Tag Archives: dennis finocchiaro

Early Christmas Present

Hello all! The star of my zombie collection, The Z Word, is back in a new short story called Check the Halls (for Brains and Zombies), available in An Undead Christmas in paperback and for Kindle.

In this story, Zach escapes a ton of zombies and takes refuge in an apartment building, only to see a lit up Santa displayed on a nearby rooftop. He follows it to discover a small community of survivors who, after almost shooting him, invite him to Christmas dinner. Inside the safety of their fenced-in private school, they have some semblance of a normal life, enough to enjoy the holidays together. But is their haven really as safe as they think? Check out Check the Halls (for Brains and Zombies) and many other fine holiday zombie shorts in the new collection by editor Anthony Giangregorio.

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A Holiday Zombie Story

Hello all! I was asked to write for an upcoming holiday horror book that collects zombie short stories that take place during Christmas. Fun, huh? It’s about my favorite zombie killer, Zachary Ward (recurring character in The Z Word), who is chased into a building in the city by zombies only to discover a school in the distance decorated for Christmas. He heads towards the survivors, gets to know them and celebrates Christmas like only a true zombie apocalypse hero can…by saving the day and killing zombies!

Here is a schematic for the school where he makes new friends and helps them out a bit:

Image

I was having trouble picturing the property, so I drew one up as a rough sketch. It really helped move the story from building to building. I may have to do this more often!

Anyway, the book won’t be out until closer to the holidays, so keep an eye out for it! And if you haven’t read The Z Word, check it out!

Albert’s Arc

John was trying to communicate but just couldn’t get anyone to assist him. “Excuse eh mwa,” he said to a man who ignored him and continued through the Jardin de Petit Palais.
A tall thin man passing by overheard his struggles and approached.
“Bonjour, madame, monsieur,” he said in a thick French accent. He spoke in his native tongue to the man who nodded and walked away.
“Well, it’s nice to know not all Frenchmen are rude,” John said to the stranger. “I’m John, this is my wife, Mabel. Won’t you join us?” The man adjusted his glasses and sat down with them on a park bench.
“I’m Albert. First time in Paris?”
This time Mabel spoke. “Bon-joor, Al-bear,” she exaggerated his French name, trying her best. “Yes, it’s our first time. And we love it. Dja adoor,” she said with a smile. He smiled back, appreciative of her attempt.
“Don’t judge Paris on this man. Not all Parisians are like him. Where are you from?”
“New York City,” John said with pride.
“Ah, yes, ze big pomme…er…apple, yes? I’ve been zere once. I loved it. Very fast. What have you zeen zo far in Paris?”
“We climbed that tower of yours. It’s no Empire State, that’s for sure,” John responded.
“But beautiful and very romantic,” added Mabel. She adjusted her jacket and fixed her white hat.
“Ah, been to ze famous Parisian stores, hmm?” Albert asked her, regarding her hat. She giggled and blushed a bit. “It is very…you – as you Americans say. Where are you headed now?”
John pulled out a small travel guide and flipped to a specific page. “The Arch De Triumph.”
“Say it like ze Noah’s Ark. Ark.”
“Aha! The Arc de Triumph. Got it. Thanks, Al-bert,” he said, forgetting not to say the final t of his name. “Er…Al-bear.” Albert nodded in appreciation.
“I am heading that way, would you like me to show you?”
Mabel giggled again. “Oh, yes, please do join us! Is it okay Johnny? Imagine being shown around by a true-blue Frenchman!” John nodded and they were off.
The café was just three short blocks from the arc, so they barely had time to chat before they came upon the street they had to cross to get there. “Be careful crossing here, it is a very busy street and Parisians don’t always stop.” He laughed as Mabel looked nervous. “I kid, I kid. Come.”
As they approached, another man in some sort of uniform saw them approaching the building and headed for them. He spoke French to Albert, who responded quickly as if the two were great friends.
“Zis is my friend, Francoise, and he has agreed to let us go up to the top. Would you like zis?”
“Oh yes! Of course we would!” Mabel said. Francoise led them to a door and unlocked it with a smile.
“Bon journee!” he said to them after shaking Albert’s hand.
After many stone steps, they made it to the roof. Mabel ran to the stone wall that surrounded the top and pulled out her camera to take a shot of the Eiffel Tower.

