The Active Shooter, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

The Active Shooter

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

“What the hell was that?” a young lady and I asked in unison, confused about the firecracker sound that just rang out from the office area. Then another gunshot was heard, this one followed by horrid screams from the girls in the office. Several more shots rang out in short order. Then eerie silence replaced the harrowing screams. Everyone in the shop stood still and stared at the glass door which separated the shop from the office. No one dared speak a word.

I felt like an anvil had been placed in the center of my chest. My nerves were so racked, I couldn’t breathe, and I’m certain everyone else was affected in a similar manner. We had no idea what was happening, but we knew it was horrendous when a chorus of woeful moans began to cry out from the office area only to be silenced by two more gunshots.

When Ralph busted through that door, we were all in a state of shock. He was dressed from head to toe in black, which contrasted sharply with the cheap suits he normally wore to work. He looked like an aging SWAT team warrior, as most of his apparel was armored, or bullet proof. He held a gunmetal black .45 caliber pistol in one hand and a chrome Glock 9mm in the other. There were several clips of ammo clipped around his waist and a sub-machine gun hung menacingly around his shoulder. I remember his eyes being so filled with hatred that a sense of foreboding instantly filled the room. 

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God is a Clown? excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

God is a Clown?

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

“God is a clown?” Mrs. Maple, the crabby, retired, former mayor and current Sunday school teacher, angrily stood over Damien and his superbly detailed clown, drawn over a crucified Jesus coloring page.

“Well, yea, that’s how I see it,” Damien responded fearlessly, not caring how deep a hole he was digging himself into.

“Well, I’ve never!” Mrs. Maple stormed off with the offensive picture in hand. Awkward silence filled the dank basement classroom, which was packed with pre-teen boys and girls. No one had been privy to see the piece of art that’d made Mrs. Maple angry, but they knew it had to be exceptionally vile, and that by drawing it, Damien was a now a terrible person. They all pointed fingers and stared at him. His instincts told him that he’d never be allowed to fit in with any of them again.

“Did you draw this?” Father Patricide’s cold grip tightened around the back collar of Damien’s shirt, while the doodle he’d drawn over the image on the Jesus was thrust just inches in front of his face. It was like all the air had been let out of the room. The fidgety kids sat silent and held their breath, awaiting Damien’s public condemnation from the meanest soul to ever wear a clerical collar, at least in their collective opinion.

“Yes father, it was I,” Damien’s faced flushed, as he admitted to the charges, under duress. He would’ve admitted it anyway; he was especially proud of the piece. Even if it caused the church hierarchy to perform an old school crack down on their newest dissident, to keep the rest of the kids in line. Damien was ready to make his personal revolution against the establishment. 

The old frail priest, who’d be lucky to hold his own in a playground fight with most kids Damien’s age, relied on the implied power of his position to wield authority. He violently yanked Damien out of his seat and thrashed him all around the room while yelling at him for being a heretic.

“Look what you’ve done, Damien! How dare you desecrate an image of the Lord? God is very forgiving, but not for those who mock him. Get out of my church, and don’t come back, unless your parents are willing to pay for a special priest from the Vatican to exorcise the demons out of your heathen ass.”

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One Last Magick Ride, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

One Last Magick Ride

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

The tension I felt told me that they thought I was about to blow the place up with one of their bombs, but I was undeterred by the chilly reception. I had important things to say, and I was going to say them, and they were going to listen.

“Leaders of this brave new world; listen!” I began my hypnotic diatribe. 

“You’ve gathered in this iconic building under the guise of being united, but never before have you ever been so divided!”

The shocked looks on the faces of the men and women ambassadors began to change, and they looked at each other oddly, not knowing how to react.

