mistakes and the MAGIC!

Q: Would you ever consider a joint project?
A: Absolutely. The energy involved during the manifestation of a project like that is transcendent. Too hippy? Who cares? Even a group project would be awesome! There’s something ‘extra’ involved when more than one person can be all in on an idea, really bringing it to life in those extra dimensions. (come on, you know what I’m talking about, you hippies out there) 😊


Q: What are you working on now? Would you like to share anything about it?
A: Got into witting scripts, and at the moment, turning Sonspot into something for the screen. And I’m also working on the third book for the Sonspot Series. A-a-nd a couple comics.

Q: Do you have a new book coming out soon? Tell us about it.
A: Lighthouse! It’s the sequel to Sonspot, though it can be read by itself and understood. It follows two best friends that are beset upon a stimulated quest to save Atlantik City from the evil, dilapidated casinos and the demons that control them. Atlantik with a ‘k’, I’m sure it’s obvious what I’m talking about. 😉
It’ll be released in July.

Q: How can we find you? Do you have a web page, FaceBook page or any buy links?
A: Yup! Here’s the links. Thank you!


KEYWORDS: Awakening, higher purpose, revelations, truth, lies, eternal awareness existence, synchronicity, brotherhood, metal music, voices, psychedelics, inter-dimensional travel, perception, madness, flow, peace, utter chaos, unbound love, pride, lust, acceptance

Mac asked for death. What he got was the complete opposite.

An apocalyptic adventure of awakening, madness, and revelation, Sonspot, is the tale of Mack—a coming of age man who is plagued by supernatural nightmares. Fed up with the depraved world he was born in, he asks for death. What he gets is the complete opposite; buried memoires of his eternal soul on the Island of Eden and the damnation that follows. With the aid of a magic gum, the mysterious divine flow unfolds before Mack and his best friend, leading them on an adventure through the nine levels of hell; answering one fundamentally scary question that haunts us all to our grave.

Warning: 18+ language.

Mac snaps awake, gasping for air. He rushes to the sink and gulps as much water from the faucet as he can take. His bladder reaches that tipping point where a trickle finds its way from the tip. He makes it to the bathroom and takes the longest piss in his recorded memory. Austin Powers comes to mind and he chuckles, splashing the side of the toilet.

He plops his shorts down and hops into the shower without even thinking about his phone. As he washes away the previous few days…when was his last shower? information seeps into his mind. He sees flashes in front of his eyes, right in the middle of his vision, like when you look into a flash of a light. Flashes form into a circle. This circle rotates at what appears to be light speed. There are little lines in the circle, like fourth-dimensional geometry.

He remembers looking into the sun.

He remembers seeing the sun.

Uh, oh. Is this thing permanent?

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

It happened for a reason—a direct line into energy.

He stares at the circle of rotating energy in the center of his vision. It’s pesky and hangs right where he reads words. It covers the words up on the paper he is looking at. He has to use his peripheral vision; instantly, he understands he’s going to have to master that art if he wants to stay sane.


Left that ship a long time ago.

He looks at the white wall. It’s easier to see the spot on it. There is a circle, a greenish yellow circle in the center of the action. The geometric lines are purple, and they pulse without rest.

“It’s a sunspot,” Mac names it, instantly remembering the words of the passerby on the beach. Then he sees a flash on his phone in his peripheral. He jumps to the phone, still alive, somehow…barely.

The little message reads, “Battery critically low”. He looks at his messages, and to his surprise, he sees many texts, all from one person, his best friend, Ryan. Come to think of it, that’s not surprising.

“Yo, bro, what’s up, man?” Mac reads.

“Guess you’re not around. Hit me up when you get back.”

“I know you’re not the best with your phone, but you don’t usually don’t take this long. You all good?”

“Bro! Fucking shit, dude. You’re not gonna believe what just happened to me.”

“Damn, guess you died. Call me when you’re back when you reincarnate.”

The last one, which was sent while he was in the shower: “Seriously, dude. Should I call 911? I’m gonna call 911 if you don’t call me in ten minutes. Fine. I’ll give you fifteen.”

That was fourteen minutes ago.

Mac whips his phone wide open and quickly dials Ryan’s number. He mashes and dials the totally incorrect number in a panic. He finally gets the numbers right and presses ‘Send’. The phone rings; Mac’s heart paces with anxiety.

“Why am I panicking?” he asks himself.

On the last ring Ryan answers the phone with howling laughter.

“Got you good, didn’t I?”

