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#fiction - Shakespeare, Dickens, and The Bible

5/25/2019

SHAKESPEARE, DICKENS, AND THE BIBLE
SELECTION FROM ASSORTED STORIES
COMING SOON FROM MORAN PRESS
*WARNING FOR GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

I always knew I would do it. It was destined. From the moment I laid down on her couch I knew what would happen.

The state committed me because of my many problems. I was sent for four long, excruciating months, to stay at The Animal Farm Psychiatric Treatment Center. Maybe it was four years, I don't remember.

The male nurse led me down a long gray hallway and told me about the woman shrink I was going to meet. When the nurse opened the door to her office I was in for a shock. Or maybe the shocks came later. I don't remember.

I do remember her sitting beautiful behind her cheap wooden desk. Her long black hair flowed over her shoulders, down onto the swell of her breasts. Her dark brown eyes beamed, as did her face, all a glow in self-health. She looked up at me, our eyes meeting and I fell in love before she said a word.

"Hello," she said. “My name is Katherine. You may call me Kate."

"Call me Burt," I said.

"Burt?" she asked.

"Sure."

After we had our names straight she told me to sit on the couch, so I did. It was a plain black couch, nothing special to look at. The ceiling was far more interesting. I traced over the cracks in my mind to make shapes that didn't mean anything. Then she started asking me questions, private type questions that I didn't intend to answer. So I didn't.

It took about six weeks for something to happen. At first I sat on her black, plain couch watching her body, waiting for the sessions to be over. I was eager to get back to my drugs. She had to dig for every response from me.

During one session she told me that I was the most interesting patient she had ever counseled. I wasn't sure how to take that. I guess it could have been a compliment, but I took it as an insult. I asked her what she meant, but she didn't answer, she just smiled.

Her smile drove me crazy and she knew it. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. I wasted away most of my sessions memorizing her face.

In one session she wore a tight mini-skirt with a matching tight black blouse, with black stockings and high heeled shoes. She was the picture of my fantasy, the one I had described to her in many previous sessions.

She sat close without touching me. I felt a terrible tingling sensation in my groin that begged to be heard. I tried to get up, but she held me down with her painted fingernails, gently digging them into my chest. She caressed my chest with thin, delicate hands.

"Just stay still."

That was all she said. Her voice seemed out of place, lost in space somehow. The session ended and within days I was released.

READ THE REST IN AN UPCOMING ANTHOLOGY - PUBLISHED SOON BY MORAN PRESS (A MINI-COLLECTION OF SHORT FICTION).

CHECK OUT THE BOOKS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE. BECOME A PATRON OF MORAN PRESS AND GET A STACK OF BOOKS FOR $25

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25% OFF SALE UNTIL THE END OF MAY

5/20/2019

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25% OFF SALE
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#Fiction - The War on Women - Bonus Content from Origin of a Serial Killer

5/19/2019

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THE WAR ON WOMEN
AN ELLA STORY

They say there is a war on women. And I laugh. Every time I hear it I giggle. A war on women? How cute and where the fuck have you been? The war on women started in year one and goes on without end. I say we need a war on men.

I finish reading the journal selection and look towards the bed, trying to catch his reaction. Dark brown eyes seethe at me and I smile, hoping he will speak before I question him. I wait, seconds disappearing, listening to his teeth grind.

“Are you fucking nuts?” he asks, spittle stuck to his lip.
“Yes.”

He strains against the bonds, flexing biceps ripping a piece of duct tape, but he can’t break the endless layers.

“What do you want from me?” he asks, finally ending his war with rope and tape.

Grabbing a file from my desk, I approach the bed holding the folder for the man to see.

“Is this your prison file?”

He nods affirmative and watches as I open the folder.

“You plead guilty to rape. Is this correct?”

My eyes find the figures and for a moment I read his case file. Closing it, I retrace my steps to the desk, in need of coffee. Adding cream and topping my cup with fresh coffee, I sip and remain next to the desk, running over the lines I’ve been practicing inside my head.

I stride towards the bed, my heels digging into the carpet.

“You served less than three years for a violent rape. Do you believe justice was served?”
“No,” he answers without hesitation.

