Sam Perrillo was one of the most reliable hit men of the New Jersey mobsters. He was big, beefy, and tough. Almost anyone who met him would surely feel uncomfortable in his presence. He wasn’t a smart man, but he knew how to keep his mouth shut about any assignments that he was given. He was also very proficient in his work. All these qualities assured his benefactors that he could handle any delicate matter for them quickly, and quietly.(more…)
Tom was a large young man with a very congenial personality. Most in the village considered him a big oaf, only good for menial labor. He helped out wherever he could to earn his room and board, and was paid little more than that. The old man who visited the village took a liking to Tom. He was considered a character unto himself, and drew suspicious stairs from the others. Rumors had it that he was a wizard, but rumors like this were never confirmed. Nevertheless, the small populace of this out of the way village, believed in most anything that was bantered about.(more…)
There was an old woman
That lived in a shoe
Who reminded children of dark nights
And not Winnie-The-Pooh
She was dread by her neighbors
And kinfolk alike
And particularly dreaded
By every little tyke(more…)
I have a new anthology coming soon to Our Book Store and Amazon Kindle titled ‘Tales for Late at Night- Darker Times.’
Joe O’Donnell, our photographer and superb graphics designer in his own right, has completed the new book cover design for the long-awaited book which I have submitted to this article. Joe has quite a few accomplishments under his belt and his book cover design can proudly take its place amongst his many fine works.
I want to thank Joe personally for his contribution to my writing and I’d like to point to his contact info at the bottom of this article for ALL my readers who wish to employ him for their literary works. You can contact him through his site below.
Thanks so much again, Joe!!!
John Carver was collecting a nice pension from the Army. Single and retired, he took to fishing to pass the days away. He would take trips to fishing holes across the country where his ‘Angling Magazine’ boasted trophy size catches and peaceful surroundings. His pension didn’t quite cover these trips, so he worked three nights a week as a night watchman for a security company.
John was known as a practical joker by some of the co-workers that he shared his nightly watches with. This particular night he literally had a graveyard shift to man. A union grave digger’s strike left a large local cemetery unattended, and waiting graves caused a backlog in coffins that went unburied. The management decided to store the caskets in a large warehouse on the grounds that normally housed the tractors, and digging equipment, used on the premises. They didn’t want any of the coffins vandalized and they wanted to keep temptation out of reach of the pranks the local youths might conjure up. (more…)
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door- only this, and nothing more.”
I was an English teacher at Stone Junior High School, in Centreville, Virginia. I had always cherished this subject throughout my own school days, and it feels almost natural for me to make this my career. (more…)
Margaret and I had lived in our new home for approximately six months before we began to notice the strange occurrences that changed our lives. Prior to these happenings, we had busied ourselves by redecorating the interior and making repairs where necessary.
It was an old house, but we loved it’s classic Victorian character. There were areas of the house where it showed maintenance had been lacking. All in all there was nothing major to the structure that needed an overall. The heating system was something that needed updating, but the plumbing and electrical fixtures were up to building codes. We had additional electrical and telephone outlets installed for my computer and a cable television box put into the living room for our new large screen TV, but that was about all. This gave us time to putter around the house and add a few of those personal touches. (more…)
Virginia is unquestionably the most beautifully state for hiking along the Appalachian Trail . The state offers many trails branching out all over the Commonwealth, but its most scenic trails lay along the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Access to the area may be obtained via the Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park. This 105-mile serpentine roadway runs the length of the mountain chain and offers many places where a vehicle can pull off to the side of the road to let its occupants enjoy the beautiful vistas of the Shenandoah Valley below. The views are spectacular and many photographers flock to these sites to pan the seemingly endless horizon and mountain peaks. (more…)
This month we decided to do something new for our readers. The Commonwealth of Virginia is nicely situated between the Allegheny mountains in the west and the Atlantic Ocean to the east. There is a marvelous stretch of water on the mainland’s east coast called the Chesapeake Bay with the Delmarva Peninsula separating it from the Atlantic Ocean.