“I am from a different time and place,” I blurted out, not knowing how they would take that revelation. “I am a wizard from days gone by, from when magick was alive and filled the air. This is no longer the case. I arrived in this world, not knowing what to expect. I’ve found that intentions are grand, but actions have failed to live up to hype. This age seems to have reached a tipping point. The acquisition of energy seems to topple all agreements and vows of peace. Instead of working together to build a utopian society, cultural divides have splintered the world into peoples who merely cry out for peace, but those cries have been ignored by leaders who seek nothing but war, to gain ground in their petty desires to control natural resources. You should all be ashamed!”

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The Holy Man, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

The Holy Man

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

The little girl ran to her mother, who lifted her up in a huge bear hug, while everyone else in the small, but orderly mob, gasped, then started dancing and chanting in delight at the unbelievable phenomenon they’d just witnessed.

I have to admit, my heartstrings had been tugged as well. The saintly incident brought tears to my eyes, as my mind struggled to accept and understand what my eyes had witnessed. The miracle was simply too good to be true, causing suspicion and doubt to automatically arise, deep within my jaded psyche.

My cameraman finally made it through the crowd to where I stood. He’d totally missed the first miracle but saw the astonished look on my face and asked, “Was it that cool?”

“It was, Chris, it was,” I replied.

“What happened?”

“He healed a little girl’s mangled arm.”

“Was it real?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think he will do another one?”

“I sure hope so.”

“You must know that the master doesn’t like modern technology,” the frail 

voice of a woman called out to us from just in front of the holy man.

“We are sorry,” I replied. “We mean no harm. The world needs to hear your master’s story. My name is Shawn Butterfield. I am a reporter. The story of this holy man is just too special. It needs to be properly told.”

“I agree, but master is against it. You are not the first to try.”

“What is your name, ma’am?”

“Maria, Maria Gonzalez,” she smiled.

“How long have you known the master?”

“My entire life.”

“What is your relationship with him?”

“Close, very close. I am his everything; his wife, his confidant, his disciple.”

“Well, then you are definitely the right person to talk to, Maria. Thank you. Would you mind answering a few of our questions on camera?”

“I would be glad to, as long as master doesn’t appear and doesn’t become distracted. Let’s walk over here, away from the crowd.”

“What is your master’s name?” I asked after motioning for Chris to get his camera rolling.

“His name is Jesús Gonzalez.”

“Isn’t it ironic that his name is spelled the same as Christianity’s God?”

“I don’t see the connection. Their names are spelled the same, in English, but are pronounced differently. And to be honest, the Jewish and Christian messiah’s name is actually Yeshua. Neither Yeshua nor Jesús is an English name.”

“Is Jesús the second coming of the messiah?”

“No, he doesn’t claim to be.”

“What does he claim to be?”

“Jesús is a healer.”

“What is his agenda? What are his intentions, his aspirations?”

“To heal.”

“What inspires him? Surely there must be some sort of inspiration. Is it political, religious, or perhaps monetary? Does he serve some secret agenda?”

“He is inspired to heal the sick and afflicted.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing more.”

“Come on, now, there has to be more?”

“I am sorry to disappoint, but my master has no hidden agenda. He was sent to this Earth only to heal. That is all. He has no political or religious aspirations or objectives. He is pure of heart, soul, and spirit.”

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Doorway to Doom, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

Doorway to Doom

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

There was simply too much on the line to just let anyone go through the portal. Whenever I traveled through it, I’d make sure that I was only an observer. I didn’t want to get involved with something that could create a domino effect which could make the world worse than it already was.

Take the Hitler scenario, for instance. Of course, one of the first things I thought of was that I could go kill Hitler and prevent World War Two and the Holocaust from ever happening. But that idea was stunted by thoughts of someone perhaps even worse taking his place. Even if I sacrificed my life for the cause, and even if I could manage to kill Hitler, that doesn’t mean that I could kill all the Nazi’s. Going through the portal didn’t make me a super man. I was still just an average human being.

Besides not wanting to interfere with or leave a thumbprint on human history, all was fair game. It was like living in a history book, except it was the real thing, and not just some one-sided tale told from the perspective of the victor of a war.

