Thursday, July 16, 2026

The Dream-Quest of Mykel-Paul Hinojos

For Inktober, Tuesday, October 27, 2020. Prompt word: “crawl.” Tuckerization: Mykel-Paul Hinojos

I started this Inktober experiment way back on October 1st, 2020, and this was to be the final entry for Saturday, October 31, 2020. That means it took me over 5 years and 8 months to finish what was to be a month-long project. Click on the link above to see all 31 entries.

A reminder that volunteering for tuckerization only means a character in the story shares the participant’s name. Other than that, no other similar characteristics are implied.

Please note that in the opening paragraphs I have borrowed heavily from H. P. Lovecraft's The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath. The rest is from my own imaginings. 

EXCEPT FOR THE ILLUSTRATION, NO AI WAS USED IN THE WRITING OF THIS STORY 

 
The Dream-Quest of Mykel-Paul Hinojos
(with apologies to H. P. Lovecraft)
by Alan Loewen
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED



Mykel-Paul Hinojos dreamed three times of a city seen from afar where animals did not crawl on four legs, but walked in the manner of humanity.

And three times, he was snatched away before he could walk the streets of this fabled metropolis. Still, he could only look with longing at the creatures who walked among the temples, colonnades, and arched bridges of veined marble, silver-basined fountains of prismatic spray in broad squares and perfumed gardens, and wide streets marching between delicate trees and blossom-laden urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows; while on steep northward slopes climbed tiers of red roofs and old peaked gables harboring little lanes of grassy cobbles.

Determined to find this paradise, in light slumber Mykel descended the seventy steps to the cavern of flame and talked of his design to the bearded dream guardians, Raimundo and Bartolomé-Cambranes. Mykel was warned that finding his fabled city might be impossible, but, being old in the land of dreams, he counted on many useful memories and devices to aid him. So, asking for a farewell blessing from the gatekeepers and thinking shrewdly about his course, Mykel boldly descended the seven hundred steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber, only to find himself suddenly in an ancient wood.

Avoiding the pits and perils as the guardians had instructed him, Mykel searched for one of the special trees that grew wild in the wood. He was to gather four or five of the purple oblate nuts and carry them with him for later use. Eventually the wanderer came into a region of gently rolling hills and meadows with copses of trees unlike any in the waking world. Birds of rainbow hues busied themselves in the branches or reeds until, from afar, he saw the quaint hamlet of Nir, on the river Skai.

The guardians had instructed Mykel to look for an old shop on a cobblestone street. Its front windows would display various dolls for sale, and he had been told not to look too closely at their eyes lest his sleep be disturbed. He was told to enter the store and speak to the proprietress, but not to drink any tea he was offered lest he spend the rest of eternity staring out at the world through a storefront window.

The wizened old woman who greeted him behind the dusty old counter smiled at him with a toothless grin and asked what he wanted. Turning down the proffered tea as he had been warned, Mykel spoke of his desire to find the ancient dream city where animals walked as men.

The old woman scoffed until Mykel brought out one of the nuts he had plucked from the ancient wood.

She stared at the seed, her eyes growing huge, and she convulsively reached out for the prize, but Mykel snatched it away.

It was eventually agreed that the old woman would share what she knew, but only in exchange for more of the nuts she coveted. Mykel took out a second one and laid it on the counter.

She smiled. "To the north there is a town. She lives in Mnarstead, a gray-stoned village near the Mnarian wastes. She will likely know of what you speak."

"And how will I find her in this village?"

The old woman remained silent, a sly smile on her face.

Mykel took out a third nut and laid it on the counter. A clawed hand snatched away the proffered nut as fast as a serpent's strike.

"Magic, my young friend. Magic."

"And this magic?"

"It will cost you."

"I have one more nut. Give me this magic, or I will leave." He took the shiny seed and held it before her eyes.

With a sneer, she reached under the counter and brought out a small glass in a tiny wooden frame. "This is the Glass of True Sight. You will recognize her immediately."

The transaction was completed, and Mykel moved the tiny spectacle to his right eye.

"Not in here!" the woman hissed. "Our business is done. Leave!"

Mykel turned to leave, but, curious, he turned back at the door to impulsively look at the woman through the glass.

With a sudden scream of terror, he turned and, flinging the door open, he fled from the thing that howled at him from behind the counter.

+ + +

The next day, Mykel discovered a caravan traveling to Mnarstead. Having hired himself out as a sellsword, Mykel took his position riding next to the driver of the lead wagon. Fortunately, the four-day trip was uneventful, though tiring, and he arrived at his destination tired and disheveled, though with a heavier purse than when he first started his journey.

