Category Archives: Excerpts from my fiction

Excerpts from “Torture” (READER DISCRETION STRONGLY ADVISED)

1. “Mr. Delanger was as emotionally cold as they come. This author can tell you nothing of Jack’s childhood, as he knows nothing about it. This author also has no insights into why Jack is so emotionally cold. This author is just as flummoxed as you. It was, tragically, simply what he was put on this Earth to do. He was born to kill. He was born to destroy. He was born to torture. He was, quite literally, a killing machine. But he did things far, far more inhumane than killing…”

2. “It was empty, and did nothing for his spirit. It was simply a way for him to do the only thing that felt natural to him. To carry on with his compulsion. For him to learn about his inevitable victims. To plot. And he couldn’t go on snooping in public aimlessly. No, he had to earn their trust. He had to fake it to stake it. He had to observe his victims before he could carry out what he was born to do. He needed to know how to be most efficient. Because he wasn’t done with them after he killed them…

This story would be a much more pleasant one if he were.”

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Maybe more to come. I’ll keep posting them while I rewrite, and take this out once it is done (again).

My best friend has analyzed my “magnum opus”, “Torture”, better than I ever could (and more so than I would ever want to myself). It’s fantastic, and I think he has truly described it better than I ever could.

Download the free Kindle app and buy this, and all of my stories, all from here.

Where you can financially support me if you so desire.

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I’m not trying to sound condescending, but…

If your name is either “Frank” or “Bob“, you’re a pretty generic person…

I feel very encouraged by this quote.

“A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play; his labor and his leisure; his mind and his body; his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing, and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always appears to be doing both.” – François-René de Chateaubriand

Insightful.

My nature.

Quotes.

Devin Stevens.

A Memorandum on Dreams.

Genius.

Growing up? 😦 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Excerpts from my fiction.

Things I have for sale on Kindle.

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If you enjoy my work.

Excerpts from “Fire: story 1 of the Apocalyptic Series”

Excerpt 1

When man first discovered fire, it lighted him during the night, and cooked him food and defended him during the day. The fire comforted him and provided for his family, and thus increased the world’s population.

Excerpt 2

But soon, the fire started causing problems. The fire could accidentally catch things ablaze that were not meant to be ablaze, at least to the comfort of man. Sometimes, man would sleep too close to the fire, causing his fur-skin clothing to catch ablaze, and sometimes burning him. Sometimes children would play with the fire and burn up a large portion of food that their parents had gathered. Sometimes the kids would use torches as swords and severely burn themselves. The fire was great, but sometimes its burn was underestimated, and sometimes the fire had a mind of its own.

Excerpt 3

The people that started the fires took great glee in their actions. They would gain no satisfaction in the enjoyment of other people’s use of fire. They did, however, take great pleasure in the destruction the fire could cause. Death was good to them. Burning up other people’s belongings with this new discovery was all that they wanted to do, and that’s all they did.

Excerpt 4

Thankfully, however, after the confrontation died down, things would return to a peaceful sense of normalcy. Although one civilization was always destroyed, the peace that came after the war was much needed.

Read excerpts from the second story here.

Download the free Kindle app and buy this, and all of my stories, all from here.

Where you can financially support me if you so desire.

Excerpts from “Breaking News: story 2 of the Apocalyptic series”

Excerpt 1

I just didn’t understand it. Most of the time, the news segments were the same. They never talked about anything happy, or if they did, they would just throw it into a newscast sloppily and nonchalantly. For every 30 minute time slot dedicated to news, there were probably 8 minutes of commercials, 15 minutes of depressing information, 4 minutes of sports and weather, and 3 minutes of uplifting news. Sometimes the “uplifting news” was something as trivial as “A dog was rescued from a tree in Japan.” Now don’t get me wrong: I’m not an animal hater. But I don’t understand the point of watching 30 minutes of hearing about murders and crimes and corrupt politicians and natural disasters all for the sake of hearing about a puppy that was rescued clear across the planet. But that’s just me.

Excerpt 2

When I read, my mind was engaged, and it was easier for me to differentiate between facts and opinions. I could easily tell if someone held an irrational grudge against someone else and that their facts were skewed, or if they made up something for attention, or if they had no idea what they were talking about and simply just wanted to be heard louder than the rest. When I got up the nerve to try to watch a little bit of news with my family, I noticed that it was much harder to gain any information. For one, there were so many advertisements that your mind couldn’t focus on that by the time the news would come back on, you were so desperate for any information that you’d cling to any little bit they would give you. I noticed my grandpa would often flip between news stations, and on several occasions, I would hear conflicting information from the two stations. It was much harder to differentiate who was telling the truth and who was lying. In fact, it was almost as if you accepted that whomever was talking to you had to be teling you the truth, otherwise they couldn’t have been on the news.

