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Little is known about the author. It is said he was a bit of a recluse. He was born in Newport, Rhode Island in 1971. Jeff lived in several houses on Aquidneck Island and claimed that many of the houses were haunted. He had many such stories and loved to recite them. Some say he was a tortured soul, plagued by many spirits both good and evil. He swore to have seen a few UFOs; it's no wonder most took him for crazy. Jeff always had a powerful and vivid imagination, with which he was either blessed or burdened. As a youth, he was fascinated by space, the deep blue sea, and the supernatural. He loved reading, often books that were filled with ghost stories. Soon he was writing stories himself, mostly science fiction and horror. As a young boy, he knew he wanted to be a writer, well, that and of course, an astronaut and a pirate. As a young man, he found alcohol and drugs, and soon fell in love with intoxication. He also loved nature and would spend much of his time in the woods, writing short stories. Around this time, he became mesmerized with music and realized that he wished to leave his scar on the world of rock and roll, for one day he heard strange music playing in his head. It was always a full band, which often involved unexplained melodies from invisible and unimaginable instruments. The writer began penning down poetic verse to the phantom orchestrations that began playing in his head randomly. He spent seven years writing lyrics, which he described as miniature stories, many of which had a macabre nature. He often wondered where all of the strange music came from, then one day, it all stopped.
Sometime in his thirties, he suffered a mental breakdown. It is not known what brought it about. Some blame his drinking and drug use, while others claim he spent too much time delving into the darkness of the supernatural realm. Jeff began hallucinating and wandering around, speaking gibberish to himself. People swore he was having conversations with an imaginary entity, and the author began questioning where his ideas were spawned from in the first place. His friends came to understand that he was now convinced that he lived in a time a hundred and a half years in the past. For example, when a car went by, he would see a horse and carriage, and one time, he swore he had burnt himself with his torch while he was carrying a flashlight. The afflicted author began complaining of an invisible haunt, which he called The Garghoul, which would often perch on his right shoulder and whisper strange words into his ear which he would somehow translate to English on paper. Now Jeff understood where the ideas came from.
The is a rumor in which he was committed to Butler Hospital. Some say he mysteriously vanished while under their care. However, there is no proof of his incarceration. Either way, the author was never seen or heard from again. Some speculate that he might have wandered into his beloved woods and died out in the elements. One rumor that persists is that he regained his dwindling sanity and is now living in Italy with his wife and pet, Homunculus. One can only hope that he is still alive and is still penning down chilling and macabre stories that threaten to deliver both writer and reader to madness.
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