Friday, December 28, 2012
Book Release Update
I am approaching 7,000 words and it is coming together nicely. If I can continue at this rate I will be looking at an earlier release date.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Book Release
I am looking at a Summer 2013 release for my first self-published novel, "A Timely Curse". I will update everyone periodically on my progress.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
Fictional short, "The Suppressor"
“The Suppressor”
The
loose gravel crushing under his boots caused his current target to quicken his
pace. Stan Holmes was currently on his
third target in 3 months, all of which have been in South America. Being that he was ex-military, now a hired
hitman to whoever would pay, he was constantly on the move. Now tracking his current target in Peru, and
trying to do so with extreme vigilance.
His prey was crafty in his attempts to elude the pursuit, but Stan had
played this game many times before and had him right where he wanted him. They were moving alongside an old decrepit
building with open doorways about every 20 feet. The Peruvian prey quickly turned around
pointing his pea shooter at nothing but air.
Then, like a ninja, Stan appeared behind him from one of the doorways
and snapped his neck, silent and deadly.
After
giving confirmation of the kill on his prepaid burner, he headed back to his
hotel to gather his things. Stan never
asked questions about his targets, so he really never knew what they did or if
they were just innocent men who made a few bad decisions. It was just a job, like a waiter in a
restaurant taking an order. A waiter
wouldn’t ask a customer why they were ordering the porterhouse steak. Once back at the hotel, he showered, and then
began packing to head back to the states.
He was an average size man with a face and body that appeared as if it
was carved from stone, with many chiseled scars on his face and torso. Most of his battle scars were engraved during
his time in the military, not many more since then. This line of work was much less hazardous to
his health, as his most recent assignment indicated. On his way out he tipped the young concierge
quite generously, hailed a cab, and then headed to the airport.
Once
back in New York, he made a quick pit stop at the bank and then back to his
place. Stan had more than enough money
to get out of this game for good but one thing was keeping him in it. He was patiently waiting for his contacts in
the Russian mob to locate one of their own that was excommunicated from the
organization, and had disappeared. The
rumor was that he returned back to Russia but he hasn’t been seen by anyone
yet. His name was Sergei Tasarov and he
was the man responsible for the botched hit on Stan that left his companion,
Lena Valander, dead. By no means was he
in love with her, but they had a strong connection and he trusted her. In his line of work that was extremely rare
and she would be alive if she never had met him. He desperately needed to right that wrong and
knew eventually Sergei would surface, nobody can stay hidden forever.
Now
after a couple of relaxing weeks, and no new assignments, Stan was planning to
take a trip to Las Vegas. He was not
much of a gambler on the tables but you could say he rolled the dice in the
bedroom, often. The only kind of
companionship he required now was from the ladies of the night. He vowed never to get close to anyone ever
again after Lena was murdered. Love and
assassinations did not mesh well and the only thing a prostitute loves is cash,
which he has plenty of. Now shortly
after he finished packing he received a text message from his Russian contact
that read, “Your PERSONAL friend is staying at the Bellagio in Vegas.” Stan felt his heart rate accelerate after he
read the text for the third time, making sure that he was reading it
correctly. His relaxed demeanor quickly
was replaced with stone cold focus as he zipped up his bag and headed to the
airport.
Traveling
commercially meant no weapons and Stan actually preferred to use his hands as
the murder weapons when possible. Besides,
this would be an up close and personal elimination, so it worked out well. Shortly after the plane touched down, Stan
got his bags and headed to the strip.
The ladies of the night would have to wait due to the more pressing
business that popped up, but they can be sure that Stan would be ready to
celebrate after he handled his business.
He checked in at the Mandalay Bay under his alias, Stephen Connor,
dropped off his bags and headed to the Bellagio to scout the situation. The first thing he did before posting up
somewhere with a good view of the lobby, was buy a baseball cap from the gift
shop for some cover. He also purchased a
cup of coffee and found a spot close to the lobby doors to observe everyone
coming and going, and now he plays the waiting game.