Mac races to catch his breath.

“I’m alive. I was passed out for two days.”

“Two whole days?”


“From what?”

“I went for a run the other day and I just so happened to come across this door on the beach. I tried to open it but it didn’t budge. Then something ripped me out of my body and I went into another dimension or something and I stared into the sun until…” he lets the sentence trail off and gets distracted by the vivid memory.

“Burned out your eyes and fainted? Cool. Sounds boring. Wanna hang out later? I’m going out to eat with John and Lewis, maybe their girlfriends. Wanna go?” Ryan’s used to his ‘out there’ antics. Mac’s mind is set on the non-reality. It’s refreshing for Ryan, but also utterly exhausting.

Mac gets a twinge of panic thinking about it. He thinks of anything that would be a good reason to not go—to just stay in watching television. But he comes up with no excuse and says, “Yeah, man.”

“Cool. Sounds really convincing. Ooooohhhpp. Good timing, I have a customer.”


Mac decides to go over to the coffee shop down the street. He gets up and heads out the door. As the door closes he thinks he could have left something inside. He anxiously taps his pockets and feels his wallet and cell phone. He dashes back into the apartment while the door is cracked to grab his notebook and a pen. He sneaks back out of the door and allows it to close. He doesn’t lock the door.

The coffee shop is a few blocks away from his apartment. A couple of blocks from his apartment his phone rings. It startles him.

He startles easy.

“Who said that?” Mac asks into the air while bringing the phone to his ear.

“Who said what?” Ryan asks in Mac’s ear.

“Thought I heard something, like a voice in my head…” Mac trails off.

Ryan keeps the pace going, “That customer came in to buy a bottle of water. That’s it. A bottle of water. Who comes into a supplement store to buy a fucking bottle of water? That shit messes up my average sale. That shit is a big deal to this company. They’re stupid, corporate fucks like that. They don’t give a fuck. ‘Oh, he just came in for water. Why didn’t you upsell the shit out of him and have him walk out with a thousand dollars of product? Oh. He really just wanted water. No one just wants water! Sell him all these things, now!’ Fuck them! Dang. My bad, bro. Just went off there. Anyways, that person thinks that they can come in my store and only buy a bottle of water. I just had that dude walk out with over three hundred dollars’ worth of shit. I worked with him, though, so he’s gonna save a bunch of money in the long run.”

“Dang. I’m not a salesman at all. How’d you do it?”

“I don’t smoke weed.”

Mac begins to howl with laughter. “You should see this right now. There are like five people at the door to the coffee shop. All of them are trying to be a good person and let the others in first. Fake ass people think that they can be good, wipe their slate clean by letting someone in the door first. Well that just makes a traffic ja--” Click. Ryan hangs up.

Mac thinks to himself that he must have had a costumer.

He laughs, grateful for a friend like Ryan. Good timing. He has his hand on the door to the coffee shop and ushers a few jammed people through. They thank him through their painted-on faces. He sees the light in them and loves people—everyone, really. But fuck, he hates everyone, too. He walks in and scans the shop, noticing that it is almost empty, except for a few people in line. There is one person sitting in the corner with a MacBook, of course. He falls in line and considers his options.

Damn. Paranoia. What the fuck.

He knows what he wants but he’d like to be persuaded into another option.

“What may I get for you?” the barista asks politely.

“Ehhh…” Mac can’t make a decision. He tenses up and utters a stuttering half syllable.

“Double shot espresso?” she asks with a sweet smile. That’s his go-to. He’s been here a bunch.

“Yeah. I was stuck on getting something else, but I guess not today.”

“You sure?”

“Am I ever?” he more states than asks. She chuckles and moves to make the coffee.

Mac pays and goes over to the pickup counter, standing there for a long rotation of clicks. He notices that the people in line, now sitting down, are all talking philosophy; they’re really into it, too. However, there is an enveloping sense of sadness in the air. Right when he notices that, his coffee gets slammed on the table, snapping him out of his daze. He walks over to the milk and sugar and does his thing, then looks for a table. The sun shines in through the window and glistens on one table in particular. He aptly takes a seat at that table. He looks at his coffee, swirling it. He gingerly takes a slow and methodic sip and places it gently back on the table. The sunshine sinks into his skin. He grabs his pen, bouncing it like a drum stick on his notebook. He peers out of the window, drifting out right over the horizon.

Mac drifts back, hearing the words, “What was written shall come to pass.”