The Chesapeake Bay is a fantastic fishing ground for sport fishermen not willing to brave the wilds of the ocean beyond. Here calmer waters prevail most of the time. Many fishing communities have sprung up here, alongside of residential areas harboring residents who love waterfront views. Vacationers and sightseers frequent the villages dotting the coastline to enjoy hearty seafood restaurants and explore the beauty of the Chesapeake Bay. One such community is know as Solomon’s Island. (more…)
Within the past two months we began a new venture by exploring the world of Hiking ! What seemed like a dire period of bad weather, either roasting hot or a season of monsoon-like rains, we finally stepped outdoors in search of a new story, and a new passion.
The impediments of extreme temperatures , what felt like 103 + degrees in the shade, to one of the rainiest years on record for our area, sunshine and more temperate weather finally kicked in. Friends of ours have been sending us photos of their hiking and camping adventures and they really wetted our appetites for similar field trips. Unlike their extended stays, encapsulated by mother nature, we decided to minimize our explorations by going Day Hiking. In this way we could start building up our stamina along with much needed experience. This included purchasing the correct type of gear and supplies we would need for this purpose. (more…)
Our magazine had trekked south this past week to explore the land of sunshine. Our goal was to explore the fabled city of St. Augustine, Florida, the first true city in North America.
St. Augustine was founded on September 8, 1565, by Spanish admiral Pedro Menéndez de Avilés, Florida’s first governor. He named the settlement “San Agustín“, as his ships bearing settlers, troops, and supplies from Spain had first sighted land in Florida eleven days earlier on August 28, the feast day of St. Augustine. The city served as the capital of Spanish Florida for over 200 years. It was designated as the capital of British East Florida when the colony was established in 1763 until it was ceded back to Spain in 1783. (more…)
Writers block is a terrible thing for one who takes up the pen. Sometimes it is a brief thing. Other times it comes in stages. When unusual circumstances intervene, long periods of brain mortification can set in.
Usually in the brief term a cup of java, or a short walk, will help the writer regain their poise and will act like a refreshing wind to get their juices flowing again. In dire circumstances a vacation, or alternate hobby is needed to get them back on course. Such was the long term effects dealt to me recently. (more…)
There are so many new authors with their work gracing the book shelves today, and they surely owe their talents to some of the great authors of our century, and the current generation. To name a few we must conjure up the names of Tolkien, Rowling, Martin, and Doyle.
Each of these writers have spawned, not only written works, but movies, board games, comic books, and television shows . There are also many current writers, whose written topics, mirror these great people and it is comforting to know that written literature has been reborn again. (more…)
Well, it’s time to dust off the camera and leave the ‘cabin fever’ doldrums behind us. When Winter set in and the weather left us in a state of hibernation, a good book and a cup of hot chocolate beckoned us indoors in front of the fireplace. We threw a comforter around our shoulders and settled in till Spring. Now that Old Man Winter is about to leave us our magazine’s team is searching to explore our surroundings once again. In retrospect we are like bears leaving our dens to see what has changed over the winter months. (more…)
My name is Memphis Andromanya. I stand deep inside the parallax flux between yesterday and tomorrow. It is the day after yesterday. It is today. It is the day before tomorrow. It is today. Time moves in static shadows cast forevermore against the solid statue of upward mobility’s downcast eyes. This is the universe I live in. This is a world of torn tears caught in the treacherous jaws of a barbed wire riptide. I stand unzipping the sky, loosing lost demons, carving my voice onto the black of the night in the parallel flux between yesterday and tomorrow. Ear to the hard edge of the wind, I listen for the hollow whistle of the approaching train to nowhere. I am Memphis Andromanya. (more…)
At approximately 3:00 am in the morning of July 23, 2015 a fire broke out in the historic town of Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia. The calamity resonated far beyond this town of 300, in large part because of Harper’s Ferry’s momentous role in American history and its popularity as a tourist destination. Luckily for the 300 residents who live in this tiny community, no injuries or deaths occurred due in part of an alert community member who was awakened by the outset of the fire. Two residences and eight businesses were destroyed, and most of the inhabitants felt that their town would never recover. (more…)
In the past episode for this story, in the December 2016 issue, I had uncovered my Irish links that originated in Londonderry (now Derry again !) Ireland where my Great-great-grandfather first immigrated to Scotland. Many questions still remained. A few included where the Irish first came from and why the Romans referred to them as Scots. This has piqued my interest even further and galvanized me to dig deeper into the past of this most interesting race.
