Davis Ashura is an author of such sublime depth and beauty that his works have been known to cause a tear to fall from the eyes of even the hardest of hearts.
But he does write.
This humble writer, who refers to himself in the third person, resides in North Carolina, sharing a house with his magnificent wife who somehow overlooked Davis’ eccentricities and married him anyway. As proper recompense for her sacrifice, Davis then unwittingly turned his magnificent wife into a nerd-girl. To her sad and utter humiliation, she knows exactly what is meant by ‘Kronos’. Living with them are their two rambunctious boys, both of whom have at various times helped turn Davis’ once lustrous, raven-black hair prematurely white (it sure sounds prettier than the dirty gray it actually is). And of course, there is the obligatory strange, calico cat (all authors have cats – it’s required by the union). She is the world’s finest hunter of socks, be they dirty or clean. Add in the stray black kitten, and the family is complete.
When not working – nay laboring – in the creation of works of fiction so grand that hardly anyone has read a single word of them, Davis practices medicine, but only when the insurance companies tell him he can.