When he comes back to, he realizes that the shop is now filled with people and there is a mysterious dude sitting across from him. Mac notices that all of the tables are filled with people, again, all talking philosophy. He looks back at the dude staring back at him with glaring, bright blue eyes. They penetrate with intrigue.

“What was written?” Mac asks, unperturbed by the guest leaning over half of the table.

“Guess you’d have to find the book first to figure out that one.”

“But if we’re in the middle of the book, how can we find the words?”

The guy cracks a mad grin and looks around. Finding no one interested in their conversation, he whips back around, producing two clenched fists.

Mac cracks up. “Red or blue, huh?”

“To answer your question. Turn the page. Or close the book.” He laughs like a mad scientist then continues, “Closing the book was never an option, my friend. The question that remains is…Just enough? Or off into other worlds?”

“Why do I get the impression that one is enough for that?”

The guy lets out a sharp, quick laugh. “For you, maybe. Most likely, you zone out well.”

Mac gets a sharp pang of paranoia. He looks around and sees that there isn’t anyone eavesdropping. That strikes him as weird. But they are all totally engrossed in the conversations they are having. “That’s really not a question to me, man,” Mac says.

They both crack up.

“Wanna piece of gum?” he asks casually after the laughter naturally subsides.

“Yeah. The coffee left a weird taste in my mouth.”

The guy opens his palms and reveals that they are both empty. He fishes for something in his pocket, and produces a pack of gum. The pack is full, except for a couple. “Here. I’m going to the store after this. I can pick up another pack.”

“The whole pack?”

The guy stares at him with a look that’s says, “Duh, of course, why not? Your breath staaank.”

“Cool. Thanks, man.” Mac chuckles while he puts it in his pocket and thinks that the guy could very well be on it himself.

“There is something I have to tell you, though. A sort of disclaimer.”

“Go on.”

The guy taps his finger on the table with a quickened pace. “This is sempiternal.”


“There is no going back, no matter how hard you try. You’ll never be able to go back to the way you are now. The side effects don’t last long. But the effects…” he chuckles.

“You reading my mind?”

The guy cracks up and begins to get up. Then he is struck with an idea and quickly takes a seat. The chair slides and makes that loud, squeaking sound. No one is bothered by it.

“What do you think about death?” The guy asks.

“I think we could all already be dead. Some of us more than others, but all dead regardless.”

For heaven’s sake, GO TO HELL!

The guy looks at Mac with interest as if he heard that voice.

Mac continues seamlessly, “We could all be wandering around some astral realm, some aimlessly, some with aimless purpose. Some actually know and are moving in a direction they want to go.” Mac sits upright in his chair, the coffee taking effect. “I mean this world,” he knocks on the table; people turn and look at him in vexation. He doesn’t care, he’s on an idea. “This world isn’t really real. It’s just a bunch of molecules, little pixels making up our perception of something that we haven’t the faintest clue about.”

“The mystery of quantum mechanics.”

“Exactly. That’s shit’s on another level. What I’m thinking is that from the little that I’ve read about different planes of existence, is that this place is one of those underground levels. I say underground because I feel a sadness in the air.”

The guy picks his eyebrow up.

Mac looks around and says, “Like this place. Where we are right now. This place could very well be limbo. For the little I’ve learned about the different levels of hell, this place aligns with it. And all that begins to make an iota of sense when you can open your mind to the possibility of the eternal experience and what that means in the ‘real and normal’ world awareness.”

“Breaking down the mortal walls.”

“What is ‘alive’? What is it really that any of us are doing?” Mac shakes his head, distraught. “This world is fucked. There’s hope, there always is, but fuck. Only a very few people actually care about anyone else. So many people pretend to help but you can see that they have a selfish desire beneath it. If I help these people, I can get into heaven. Fuck that. That’s stupid. Help these people because they need help! That’s it. It’s like the devil has everyone by the balls and yanks them around faster than they can give another hurting person a genuine hallo.”


“Yeah. ‘Hallo. Why would anyone say ‘hello’? It’s ‘hell’ with an ‘o’. Fuck that.” Mac smiles and asks, “How do they say ‘hello’ in Canada?”

The gum the guy chews, allows himself to hear the thought in Mac’s head before he says it. But he wants Mac to tell him the punchline. He doesn’t want to take the moment away from him.


The guy cracks up.

“You read my mind, didn’t you? You knew what I was going to say because I said it in my mind first.”

A siren wails in the distance.

“You’re smart. You set me up?”

“Not on purpose,” Mac says.