Finding lodging at the town's only inn, he found respite in the town's public baths.

The next day, feeling refreshed and much cleaner, he began his search in the marketplace. Discreetly, he would peer at the customers and vendors in the small market, but his glass revealed nothing special. Neither did the next day ... or the next.

Concerned about his money purse growing lighter every day, he turned his magical glass on a middle-aged woman on his fourth day in the market. In his shock, he almost dropped his precious glass.

Though clothed in a woman's dress and tunic, fur covered the fox's arms, neck, and head, fur as white as snow, and she walked on two legs. Carefully, Mykel followed her through the marketplace, keeping just enough distance as not to lose her. Eventually, she walked away from the street, and he followed her through darker avenues and alleys.

Eventually, in a street where the buildings were so crowded together they shadowed the cobblestones underneath, he saw her enter a storefront. After many minutes had passed and she did not reappear, he approached the door.

It was a bookstore.

Cautiously, he opened the door. Inside, he was surprised to find the woman had cast off her illusion and sat behind a counter, surrounded by books piled higher than her. In one five-fingered paw, she held a small tome, and in another, a steaming cup of fragrant tea. The fragrance mingled with the aroma of the universal bouquet of old bookshops. The fox lady looked up.

"You are late," she said.

"Late?" Mykel stammered.

"We wondered whether you would come."

"You know me?"

"Of course. We know all dreamers, and we know why you are here."

She casually took a sip of her tea, slowly closed her book, placed it aside, and shrugged. "It is because of who we are. Every century, one human is allowed to quest for Hlanath Vale; one who hungers for dreams more enchanting and more wondrous than what the Dreamlands usually have to offer." The fox lady smiled. She nodded toward the back of the store, swallowed in darkness. "There is a door at the back of my shop. It enters the land of your ultimate dream."

Mykel licked his lips. "And all I have to do is walk through that door?"

The fox lady nodded. "Yes, but ... well, there is a cost."

Mykel froze. "And that is ..."

The fox lady took a sip of her tea, looking at him over the rim of her cup. "If you walk through that door, you can never return. Never. Your dreaming body will never awaken. It will eventually weaken and die.

"But you will attain your magical city."

Tears came unbidden to Mykel's eyes. "How can fate be so cruel? To be so close to my dreams, my ultimate goal."

The fox lady put her cup down, a look of evident surprise on her face. "So you reject my offer? Explain."

There was a long pause. "I ... I must," was the choked response. "There ... there are people waiting for me. People who depend on me. I ... cannot abandon them."

There was a long silence as the fox stared at him. "Every century, a dreamer comes through my door, and I make the same offer. It has never been rejected."

"I must. I ... do not live for myself."

The fox lady paused in thought. "I can offer you no other choice, but know that I am astonished. I will tell you this. You may still see the city of your dreams from afar, so I make this offer."

She put down her cup and walked toward him from behind the counter. "I am a poor substitute for Hlanath Vale, but you are free to visit me in your dreams. This place, this shop, this home can be your sanctuary in the midst of the Dreamlands that can sometimes offer only nightmares."

"If this is the best you can offer," Mykel said with sadness, "I accept it."

"Of all the dream walkers I have met, you are the most intriguing."

She held out a paw. "Now give me the Glass of True Sight. We will need it one hundred years from now for the next one who quests."

Mykel reached into his pocket and offered it to her. "How did you know I had it?"

Suddenly, the fox expanded, and she began to shine with a supernal glow. Though the room did not change in size, from Mykel's perspective, she expanded beyond the confines of the little store.

"I am the Messenger of Inari!" Her voice rang in his head, and he fell to his knees on the wooden floor. "I am the Cadmean vixen! I am the Teumessian fox! I hold the Essence of Reynard!" Abruptly, the figure diminished until, once again, it was a snow-white vixen. 

The glass fell from Mykel's nerveless fingers onto the floor.

"I beg forgiveness for my ignorance, my lady," he gasped, but the vixen held a finger to his lips. 

"Hush," she said. "It is still in my power to grant a boon, and I will now give you one no human has ever been granted." He felt her furred fingers caress his cheek. "You will no longer need the Glass of True Sight," she said. "I grant you Pure Vision for your travels in the Dreamlands as well as the waking world. Use it wisely."

Suddenly, Mykel had a vision from afar of Hlanath Vale, and tears of joy welled in his eyes at the sight of its beauty once again.

Then Mykel awoke to the bright morning sun shining through his bedroom window.

Thursday, May 21, 2026

New Logo!

