Randall Gregg's Blog

There are moments that define the impossible. Times when the very fabric of existence seems to mock the laws of nature, like a cruel joke played by an indifferent universe. For Marcus, a carpenter ant barely larger than a grain of rice, that moment came on a sweltering July morning beneath the towering shadows of Manhattan.
The colony's collapse had been swift and merciless. Construction crews had torn through their home in Central Park with mechanical precision, steel jaws ripping apart decades of careful tunneling. Marcus watched his brothers and sisters disappear beneath chunks of concrete and soil, their bodies crushed by progress. The queen—his mother—gave her final order before the collapse: "Go west, find our sister colony in California. Tell them what happened here."
Now he stood at the edge of Fifth Avenue, his antennae tasting the acrid wind. The journey ahead seemed to stretch beyond comprehension: three thousand miles of concrete, desert, and mountain ranges. Each step would be a battle against a world built for giants.
His compound eyes reflected the harsh glare of morning traffic. Humans moved above like gods, ignorant of the tiny drama unfolding at their feet. Their shoes, each large enough to house an entire colony, thundered past with earthquake force. The vibrations traveled through his legs, a constant reminder of his fragility.
The weight of his mission pressed against him harder than the summer heat. In his thorax, he carried a small vial of the queen's final pheromones—their colony's genetic memory, their last hope of survival. Each step had to be measured, careful. One wrong move, one moment of careless haste, and the entire legacy of his people would be lost.
A pigeon landed nearby, its head cocking with predatory interest. Marcus froze, remembering his sister Caroline's fate to just such a bird. She had been the colony's best forager, until that spring morning when she ventured too far into the open. All that remained was a single leg, a grim reminder that the world above had no mercy for the small... ***I think it's time for a vacation!*** Books about ANTS

Sometimes truth is more unsettling than any horror novel. As a writer, I've always been drawn to unusual stories, but I never expected to become one.

It started last year, with a voicemail. A simple message that would spiral into one of the most bizarre experiences of my life – one that I'm now considering turning into a book. But before I tell you about my plans for the story, let me share what actually happened.

Picture this: an ordinary afternoon interrupted by a call from someone claiming to be a Colorado coroner. My wife, ever the voice of reason, suggested we verify the number. Smart move. The caller's number didn't match the official one on the state website.

In any other circumstance, this would be where the story ends – just another scam call, right? But here's where it gets interesting.
When we started digging, we discovered something unsettling. The coroner's office in Las Animas County was actually under investigation regarding multiple bodies being found in single graves.

The timing couldn't have been more eerie. Despite my skepticism, curiosity got the better of me. I called the official number, preparing myself for the moment of relief when a different voice would answer. Except... it wasn't different.

The same voice from the voicemail responded. It really was the coroner.
"Are you Randall J. Gregg?" he asked. When I confirmed, his response sent chills down my spine: "I know."

Then came the revelation that would make any fiction writer jealous: they had a body, a man in his sixties named Randall K. Gregg. In his phone, they found only one number saved – mine.
As a writer, I recognize the elements that make a story compelling: coincidence, mystery, the thin line between the mundane and the extraordinary.

This experience has all of them. The parallel names, the single phone number, the backdrop of an ongoing investigation – it reads like the opening chapter of a thriller.

But this isn't fiction. This happened. To me.
I've been turning this experience over in my mind, examining it from every angle. Should it be a mystery novel? A meditation on identity and connection? A exploration of how technology has made our world simultaneously smaller and stranger? The possibilities are endless, and that's exactly what makes it so intriguing.

What fascinates me most isn't just the coincidence – it's the questions this experience raises. Who was Randall K. Gregg? Why did he have my number? What invisible threads connect us to strangers we've never met? These are the questions I hope to explore in my book.

They say writers should write what they know. Well, I know this story. I lived it. And while I'm still working out exactly how to tell it, I know one thing for certain: sometimes the most compelling stories are the ones we don't have to make up.

What do you think? How would you tell this story? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. After all, every writer knows that the best stories often emerge from conversations.

I discovered fantasy books hidden behind a stack of my mom's romance novels. I was twelve, and the cover showed a woman with fiery red hair wielding both a sword and what looked suspiciously like diplomatic papers. That book changed everything.
Let's be honest – fantasy isn't just about gruff men swinging swords anymore (though there's nothing wrong with a good sword fight). Today's fantasy weaves tales of political intrigue, complex relationships, and characters who feel as real as your best friend, even if they happen to ride dragons to work.
Take Sarah J. Maas's works, where fierce assassins grapple with love and loyalty while saving kingdoms. Or Naomi Novik's "Uprooted," where a young woman's magic doesn't fit the neat boxes her teachers expect.
These stories remind us that fantasy isn't just about the epic battles – it's about the quiet moments between spells, the friendships forged in dragon-flight, and the choices that shape not just kingdoms, but souls.
The genre has evolved far beyond its roots in medieval European mythology. Today's fantasy spans cultures, perspectives, and experiences. We have stories inspired by Chinese folklore, African mythology, and Latin American traditions.
Female authors and protagonists are not just participating in the genre – they're revolutionizing it.
But here's what really gets me excited: the community. Fantasy readers are some of the most passionate people you'll ever meet. We debate theories about magical systems over coffee, create elaborate fan art, and form lifelong friendships over shared love of fictional worlds.
There's something powerful about finding your people through stories that speak to your soul. For those just dipping their toes into fantasy waters, start with authors like V.E. Schwab, who bridges the gap between our world and magical ones with elegant prose and compelling characters.
Or dive into N.K. Jemisin's works, where world-building and social commentary dance together in perfect harmony
Fantasy isn't about escaping reality – it's about seeing our own world more clearly through a magical lens. It's about finding strength in unexpected places, whether that's in a spell book or in yourself. It's about realizing that sometimes the most powerful magic isn't in the wand, but in the hand that holds it
So here's to the women who read fantasy, who write fantasy, who live and breathe these magical worlds. Here's to the stories that remind us that we can be both the princess and the dragon, the witch and the warrior, the diplomat and the rebel.
Welcome to fantasy literature. Trust me, you're going to love it here.
What magical realms are you exploring next? Share your favorite fantasy reads – I'm always looking for my next adventure.