Paul DeThroe

‘The Holy Man’ by Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Thursday, February 28th, 2013
Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Stories began to surface about a strange holy man with incredible healing powers living on the streets in one of the poorest slums of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Being a well-to-do freelance journalist with several high profile magazines at my beck and call lent me wherewithal to travel anywhere in the world. Rio was beautiful, from what I’d been told, and even if the story didn’t pan out, as I expected it not to, I could call it a working vacation and drum up some sort of story.

We were in the middle of a slow news cycle in the States anyway. The President had just been sworn in for his second term, the economy was slowly inching back to life, and everyone was sick of reading about the dreadful wars we just couldn’t pull ourselves out of, as a country. I had made a living of putting myself in harm’s way to tell stories of our soldiers risking their lives to fight ambiguous enemies who seemed to increase three fold for with every new death count. To be honest, I was sick and tired of it. I wanted to do a feel good story. No, I needed to do a feel good story, just to keep my sanity. (more…)

‘One Last Magickal Ride’ by Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Thursday, November 1st, 2012

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

The ice melted from my perpetually frozen skin, first in drips and then chunks. Though I had been imprisoned in thick ice for well over a thousand years, I had no idea exactly how long.  I was once the world’s greatest wizard.  But I let my guard down for a beautiful lady, whom I trusted more than I should have.  The next thing I knew, I became the world’s second greatest wizard.  Once that happened, I became trapped for all of eternity at the very top of the world. Or, so she and I thought.

Then a funny thing happened. The world warmed up.  It could’ve all been foreseen.  As humankind’s knowledge increased, along with its population, new technologies would surely take hold and choke the atmosphere with thick clouds of polluted dust, creating an oven-like effect.  Unfortunately for me, the damage was already done.  Yea, I was awakening now, but into a time that had passed me by.  As my consciousness came back alive, I would know nothing of my new existence.  And I would know no one. (more…)

Sedusa (part 2)- by guest author Paul DeThroe

Friday, June 1st, 2012

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

I awoke some time later, lying in the back of the wagon.  The sun was just about to go behind the witch’s mountain.  My guide smacked the reins of the horse, yelled, and it took off.  Everything was blurry except the blinding pain in my eye, or more correctly, my empty eye socket.  I wiped away the blood, still trickling down my face, reached into my coat and found what I had gone to the witch’s house for:  the ancient map.  I patted it proudly, and then reached around for a jug of water.  What I found was a small canteen.  I opened it, smelled the putrid smell of rotten potatoes and knew it was the same drink the witch gave me before she took my eye.  I guzzled it, shivered as its effects took hold and slept the rest of the trip back to the village.

I awoke at the village with the frenzied shouts and calls for vengeance from my crew, which had hurriedly encircled the wagon as soon as it pulled into town.  “The witch gouged his eye out!” I heard my first mate cry.

“Let’s go up there and slaughter her!”  I heard another man plead.

“Murder! Murder! Murder!” my crew chanted. (more…)

‘Sedusa (part 1)’ by guest author Paul DeThroe

Tuesday, May 1st, 2012

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

I’ve sailed the seven seas nearly all my life.  Fourteen of my twenty-four years, to be exact.  I was never one to believe in mumbo-jumbo myths about sea monsters, mermaids, sirens or old hags.  The seas are vehement enough without all that.  A man could lose his life any day he sets foot on a ship.  Just too many dangers to add other worries that can only hurt you when you’re asleep.  I prefer my dreams to be about women.

I am a pirate.  I captain my own ship and have a crew of ten sailors who would cut anyone’s throat, if they threatened me.  A loyal bunch, they are.  But loyalty comes with a price.  They would even cut my throat, if the rewards proved worth more than what I pay for their loyalty.  I remain keenly aware of that fact and keep a close eye on everyone aboard my vessel, because that was exactly how I became captain at such an early age.

