On December 16th, 1984, an explosion destroyed a Middle-Eastern bioengineering laboratory operated by the government of the Republic of Saradia. The deadly terrorist attack destroyed irreplaceable research and ended dozens of lives.
On that day, Dr. Genichiro Shiragami – a geneticist heading the lab’s experimental botany research team – discovered that his daughter, Erika, was among those killed in the attack.
On that day, a father lost his child.
And his heart would never be the same again…

Season’s greetings, everyone.
Before we jump into this post, I apologize for the incredibly long gap between updates. If you’re a follower of the GNP on social media, you’re likely aware that the project went on a brief hiatus this summer/fall while I navigated some personal struggles. The back half of my year has been incredibly difficult, and at the risk of sounding dramatic, it truly did rob me of any semblance of a creative spark. Typically, writing and art are an effective escape for me, a way to recharge and heal. Sadly, not so these last few months.
That said, while these struggles are still ongoing, I have been gradually working my way back into being creative. And with the year closing out, I knew it was time for me to usher a new GNP short story out into the wild.
Truth be told, this tale is not one I was expecting to tell. It began falling out of my brain and through my fingers several days ago, and I couldn’t stop the flow.
The end result – inspired by work I did several years ago writing the script for an animated Godzilla vs. Biollante fan film that, unfortunately, remains unproduced – is not the happiest of tales. It takes the form of a letter written by a grief-stricken Dr. Shiragami roughly one year after the death of his daughter, Erika. A letter written to his daughter. A letter she will never read.
While the proposed fan film – to have been created by my dear friend “Kaiju” Kim Lacanilao – would have focused on Erika’s perspective as her psyche slowly transforms into something monstrous (a remarkable story I dearly hope Kim gets to tell some day), I instead chose to step behind the eyes of Erika’s father. To lose a child is, perhaps, the greatest, most unspeakable pain a human being can endure. What would this do to a man with Shiragami’s intellect? How would it break him, fracture his heart, and ultimately put him on the path to attempting his daughter’s resurrection five years later?
All interesting questions, and all representing the exact kind of emotional character study the GNP loves to tackle with its short stories. It’s my hope that this raw, devastated deep dive into Shiragami’s grief will not only expand upon one of the Godzilla franchise’s most intriguing and tortured characters, but also articulate – to the best of my ability – how even the strongest of people struggle to process a pain that, tragically, is all too real in our world.
That said, a word of caution: this story – as you can imagine – deals with some very heavy topics. If you’ve ever lived through the death/loss of anyone close to you (be it friend, parent, or child), please use discretion as to whether you should read or not.
The GNP proudly presents… “Missing You” – A Short Story
READ IT HERE
I hope you enjoy it.
And with that, the GNP has officially published its last short story of 2025. I will be taking the remainder of the year to breathe, de-stress as best I can, and spend time with my family. I hope to enter the New Year with as much renewed energy as I can muster, because, to put it mildly, I will need that energy for what’s destined to be a packed 2026. Between my Godzilla history book beginning its press/promotion and hitting bookstore shelves, a whole second book I haven’t even announced yet, some exciting collaborations on upcoming kaiju Blu-ray releases, the inevitable wave of G-Fest prep, and some big plans for the GNP (including finishing that Godzilla 1985 short story I promised you), it’s going to be big and very exciting year! I can’t wait to reveal it all to you.
Until then, thank you for being here. Thank you for your patience, your support, and for continuing to believe in me and this project. It means more to me than I can say, and it has been especially uplifting for me over the last few months. I appreciate each and every one of you, and I hope you have a safe, special, and healing holiday season with those you love.
With love and gratitude,
–Daniel


