Image of the Week
Home
 
Website and its contents copyright 2011 by Louis Maistros. All rights reserved













.

About
Contact
Blog
Pictures
Spiritworld
Press
Words







Free Stuff
 




  
Antonio Carolla
The crowd shouts its endorsement. Antonio shakes and shudders but does not hear them. Does not See them. Only hears music. In his mind; he is not bound, there is no noose, strangers do not wish him dead.

Eugene Reilly
There was nothing Reilly could do now -- except stand with his back ot the bar as the pathetic black circus of his life unraveled around him.

Malaria Morningstar
She walked towards him on surprisingly steady feet, her mind clearing of alcoholic fog as miraculously as this morning's fog had not. Wind and we whipped through the hall through broken glassk, creating havoc and a righeous mess of the place. The band played on, their tempo picking up with the pounding of their hearts.
Stiffy Lacoume
A trusted friend had urged him to contact Stiffy Lacoume while in town, had assured him Stiffy was a reliable man and an excellent source of quick investment opportunities.
Typhus Morningstar
Typhus Morningstar was only nine years old, but older of eye. Old enough to have suffered some, but young enough to know there are easy solutions to most types of suffering; solutions not too difficult to grasp and quick enough to be done with if a person had half a mind to.

Dropsy Morningstar
He imagined Dropsy's wide brown eyes searching for hints of code, probing imagined or hidden meanings within the woven color of fabric -- as if the fabric of an old shirt might also contain answers to the fabric of the universe itself.

Diphtheria Morningstar
Six-dollar stockings and she went through them like kindling, but the right had been hard earned and so the small luxury brought her no shame

Noonday Morningstar
What is a man of God to do when the clear instructions of The Savior conflict with the plain feelings of right and wrong that God himself has placed in his chest?

Marcus Nobody Special
Most of the locals thought Marcus crazy. Some even thought him a ghost, people saying he'd died, buried his own bones and come back; that he was on some kind of mysterious mission to find a particular fish that would let him go back to the grave in peace. That fish, they said, had stolen Marcus' soul.

Jim Jam Jump
My dreams is stupid and thin, my future bleak, the fabric of my bein' not even fer real. Sure, sure. My methods might be nasty and mean, ya just might be right about that. But I'm only lookin' out fer number one like very other son-of-a-gun on God's green earth.

Doctor Jack
Most gals come around to Doctor Jack just hoping for a quick fix to what the view as an imminent crisis or a state of impendin' personal doom. Figgerin' a cure is a cure and don't reckon that a cure might turn out bad.

Malvina Latour
Peace to you, child. This thing is not  your fault. You have acted on your pain. Actions born of loss can never be truly evil. Your soul is damaged but pure. Your luck has been bad, my child, but your intentions eversweet.

Beauregard Church
Beauregard pulled some cards from his lousy hand, slapped them down, said, "Hit me three times," when he should have just folded.

Marshall Trumbo
Marshall Trumbo lowered to his knees. He wanted desperately to pray. He found that he could not. Instead, he wept.
Hattie Covington
Hattie Covington lay on her side in the shape of a Z, her head in the lap of Diphtheria Morningstar -- just as it had ever night since the bitter evening of her cure.
Meet the inhabitants of The Sound of Building Coffins by Louis Maistros...

Buddy Bolden
The player considers the note. He cannot sustain. There is no reason. But the weakening tone is somehow unfinished. Like a spirited pup born too soon, too small and too weak to live, knowing nothing of life but clinging to it anyway; stupidly, stupidly...