Nearly
3 hours had passed and Stan decided it was time to stand up and stretch his
legs. His patience was unmatched and
knew he could sit there for days if necessary, when suddenly he saw Tasarov
coming off the elevators, and head straight through the lobby towards the
entrance. Stan shielded his face a bit
more but sneakily took another glance at him for confirmation. He had no doubt that it was Sergei, despite
his feeble attempt to change his appearance with that awful mustache. Now just as his oblivious prey was
approaching the door, he stopped in his tracks, put his hand in his pocket, and
then turned back toward the elevators like he forgot something. Noticing a crowd of people waiting for the
elevator, Stan swiftly made his way across the lobby to blend in with them and
board the elevator without Sergei suspecting a thing. He squeezed behind him and shifted his focus
to what floor he was exiting on, Tasarov hit 7.
Finally
after a couple of stops on the way up, they were on 7, and they were the only
two that exited on that floor. Stan
started to slow his pace, keeping his head down hidden from security
cameras. He began coughing loudly to get
Sergei’s attention, going down on one knee like he was choking on
something. Sergei turned and asked Stan
if he was alright but he just coughed louder and louder drawing his
unsuspecting prey closer. When he was in
striking distance, Stan popped up and drove his forearm into Sergei’s throat,
driving him back into the wall, crushing his larynx. Now Sergei, unable to make a sound, looked
dead into Stan’s eyes and instantly knew his time on this earth was done. Stan quickly grabbed his chin and the back of
his head, snapped his neck, and watched him drop to the floor, wide-eyed and
lifeless.
Immediately
after he hit the ground, Stan calmly walked to the stairwell, then once inside,
drastically changed his pace and took off down to the lobby. Once outside he lost the hat and put on a
pair of sunglasses he had in his pocket.
No doubt by now someone would have found the body and called it in, but
he knew it would go into the unsolved murder files eventually. With a look of satisfaction on his face, he
would now be able to go celebrate his conquest with the only companions he had
left in this world.
Social networking
“Timesuck”
By
Joseph DiBartolo
Now
don’t get me wrong, I do believe social networking is relevant in the world we
live in today. It just seems to me that
it should be used as a platform for business purposes and to make contacts
beneficial to your future. More and more
I am coming across self-obsessed individuals using it to let the general public
know what song they just listened to or what they had for lunch. Who cares?
The time being spent over the course of the year that you are informing
the general population about your most recent bowel movement, could be spent
being a bit more productive. And the
rants and raves could also be mildly annoying, more particularly, the rants. The raves are greatly appreciated by Apple
when someone praises the functionality of the new iPad. On the other hand, the people that are
compelled to document every gem of a thought that comes to mind, some restraint
would be welcomed with open arms. For
example, someone going on a frantic political rant about a policy they don’t
agree with or a candidate they hate, like they actually have an insight to what
is really going on. Everything we see in
the media is fabricated and the government will never tell the general public
what is really going on. If you want the
truth and are so opinionated, go into politics yourself and run for
president. Finally, the pictures portion
of someone’s facebook or my space or my face spacebook page. This is to those who insist on taking a
million pictures of themselves and posting them on their page. Go to Christian Mingle or JDate or whatever
site where you can find a suitable mate.
I sometimes wonder if these people have pictures of themselves hanging
all over their walls at home as well. To
some this article may actually seem like a rant, but you can’t argue with the
logic and hopefully it gets some people to use their valuable time more wisely.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Flash Fiction "Snapped"
"Snapped"
The
line hadn’t moved in nearly five minutes now and I couldn’t unclench my
fists. I found myself fantasizing about
what I would do to the clerk with that meat cleaver he was wielding ever so
slowly. A sandwich, turkey and cheese
was all I wanted, that’s it. Now,
finally, the line moves to the elderly gentleman right in front of me, one more
order and I’m up. I was practically
salivating at this point but my malicious thoughts abruptly shifted from the
clerk to the old man when he asked his fourth consecutive question about the
Veggie delight. I began to see red, and
then like a horror film I was watching, I saw myself pummel the old man nearly
unrecognizable. What drove me to commit
such a vile act? Perhaps it was losing
my job of 8 years and my wife of 15 all in the same week. Or maybe it was losing half of my money along
with all of my possessions. I suppose
when you lose that much and you’re that close to the edge, the slightest
annoyance can send you over. Now as I’m
staring down at this bloody mess I’ve created I here a voice getting
increasingly louder as if someone was turning up the volume on the
television. “Sir”, the clerk yelled, as
I snapped back to reality, Can I help you?
