Novelista

It's that time of year where I write a Halloween themed flash fiction that gets displayed in my local library.  Enjoy! Slow Burn IE Castellano The convergence has begun, Mister Rank Ore. All is prepared. Come. I’d be honored if you joined me for the ritual. I have kept the hairs pristine and in their original condition. Even added one from that harpy shrieking on her phone who cut in front of me in the checkout lane the other day. Yes, of course, I know I complained your ear off all about her already. Oh, you remember that neighbor of ours a few years ago? The one who couldn’t be bothered to keep her ratty mutt out of our rose bushes. Well, I have her hair here. Too bad that mongrel predeceased her. Anyway, Mister Rank Ore, this one is from that man who constantly clucked his tongue through four consecutive bus stops. Yes, it was quite annoying. Not to mention the he ignored my irate stare. This dark hair here is long before your time, M...

A Christmas themed flash fiction based on my characters from Where Pirates Go to Die.  On display at the Mount Pleasant Public Library. The Xmas Log By: IE Castellano My crew and I returned to the Tigerlily tonight without having to maim anyone. A Christmas miracle. The Christmas party slogged, especially since Dirk made us take anti-poison nanos that blocked me from getting an eggnog induced buzz. His caution is not unfounded, though. No one knows how this new Milky Way Consortium will act even with the different aliens represented alongside humans in the government. My idea of caution is armored formal wear that hides a few blades from the entrance scanners and bringing along our alien crew member. Gogi turned heads in her native regalia. Her feathers sparkled as if she rubbed in some of the pink quartz dust of her home planet. We were the epitome of what the Consortium tried to achieve with their “share Christmas with aliens” party: Humans and aliens work...

My writing group meets twice a month at the library and a few times a year for the various holidays, we write flash fiction or poetry.  I had no idea what I was going to write about for Halloween.  A fellow author at the group mentioned in passing something about driving down the road with thumping coming from the car's trunk.  I scribbled down a premise and used some imagery from this year's road trip to the desert SW.  Pictured above is north eastern AZ. For your reading pleasure: Thump by: IE Castellano Thump . Thump . “No. No. No!” She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “We are not going back.” The old car’s headlights revealed the outlines of cacti and sage brush standing just beyond the dirt road. Thump . Thump . “Don’t argue with me. You can’t change my mind,” she said. She wiped her palm on her pants. Thump . Thump . Thump . Thump . “Fine. I’ll tell you. If it’ll shut you up.” She glan...

Flash Fiction for Valentine's Day on display at my local library. Teri tapped her toes to the beat of the background music in the coffee shop.  Early, as usual, she sipped an easy-to-drink grandé something or other while watching the door.  Every time it opened, she wondered if Steve walked inside. Sure, she studied his photos before coming.  However, people tended to embellish or downright lie on the internet, especially on dating sites.  The profile stated that Steve was six-four, blond, blue-eyed with an athletic build.  His photos showed the blond part, the blue eyes part, and the not so shabby body part (under well-fitting clothes).  But, his blond might have gone bald and his athleticness could have been long before he found the glorious comfort of cake.  If those were even pictures of him and not ripped out of a magazine. She glanced at her half gone coffee.  When she looked up, her stomach fluttered.  A man who looked a lot...

Letter to Nowhere By: IE Castellano Agostus Hoverall Hillside Village Cemetery Hillside Village, USA 1 November 2017 Haunt Council Congress of Ghosts and Ghouls Nowhere Re: Mountain Top Inn To whom it may concern: The Mountain Top Inn accommodations have been quite unsatisfactory.  I have had the worst Halloween in three centuries during my visit.  This so called hotel needs to be stricken from the logs immediately. In the rooms, the beds have too soft a mattress, allowing one to fall asleep easily and stay slumbering throughout the night.  Precise controls keep water at a constant warm or cool temperature regardless of fiddling.  The wide corridors lack tables, mirrors, vases, or other items, which could fall in front of, on top of, or behind guests as they traverse to and from their rooms. Common areas have plenty of coffee cups, snacks, and scalding beverages.  Chairs and tables abound.  However, guests o...

This year, my writers’ group wrote flash fiction or poetry or whatever for July 4 th about freedom and liberty.  The writings get framed and displayed in the local library.  Since, although it’d be a fun trip to the country, visiting my small town library isn’t in your summer plans, I’ve posted my flash here. They Came By: IE Castellano I was a small child when I witnessed their ship land—war torn and ragged.  These people emerged from malfunctioning airlocks not all that different than us, only where it mattered.  They knelt in the soft dirt, crying.  When they rose, they asked for sanctuary—a place to start over—a place to live their lives in peace.  Their elders had seen peace.  Their young knew it not.  They relayed stories of war and ravaging, of death and destruction.  They wanted better—to provide a future for the next generation. We sympathized.  We offered them the chance to make new lives on our planet....

A shrouded moon cast no shadows while he skulked from house to house.  The cool breeze carried a crisp aroma of decaying dried leaves.  Thunder rumbled overhead.  He hurried past flickering jack-o-lanterns.  A heavy deluge erupted from the laden clouds, washing red and yellow leaves into the gutters.  Lighting forked to the earth.  A loud clap made him race under the portico.  Shaking water off his coat, he pressed a doorbell.  A man with an eye patch answered the door.  He entered then removed his soaked coat and hat.  The door closed behind him with a bang.  Clutching an offered cup of blood red liquid, he joined the throng of ghosts, witches, vampires, monsters, and celebrity masks. ### This time of year sparks the macabre imagination.  The combination of cooler temperatures, falling leaves, and ever earlier sunsets feeds into the concept of Halloween and its forebears.  Personally, I’ve never been one for th...

Used by permission from JosDCreations The Ad by IE Castellano “Baubles bringing you down?  Has your jingle lost its jangle?  Bows have you in knots?  Is cheer a challenge?  Milk and cookies souring on the mantle?  Are you finding that giving the perfect gift has left you listless? “Yes, with frosty days and icicle growing nights, a new bird is here to stay.  Silver bells ring on street corners and in front of shops.  Toys fill the stores.  Candy canes hang from branches.  Holly wreaths decorate doors.  Mistletoe dangles where all can see.  Nutcrackers guard everything sweet. “Yet sometimes, rosy cheeks fail to glow.  Eggnog misses the mark.  Garland falls off the railings.  Jack Frost nips the nose a tiny too hard. “Do not fret!  When standing in lines for hours ceases to delight, it’s easy to keep your stockings hanging with care. “Introducing Holiday Joy!  One dose will have ...

On Saturday, I participated in a Writer's Salon.  A topic is chosen beforehand and we set out writing about the subject. At the Salon, we read our musings, then we discuss. Our topic was Creativity and Substance Abuse Being Synonymous.  We were to write about 500 to 600 words. Six of us read.  One was a poem.  Another was a play where the writer coerced other writers to be actors.  One other wrote a short story about muses and the remaining two wrote about personal experiences (not always their own).  It was a fun afternoon of musings, discussion and food. When I thought about Hemingway's quote, "Write drunk, edit sober," I wrote the following: (By the way, I don't condone drinking and writing.  Only drinking after writing, if you must.) The Secret of my Success IE Castellano What is the secret of my success as a writer?   I get asked this question in many interviews, especially after I say that I do not suffer from wri...