“And that’s where the scary shit begins. You have to be brave to venture into that aspect of consciousness.”

Go to hell for the sake of heaven.

The guy gets up and says, “Well, my soul brother. It was good to see you again. We’ll meet up at some point along some side of it all.”

Mac gets up and shakes his hand. The guy shakes the shake away and fist-pounds him. Mac goes to ask him a question but just then, the guy is in his head, “You’ll see.”



The guy walks towards the exit. Mac thinks, “Thanks, bro.”

The guy turns around at that moment and nods to him as he hears, in his head, “You’re welcome, bro. Happy travels.” He makes it to the door while it is still open. The person in front of him doesn’t hold the door open for him. But while it swings closed, he makes an overreaction and he sidesteps out of the door without touching, while wearing a large grin.

Mac considers the eccentric behavior of the guy as a few far-out thoughts flow through his mind.

He may not be real.

He did just show up. No one even looked at him.

The light did look funny on him, and the guy going through the door didn’t even seem to notice he was there.

“Are these even my thoughts?” Mac thinks while twitching towards the pack of gum. He takes it out of his pocket. Sure enough, the pack is real, and it has gum in it, albeit quite normal pieces of gum. He contemplates chewing them right now. What else is he doing today. Who knows where this gum can lead him.

“Wait! Not yet!” someone yells.

This startles Mac, and he turns to see what could have caused that. The timing. The girl yelling was joking with another girl sitting across from her for whatever reason. But the feeling of it, felt like she was talking right to him.

“Weird timing,” Mac says under his breath.


A maddening grin inside of his head.

Mac hears someone else say, “In a couple of days there is some sort of solar alignment.”

He hears the barista say, to the guy paying, “We’re settled,” as she hands him a receipt that the he instantly crumples.

“Hum. Cool,” Mac says. “It’s settled then, in a couple of days.” He relaxes in his seat and taps his pen. He peers out through the window and zones out in a mental image.

Mac comes back from the daydream and takes the last bitter sip from his coffee and considers his options for the day.

Nah, just do it now.

“Shut up,” Mac says out loud. Every single person in the shop stops cold in their conversation and coldly stares at him. Mac feels warmth, combined with a sharp tingle that radiates from his nerves. Suddenly he shrinks into a tiny person, no bigger than a quarter, standing on the ground. Everyone else looks huge. Everything is a thousand feet tall. They all surround him. Their huge, condescending faces are only inches from him. He sweats profusely.


Mac is back to normal size, sitting in the chair with the mysterious dude sitting across from him. He stares at Mac with such interest, and that plastered mad grin.

“Paranoid?” he asks.

Mac blinks several times.

“Care what others think of you? Fuck them. Fuck it. They’re scared of anything outside of their comfort zone. Watch this…” He stands up and turns around, yelling, “Fuck you!” Everyone shudders like an evil spirit leaves them, before they return to what they were doing as if nothing happened. He turns back to Mac and says, “You, though, you’re scared shitless of the unknown, and yet you crave it. Hell of an imagination, bro.” He jabs at a spot an itch on the outside of Mac’s nose then laughs and smacks his knee. He whips right out of it and stares directly into Mac. “Mind-bending shit, isn’t it?”

“I only fucking touched the gum. What the fuck?”

He cracks a grin. “Time-looping. Thought-looping. Shit just makes you wonder what the fuck.”

“Closing the book was never an option.”

“Just enough or…”

“Blast off into other realms.”

The guy studies him, observing his energy. “Freaky.”

Mac contemplates something deeply then asks, “We’ve had this conversation already, haven’t we?”

“Thousands of time over, I presume.” He extends his hand to Mac. “The name is Andy, this time around.”

Mac reaches out. “Mac. We’ve met before, I know it.”

“More often than you could possibly imagine, my soul-bro.” He gets up. “Until next time. Don’t worry about losing the gum. It’ll stay safe and show up right when it’s time.” He goes to walk out, but turns back around and gets back in the chair. “What do you think about time?”

Mac laughs. “I think time isn’t real. The moment is real, and the moment goes on and on, forever. But it can’t actually be quantified and measured. It’s infinite and it races relentlessly at or away from us. Clocks are only for a fragmented mind.”

He chuckles. “Fragmented, right on. My space ship is here, gotta rocket! Later, bro!”

“Hasta, bro,” Mac says as Andy hops back out of the door again. On the other side of the glass Andy stops and turns around. He salutes Mac and jumps to the sidewalk. Mac awkwardly salutes an empty door and chuckles while he does.

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