A Message from The Cosmic Classics Universe

Tread lightly, Cosmic Travelers—the air here… quivers.
It quivers with the memories from ghosts of yesteryears. Memories that haunt my very existence.
My name, A. Jay F. Roy. Now fragments of the man I once was.
But at night… when the shadows loom longer. The whispers grow louder. And darkness consumes the light.
I become the Destined Teller of Tales, Creator of Unseen Worlds… worlds buried deep within my fragile soul.
I write from my sanctuary in San Antonio... I think.
Sometimes the voices from the void… they claim I'm in Dallas.
Did I ever leave? Or do I remain trapped in an endless loop of despair?
From my fractured mind I watch the spaces where reality blurs into nightmare. The veils between sanity and madness unravel.
My roots tunnel deep.
They tap the unsettling folklore of the South. And the secret-stitched legends of the North.
Both soils feed the silence.
They feed the shadows.
They feed the horrors within.
They weave themselves into tales that are:
Supernatural.
Psychological.
Terrifying.
Stories for my Cosmic Classics universe—that slither from the spaces in between.
Like… The Adventures of Alex Midas.
My path here was circuitous…. I walked among you once, as a licensed real estate guide.
The walls and windows of homes revealed things. Hidden geometries of human longing. Blueprints for worlds yet to unfurl.
I built realms where space, sorcerers, and surfboards collide. Realms for the board game Cosmic Convergence.
I wove the ancient words of demigods with the cryptic code of software monsters and digital beings. It was my attempt to weave an epic fantasy, Echoes of Connection: A Modern Odyssey in a Digital Age.
These moments were necessary echoes.
Preparations.
Preparations collected from lives lived. Mine. And those I brushed against in the crowds.
In my first offering, Hexll County Jail: The Revelation, I extend… an invitation.
Take the key.
Step inside the fraying mind of Alex Midas.
Feel the cold concrete breathe.
Taste the metallic tang of paranoia.
Listen.
To the wails and whispers.
From the walls.
From the ground below.
Perhaps you’ll recognize the architecture.
It is built from dust. South Texas legends and North Texas lore. Reimagined truths overheard while they shifted in slumber.
Be warned.
These stories linger.
They stain the quiet corners of your mind.
Long after the final page is turned.
Should you travel the arteries of concrete and steel to the heart of the South, or is it the soul of the North? You might glimpse a figure navigating the streets on a Cosmic Blue bicycle. Wearing a mustard-yellow Bruno Capelo, Giovani style fedora perched just so. An anchor, perhaps. Against the pull of other places.
Come closer.
Within these tales you will find the fractured fragments of a fragile mind.
Dreams. 
Hope.
Fear.
Welcome, then, to the worlds I tend.
Reality here is but a gossamer thread.
Unraveling from the spaces in between.
Tread carefully.
May the winds of your imagination sail.
Guided by the hand of a Destined Teller of Tales.

A. Jay F. Roy