My first novel; originally written in 2010, and published four years later after several rewrites to the point wherein I was finally(!) satisfied. It will always hold a special place in my heart due to the fact that it was a re-imagining of a story I had originally concocted, illustrated, self-published and sold as a comic series as a twelve year old boy in 1989.

Subsequently trying to take it to new places through adult eyes was one of my proudest –yet most difficult—accomplishments. But in the end, after 600+ pages, I finally had that satisfaction; a satisfaction only compounded and exceeded by the reception it received and the surprising success it garnered – thanks to you, many of the readers my many articles and columns have gifted me since my breakout in 2002. And for that, I am forever grateful.



The Plot: Arriving in the care of a female doctor for whom he senses an unusual but undeniable bond, a mysterious amnesiac with otherworldly abilities soon finds himself drawn into a Billionaire Industrialist’s intricate web of intrigue and apocalyptic horror as he journeys to find the truth of his own dark past, and the destiny that will one day define him. This is the epic story of one man’s awakening in the face of encompassing darkness; a path of both fall and salvation; a journey of monster and hero.


This is the story of Marc Slash. His legend begins here.



They say in your final moments that your life flashes before your eyes. But for Donald Worthington, DW, all he had felt therein *was* that death and all of the pain, anguish and helplessness that came with it.

Burning. He could smell his very flesh festering and boiling and, finally, peeling away in strands before altogether liquidating from his skull, like someone had poured a hot kettle of water over his head slowly.

His last conscious view, before his eyes in turn sunk inward and turned to mush, was that his clones, those around him in large opaque canisters, usually soulless and empty, were now mirroring his exact torment. His exact expression.

Although, they, unlike him, were not literally disintegrating, their contact with him, via the many wires and cords threaded into them and connected back to him from there, provided an almost symbiotic link. They were one. They shared DW’s brutal penance as the ceiling gave way and the very walls collapsed atop them all. They shared his… purgatory...







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© 2020 by Sean Carless. All rights reserved.