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
13th Annual Writer's Digest Short Short Story Competition
I just entered "Pure Justice" in the 13th Annual Writer's Digest Competition. Winners will be notified by Feb 28, 2013.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Six Sentence story, "Misconception"
“Misconception”
By Joseph DiBartolo
Immediately
after the coitus, my latest squeeze, now unequivocally tangled in a fresh web
of lies, raced back to her husband, brushing her hair on the way out. I had been growing concerned as of late due
to the black and blue marks that continued to revisit her athletic figure. She had told me they were from a kickboxing
class she took up at the local gym. As
convincing as she was, I wasn’t buying it, especially when I heard a loud thud
outside my door. Expecting the worst, I
quickly ran into the hallway to see her standing over an unconscious man nearly
twice her size. Before I could
comprehend what just happened, she took off her wedding ring, placed it on the
husky man, and looked at me with utter satisfaction.
Joseph
DiBartolo, Aspiring Writer, Film enthusiast.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Fictional short, "A long walk home"
“A long walk home”
By
Joseph DiBartolo
The
click of his phone closing was drowned out by an obscenity James blurted out as
he exited the restaurant and discovered it was raining. His call to his friend Greg went unanswered,
which means that he got drunk and passed out so James would be walking home
from work. James, being the conventional
type of course had his umbrella with him.
As he began to open the gigantic awning of an umbrella, two police cars
went by with great haste in the same direction he was walking. He instantly began wondering what was going
on that required such urgency for the police.
Although leading a mundane life for the most part he often longed for
some adventure or even danger.
About
a mile into his 5 mile hike on this damp Boston night James became startled by
a sudden commotion coming from a nearby alleyway. Without hesitation he dashed into the dark
narrow corridor to see what was happening.
As he turned the corner he instantly reacted to the man running towards
him with a woman’s purse by lowering his shoulder and spearing him into the
dumpster immediately rendering him unconscious.
He kept his composure and grabbed the purse and headed down the alley
towards the woman who was a bit shaken up to say the least. James was at a loss for words as he
approached the woman due to her unmatched beauty.
“Are
you alright?” asked James, as he handed the woman her purse. “Yes, thank you so much,” she replied. “My name is Natasha, what’s yours?” “Hey, I’m James” he said, beginning to get a
bit nervous due to his lack of experience talking to women. Luckily, before he said anything asinine, her
ride pulled up. She told James that she
worked across the street at the bookstore and that he should come to visit
her. After thanking him again for his
courageous act, she jumped in the faded red jeep and departed.
Before
James continued his walk home he went to see if the thief had a pulse. He was relieved to find that he did and then
quickly got out of there before anyone saw him.
After jogging for a few minutes to put some distance between him and the
unknown perpetrator, James realized he dropped his umbrella during the
incident. The rain had subsided by this
point and he was not about to go back to find it. It was quiet out being that it was late and
not much traffic around. He began to
replay the incident again in his head with the thief and the beautiful Natasha. With an almost goofy smile of satisfaction on
his face, James was unaware that his 5 mile adventure was just beginning.
As
James continued to recap the earlier event his thoughts were interrupted by the
sound of sirens. It seemed the sirens
were getting louder and louder which could only mean that they were getting
closer. The possibility of someone
seeing what happened made him think the fuzz was coming for him. He quickly ducked into an alleyway only to
see a man running by who happened to drop a small package on the wet
sidewalk. Only seconds later two police
vehicles made their way past my location at dangerously high speeds. Although relieved that they were not after
him, James could not take his eyes off the small brown envelope just laying a
few feet from him.