I am a fearless man.  I am afraid of no man, no beast, and no situation.  I am a fighter and a thief.  I’ve killed more men than I care to count and I have stolen enough treasure to become a myth of my own.  Captain Deathblade, they call me, because of my extensive combination of skill and technique as a swordsman.  My real name is Percival Nightingale.  I prefer Captain Deathblade.

So what would motivate a man who has achieved as much as I to continue to sail dangerous seas into even more treacherous ports?  (more…)

‘Ice Queen’ by Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Monday, February 13th, 2012

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

The Ice Queen is borne of the Queendom of Glass,

High Priestess forever until her days have past.

Her frigid world conquers the whole of the land;

The Blizzard, her champion, kills on her command.

Her reign is ferocious with its darkness and cold,

no force can withstand her when she takes hold.

The Queen commands the wind to nip and to bite;

With gales aplenty they twist through the night. (more…)

‘Perfect Reflection’ by Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Sunday, January 1st, 2012

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Mirrors lie; to some more than others.  Perhaps everyone who ever gazed into a mirror has asked the same question:  is this a perfect reflection, a distorted perception or a doorway to another dimension?  If beauty truly lies in the eye of the beholder, then that question can only be answered from within.  However, the fabled looking glass of old fairy tales may not be that far off from reality.  Maybe some sentient spirits do reside inside our opposite world, telling us we are the fairest of them all or that someone else is.  Regardless of whether that voice comes from the mirror or from our own minds, its haunting nature is inescapable.

Such was the case for a young girl in a small town named Anna.  Everyone she knew thought she was the beautiful.  In fact, the eighteen year old was voted the most beautiful girl for the senior yearbook.  She was the homecoming queen, the girl that all the boys wanted and all the girls envied; some more than others.  But Anna never bought any of it.  Mirrors told her otherwise.  To her, people that told her she was beautiful were trying to play with her mind in order to gain something.  So she resented those that complimented her and strangely, felt compelled to be close to those that insulted her.  However, of all the haters she had accumulated thanks to her good looks, the only one whose opinion really mattered was her mother.  And they despised each other.

Besides her mother, Anna was her own worst critic.  Because her mother always had something negative to say about her looks or the way she dressed or the way she carried herself or the friends she chose, she had inherited that negative way of looking at herself from a very early age.  Anna was a firm believer that mirrors never lie.  Every mirror she looked in told her she was fat, ugly, hideous and unworthy of being loved.  Just like her mother did.  (more…)

Bonzai, the Dragon Slayer by Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Wednesday, November 30th, 2011

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Bonzai was a twelve year old boy with an active, some would say, wild imagination.  Where others saw only the typical, he saw the fantastic.  He had no friends to speak of, no siblings and he was a latchkey kid, meaning his parents were always at work when he got home from school.  Even worse for him, his parents usually worked late, so Bonzai was alone most of the time.  He lived in a house that was remotely hidden in the woods.  It was a beautiful house that sat at the end of a long driveway, far away from neighbors and hence, any other children.  He spent most of his time playing games by himself in his imaginary world.

His father, who was a businessman, would often tell Bonzai that he should put his imagination to good use by being artistic; creating music or writing.  Bonzai would just laugh at his dad and go back into his own little world.  His only ambition had always been to become a dragon slayer.  The problem with that was that dragons had been extinct for many centuries.  But he wouldn’t let that stop him; he would just create his own dragons.

