My name, as you might have guessed, is Daniel MacKillican, and I’m a British indie author. I wrote and self-published Ama (a horror novel) then made the e-book and audiobook version available for free on this website. As well as being creative in this reality, I also enjoy experiencing hypnagogic and hypnopompic hallucinations and travelling into the realm of fantastical dreams which, sometimes, I manage to control with God-like powers. Intrigued?
Death at last, Jason thought, as the rope tightened around his neck. He accepted the pain as a minor inconvenience, an unfortunate discomfort he had to endure while his life came to an end. He hoped his attacker possessed the resolve to finish the job, before a guard had a chance to stop him.
The prison chaplain once said that Emily would be waiting for him in paradise, a belief Jason didn’t share and thought was nothing but tired nonsense. A fairy tale for the bereaved that he wanted to be true but knew wasn’t. The preacher’s hollow words of comfort had no effect on the sickening sting of grief. Jason had concluded that the universe was indifferent to life, and of death, no doubt, cared even less. It wasn’t through a lugubrious veil of depression with which he saw the world; this was an unequivocal acceptance that life was abhorrent with no meaningful purpose, so why put off the inevitable. The eternal void was in the next room, and he had no intention of keeping it waiting.
Out of step with my circadian rhythm
I want to become a frequent visitor to the wonderful realm of lucid dreams, and live a healthier life in general, so I’m learning to have more respect for my circadian rhythm. Until now, my wake-sleep cycle has been nothing less than bleary-eyed chaos, with each day melting unnoticed into the next. My head usually hits the pillow as the sun peeks over the horizon, at which point, with all the standard city noise coming from outside, I have no chance of getting an unbroken 7 to 8 hours sleep. As a consequence, my dreams usually come as a confusion of vague fragments, which invariably vanish from memory with the first flutter of my eyelids. On the rare occasions that I have managed to go to bed at a reasonable time, my dreams have had a lot more clarity; the likelihood for the dream becoming part of my long-term memory also seems to be higher when I listen to my internal clock. Going to sleep at a reasonable time is definitely the first thing I need…
Here are just a few of the final test renders I made before making the film scenes for the Ama book trailer. I actually rendered hundreds of stills, before I was happy with the result. These images are closer, than the early test renders, to what I had pictured in my minds-eye when I wrote the story; the temple, for example, is pretty much spot-on, and the creepy girl in the church graveyard, apart from her hair, looks the part.
I had a similar problem while simulating the girl’s hair to that of the nature scene: every time I ran the simulation strands of her hair flew off in all directions and, in a rather disturbing way, through her head too. It’s a shame that due to time constraints—I was impatient to publish the actual novel—I did not let my computer finish all the rendering so I could use them in the final version of the book trailer. To give an idea of the time scales involved in the rendering process: the original church graveyard scene would have taken, if I had rendered the f…
No sleep, but fun
One of my many geeky hobbies is messing around with 3D modeling and playing within virtual worlds of my own creation. I’m by no means a professional, not even close, but it can be a fun way to see hours of my life vanish without a trace—I’ve lost track of the amount of days that have blended seamlessly into the next, without a chance for me to pay homage to my bed. So, when I realised that a book trailer could be another means by which to shout about my novel from the digital rooftops, I thought, cool! I can do that.
While the Ama manuscript was off being checked by Richard Sheehan (A professional Copy-editor and Proofreader), I set to work creating a book trailer. Oh dear… Grand plans, high hopes, and an awful lot of banging my head against the nearest wall. I’m happy with the end result, but it’s far from the storyboard I’d sketched out within my tormented brain. The original idea was for a lot more animation, compl…
It was a country lane, a simple dirt track, that began across the road from a solitary old house. The house really existed, the lane did not. The fabrication from my mind was called ‘Love Lane’. I knew its name because a faceless voice told me so. The voice also warned me not to venture down Love Lane, because it was full of sorrow; Needless to say, I did. After walking for a short while along the lane, my gaze fell upon a peculiar tree. The odd thing about the tree was the fact that there were a number of children sat high up upon the branches. All of the children were crying, and after a few confused seconds, so was I.
The Blood Glacier
The glacier was far off in the distance, across a cold and barren wasteland. I walked towards it. As I drew near, I could see a darkness at the foot of the creeping mountain of ice. I slowly continued on, moving closer and closer, until I realised that the darkness was actually an enormous amount of blood; a wash, many tens of feet across …