Opening the top drawer of the nightstand, I wrap my hand around my knife.

“Be careful how you answer my next question,’ I say, sitting on the bed next to him. “Do you believe your life should be forfeit for your crime?”

His eyes show no hint of emotion, “Yes.”

I pause, for I feel a bit of shock at his blunt agreement. Really, I prepared for more of an interrogation. Placing the knife against his neck, I shrug my shoulders.

“Do you have any last words before I end your time here on earth?”
“I can be of use to you. Enact your agenda and perform unsavory tasks.”

This is different. I’ve never heard a man make this offer. I’m going to cut his neck and he asks for a job? The arrogance of this man intrigues me.

“Go on,” I say.
“I am a man with the right skill set for you. No soul.”

I laugh and wish for something stronger than coffee, but push the thought from my mind. At present, I must decide this man’s fate.

“What is your name?”
“My code name is Saul.”

Saul. A man of dark eyes, a history of violence and tactical training. What to make of you?

“Perhaps I can use your talents,” I say, leaning closer to him. “Catch you later.”

I leave the room, bolting the door behind me.

ENJOY THE STORY?
PREORDER
ORIGIN OF A SERIAL KILLER

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Create a Custom Short Story Book from Moran Press

5/14/2019

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CREATE A CUSTOM BOOK OF SHORT STORIES
SELECT FROM THE LIST

I've teased Custom Story Books for a few months now and I'm ready to attempt the first round of books. I'm looking for a few volunteers from the crowd. If you've been reading along with the stories posted to Moran Press OR you'll read through the list below and are interested in a CUSTOM Story Book, comment on this post or contact Stephen Moran via social media.

This is a feature in progress so thank you to all for patience while I work out the kinks!

The Custom Book costs $25 (Including Shipping to a US Address. $10 Extra for Canada, UK. Inquire for other countries.

Reader gets to select 10 stories from the list. Read through them. Let me know your selections.

I will add a bonus mystery story to each book.

LIST OF SHORT STORIES

The Meeting - A Ray Holden Story
A Ghost and a Dragon
Beware the Ducks
Parable
The Trial
Baby Blue Meets Stranger
92nd Street Y
Valentine
Psycho Newletter
Darkness
Dead Sunday Afternoons
A Dream - Original Version
A Dream - Alternate Version
The Kiss
The Bank
Routine
The Butcher and the Republican
The Phantom of Vegas
Cold
Day Adventure with Monkey
A Moment and Forever
Karl Marx: A Refutation (from Server)
Edmund
My Pet Dragon
Transitory (from Server)
At the Airport
Tan, with Brown Eyes
The Incel Manifesto
The War on Women
Shakespeare, Dickens, and the Bible
The Mad Fool
The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe

If reading through the stories interests you in a custom book - let me know!!!

WANT TO SUPPORT MORAN PRESS
BECOME A PATRON OF THE ARTS
$25 GETS YOU A STACK OF BOOKS

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#fiction - cold

5/13/2019

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fiction
cold
excerpt from
ella's journal

Dreams of father wake me, images of his body pocked with knife wounds float in the darkness of the bedroom. My heart pounds and races, cold sweat clings to my temples. The same dream for so many years as father turns zombie and rises from death to laugh, assuring me it will never end. His manic laughter echoes in the silence of early morning, the first shards of light prying holes in the blinds.

My bedroom doubles as sarcophagus, sealing me from the threats of outside world. Each morning I wait for George to disengage the security measures, freeing me from the self-made prison of my dreams.

I count the minutes, feeling the time near rather than checking the clock ticking madness on the wall. Each click of the second hand pounds inside my brain, life moves on and on towards certain death while fear from the dream subsides and melts into anger. Father wears a shroud in the afterlife, his eyes boring up into my mind from hell through slits in the cloth.

“Keep me company these endless years, Ella. Come home.”

A light blinks green above the door and George enters in silence. He approaches the bed and wipes sweat from my forehead with a handkerchief, whispering something I can’t understand. My eyes close and I drift back into the dream, FBI men flood into the space surrounding father’s lifeless body. The world is full of sirens while hands grip me, probe me, faceless lobotomized men escorting me from the blood soaked tomb.

