The Devil Made Me Do It Again and Again

More Than Four Words: A Fictional Introduction to the Many Lives and Deaths and Works of Paul Dale Anderson, Irwin Chapman, Paul Andrews, Dave Anders, Lyle Carpenter, Wesley Willows, Gordon Goodfellow, Gustaf Karl, Lester Lust, Monica Moan, Harold Palm, Winnifred Fortune, Sally Shields, and Too Many More to Mention



It’s not that I intentionally tried to deceive them. You know I would never do that, don’t you? Heh heh. You know I am a good and kind person at heart. I’m really a nurturer and I play well with others. Heh heh. You know I would never kill anyone. You know I’m not a serial killer. I’m not an axe murderer. Those are lies. Lies, I tell you. Lies the Devil spread about me.

You know I’m alive. You know I’m not dead. Don’t you?

I might fool them, but I’d never try to fool you.

It is true that over the course of the Twentieth and Twenty-first Centuries I’ve been many things. I’ve been a doctor, a therapist, a teacher. I’ve been a soldier, a poet, a hellfire-and-brimstone marrying and burying preacher. I’ve been a hypnotist and a stage magician and a real magician. I was a husband and a father. I was a householder and a homeless hermit.

I have been good and I have been bad. I have been happy. And I have been sad.

I was an actor, a radio personality, a newspaper reporter. I was an editor and an advertising manager. In between all of these things I have always been a writer.

It is also true that, by last count, I have produced thirty-two published novels and more than two hundred published short stories. Some are currently in print or available as e-pubs. You can find them on or or on E-Bay. Some of my stories and novels have been reprinted multiple times and in various languages in foreign countries and you can find them, too, if you look.

A few have been nominated for awards and one or two even won. I’m no different than many of my friends who also write.

Hidden among the lies we all tell are kernels of truth. From time to time a small kernel finds fertile soil and firmly roots. The twenty tales in this book found fertile soil and took root in magazines and anthologies. Like the author who nurtured them, these stories simply refuse to die. They remain alive today not only because they previously appeared in print but because there’s a grain of truth buried in the dirt.

You won’t find truth when you hunt for it. You only find truth when it smacks you on the side of your head to send you tumbling into the abyss. I have seen the abyss. It’s not pretty.

I have resurrected these twenty tales to scare the hell out of you. Don’t blame me if they offend your gentile sensitivities and change your opinion of the author. It’s not my fault.

The Devil made me do it. Then he made me do it again and again.




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