The Writers of BK Publishing:

Chris Molnar

Chris is a base brat who's either lived at lonely Prairie radar stations or next door to goblins and witches in the Black Forest. He was born in Toronto and has lived in different locations in Western Canada and Germany.

Growing up in different environments gave Chris a keen sense of landscape, from the rolling foothills of Alberta to the endless red sunsets of the Prairies. In Germany he spotted mermaids in the Rhine and hobgoblins in castle ruins in the Black Forest, which is likely why he earned a degree in English and Medieval History (rather than, say, doing something useful like striving to become an accountant, lawyer or gaining an MBA.)

He now lives in Winnipeg with his wife and two daughters, working at home as a writer and web designer (very difficult with two toddlers!) His fiction ranges from magic realism to science fiction and fantasy to visions of post-apocalyptic futures (as an outlet for dropping frightened characters into situations and seeing how they react - which is often very surprising and rewarding!)

Favorite authors include Neal Stephenson, Harlan Ellison, Samuel R. Delany, Charles deLint, Dan Simmons, J.G. Ballard and China Mieville. Plus, the first four books of The Dark Tower.

Publications and Stories by Chris Molnar:

Heisenberg’s Pirates

01 Feb 2012 Filed in Short Stories

Author’s Note: When I was a teen, I read somewhere that somebody actually did notify the German High Command that the allied landings would happen at Normandy, not Calais, as they thought. This warning was ignored, and D-Day happened, signalling the beginning of the end for Germany. Here’s my fanciful take on why it was ignored … “And this message goes out to all our good friends in occupied France. Place the chair in the closet. I repeat, place the chair in the closet.” “That’s us,” Lucienne snapped. “Let’s go!” Molin shot awake and to his feet. Lucienne switched off the radio and checked the mysterious canvas duffle bag she always wore over her left shoulder. The secret black box lay within. The other seven Maquisards began singing under their breath while checking weapons and supplies. Molin, weaponless, hissed at them to hush, but Lucienne grinned. “Let the boys have … Continue reading