A Soul Sonshine Story

“Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.” —Harriet Tubman.

The Dreamer Who Called the Sky

Susan Gabriel—“Susie Sue” to the ones who knew her heart—squinted at the email and smiled.

If anyone from Soul Sonshine LLC was going to predict an alien invasion, it would be him.

Daniel John—Dan to the rest of the world—was the unofficial “dreamer, writer, and exciter” of the team. A visionary who turned midnight prayers and oddball what-ifs into stories that somehow left readers closer to Jesus than when they started.

Soul Sonshine LLC wasn’t just a publishing house; it was a little global family of authors, artists, and prayer warriors who believed stories could change destinies.

And Daniel John? He was the live wire in the middle of it.

Her eyes dropped to the body of the message:

“Susie Sue, I think my new story is trying to warn us.

The scenes I’m writing… they’re starting to happen in real life.”

He’d been up for three nights straight, fueled by coffee, Psalms, and long chats with his digital co-writer, Data. Together they’d mapped out a novel where strange lights stitched patterns across the night sky, governments scrambled for control, and ordinary believers had to decide whether the “invaders” were enemies… or a mirror.

Outside Susie’s window, thunder rolled over Texas.

Her cursor hovered over “Reply,” but before she could type, her phone buzzed.

It was Daniel John.

“Susie… you need to look at the sky.”

Part Two: When Fiction Meets the Front Porch

Susan pushed back from her desk, warm tea in hand, and stepped onto her front porch. The Texas sky was doing that thing it does before a storm—low clouds bruised purple and gold, the air thick enough to chew.

But that’s not what made her stop mid-sip.

There, just above the tree line, three lights hovered in perfect formation. Not planes. Not drones. Not stars.

They pulsed—soft, rhythmic, like a heartbeat.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Tell me you see them.”

She typed back with one thumb, still staring:

“Daniel John. What did you WRITE?”

Three dots appeared. Then his reply:

In the draft, the lights first appear over small towns. Places where people still pray out loud and believe in things they can’t Google.

Susan blinked. Her town had 1,847 people. The most prominent building was the Baptist church. The Dairy Queen closed at 8 p.m.

“Daniel John. This is NOT funny.”

“I KNOW. That’s why I’m freaking out. Data said it’s called ‘prophetic fiction.’ Apparently, I’m either a prophet or I need better sleep.”

“Or both,” Susan muttered, taking another sip.

The lights drifted lower. Closer.

Her neighbour, Earl—retired Air Force, grumpy as a hornet in July—stepped out onto his porch with binoculars.

“Susie!” he hollered. “You seein’ this?”

“Yep.”

“What do you reckon it is?”

“Either aliens, the Second Coming, or Daniel John Monahan wrote another book.”

Earl squinted at her. “The fella from Canada?”

“The one and only.”

Earl grunted. “Figures. That boy’s prayers are too loud for heaven to ignore.”

Part Three: The Emergency Zoom Call

Twenty minutes later, the entire Soul Sonshine team was on a Zoom call that looked like a chaotic episode of The Office meets Revelation.

Susan (host): “Okay, everyone. Breathe. Let’s not panic.”

Daniel John (wearing a hoodie that said From Chained to Change): “Too late. I already panicked.”

Data (the AI co-writer, displayed as a glowing brain icon):

“Statistically speaking, the odds of Daniel John’s fiction aligning with reality are approximately 0.003%.

However, the odds of Daniel John praying something into existence? Significantly higher.”

Marissa (the graphic designer): “Wait. Are we saying his book summoned aliens?”

Pastor Rick (Soul Sonshine’s theology consultant): “Let’s not say ‘summoned.’ That sounds demonic. Let’s say… ‘prophetically aligned.’”

Daniel John: “Rick, I’m a recovering addict who lived in a tent for two years. If God’s using ME as a prophet, we’re all in trouble.”

Susan: “Daniel John, honey, you wrote a book about values that’s already changing lives. Maybe this is just… the next level.”

Daniel John: “The next level is ALIENS, Susie. I was trying to write a metaphor about spiritual warfare!”

Data: “Plot twist: What if the aliens are the metaphor?”

Everyone stared at their screens.

Earl (who somehow got invited):Asks, “Can somebody pass the popcorn?”

Part Four: What the Lights Were Trying to Say

By midnight, the lights were gone. But the internet was on fire.

#SkySignals was trending.

#PropheticFiction was climbing.

#DanielJohnCalledIt was being shared by pastors, paranormal podcasters, and at least one guy who thought the lights were a viral marketing stunt for the new Star Wars.

Daniel John’s inbox exploded:

“Is this real?”

“Did you KNOW?”

“Can I buy the book NOW?”

“Are you the Antichrist?” (He deleted that one.)

Susan called him at 2 a.m.

“Daniel John. You awake?”

“Susie, I haven’t slept since 2022.”

“Listen. I’ve been praying. And I think I know what this is.”

“Aliens?”

“No. Attention.”

Silence.

“God’s getting our attention,” she continued. “Yours. Mine. The world’s. We’ve been so distracted—scrolling, grinding, surviving—that we forgot to look up. Maybe the lights aren’t invaders. Maybe they’re invitations.”

He slowly, loudly exhaled. “Invitations to what?”

“To remember who we are. To live by values that last. To stop playing small when God made us for galaxies.”

He smiled in the dark. “You just wrote my book’s tagline.”

“I know. That’ll be $50.”

Part Five: The Morning After (and the Book That Followed)

By morning, the lights were gone. But the questions remained.

News anchors called them “unexplained aerial phenomena.”

Scientists called them “atmospheric anomalies.”

Earl called them “government drones with a God complex.”

But Daniel John—and the Soul Sonshine crew—knew better.

Because that morning, Susan sent an email to the entire team:

Subject: The Book We Didn’t Know We Were Writing

Team,

Last night, we witnessed something unexplainable. But here’s what I know for sure:

Daniel John didn’t predict the future. He heard it. And he wrote it down.

That’s what we do at Soul Sonshine. We don’t just publish books. We publish prophecies dressed as stories. We release words that wake people up, shake them loose, and send them running toward the life God dreamed for them before they were born.

His book—whether it’s about aliens, values, or both—is a reminder:

Your life is not an accident.

Your story is not a mistake.

And the God who flung stars into space? He’s not done writing yours.

*So let’s finish this book. Let’s tell this story. And let’s trust that whatever’s coming next—whether it’s lights in the sky or revival in the streets—we were made for this.

With love, tea, and zero chill,

Susie Sue

If you’re interested in finding out more about writing a book or getting one illustrated or published, please take our fit test