Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to M. F. Sullivan and her story The Hierophant’s Daughter!
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M.F. Sullivan is the author of Delilah, My Woman, The Lightning Stenography Device, and a slew of plays in addition to the Trilogy. She lives in Ashland, Oregon with her boyfriend and her cat, where she attends the local Shakespeare Festival and experiments with the occult. Find more information about her work (and plenty of free essays) at the links below.
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~ * ~ ABOUT THE AUTHOR and BOOK ~ * ~
What is something you’ve lied about?
What is this, a Scientology audit? Just kidding—when I was nineteen and it was time to move from Ohio, I saw my extended family for the last time without telling them I would be leaving. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to know, it was that I didn’t want them to argue with me about it. Still feeling the ramifications of that one.
Who is the last person you hugged?
What are you reading now?
Martian Time-Slip by Philip K. Dick, and Dimensions by Jacques Vallee—all this alien stuff, lately! That’s what writing sci-fi does to you.
How do you come up with the titles to your books?
Painfully. Titling the book is always the hardest part! But because with The Disgraced Martyr Trilogy and The Lightning Stenography Device (the book prior to the series) I’m writing what I hope to be psychedelic fiction, I wanted to give a wink to psychedelics with their names. When I say psychedelic fiction, I mean fiction which has psychedelic effects when properly meditated upon—not just a book that deals with drugs, like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or Inherent Vice. Not that both aren’t excellent! But I mean, I want to create something like a more engaging version of old alchemical treatises. That’s what Shakespeare was doing, especially at the end: creating psychedelic, alchemical plays. Analyzing the Tempest through that lens will change your life!
Share your dream cast for your book.
Ooooh. Mads Mikkelsen for the Hierophant, please…as long as that happens and Michael Gira of SWANS does the music, I don’t care about all the rest! But if we could resurrect Stanley Kubrick to direct, well…
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By 4042 CE, the Hierophant and his Church have risen to political dominance with his cannibalistic army of genetically modified humans: martyrs. In an era when mankind’s intergenerational cold wars against their long-lived predators seem close to running hot, the Holy Family is poised on the verge of complete planetary control. It will take a miracle to save humanity from extinction.
It will also take a miracle to resurrect the wife of 331-year-old General Dominia di Mephitoli, who defects during martyr year 1997 AL in search of Lazarus, the one man rumored to bring life to the dead. With the Hierophant’s Project Black Sun looming over her head, she has little choice but to believe this Lazarus is really all her new friends say he is–assuming he exists at all–and that these companions of hers are really able to help her. From the foulmouthed Japanese prostitute with a few secrets of her own to the outright sapient dog who seems to judge every move, they don’t inspire a lot of confidence, but the General has to take the help she can get.
After all, Dominia is no ordinary martyr. She is THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER, and her Father won’t let her switch sides without a fight. Not when she still has so much to learn.
The dystopic first entry of an epic cyberpunk trilogy, THE HIEROPHANT’S DAUGHTER is a horror/sci-fi adventure sure to delight and inspire adult readers of all stripes.
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The Light Rail
Cassandra’s absence was not her first discovery. That was her (officially) broken watch, whose blank face reflected her own bleary one. Then came the porter’s uniform, folded beside her unconscious body with such tight creases it looked as if it had been ironed: it smelled like the lavender of the woman who had pinned her against the cool metal of the train car to multiply the current’s kick. That, plus the ache in her stiff muscles, meant the woman was no hallucination. Dominia had escaped Japan, and now had a whole new level of problems. Who was she? Miki Soto. A card sat atop the uniform, its front embossed with a black-petaled, red-outlined lotus. Familiar symbol, but one she couldn’t place in her post-electric haze. She sat up to rub her head and neck with a pained sigh that turned into suffocation as her hand found the necklace gone from her throat.
Her palms were wet with sweat beneath her gloves. She stripped them off to feel around on her chest, then cried out to confirm Cassandra gone. Up the General sprang, then back down on hands and knees in search of her beloved’s remains. No trace.
Dominia knew where she was: with that same woman who had left the uniform. A disguise for the train, in exchange for her wife’s body. Cassandra! Oh, poor Cassandra, forever dying in Dominia’s mind, much as she forever stood in her flowing black dress, whose lace she smoothed while they waited outside the throne room of the Hierophant. Telling her, “You look beautiful, don’t worry; you’re so smart and funny, everyone will love you.”
~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~
~ * ~ GIVEAWAY ~ * ~
One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. CLICK HERE to enter to win! Readers, follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates and places can be found here: Tour Schedule
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M. F. Sullivan, thank you for stopping by today!
Love & blessings to all! ❤