Of course, it wasn’t all fun and games. I ran into more than my share of sticky situations and close calls. It became apparent right away that my way of dress was too futuristic and strange for folks in the past. If I could’ve guessed what era the portal would open too, I could’ve dressed for the occasion, but it was always a crapshoot.

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The Blessed or the Damned, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

The Blessed or the Damned

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

Taken in by her beauty, I reached out to gently touch her face but she disappeared. Shattered by the rebuff, my soul withdrew and slammed back into my body. At that very moment, I realized that she didn’t disappear because of anything I had done, but because she sensed a visitor coming.

My wife walked in with doctor and nurse in tow. “I think my husband has suffered enough,” she said. “He’s been like this for two long days. I hate to do this but we must remove the life support and let his soul go to Heaven.”

I’d heard my wife lie before and I could tell from her voice’s inflection that she was staging for these medical professionals. She wanted me dead so that she could collect the insurance money and live happily ever after. How could I blame her? I was the one that worked seven days a week to provide for her while ignoring her physical and emotional needs. I suppose that was why she started having an affair in the first place. How could I expect her to ever want to take care of me now that I was a worthless vegetable?

Not surprisingly, the doctor didn’t offer much in defense of my life; because he didn’t want the bill to exceed what my insurance would pay. It would be so much easier for everyone to just let me expire. Hearing my wife act like she cared so much, when the truth of the matter was, she couldn’t wait for me to expire, caused me unbearable pain, but when she started flirting with the doctor who would ultimately kill me, I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my eyes, which was the only part of my body that actually worked and started blinking wildly.

“Doctor Philachek,” whispered the young nurse who’d accompanied the distracted physician, “You must look at this. He’s blinking!”

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Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

21 June 2016

Paul DeThroe’s Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

What are your fears? What keeps you awake at night? Some things that cause me anxiety and insomnia are tales of people driven to insanity by deceit, greed, jealousy, injustice, malevolence, and treachery.

Drawing from these topics, among others, I present six nightmarish yarns for those of us who see some degree of wisdom in keeping their fears fed with dark fiction. Because, as we all know, fears left unattended tend to climb in bed with us at night to attack our unguarded dreams. Or they manifest themselves, in those who are weaker minded, as demons and monsters, who inspire dastardly deeds that inevitably end up in news headlines as the most heinous of crimes.

The Holy Man: A grizzled, uncaring, war reporter discovers a miraculous healer, and must decide whether to exploit him for purposes of career advancement, or leave him be.

The Blessed or the Damned: A jilted man is shot by his wife’s lover. Caught somewhere between life and death, he’s told at the Pearly Gates that he is either one sin or one good deed away from eternity or damnation.

Doorway to Doom: A man buys a house with a time portal, leaving him with the unenviable decision of entering it, selling it or sealing it forever.

God is a Clown?: A clown with a god complex plans to corrupt the world’s youth with a demented syndicated television program.

One Last Magick Ride: A dark age’s wizard is released from his frozen exile by global warming. The world he discovers leaves him in despair. With his magic fading, does he save humanity as his last act or does he leave us to our own self-inflicted doom?

The Active Shooter: A forlorn tale about a man who survives a mass workplace shooting, perpetrated by his long time boss. He has a message/warning to share that will chill you to the bone.

The Boy That Created Monsters excerpt, Darker Than Black, Tales of Horror

The Boy That Created Monsters excerpt

Darker Than Black, Tales of Horror

Click to Purchase

The slew of doctors and therapists who saw Theo were shocked and disturbed by his withdrawn persona and the violent nature of his drawings. This caused Theo to be held in the asylum indefinitely. He saw many doctors in his time there because the suicide rate amongst workers at the asylum increased dramatically after Theo’s admission.

This went on for quite some time, until one doctor noticed the correlation between the suicides and Theo. All the suicides had one thing in common: they’d all come into contact with Theo. The doctor that pieced it together noticed that amongst the thousands of sketches that Theo had produced, several were of those doctors, and the manner in which they met their violent, self-induced deaths, were an exact match to those drawings.