“Take this.” George places a pill on my tongue and a glass of water to my lips. “He’s gone, Ella, dead these many years.”

The pill tastes of chalk and I force my eyes open, finding George near me. Placing a bare foot on the hardwood floor, I steady myself on his shoulder. “I want to stay in my room today.”

“As you wish. I can bring books from the library if you want to work on your story.”
“My story…” I walk to my desk and run a hand over my notebook. “And what’s that George? Who am I?”

His head tilts to the side, but he doesn’t answer, instead approaching the mini-bar built into the wall. Busying himself with making coffee, he steals a glance at me.

“You’re the master of Holden Farms, Ella.”

The Master of Holden Farms. Try as I might, I can’t make sense of it and I shiver in the cold morning air. I realize I’m naked and George watches me, arms behind his back, as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Bring my clothes, George.”
“Very well. Do you wish to go into the city today? I can make arrangements.”

While I ponder the question, George places a cup of coffee on my desk. The steam warms my face and I sip the coffee while he displays an outfit for my approval.

“No, not that one. It won’t do. Select a shorter skirt that matches the green heels. I’m going to make a story today.”
“Shall I run a bath for you?”

I nod and sip my coffee. A bath sounds like just the thing I need to clear away the dreams and the cold and memories of father. I’ll make a new chapter today. You can’t re-write the past, but perhaps you can color over the images enough to forget.

CODE: FREEELLA

GET YOUR ELLA FIX
MINI-ELLA STORE

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#fiction - THE JUDGE #BrockTurner

5/1/2019

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THE JUDGE

My eyes watch the monitor next to the podium. I observe a man waiting at the entrance to the theater. He's on the other side of the door and I can feel his anxiety, hands balling into fists and relaxing in repetition, again and again. Tapping my palm against the microphone on the podium to ensure I have sound, I scan the crowd. Women stare back at me, some leaning forward in the seats.

The man raps on the door from the outside and I raise my arm.

"Open the doors for the prisoner.”

Saul swings the massive oak doors open and steps aside. Alone in the entryway, the man stares and blinks at the crowd of women rising to greet him. A murmur passes over the audience and I tap the microphone once more.

"The prisoner shall take his place in the box," I say, pointing to wooden structure built into the base of the stage. The man pauses, glancing about the theater. Silence greets him and all wait for him to make the journey. Taking a few steps forward, he approaches the box and moves to the side when Saul swings the gate open to allow him access. Placing his leg into the structure, he steps up onto the prisoner podium, flinching when Saul slams the gate shut.

“What is the meaning of this? Do you know who I am? I’m a fucking judge.” A chorus of boos from the crowd answers his tirade and I smile.

“Not anymore. Today you will stand trial.” A loud cheer erupts from the audience, causing the prisoner to flinch yet again.

“Trial?” He faces the women in the audience. “What are the charges?”

Leaning into the microphone, I wait for him to turn towards me before speaking. “You are charged with crimes against humanity.”

The prisoner begins to speak, but the roar from the crowd drowns his words in a sea of chants. Execute him! The chants swell into echoes and I close my eyes to enjoy the wall of energy emanating from the crowd. After several moments, I raise my arm and wait for silence.

“How does the prisoner plead to the charges?”

The man stammers attempting to respond, but I can’t hear the response. Pounding the podium, I repeat the question.

“I committed no crimes against humanity,” he says. “I'm not…”

“Are you not the judge that sentenced a rapist to a mere three months in jail to protect his athletic career?” I ask, interrupting him.

His hands ball into fists once more and he scans the room again. Is he plotting an escape attempt?

“I was the judge in that case.”

“Very well, you admit your guilt. The prisoner has been found guilty of crimes against humanity. Do you have anything to say before I announce your sentence?”

“What? I said I was not guilty.”

His statement is met by laughter from the crowd.

“And I said you are. I’ll repeat the question once more. Do you have anything to say before I announce your sentence?”

He begins to answer, but falls silent and I pound the gavel on the podium. “Since you do not have any final words, I’ll read the sentence.”

