The first novella I wrote for the RPG industry was for the Aletheia RPG, published by Abstract Nova Entertainment. It’s titled “Twin Designs” and was included in The Tales of the Seven Dogs Society. I contributed to the RPG, so I knew how intense the setting was. That piece allowed me to take some risks and I talked a little bit about that in my writing notes for Tales of the Seven Dogs Society. This was written in first person and I leveraged both perspectives of each brother – one a believer and one a skeptic. Ralph tends to be a lot more naive than his brother Edgar, and as the story progresses you find out why.

Due to the psychic ability that the brothers share, which is called “Presque Vu” (or the ability to see The Grand Design), the novella is more on the cerebral side. It’s a unique ability, though, and one that I loved to explore. After all, how do you know you’re interpreting your visions correctly? You could see what’s supposed to happen or have strong instincts, but do you have any idea what that means?

Here’s an excerpt from the novella:

Twin Designs

Part One: The Believer

Late at night when you’re all alone, do you ever stop to question what purpose you have in this world? Do you lie awake in your soft bed thinking “Maybe life is just some sick joke?” and wonder if you’ll be able to come back and haunt your loved ones after you’ve passed on?

I never have.

My name is Ralph Whitman and I, along with my twin brother Edgar, have the ability to see the Grand Design, a type of sight the French call “Presque Vu.” I don’t intend to sound arrogant here, but it’s just the way it is. We see connections between events that others are incapable of understanding, and we’re both able to take a step back to see whether or not a specific event will lead us closer to the Divine. Some call that higher power Fate, some God, or even a significant evolution of the Self. Call it what you will; our sight is infallible—even though sometimes our perceptions might be a bit “off.”

Now, when I say “Grand Design” I do not mean that we can foretell the future; that gift is something my brother has desperately wished for, an obsession that began when we were little kids. No, our gift is to see how events are connected to one another as part of the Master Plan, something I’m assuming all humans hope to be a part of. You see, when you know whether or not something is supposed to happen, before too long you’ll also understand why it happened.

Take the Bermuda Triangle for example. Say that you’re traveling on a cruise ship near the area, when the captain announces that a strange storm is gathering in the East. With Presque Vu, I might find out that the storm has some significance—it’s not just a random freak of nature. A few minutes pass and it’s as if my eyes are opened; I might be able to see that the storm is moving over the ocean in order to herd vessels into the Triangle. Or, I might see that the storm is an act of God meant to sink ships carrying specific passengers. Regardless, Presque Vu is an ability that is often misunderstood (or misused) because it’s a subtle art and highly complex, and of course not everyone uses it the same way.

My brother Edgar believes that those people who operate outside of the scope of the Master Plan are impoverished spirits who owe the Universe a grand debt, and are having to “do over” their mundane lives. In a way I also believe that is true, because the Plan is as real as you or me even if its purpose is beyond us all. I’m sure if I took the time to follow all of the connections we’ve seen, eventually we’d tie one truth to the next and learn the answers to the questions philosophers and theologians have spent millennia trying to uncover. What is the meaning of life? Is there a higher power? Why was I born?

I often wonder about the implications of our gift and question what would happen should we someday actually find out the Truth. I’m assuming each of our discoveries will simply lead to more questions—after all, humans aren’t really physically or mentally equipped to “see” the Divine. But sometimes I joke with Edgar about how one day I’ll end up in an asylum somewhere, dribbling milk all over my chin. So as excited as I am to be this close to uncovering the mysteries of the universe—I’m a bit terrified of the Truth’s implications. Sure, my brother and I both know there is a plan, but we don’t know whether or not the plan’s designer is a lunatic or a genius, amoral or immoral.

In the past our power has caused problems for us. You see, not every big event has to have a meaning, yet other times the smallest gesture makes a world of difference. One day a building blew up and (whoops!) it wasn’t a part of the grand plan, just some idiot bent on taking revenge for his boss not providing him with the correct type of stapler. Another time we saw on the news that a serial killer had systematically wiped out an entire family. To renew our “faith” in the plan we opened our eyes, hoping to see that this horrific, intentional act was an accident caused by a mutated mind—only to find out that the family’s death had to happen for a reason, and we were not privy to what that reason was… well, not until much later.

I guess you could say my brother and I are very lucky, because we’re able (or at least I am) to put our ability to good use, working with a team of investigators called “The Seven Dogs Society” to explore the weirdest and strangest mysteries the world has to offer. Simple truths with not-so-simple implications are often at the heart of paranormal investigation. No one knows that better than I do. No one.

We wouldn’t be here, at a sprawling Victorian mansion in Alaska, if it wasn’t for our shared ability–it’s that simple. The story of how we got here, though, well… that story isn’t simple at all. We met Terrance Chastain, one of the founders of the Seven Dogs Society, when were living on the streets of Los Angeles, running away from a world that ignored and punished us. When Terrance first saw us, we were digging through the dumpsters of a Chinese restaurant in the middle of a blistering L.A. summer—dirty, smelly, and covered in fear.