A Prequel short story to The Amaranth Chronicles: Deviant Rising

Ebook and Paperback on

Back in 2018, I was working as a contractor through a third-party firm that got me into a project for San Francisco Southeast Sewage Treatment. At the time, I was desperate for a job. A neighbor helped me get the contract, and I took it—grateful, but unsure.

My assignment? Show up by 4 a.m., five days a week, and go to the basement of the chemical plant in one of the darkest, most unsettling places I’ve ever been. Literally.

The basement I was stationed in had no windows, no cell reception, and no access to their internet or networks. They wouldn’t even let me plug into their ethernet. The place felt off—claustrophobic, paranoid. Certain doors were off-limits. There were whispers that if the wrong people found out what was happening, heads would roll. I wasn’t an employee, just a contractor, so the rules didn’t protect me.

The team I worked for had a manager who seemed like his only joy in life was controlling other people. He had a tiny office carved out under the chemical wing, and that’s where I worked. Alone. Cut off. It wasn’t just the job that made it feel threatening, it was the energy of the place, the people, and the feeling that something could go terribly wrong and no one would ever know.

It felt like I was in the belly of something alien. Not fiction. Real.
And that’s when the story started forming.

I was tasked with building VR 3D models of the sewage systems beneath the plant, using old blueprints from the 1960’s and modern radio scans like a form of sonar. I animated water flow, modeled labyrinths of pipes and tunnels, created training simulations—and all the while, I was fighting a creeping sense of dread. It felt like there were creatures in the dark. Not literal ones, but mental ones—figments of trauma, fear, isolation. The kind of things that make your body react even when nothing's in front of you.

Eventually, I fought for a new workspace. I found a dilapidated mobile office unit outside in the parking lot and pushed for us to move there. When we did, I finally had sunlight, cell reception, and the smallest breath of freedom. That’s when I started imagining Nova Parallax—a story about two people going into the unknown, only to realize they’re not just in danger—they’re completely over their heads.

Creatures. Radiation. Survival.
Not just horror for its own sake, but horror that reflects what it feels like to be trapped and fight your way out.

When COVID hit, I finally got to finish the contract from home. The physical danger faded, but the experience stayed with me. I wish I had finished the novella sooner, but part of me was afraid—afraid that revisiting the story would pull me back into that dark basement.

Eventually, I realized something: Nova Parallax wasn’t about getting stuck in the past. It was about finding courage within the darkest places. It was about surviving isolation, trauma, fear, and turning that into something beautiful and terrifying and true.

Even during that time, I was learning more than I realized. I taught myself how to integrate tools from Blender, 3D Studio Max, and Daz 3D. When I wasn’t in the office but safely at home, I used the software to built characters. Scenes. Ships. Worlds. I got to create for myself.

Some of what I was able to create for The Amaranth Chronicles is on the Artwork page of this site.
The book I held in my hand this week—the one that’s now on Amazon—that’s the product of those moments. The hard ones. The ones I made it through.

If you’re reading this, and you’ve ever felt trapped in your own version of that basement—
Just know: You can get out.

And what you create after might be the best thing you’ve ever done.

Tales from the Amaranth Chronicles: Nova Parallax
Now available in paperback on Amazon.