Looking
at the little brown envelope with much scrutiny, James calmly grabbed it and
instantly knew what was inside. He gave
a quick glance in each direction and continued heading home at a rapid
pace. Quickly peeking inside he could see
the thick stack of hundreds. His heart
began racing making it hard for him to keep his composure. As James passed the next alleyway he noticed
a woman and her daughter curled up together by the dumpster. He thought to himself that these could only
be ill-gotten gains and should be put to good use. Without counting James took a stack of cash
from the envelope and gave it to the woman with advice to go find a motel and
some food.
For
the next half mile he kept his head on a swivel looking out for anyone
suspicious. Up to this point in his
journey home he almost felt like some sort of superhero who could do anything. Overwhelmed with feelings of excitement and
anxiety, James attempted to calm himself with thoughts of his next encounter
with the lovely bookstore girl. This
feeling of bliss almost made him forget about the massive stack of cash bulging
from his back pocket. He had never seen
so much cash nor had this much adventure in his entire tedious existence. Things had seemed to calm down a bit as he
passed by the local watering hole that was known for their unsavory
clientele.
Still
deep in thought about the recent events James thought he noticed Natasha inside
the bar. The bar was packed so he could
not be certain. Not wanting to push his
luck or look to eager he decides not to go in.
Whether it was her or not it really stimulated his imagination. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, James
noticed a black SUV quickly pass and something didn’t seem quite right. The woman driving looked panicked from the
brief glimpse he got. It seemed as if
she was trying to stop but couldn’t.
Then as she came to the intersection she was plowed by a black sedan
that had the green light.
The
loud collision was heard by everyone around, and inside the pub, even with the
music blaring. James and a couple others
ran over to assist as another woman quickly dialed 911. He was able to pull the little boy from the
car seat which was miraculously still in tact.
The brunt of the blow was on the front end, and the other man pulled the
woman out, who seemed to have a broken arm.
Shortly after the rescue, the paramedics showed up and quickly attended
to the woman and her son. James heard
applause coming from behind him and turned to see that the entire pub had
emptied onto the street. It only took a
second for him to recognize that the woman clapping the loudest and running
towards him was Natasha.
“Oh
my god James that was great,” said Natasha, as she approached him in the middle
of the mayhem. “Hey you, I thought I saw
you in there as I passed by but then the accident happened,” James
replied. “So is this an average night
for you, going around saving people all night long?” asked Natasha. As he was just about to answer, James noticed
the man who dropped his envelope full of cash was in the crowd staring right at
him. The thick brown envelope was
bulging from his back pocket in plain sight for the stranger to see. Drawing attention to myself trying to play
superhero was probably not the smartest idea considering the night I had, James
thought to himself. “Hey Natasha, I
gotta get goin,” he quickly said. “I’ll
walk with you,” she said. Feeling uneasy
about letting her come thinking this guy may follow, James agreed and they
departed the scene.
They
had been walking for about ten minutes now, and there was no indication that
the stranger was tailing them. James
would still give a quick glance over his shoulder every couple of minutes to be
safe. They had been getting to know each
other a bit during their stroll, and James became more relaxed as they neared
his apartment. Suddenly James heard the
sound of a man clearing his throat behind them, no doubt to get their
attention. He quickly turned and noticed
the man standing there, shivering, perhaps in fear of the much larger
James. As he walked towards the little
man, James turned to Natasha telling her to stay back, unaware the man was
concealing a pocket knife up his sleeve, James walked right into a brutal
assault to the ribs. Dropping to his
knees holding his ribcage, the assailant quickly snatched the envelope along
with his wallet and took off into a dark alley.
Natasha began screaming frantically as she rifled through her purse
looking for her phone, and called 911.