Two books that have revealed much to me for my quest was ‘A History of Ireland’ by Edmund Curtis. This actually belonged to my uncle Vincent, for his studies when he had originally decided to train as a Catholic priest. He later decided to become a New York City policeman instead and went on to become a professor of law, after retirement, at Fordham University in New York City. The second book is titled ‘The Story of the Irish Race’, by author Seumas MacManus, who went deeper into the Irish origins that answered many, if not all, of my many questions. (more…)
Yes, the Magazine is back! With that said I wanted to open up this issue with the continuing story for the search for my family roots. As last left off I wanted to find out when my Irish ancestral name came into Scotland in the area around Glasgow.
My father was born in South Lancashire, nearby. His father, who also born in that area, was a boat builder along the River Clyde, in Glasgow. My father’s uncle owned three pubs in that vicinity which were quite popular with the local citizenry. Upon my grandfather’s move to America, my father’s uncle, who was childless, asked if my father could remain behind in order to inherit his businesses, and therefore keep them in the family name. My father declined this gracious offer and decided to move to America with his parents and sister. In America three other siblings were born into his family. These are the aunts and uncles, and later their children, my cousins, of whom I grew up with. (more…)
Dark Fantasy Writer and Illustrator Glenn James has a long standing familiarity with Doctor Who. In the summer of 2014 he was asked to undertake a rather special commission for a private collector, a man with a deep and affectionate knowledge of the programme. The resulting illustration followed a very unusual route, as the following article reveals.
As a fantasy artist I have been asked to undertake some unusual works in my time, but this one was a real challenge: How to portray all the incarnations of Doctor Who together, and do something really fresh and original with the composition.
Putting all the Doctors together is no new thing in artistic terms. You often see illustrations or posters depicting all of them in one composition, and this was especially true at the time of the 50th anniversary celebrations in 2013. Conventionally this is usually a matter of showing the various actors faces side by side in one illustration, usually in chorological order of the incarnations, with the most current one to the fore. (more…)
I won’t cry for help. I know there’s only one soul out there who can hear me, and I’m too frightened as it is. They must be pretty close by now, I can hear the movements getting nearer, and it’s too horrible to think about; I need to save my strength. No-one else will hear me now, I’m too far off the beaten track, and the chances are pretty remote.
It’s like being lost in the Everglades. Tall weeds and bushes follow the path for miles, clinging to its fringes like an encroaching disease. Like a ghost suffering from a fever, it wanders crazily, winding in and out of odd little copses where you aren’t even sure how close to the river you are anymore. It’s really deceptive, because all of a sudden you see it’s only about a foot away through the brambles. One minute you are right next to the cocoa coloured waters, and the next you could be a hundred yards back inland. I don’t believe a bird could see that route clearly from above, so tangled and winding is the path.
Every now and then a clapped out a knackered boat will loom up through the leaves out of nowhere, its stained bow yoked to the bank with a filthy umbilical cord of slimy blue-nylon rope. There are quite a few along the way, their tiny walkways overflowing with rough firewood, and the hoods over their cabs permanently aloft, weathered grey-green and patched with gaffer tape. Ancient bikes and nervous dogs are stationed on the decks, and little disturbs their solitude, except from the ebb and flow of the tide, the silent swans, or the raucous cries of the rowing coaches bumping along the opposite bank at dawn and dusk, swearing at their crews. (more…)