 Going against everything he’d been taught, the doctor became convinced that Theo was possessed by demons and that if he wanted to go on living, he’d better befriend the boy, so as not to appear as a threat, like the other doctors apparently had.

So, instead of trying to repress Theo’s artistic abilities, he decided to help him expand them. He started bringing all manner of drawing tools and sketch pads for the boy and brought him snacks and drinks. This did little to help Theo fit in with the rest of the patients, who never received such special treatment, but Theo didn’t care, nor did the doctor. All Theo cared about was drawing monsters and all the doctor cared about was finding a useful way to manipulate the boy’s supernatural gifts. Since this doctor never questioned Theo’s art, his death scene was never drawn. Their friendship flourished.

 Soon, Theo became the most feared patient at the facility. It became painfully obvious that any of the patients who messed with Theo was soon found dead, either by freak accident or suicide. The other doctors and nurses never saw the connection between the doctors and patients deaths, but the patients did, and those that survived his killing spree avoided him at all costs. When he was allowed in the common area, he sat alone, as everyone else stayed far away from him.

Theo’s isolation from the outside world and the asylum inmates continued throughout his teenage years. He was a silent loner, and it was obvious to all the medical professionals at the facility that he couldn’t survive in the real world with his lack of communication skills and morbid attitude toward human life.

Though all the doctors still involved with his case thought the violence Theo portrayed in his drawings would never come to physical fruition, because of his docile personality, they were all in agreement that he would never be able to fit into society. All, that is, except one: his personal doctor friend.

 As Theo’s eighteenth birthday neared, Theo’s doctor friend pressed hard for his release, even against the wishes of the rest of the staff. He finally convinced the board to release Theo into his custody. He was a well-respected doctor and his personal assurance that he would take care of the young man, swayed the final decision in his favor.

Darker Than Black, Tales of Horror

Click to Purchase

The tales of horror contained inside my first short story collection were born from the nightmares that keep me awake at night. From the dregs of society that seemingly exist only to terrify us, to the supernatural monsters, demons and entities that made them that way. 

Entertainment, not just for the sake of cruelty, the difference between being a fictional victim and a fictional monster are often just matters of fate and the stroke of a pen. Reality isn't much different.

The isolation, suffering and stark fear these stories explore teeter on the possibility of redemption, escape, or the ultimate hastening of the inevitable allure of death. 

Darker Than Black

Careless thrill-seeking teens awaken the anger of a desperate vampire on an eternal search for her lost baby. 

Perfect Reflection

A high school girl delves into madness through the mirror she uses to cope with a reality of extreme bulling by her mother, teachers and peers.

The Boy That Created Monsters

An abused boy finds that he can summons a supernatural weapon through his natural gift of art to punish his enemies and avenge his murdered father.

Hell is Empty

A twisted doctor haunts sleazy bars to to find victims to torture and murder in his secret laboratory.

Graveyard Serial Killer

A social outcast finds an occupation that provides the perfect cover for a string of heinous murders.

Closet Full of Demons

Two young men move into an home abandoned by their neighbors. Thinking they'd found the perfect party house, they soon discover why the creepy house had been deserted.


Ladies and gentlemen, the world is darker than black. Reality provides us with monsters worse than fiction ever could. I like to think of this book as a welcome respite from the real horrors of humanity. 

Everyone needs a good scare every now and then.

Go on. Feed your Fears.

Closet Full of Demons excerpt (Darker Than Black, Tales of Horror ) 10.31.15

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“We might get a good buzz going but I doubt it will make me feel better,” Dan replied, despondent about his domestic situation. “I still have nowhere to stay.”

“Problem solved,” Ron waved at a moving van that was barreling down the street. “That’s Coleman’s family. I heard they were moving to Florida.”

“Coleman is a right decent dude, and his sisters are so hot. I’ll miss chatting them up. But how does that solve our problem?”

“Have you ever heard of squatting?” Ron replied with a devilish grin.

