Marcus Liotta is a Technocrat, Hacker, and Social Engineer; he believes good can only prevail with great effort and sacrifice.
He is also an Author and Public Speaker.
Originally from Chicago IL, Marcus has walked a career in Information Technology. He enjoys observing the reality which surrounds us while contemplating a greater meaning behind shrouded complexities.
Logic, he believes, is the singular reliance any can hold true to until the end of time.
His own favorite authors, and those who inspired him as a child are:
A.E. Van Vogt, H.P. Lovecraft, Ray Bradbury, and Ursula K. Le Guin (among many others.)
For new releases and updates, please visit:
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“Reality is binary. Right and Wrong, Good versus Evil. Beyond the veil exists only Black or White, for there is no Gray.” -Marcus Liotta
They came here often, the quiet docks beside an otherwise calm silvery expanse. But today, something was wrong. The fish fled as if to stay would induce genocide, and yet no visible foe existed. What about the man in yellow slicker? What possible secrets might he hold beneath that cloak of darkness?
Feature Type: Horror - Short Story
Print Length: 27 Pages
Graphic depictions of horror, including imagery which may not be suitable for children. No swearing.
Adult or Age 13+
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
“Impossible!” Ben couldn’t believe his eyes let alone the frantic words of another soul babbling at his side. That same individual who had seemingly made such exaggerated claims, and yet all of them rang true.
They stared for much longer than made sense. Stood frozen, held awestruck by the magnificence of what terrifying entity lurked not much farther than arm’s reach.
Much like deer caught in headlights of a speeding automobile, they were captivated and unable to pull away. That hideously nauseating creature knew no boundaries, and though their experience felt an eternity, the entire span was no more than a few short seconds. Still long enough to be stolen away by a being so inhuman it was beyond describing.
The smell though, oh god the smell! It reeked of road kill, a dilapidated raccoon whose very body had been eaten away by countless maggots and untold vermin. Once in open air, the putrid odor permeated within nostrils of large predators, those who until now would have fondly nipped away.
But this was no nature walk, nor was it a pleasant stroll through the woods. Out here upon the beach one did not expect such a large and visceral experience, that of tightly knit fingers wrapping around throat and yanking toward an inescapable fate!
Before now these two men never knew such agony. Bones snapped even as vocal cords struggled to let loose terrified howls. The very thing which tore them asunder with sadistic glee, it captured their screams and held them from carrying any worthwhile distance.
No, to be found out wouldn’t suit its purpose. It enjoyed their squishy innards, the squeaks and sloppy gasps which escaped half rent bodies. These toys flailed about, helpless until life left their cold and worn-out remains.
Still the thing played with one even as the other was munched upon. Snapping and gut-wrenching noises were made, each intentionally loud by a gleeful demon.
Finally it was done. No more entrails for tossing about, nor was there reason to linger in this place. The alien being left one man’s baseball cap surrounded by a circle of gore.
Waves crashed against the area, taking red human wine back out to sea. Never was considered those family members who might wonder where loved ones hid away. Eventually the hat itself disappeared beneath an unsavory current, tumbling about a swirling mess of water which stole away any sense of justice these individuals could have hoped for.
Come morning only scant bone fragments remained, and not enough to tell what had occurred the prior evening. Gulls picked at what they could, though this amounted to nothing. A smell persisted, not of bodies but rather the thing which had torn them asunder.
Fun and games.
A large balloon-like ball careened over the sand, followed by children’s footprints. One complained of the aroma yet thought nothing more of the dreadful occurrence.
Why would they?