A
couple hours had gone by since James passed out, and was now starting to come
to. In a bit of a daze, the bright white
walls made him think he was in either heaven or the hospital. Seeing Natasha’s face did not make him come
to any conclusions as to where he was since she looked like an angel. Then the doctor walking in made James realize
he was still alive. The doctor told him
he would be a little weak due to the blood loss, but he would be just
fine. With a feeling of relief, James
turned his attention to the door as his friend Greg walked in with a guilty
look on his pale face.
His
first instinct when Greg walked in was to get up and pummel him. Then reason was able to prevail, and James
realized that Greg not answering the phone was the best thing that ever
happened to him. If it had not been for
his unreliable, drunk of a friend, James would not have met Natasha the way he
did, or save the people he did. In a
way, Greg was the real hero because he set this whole night in motion. The knife wound was even warmly welcomed
because the scar will forever remind James of the greatest night of his
life. Just as Greg was about to speak,
James grabbed his forearm and said, “Thank you”. Finally, he laid his head back, closed his
eyes, and smiled from ear to ear.
Fictional Short, "Pure Justice"
“Pure Justice”
By Joseph DiBartolo
The
streets of South Boston were flooded with green on this damp St. Patty’s
Day. Ray McGloin, though his blood was
green, did not have a single article of green clothing on. Instead, the hulking Irishman was wearing all
black, as he often did. He was a
freakishly large man with a scar on the right side of his face from a car
accident a few years back. This car
accident was well-known around here and changed Ray’s life forever. He lost the only remaining family he had
left, his sister and his father. A faded
blue Chevy Caprice ran a stop sign and slammed into the passenger side of his
green Nissan, where his father and sister were sitting. The man was never found after he fled the
scene on foot.
Ray
has not spoken a total of a hundred words since that horrific day. The word around town was that he was still
deeply depressed, or that the accident affected his brain and that’s why he is
practically a mute. Wherever he went
people would make an extra effort to stay out of his way and avoid eye contact,
which was fairly easy since he always looked at the ground when he walked. He walks everywhere since that tragic day,
another reason why people think his physical or mental state was compromised. Ray walked into Murphy’s pub and the
bartender quickly started filling a pint glass with Guinness.
A
couple of hours and three pints later, the Irish drunkards began pouring in
from the street. Ray constantly had to
deal with the snickers and whispers due to the rumors going around about him,
but he paid them no mind. Nobody had the
balls to say anything to his face, and he knew that. He kept on coming around and tolerating all
the whispers hoping he would get the information he was searching for, the
whereabouts of Nate Rooney, the man who fled the scene of the accident that
killed his family. His strategy of
hanging around the local bars in hopes of some wasted local shooting his mouth
off, although logical, wasn’t getting him any results. The time was rapidly approaching where he
would have to use tactics that were a bit less subtle.
It
was after midnight now and the rain had finally stopped. Ray threw back the last drops of his ale,
slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar, and turned to head for the door. Most of the patrons averted their eyes as he
made his way to the exit, trying not to stare at his unsightly scar. He pushed open the decrepit green door and
noticed Melina, an old friend of the family, was crossing the street and
heading towards the bar. “Hi Ray,” she
said, as she hopped up on the curb, softly giving his mammoth arm a soft caress
as she passed. Ray gave her a quick nod
and proceeded to cross the street.
Anyone who would have witnessed this brief exchange would have thought
Ray to be extremely rude, but Melina knew better. She cared for him deeply and understood that
he was utterly consumed with finding Nate Rooney. Opening the door, she turned with a look of
adoration towards Ray, hoping that he would not find the man he was searching
for. As much as she wanted him to find
peace, Melina knew it would come at an overbearing price.
The
next morning Ray was up early to go visit his family at the cemetery, as he did
every morning, then to go run some errands.