“Squatting? What the hell do you mean? Like, squatting in the woods to take a shit?”

“No! They moved out, we move in, that’s what squatting is. If anyone asks, we tell them that we’re house-sitting until they return. No one will ever know.”

“You’re brilliant, Ron! Let’s go check out the place. How are we supposed to get in? They probably locked it up tight.”

“The old brick through the back window entry method, my green friend. It’s never failed me yet!”

The boys broke into the newly abandoned old house in the middle of the afternoon; the sounds of breaking glass alarming no one. The house was older than the other houses in the neighborhood; its rooms immaculate and huge. The move would be a huge step up for the boys. They’d both been living in cramped apartments with their overly-religious families, who were hell bent on doing their share to increase the worship base. The old, run down house seemed like a mansion in comparison to what they were accustomed to.

“Why would they leave such a wonderful house?” Dan asked incredulously.

“Coleman told me they were moving to the country because his dad couldn’t deal with the crime rate,” Ron answered. “But in secret, he told me they couldn’t deal the ghosts that haunt this place.”

Rich Orth Whisper on the Wind

Order audiobook @ rrockhopper@hotmail.com

Who comes to mind when one thinks of dark poetry? Edgar Allen Poe, of course. He lived well over a century ago, spawned generation after generation of inspired writers, making him immortal of sorts. There are countless movies, plays, voiced over videos and even museums dedicated to him. But what about dark poetry since his era? Is there no one left today to carry on?

I’m sure there are countless dark poets out there, posting their muses on Facebook, on blogs, in magazines and e-zines. Some are better than others. Some stand out completely from the pack. Rich Orth is one of these types.

I’ve been a fan of Rich’s work for a while now. It’s dark, creepy, terrifying, everything you’d expect in a dark poet. But Rich’s work is much more than that. There is intelligence in the madness of his words, spellbinding, yet subtle enough for his audience to draw their own conclusions to the meaning of his twisted yarns.

Rich Orth

Ya' see, Rich is not a mass-murdering maniac detailing horrific fantasies before acting on them. Rich is a humble, kind-hearted family man and animal lover. From just having a conversation with him, you’d never know he’d be able to visit the dark side and so easily conjure up visions of human demons acting so inhumane that it will make your toes curl.

And there lies this man’s genius. He’s just an everyday guy, with a gift of penning incredibly entertaining dark poetry. And while it might be in the vain of Poe, Rich is his own man, and has taken the horror poetry genre somewhere altogether different. Rich owns a distinctive macabre style, and it begs to be heard. This isn’t your grandfather’s scary campfire stories, his gems are where the past meets the future and is transformed into pure masterpieces of beautifully dark librettos of pain and passion.

Still, in the world of the internet, it isn’t always as easy for writers to find readers and for readers to find quality writers. Oversaturation makes it very difficult to wade through the slush to find the real deal. Rich Orth is the real deal. That’s why he, and Adam Ginsberg, (an American actor, producer, voice artist and talk show host from Long Island, New York.) who provides his distinctive voice to the audio project, teamed up to make a tome of Rich’s poetry with spoken word over the creepiest of music in mp3 format. The result is terrifying perfection called Whisper on the Wind.

Adam Ginsberghttp://www.imdb.com/name/nm3714815/bio?ref_=nm_ov_bio_sm

Listening to Rich’s audio book, Whisper on the Wind, opens up his works in a brand new way. Like a new type of meditation, the darkness of Rich’s poetry comes through to terrify the senses in a way not many people on this Earth can conjure.

To inquire about purchasing an audio (mp3) copy of this fantastically macabre work of dark poetry, please contact Rich Orth @ rrockhopper@hotmail.com. (The audio book is in a link form...no shipping, no cd...just download to your device and enjoy....once purchased Rich will personally send you an email with the link, no middleman needed...53 poems covering the gamut of my writing styles brought to life by the voice talent of Adam Ginsberg and the engineering skills of Robert Frankenberg!)He does accept PayPal payments.