The women move towards the stage, crowding round the prisoner box. He spins in one direction and the next, eyes darting about in fear. I wait for him to turn towards me once more before speaking.

“I sentence you to death by firing squad.”

CODE: FREEELLA

STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO
FIRST LIGHT

GET A SIGNED COPY OF ELLA

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#fiction - Shakespeare, Dickens, and The Bible

SHAKESPEARE, DICKENS, AND THE BIBLE
SELECTION FROM ASSORTED STORIES
COMING SOON FROM MORAN PRESS
*WARNING FOR GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

CHECK OUT THE BOOKS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE. BECOME A PATRON OF MORAN PRESS AND GET A STACK OF BOOKS FOR $25

25% OFF SALE UNTIL THE END OF MAY

25% OFF SALE
UNTIL THE END OF MAY

SHOP

The Moran Press Gift Card

#Fiction - The War on Women - Bonus Content from Origin of a Serial Killer

THE WAR ON WOMEN
AN ELLA STORY

ENJOY THE STORY?
PREORDER
ORIGIN OF A SERIAL KILLER

Create a Custom Short Story Book from Moran Press

CREATE A CUSTOM BOOK OF SHORT STORIES
SELECT FROM THE LIST

LIST OF SHORT STORIES

WANT TO SUPPORT MORAN PRESS
BECOME A PATRON OF THE ARTS
$25 GETS YOU A STACK OF BOOKS

#fiction - cold

fiction
cold
excerpt from
ella's journal

GET YOUR ELLA FIX
MINI-ELLA STORE

#fiction - THE JUDGE #BrockTurner

THE JUDGE

STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO
FIRST LIGHT

NEW RELEASES

HAND SEWN HARDCOVER BLANK BOOKS

Hand Sewn Softcover Blank Journal

Archives

Categories

#fiction - Shakespeare, Dickens, and The Bible

SHAKESPEARE, DICKENS, AND THE BIBLESELECTION FROM ASSORTED STORIESCOMING SOON FROM MORAN PRESS​*WARNING FOR GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

CHECK OUT THE BOOKS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE. BECOME A PATRON OF MORAN PRESS AND GET A STACK OF BOOKS FOR $25

25% OFF SALE UNTIL THE END OF MAY

25% OFF SALEUNTIL THE END OF MAY

SHOP

The Moran Press Gift Card

#Fiction - The War on Women - Bonus Content from Origin of a Serial Killer

THE WAR ON WOMENAN ELLA STORY

ENJOY THE STORY?PREORDERORIGIN OF A SERIAL KILLER

Create a Custom Short Story Book from Moran Press

CREATE A CUSTOM BOOK OF SHORT STORIESSELECT FROM THE LIST

LIST OF SHORT STORIES

WANT TO SUPPORT MORAN PRESSBECOME A PATRON OF THE ARTS$25 GETS YOU A STACK OF BOOKS

#fiction - cold

fictioncoldexcerpt fromella's journal

GET YOUR ELLA FIXMINI-ELLA STORE

#fiction - THE JUDGE #BrockTurner

THE JUDGE

STAY TUNED FOR PART TWOFIRST LIGHT

NEW RELEASES

HAND SEWN HARDCOVER BLANK BOOKS

Hand Sewn Softcover Blank Journal

Archives

Categories

SHAKESPEARE, DICKENS, AND THE BIBLE
SELECTION FROM ASSORTED STORIES
COMING SOON FROM MORAN PRESS
*WARNING FOR GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

25% OFF SALE
UNTIL THE END OF MAY

THE WAR ON WOMEN
AN ELLA STORY

ENJOY THE STORY?
PREORDER
ORIGIN OF A SERIAL KILLER

CREATE A CUSTOM BOOK OF SHORT STORIES
SELECT FROM THE LIST

WANT TO SUPPORT MORAN PRESS
BECOME A PATRON OF THE ARTS
$25 GETS YOU A STACK OF BOOKS

fiction
cold
excerpt from
ella's journal

GET YOUR ELLA FIX
MINI-ELLA STORE

STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO
FIRST LIGHT