I have a love/hate with artificial intelligence. There is so much of what is called AI slop out there, that I long for true human interaction and real books written by real people.

And by the bye, I want to assure you that I never use AI in my writing. Every word in my pages is 100% me, errors and all.

However, I have found a use for AI when it comes to creating a new logo.

Here is my old boring Facebook banner for my author's page:


I made this years ago with the graphic software that was at my disposal.

In one word, Yuck!

However, I did have a new banner made courtesy of ChatGPT. What do you think?


And don't think I just punched in a request and said generate. It took hours of researching the correct wording of the commands and descriptions to make me happy.

I also crafted a 3D image of the logo as well.


The bottom line is that AI can make writers lazy, but it can be beneficial for marketing.

 


Wednesday, March 11, 2026

Retirement Draws Near!

The day after Easter Sunday, I’ll begin a new chapter of life as I retire after 30 years serving as pastor of the Heidlersburg/Mount Olivet Charge of the Church of the United Brethren in Christ. Serving these congregations has been one of the great privileges of my life.

Retirement doesn’t mean slowing down — just shifting gears. My plans include:

1. Gradually moving from our home in Heidlersburg to Chambersburg.
2. Finishing the three novels that are so close to completion. (Retirement writing plan: finish three novels. Suspected obstacle: feline manuscript management.)


3. Starting a YouTube series that respectfully addresses common questions and objections about Christianity.
4. Taking some time to sort through my online connections, remembering old friends — especially those we lost during COVID — and letting go where needed. (That part will be bittersweet.)
5. Taming my massive library and reducing it by about 50% — likely with much weeping and wailing.
6. I’m also slowly rebuilding my old hobby in parlor magic. Years ago, I performed semi-professionally with the Society of American Magicians (1974–1979), and I still enjoy doing small shows for groups of 50 or fewer. Unfortunately, many of my props were damaged during an outdoor show a few years ago, so I’m starting over. These days it’s easy to find close-up magic — thanks in part to performers like David Blaine — but good parlor and stage effects are surprisingly hard to come by. Still, I recently discovered a wonderful old-fashioned magic shop in Reading, which feels a bit like finding buried treasure. So the rebuilding begins.
7. Research the possibility of obtaining a PhD in Aesthetic Theology (yes, that has been a long-term interest of mine) from Kairos University. Not because I want the title of Doctor before my name, but because I want to continue the discipline of study.

At 71, every day God gives me the strength to work toward these goals feels like a gift.

Short version: retirement just means I’ll be a busy little beaver in a different forest.

Saturday, February 7, 2026

New Release Upcoming

 Keep your eyes open for a new release from yours truly. A blend of SF and detective noir.

Target is a February 28th release.



Love in the Time of Chocolate

Last night at my writers' group, we were given a prompt and ten minutes to respond. As February 14th is Valentine's Day, we were told to write about something or someone sweet. For your flash fiction pleasure, here is what I came up with:

Love in the Time of Chocolate
by Alan Loewen
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Have you heard about the Gingerbread Man? How about something sweeter? My good friend Gus Polinski was a world-renowned chocolatier, a master of the sweeter arts. His craftsmanship was par excellence, and his little shop in the backwaters of Harrisburg thrived. His truffles, brownie bites, peanut butter swirl, salted caramel, chocolate-covered strawberries, pretzels, nuts, and mini tarts had pushed many a poor unfortunate into type 2 diabetes, much to the joy of the local endocrinologists.

Less than a week ago, he came and urgently rapped on my front door. “Craig,” he said, blocking my front door. “I need your help. I’m being hunted down by assassins and enforcers from Hershey's and Nestlé's. And the worst are those Mars Bars fanatics. I desperately need a favor!”

“Of course, Gus,” I replied. “Anything for a friend. What do you need?”

He stepped aside and ushered in a confectioner’s dream. “My masterpiece,” he said. It was a lovely and petite woman, but with one unique difference. I could see she was composed completely out of chocolate. She blinked at me and smiled, surprising me. She was a statue of sentient chocolate.

“They want her, and I won’t let them have her. Please hide her for me until I can find a better way to protect her.”

“Of course,” I said. “But what does she eat? What are her needs?”

“She needs nothing,” Gus said. “Just prop her up somewhere and don’t let her get dusty.”

And that is how Nougat came into my life. 

She was a charming, albeit unique, individual. Her IQ was quite high, and needless to say, she had quite a sweet personality.

Now I know what you evil-minded readers are thinking, that I lost self-control and took an occasional nibble. But, no, her ending was far worse. 