Rich also has written works available for purchase @ Amazon. http://www.amazon.com/Rich-Orth/e/B00D5SKHKM

Rich Orth

Poetry Month Gone Dark: S.B. Lacroix’ Crazy Lady Stew

S.B. Lacroix’ Crazy Lady Stew ~ from her book, "A Dark Quill" read by Viktor Aurelius.

S.B. Lacroix

S.B. Lacroix writes poetry and fiction - on the dark side. She is a native New Englander and lives with her husband, their son, a yellow dog, a grey cat, and several figments of her imagination. She believes music is better than therapy, writing is essential to sanity, and introspection is a powerful muse. When she's not writing, she works as a secretary for her husband's business, wages war on dust bunnies, and enjoys viewing life through the lens of her camera. She also frequents the realm of social media. You can find her on twitter, facebook, google plus, and youtube.

For more information or to contact S.B. Lacroix, please visit: http://sblacroix.wix.com/sblacroix

Click to purchase S.B.'s books @ Amazon

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Poetry Month Gone Dark! Rich Orth's Killian's Curse

Killian's Curse! ©Rich Orth 11/23/13

Whence a witch falls in love... Let no man put asunder
Fall in love with another...Beware fire, brimstone, lightning, thunderFor cursed ye shall be

So a story begins...no end to which one can retreat

Accursed...meandering amongst the trenches
As corpses pile high and stench rises

Soulless one amongst an empire of pyres

Feeds the flames as Death proceeds..door to door
Tis Killian's Curse...he of the undead
Treading where all fear the dread..
Dread of Hell upon this earth...
For this plague eats away...sinners of this world

Sanctimonious afterbirth
Disposable flesh unfurled
Tis Killian's Curse...he of the undead
Treading where all fear the dread..
Dread of Hell upon this earth...
Dread of dying and possible rebirth

For in this time of dying..

Only Killian continues on...
heaping the reaping...
From Dusk til dawn
Tis Killian's Curse...he of the undead
Treading where all fear the dread..
Dread of Hell upon this earth...

Rich Orth

A Poe disciple, Rich Orth is a dark poet from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He also writes lyrics for rock/metal band Demon Boy.

His work can be found at the Amazon link below or by clicking the Poetry Girls book cover.

http://www.amazon.com/Rich-Orth/e/B00D5SKHKM

You can get Rich’s new audio book with 53 poems for $9.99 at  PayPal ....his  email is rrockhopper@hotmail.com
Message him  for other pay options....

Rich Orth

Click to Purchase Paul DeThroe's Dark Fiction @ Amazon

Poetry Month Gone Dark: Paulette Forshey's One Thirst Entwines & Gray of Shades

Click to visit Paulette's Facebook Page
Happy Birthday, Paulette!

One Thirst Entwines by J. Paulette Forshey

Least you misunderstand my need,

To sweet caress my tongue does plead,

One gentle nip and a hunger may feed.

Nourishment of life through me does flow,

Upon a body's and mind's strength I feast.

Dark and rich over lips, I savor your glow,

Toward a beckoning call some name beast.

Ecstasy's tremble in my arms you feel, not fear.

Fragrant breath from your soft mouth, or mine?

A sigh of blissful surrender as I draw you near.

Once two hearts beat, now one thirst entwines.

Innocent no more by Eternity's kiss.

A shared Immortality's lustful bliss.

Gray of shades by J.Paulette Forshey

I dream not in color,

nor, black and white.

I dream in shades of gray.

For is not all the world

gray of shades?

Paulette lives in a small Ohio town with her husband, a Princess Basset Hound and a Papillon who think they own her place. Her mornings belong to her writing, her days are spent loving their eight grandbabies, and her nights belong to the love of her life, her husband, the real inspiration for her heroes. She's a member of Romance Writers of America, Central Ohio Fiction Writers, Northeast Ohio Romance Writers, and the Fantasy, Futuristic & Paranormal Chapter of RWA.