“Look at this view!” she said with a gasp. “John! Look at Paris from up here! This is better than from the tower!” She snapped a few shots while John and Albert watched.
“We really appreciate this, Al-bear,” he said. “Mabel sure loves it up here.” She ran from side to side snapping shots and advancing the film in her camera as the two men watched on.
Albert walked to the wall facing the tower and sat. “You can see all of the arrondisements, from here. I am from the 4th, which is just zere,” he said, pointing. “And I work in the 11th, as a professor, that way,” he pointed again. “I’ve fallen in love in each of ze arrondisements except the 12th. No luck there, yet.” Mabel sighed and leaned into John, taking his hand. He was startled just the smallest bit because he wasn’t aware she was there listening.
“You’ve fallen in love that many times?”
“Oui. How many times pour vous?”
“Just the once…John!”
Albert sighed. “Perhaps I should be in ze twelfth.”
Mabel smiled. “Oh yes! That’s probably where she is! Waiting for you!”
Albert leaned back and let the sun warm his face. “I have a…friend there. Geraldine. She is lovely. I adore her. But…she is just a friend. She does not see me zees way.”
“Nonsense! You’ve got a stable profession, you’re good looking, what else could a woman want?”
He stood and placed his hands in his pockets, looking over the city in the direction of the twelfth.
“You should ask her on a date. Why not? She’d be crazy not to fall for you lickety-split, I tell you. Tell him!” she said, nudging her husband. He just stood looking toward the tower, pretending not to hear.
Albert’s eyes looked distant as he continued to stare into the twelfth arrondisement. “Perhaps,” he whispered.

Inheritance

Hello all! My new book is out and is called Inheritance. It’s a memoir of time I spent interviewing my grandfather about his life. I learned so much and highly recommend that everyone take the time to sit down and talk to their elders, before it’s too late. Read the description below.

It was published by the awesome guys over at WragsInk. I cannot thank them enough.

Here’s an excerpt:

My grandparents were always fun to be around. Even when I was little, they used to fight all the time.
    “Let me try some of that cake.”
    “You’ve had enough of the cake!”
    “I want some more!”
    “Fine. Someone pass him the cake.”
    This all transpired in loud voices, sometimes switching over to Italian that I can only assume was to disguise the cursing from our young ears. But the thing was, I always knew they loved each other. The bickering, the fighting, the complaining, it was all out of love. Not once as a child did I ever think it meant anything else. Only someone there could fully understand how we all knew. Maybe it was just something we inherited from our parents because they knew. Or, possibly, it was just something we felt in our guts.
    It’s funny, but every time I watch Seinfeld and the Costanzas, George’s parents, start fighting, I can’t help but think of my grandparents.
    They lived. Even as they became senior citizens, they were always out and enjoying life. They were in clubs, they went to dances, they attended weekly concerts on the boardwalk whenever there was one. They were always out visiting friends, going to dinners, enjoying themselves. I always looked up to them for that, and hoped that when I reached their age, I would be the same way.

I’ve also gotten an official Facebook page here. Please stop by and like it.

Here’s a description of the book as well:

On the day author Dennis Finocchiaro sat and started interviewing his grandfather for a graduate school project, he never knew how far into the past he would travel or the range of emotions he would feel. This is the story of Rosario “Charlie” Finocchiaro through the eyes of his grandson Dennis, throughout his childhood in 1920s Philadelphia to war in Italy all the way up to his retirement in Havertown; Inheritance introduces the reader to the life of an everyday man, a soldier, contractor and patriarch. Experience childhood in 1920s Philly, wartime Italy during World War II, the Jersey Shore throughout many decades, and contemporary suburban Philadelphia in a memoir that jumps through the last one hundred years and introduces the journey of a grandson getting to know his grandfather thanks to an assignment. Humor, romance and even a few bootleggers make this nonfiction account of one man’s life both heartwarming and informative. Travel through time with a grandson as he learns his family’s history, heritage, and ultimately, his greatest inheritance.

Deliverance

Another piece of flash fiction typed onto a vintage photograph using my antique typewriter. And of course, my shameless plug for the book.

All In One Night

My first new flash fiction on a vintage photograph using an antique typewriter in months. If you like it, you can order Capturing a Moment, a collection of similar works or order an original by visiting my Etsy.

 

Anthology Philly

I am super proud of Anthology Philly, a collection of short stories from up and coming Philadelphia Area authors. Here is the intro I wrote and never put into the actual book because I was so excited about it and forgot:

The City of Brotherly Love is known throughout the nation as a place with a depth of historical wealth. Philadelphia is the home to history-making locations such as Independence Hall, and the most famous bell in the country, The Liberty Bell. The “Love” statue in Love Park has become an iconic image of the modern art world. And who can ever forget the William Penn Statue and all of the urban legends surrounding that?

With such a magnitude of meaning, it’s no wonder that Philadelphia has become a cultural epicenter of the United States. The city boasts several arts and events such as First Friday, the Philadelphia Film Festival, the Philly Fringe Festival, and First Person Arts. Philly has recently evolved into one of the great cultural centers of our time.

Anthology Philly showcases work from some of the great new writers of the Philadelphia area. Each story pays homage to The City of Brotherly Love and all of the aspects of our wonderful metropolis. Even through generational changes, Philadelphia continues to touch its residents and visitors in a meaningful way. Some will always remember the Christmas light show at Wanamaker’s while others will think of the same show at Macy’s. Some will reminisce about the days of seeing Sinatra play Convention Hall while others love the memories of standing in line waiting for an R5 show at the Unitarian Church. In either case, the experience of Philadelphia creates memories and sparks creativity across generations.

The richness of Philadelphia’s culture has inspired the stories within this anthology.

We hope you feel the love.