He felt most at home amongst the trees that surrounded his house and his world.  Pine trees were castles to Bonzai, especially the ones that had huge limbs that drooped all the way to the ground and could easily hide him from his enemies and his parents.  Willow trees were his fortresses, for the same reason.  Oak trees would play the role of evil dragons.  They were the biggest, strongest trees in his yard and therefore presented the biggest challenge for him.  Fallen limbs from the “dragon” oak trees would serve as his swords.  They were strong enough to handle the constant abuse that he put upon them by bashing them into the dragon trees without splintering like the easily broken pine limbs or the too limber willow branches.  (more…)

‘A Cold Day in Hell (The Night Jack Frost Died)’ by Guest Author Paul Dethroe

Thursday, November 17th, 2011

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

It was a cold day in Hell the day that Jack Frost died.  The everlasting fires slowly started burning out, the brimstone stopped falling and instead of gnawing of flesh and gnashing of teeth, cold shivers overtook the masses of eternally damned sinners and demons.  Not that this was unexpected, Jack Frost was a notorious sinner and it was well known that if he ever died he would become one of the chieftains of Hell.  He had murdered thousands, if not millions of humans, countless animals, laid waste to entire armies and had been a global nuisance for thousands of years.  But becoming a mere chieftain was far below his boundless ambitions.

Those that were being tortured as they waited in purgatory to be turned into full-fledged demons were pleased for the short reprieve from the eternal flames that licked their flesh with excruciating pain.  Of course, their torturers, the demons of Hell, were none too happy.  Their jobs and very livelihoods were in grave jeopardy because of the dramatic drop in temperatures; they could no longer torture newly dead souls with the former prodigious heat from the lake of fire.  So, the demons formed a lobbying committee and took their complaints to the King of Hell himself, Satan Lucifer. (more…)

‘Bonzai, the Dragon Slayer’ by Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Tuesday, November 1st, 2011

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

            Bonzai was a twelve year old boy with an active, some would say, wild imagination.  Where others saw only the typical, he saw the fantastic.  He had no friends to speak of, no siblings and he was a latchkey kid, meaning his parents were always at work when he got home from school.  Even worse for him, his parents usually worked late, so Bonzai was alone most of the time.  He lived in a house that was remotely hidden in the woods.  It was a beautiful house that sat at the end of a long driveway, far away from neighbors and hence, any other children.  He spent most of his time playing games by himself in his imaginary world.

            His father, who was a businessman, would often tell Bonzai that he should put his imagination to good use by being artistic; creating music or writing.  Bonzai would just laugh at his dad and go back into his own little world.  His only ambition had always been to become a dragon slayer.  The problem with that was that dragons had been extinct for many centuries.  But he wouldn’t let that stop him; he would just create his own dragons.

            He felt most at home amongst the trees that surrounded his house and his world.  Pine trees were castles to Bonzai, especially the ones that had huge limbs that drooped all the way to the ground and could easily hide him from his enemies and his parents.  Willow trees were his fortresses, for the same reason.  Oak trees would play the role of evil dragons.  They were the biggest, strongest trees in his yard and therefore presented the biggest challenge for him.  Fallen limbs from the “dragon” oak trees would serve as his swords.  They were strong enough to handle the constant abuse that he put upon them by bashing them into the dragon trees without splintering like the easily broken pine limbs or the too limber willow branches.  (more…)

‘The Blessed or the Damned’ by Guest Author Paul DeThroe

Saturday, October 1st, 2011

Guest Author Paul DeThroe

I came back from the dead.  It was the most horrific experience.  When I first died, my soul went to the end of the waiting line for the Divine Court of Eternal Judgment.  It was a damned long line and it didn’t move very fast so I took the time to make some new acquaintances.  Most of us hadn’t planned on dying, but fate being what it is; we had little choice in the matter.  All of us had been led from the great light to here by relatives that had been dead for ages.  The relatives had to leave once we reached the line, though, because no one was allowed to wait with us in the great line.  So, it was just us, the blessed or the damned.

In my case, I felt really stupid for trying to shoot my wife’s lover when I’ve never even fired a gun before.  When I came home early and walked in on their sordid affair, I was utterly flabbergasted.  I had misguidedly believed that my marriage was in good shape, but as she moaned and groaned in response to her lover’s violent thrusts, I knew I had been duped.  I looked down and saw a handgun sticking out of the man’s trousers that lie on the floor.  I took it and aimed at his tattooed back.  When I pulled the trigger nothing happened. (more…)