I could notice inconsistencies between news stations. One station would say one thing about the President, while another station would say something completely different. How can you tell who is telling the truth? I thought. It just felt like most news stations were only saying things to reinforce their own agendas, and little truth was to be found anywhere. How would you know who to believe when one news station said A and another news station said B except to listen to the one that was most compatible with your own preconceived viewpoints?

Noticing this reinforced my own viewpoints of not watching the news. I could see that it would just lead to trouble and I could tell all of the manipulation that went on in every newscast. I can’t be the only one to see this, I thought, but no one else seemed to bring it up, and without fail, would continue to watch it religiously. I thought about asking my grandpa how he knew who was telling the truth, but I hadn’t the nerve to confront him about it because I had a feeling it would lead to trouble.

Read excerpts from the first story here.

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Where you can financially support me if you so desire.

Excerpts from “Frank and Bob”

Excerpt 1

Frank and Bob are both considered the worst kind of person to society. Both have committed crimes so heinous that many have deemed their actions unforgivable. No one within their respective communities wants to hear a single word of defense from them. They both have committed the exact same crimes. Frank and Bob are both child molesters.

Although they aren’t the same.

Excerpt 2

Frank still has the mentality of a six-year old with the sexual needs of an adult. Bob still has morals equivalent to those of Satan and the same amount of empathy that Satan has for man. Are they both the same person inside because of their actions? Do actions speak louder than words, or does intent? Does Frank’s intent to befriend these young girls while his body wants companionship excuse him more so than Bob who does it for pure sport for reasons he can’t fully explain to you, other than deep down inside he knows he wants to because he knows no one else wants to? Did society do the right thing by arresting Frank and treating him the same way they did Bob? Did society even win by contributing to the rape of another six-year old because they didn’t understand him and because the type of person they thought they were convicting in Frank actually got away only to cause more destruction elsewhere?

Download the free Kindle app and buy this, and all of my stories, all from here.

Where you can financially support me if you so desire.

Excerpts from “Fanaticism”

Excerpt 1

I hated to admit it, and all of my friends teased me about it, but I heavily resembled Eagles head coach Andy Reid. And I mean heavily. I was a big dude. Every time the Eagles lost, my friends would give me hell about the Eagles play calling: “How could you make a call like that? WHY DON’T YOU RUN THE BALL MORE?” But the victories were as sweet as the losses were annoying because I always got free beer in all of the bars in Philadelphia.

Excerpt 2

But on the days that the Eagles lost: oh man. It was a completely different world. If the Eagles winning represented a small sample of Heaven, then surely the Eagles losing was an even larger sample of Hell. Especially after leaving a home game. As I would approach my car, people would throw beer bottles and beer cans and trash at me, booing me and screaming “WHY DIDN’T YOU PUNT ON FOURTH DOWN, YOU FAT FUCK!!!!” and “I HOPE YA MOTHA GETS RAPED AS HARD AS YA RAPED OUR SEASON, FATASS!!!!!!!!!” I knew how passionate Philly fans were, so I didn’t mind it that much. I just chalked it up to the humor of looking like Andy Reid and realized that if I was going to enjoy the perks of this act, I would have to deal with the bullshit that came with it as well.

Excerpt 3

“Hi, I’m Violet.”

It took a second for my mind to respond. “Hi, I’m Richard. Nice to meet you.” We were holding up the line, so I quickly placed my order and said “I’ll meet you at a table”, then I received my coffee and sat down with her. The ease with which I could speak with her was astonishing. We talked for a couple of hours and the time had flown by. We were getting along smoothly, until I brought up one subject.

“So, are you a sports fan?”

“No, I actually despise sports.”

“You don’t say?” My heart was crushed.

“Yeah. I just moved here from North Dakota and we didn’t have any sports teams, thank God. Pardon me for saying this, but Philadelphian sports fans are neurotic.”

“How so?”

“Well, their mood depends on whether or not their teams win or lose. Can you believe that? They’re basically leaving their mood up for chance, and in the hands of someone else hands rather than dealing with it on their own.”

“Well-”

“And they’re obnoxious.

“Yeah, but-”

“And they sit together for hours every weekend and yell at a bunch of things they have no control over. They complain over nothing. Not to mention the riots when their team or whatever finally does something good.

“It’s called passion.”

“Pardon?”

“Passion. You know…………………………don’t you have any things that you are passionate about? That you love?”

“Well……………………..I do, but it’s not a competition.”

“Well why can’t someone be passionate about competition?”

“Because somebody has to win and somebody has to lose.”

“So? What’s your point?”

“Because someone always leaves unhappy.”

“But that’s mutually agreed upon before the game starts.”

Download the free Kindle app and buy this, and all of my stories, all from here.

Where you can financially support me if you so desire.