One August morning, I left for work, and when I returned, I discovered that my air conditioning had malfunctioned during the day. 

Nougat had melted away into my carpet, leaving the room smelling like a confectionery. 

I called Gus, but he seemed nonplussed. “It’s quite all right,” he said.

“Now I’m working on chocolate pets. Care to take on two Chocolate Labs?” 

Friday, October 17, 2025

My Japanese Name (Morikawa Tomonobu)



Fascinated by AI, I have been chatting with ChatGPT since its inception (Note: I do NOT use AI in any of my writing ... that's deception). I use it to search the web and compile news reports on topics that interest me, such as Biblical archaeology, artificial intelligence, and other subjects.

I am also a confirmed Japanophile and someday hope to complete my novel, The Shrine War, a love letter to Japan.

Anyway, as ChatGPT knows me well, having fed it my biography and Christian testimony, I asked it the following question:

One aspect of my personality you may not know is that I am a sincere Japanophile. I love its culture, its history (including its negative history), its cuisine, and, though I am a dedicated Christian, I do have respect for Shinto, Japan's nature religion. If I were to adopt a Japanese name, knowing my history and interests, what would you recommend? Following the Japanese tradition of the surname (or family name) first, then the given name (called the first name in the West).

I received the following answer:

森川 智信 (Morikawa Tomonobu)

  • Surname (Morikawa 森川) – “Forest river.” Suggests peace, nature, and the quiet movement of life — qualities that fit your pastoral calm and your love for old, sacred places.

  • Given name (Tomonobu 智信) – “Wise faith.”

    • 智 (tomo) = wisdom, intelligence, discernment

    • 信 (nobu) = faith, trust, belief

    • Together: a man of wise faith.
      This combination beautifully blends Christian spirituality with Japanese reverence for wisdom and harmony.

Meaning Breakdown

森 (mori)forest
Symbol of life, tranquility, and natural mystery — an echo of the sacred groves in both Shinto and early Christian imagery.

川 (kawa)river
Represents continuity, renewal, and grace flowing through time. Together with mori, it paints a landscape of living faith amid nature: “the river through the forest.”

智 (tomo)wisdom, discernment
Not mere knowledge, but insight guided by compassion and understanding — a trait deeply aligned with your pastoral character.

信 (nobu)faith, trust, belief
This kanji appears in the Japanese word for faith (shinrai, 信頼) and belief (shinkō, 信仰). It’s a word of quiet conviction and reliability.


Poetic Interpretation

森川 智信 — “The Forest River of Wise Faith”

A soul whose wisdom flows like a river through the forest of time,
gentle yet enduring, reflecting heaven in quiet water.
His faith, like the current, shapes the stones it passes —
steadfast, serene, and full of grace.


It also created the beautiful graphic above to display my new name. It then offered to make a blessing that honored my new name:



You know what? I like this. Very much.


 

Wednesday, September 24, 2025

Doom, Gloom, and Drool

Created with ChatGPT v 5.0



Doom, Gloom, and Drool or Bram Stoker Never Wrote This
by Alan Loewen

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


“The sun is setting.” My friend intoned while striking a dramatic pose. An author of dark fantasy romances with a body count, he had a long, bad habit of affecting garish pretensions.

I groaned under my breath. “Yes,” I replied. “The sun is setting.” We continued our walk around the pond that graced his property as the crickets began their nightly vigil and the bullfrogs tuned up their nocturnal chorus.

“The sun is setting,” he repeated.

“You already said that,” I shot back. “Who cares?”

“The sun is setting. The creatures of the night will be upon us soon.”

“Oh, yes,” I answered with heavy sarcasm. “Katydids and bats. We’ll be feeding the mosquitoes soon. If you’re so wired up about it, we can go back to the house.”

He paused for a moment. “The children of the night! What beautiful music they make!”

“You two-bit hack!” I snapped back. “That line is from that old Dracula movie.”

Suddenly, a huge four-legged beast burst out of the darkness and threw me to the ground. The dark form stood over me. Its open jaws dripped drool on my face, and its fetid breath threatened to suffocate me.

My friend laughed fiendishly and ran away, leaving me to my fate.

“Get off of me, Brunhilde!” I yelled at my friend’s overly friendly Saint Bernard.

That was thirty minutes ago. Brunhilde adores me and refuses to let me go.

And my friend?

That penny-a-word scribbler left me to drown in doggy drool.

The Dream-Quest of Mykel-Paul Hinojos

For Inktober , Tuesday, October 27, 2020. Prompt word: “crawl.” Tuckerization:  Mykel-Paul Hinojos I started this Inktober experiment way ...