Pathogen

jonolsonauthor:

PATHOGEN by Pen of the Damned’s Joseph Pinto

Originally posted on Pen of the Damned:

Cleanliness is next to godliness.

So I was ordained.

I did not wish to realize what soon would become my mission – no, not at first.  However, upon mahogany framed photographs, cabinetry and desktops and once brilliant sheens of glass, I glimpsed smudge laden impressions, shrilling so loudly in defiance, that no longer could I deny my calling.

When first I arrived, t’was the maid I suspected of carelessness.

The maid – the latex so snug round each of her delicate fingers; how I adored the brisk snap of glove at her wrist. The maid – whose pores emanated the addictive rich luster of lemon and pine. Yes, at first I suspected the maid of carelessness, of inattention to detail, but – forgive me – that notion occurred before God came to me, before He revealed the goodness of her aseptic heart. All too clearly then, I recognized the…

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Reblog: Five Great Quotes by Stan “The Man” Lee.

jonolsonauthor:

Five Great Quotes by Stan “The Man” Lee

Originally posted on The Road to Nowhere...:

Five Great Quotes by Stan “The Man” Lee.

stan-leeHow would you like to write books every month that sold hundreds of thousands every time? Meet Stan Lee. Yes, some of you are turning your noses up at comicbooks. Yes, I spelled it comicbooks because Stan Lee says so. Because of Marvel comics I learned how to read and sound out long words. Amazing to some people. The books weren’t just filled with pow, bang, zip. With scientists on the scene they had to talk like they were scientists and part of Stan’s theory of comicbooks was and is to keep the people real even if they were super powered beings. For a genre to still be going strong and having mega hits every decade in the movies and on TV there must be something to…

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Not Quite Indian Summer

jonolsonauthor:

NOT QUITE INDIAN SUMMER by Pen of the Damned’s Hunter Shea

Originally posted on Pen of the Damned:

Tag, you’re it!”

“Ow, my mother said no one’s supposed to touch me there!” April rubbed her chest, frowning at Ben.

“Big deal. It’s not like you have boobs or anything.”

Before she could tell him she did so have boobs, Ben ran off, calling her ‘flatso’. He disappeared behind the Mowry’s house.

Probably hiding in their shed, April thought.

“Come on April, you have to start looking for us,” her friend Melody shouted, zipping past her, going across the street into her own backyard.

She smiled, momentarily forgetting the throbbing pain behind her left nipple. “Okay, I’m gonna count to ten!”

Her mother bought her a training bra just last night, right after dinner. It was a special mommy-daughter shopping night at Kohls. They got frozen yogurt afterwards. April wondered if the flimsy thing would have cushioned the blow. It was in her drawer now, waiting…

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Monarch-Man

jonolsonauthor:

MONARCH-MAN by Pen of the Damned’s Thomas Brown

Originally posted on Pen of the Damned:

“I am a winged creature who is too rarely allowed to use its wings. Ecstasies do not occur often enough.” Anais Nin

It has gone midnight when I cross the park but he is quite visible by the street lamp. Stick limbs. Wild hair. The sickly-sweet scent of honey. He is filthy and beautiful, this Monarch-Man, my Emperor of Flies.

I have been following him for months now. Sometimes it feels like my whole life has been lost to his search. Rather, it has been lost to my search for him. He takes no part in my hunt. I would be surprised if he knew that I sought him at all. But I had, I have; from the first moment I set eyes on him, crawling from the tube station.

I alone watched him tumble through the turnstiles and into the street. He reached the curb on his side…

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Burn

“Don’t do it!” The police officer’s voice is desperate and horrified.

Every ounce of common sense is screaming at me not to but I must.

My eyes look to my hand where the flame is dancing out of the Zippo and then back to the man drenched in gasoline lying on the park bench.

You don’t know what it is!” I yell.

Just put out the flame and step back!

Then, as if I’m watching it unfold in slow motion, I toss the lighter onto the ground near the bench, igniting the gas and within seconds it is a glorious and righteous fire.

Within seconds I’m slammed to the ground and knees are driven into the back of my neck. Even as they rip my arms behind my back to slap the handcuffs on, I don’t look away from the burning figure… from him… from it.

The clothes burn away as the flesh bubbles.

Just before they pull me up, I catch its eyes one last time. They flicker red and yellow as a faint smile spreads on the barely recognizable face.

Then, the demon is gone.


Damned Words 11

jonolsonauthor:

DAMNED WORDS 11

Originally posted on Pen of the Damned:

A Reason
Joseph A. Pinto

I found a reason to walk tween the folds of winter’s shawl, so hand in hand go we along Perdition’s Road. Shall we burn, we burn as one; shall we suffer, then know love cores the depths of our wounds. Lace your trembling fingers round my neck and your burdens I shall carry. I’ve no need to burn this lantern’s oils for our demons come well-known. Let them swirl in the dark, guttering til gone. Death is tenant of our path, yet tonight she’ll know no coin. My life I mortgage for yours; take flight now against my sky.


Nightfall
Nina D’Arcangela

Torn and bloodied, she huddles against the lantern’s pedestal fighting for a life already lost. Broken in spirit, broken in heart, she watches as they circle, awaiting night’s fall. Not taken on the last, she knows this eve she’ll not be so lucky…

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STRAIN

jonolsonauthor:

STRAIN by Joseph Pinto

Originally posted on Author Joseph Pinto's Horror (and things not so horrible) Blog:

STRAIN

The E. R. seemed quiet
a ruined man coughing up ghosts
sneezing lies of what home should be
an overweight woman bleeding from her soul,
condescending son lamenting his late night
and they avoid my gaze (well they should)
for my pain would serve only to break them.
Pretty nurse takes pulse, pressure
eyes sparkling as they meet my own
“Sir, this may hurt a bit” (needle penetrates my joint).
I laugh, make one thing clear:
“Never me.”
The E.R. seemed quiet
now the pretty nurse choked on ghosts
wheezing breaths where life should be
if only she had looked away.

© Copyright 2013 Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.

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