About the Author
Bruce I. Schindler, Novelist There is a place so exotic and remote, the Marrakesh Express gets nowhere near it. Even in Kathmandu, this place seems a world away. Its inhabitants call it Harlan County, and describe it as being in South-Central Nebraska. Many people get within a few miles of it, but fly over it without knowing. Others drive past or even through, and have no idea anything just happened. This is because of a magical veil. It is impervious to the most sophisticated equipment, and makes most people choose not to see. In Harlan County, the distance between this reality and every other reality is very thin. Some of the inhabitants cross over routinely, and come back with strange tales, spun as though they are the same world as ours. When I was young, I listened while the old guys told their stories around the fire. The tales were long and involved, and I probably nodded off from time to time. Because of that, some details are a bit fuzzy, but I pass along the stories as faithfully as I can. I came to Harlan County for love, and found it. I got much more, finding a friend, a muse, and a goddess. That alone was more than enough, but more blessings came: horses waiting impatiently for more hay and a macaw loudly demanding pizza. There is also our Shih Tsu, a psychic dog who projects her thoughts, making me do as she wishes. Life before Harlan County now seems less real than all the other realities about which I write. My main indicator about the real world comes when the horses, macaw, and dog make their needs known. In this, the real world, I find pleasure in sharing these stories. Since there is no way to give escorted tours, they say I must call them fiction – science fiction. You and I know they are real.