The streets were nearly empty, most likely because everyone was sleeping
off a long night of partying. After
stopping by to see his family he headed to the bank to get some cash, and then
head over to the coffee shop. His father
had a large life insurance policy that was all left to Ray since his sister was
also lost in the accident. Now having
this large sum of money allowed him to quit his construction job and fully
focus on his only mission in life. He
often wondered exactly what he would do when he found Nate Rooney, being that
he was the only one with a clear motive to kill him. Deep down he knew his family would want him
to get on with his life, but he knew that would be virtually impossible with
this man still out there. After ordering
his black coffee, Ray found a table out front, secluded from the others, where
he could sit and figure out how to get the information he was seeking.
Coming
up with a short list of schemes, first of which was to simply just throw some
money around to some of the locals for any information, and another was to just
save his money and throw the locals around until someone talked. In the interest of not drawing to much
attention to himself, his last option on the list was to pay Melina to start
digging for answers. This seemed to be
the most sensible choice being that people would be more inclined to speak to a
beautiful petite woman as opposed to giant man with an ill-favored look. Knowing her as well as he did, there was a
slim to none chance that she would take any money from him. Melina and his sister were best friends since
they were seven years old, and in some ways, they were very similar. They were both extremely precocious and
curious from a young age, and always trying to hangout with Ray and his
friends. He figured the best way would
be to stuff an envelope with cash and a note explaining what he needed her to
do, and slide it under her door on the way to the pub later.
It
was a little after 9 p.m. and Murphy’s bar was crowded yet again, with
yesterday being St. Patrick’s Day, one would think people could not drink like
that on consecutive days. But this was
an Irish pub in Boston so that was not the case. The word hangover was incomprehensible around
here as was the term “social drinker”. Ray
found a seat at the bar and without mouthing a word; the bartender grabbed a
pint glass, filled it to the rim, and placed it in front of him. Maybe about an hour had gone by when a man
came up to the bar, slapped down his credit card, and asked to close out his
tab. Ray got a glimpse of the name on
the card before the bartender grabbed it, Nate Rooney. It took everything he had to keep his
composure until he was able to fathom what just took place. There were so many emotions running through
him and he couldn’t decide which one to unleash. He had to be smart and vigilant due to the
fact that he would be the prime suspect in the mutilation of Mr. Rooney. Perhaps he could make it look like a robbery
gone bad. Before he knew it, Nate had
paid his tab and was headed for the door.
Ray
dropped a twenty on the bar for the pint that he never even finished. On his way to the door, about 15 feet behind
his prey, the bartender yelled out, “Thanks Ray”. Nate had slowed his stride a bit as if he
recognized the name. Ray turned and
glared at the oblivious bartender as he was halfway out the door. As soon as he stepped on the pavement his
phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it. He figured it was Melina trying to tell him
she was coming to give his money back. At
this point his attention could not be swayed and had decided that an appearance
of a botched robbery was the way to do this.
They were a couple of blocks away from the bar now and Nate had
obviously walked here. There was about
30 feet between them when Nate quickly turned and was pointing a gun at
Ray.
“I know who you
are,” Nate said. “It was an accident
what happened that night.” The veins
were literally popping from the neck of the giant Irishman. Without saying a word and with total
disregard of the gun that was pointed at him, he ran straight at Nate. In complete shock of what Ray was doing, Nate
fired off a nervous shot that hit Ray in the shoulder, knocking him off his
feet. But to his dismay, Ray was quickly
back to his feet and there were now people everywhere. Nate shot out into the street and was slammed
by a blue Honda Civic going a good 45 m.p.h.
Ray immediately recognized the vehicle, it was Melina. She got out of the car, hands shaking, in
complete shock of what just happened as she walked over to the bloody
corpse. As Ray stumbled over to the
body, holding his wounded shoulder, realized that the man he wanted dead, was
now just that. There were plenty of
witnesses to say that neither Ray nor Melina were at fault. Ray, now standing over the lifeless body of
Nate Rooney, cracked a smile and looked at Melina and said, “Money well spent.”
Hello World
I will be periodically posting my fictional shorts that I have written. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thank you and enjoy!!
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