If you enjoyed this, it’s available, along with many other similar works, on my Etsy. Wrags Ink. is also coming out with a paperback book collecting my work, so stay tuned for more information on that!
Tag Archives: romance
Optimism
Posted in flash fiction, Typography
Tagged 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, art, beach, beauty, couples, dating, dennis finocchiaro, entertainment, family, fiction, flash fiction, found art, found photograph, friends, friendship, hipster, holiday, humor, kitsch, life, love, marriage, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, relationships, romance, shore, typewriter, typography, vacation, vintage, writing
The Ghost Train
The dilapidated railroad station, aged after years of disuse, loomed above them like a ghost as they trudged up the hill.
“I always come up here when I want to be alone. You’re the first person I’ve brought here.”
She smiled, a little out of breath from the steep path.
The rusted rails disappeared into surrounding woods as she looked left, then right.
“The tracks are unused now, right?”
“Are you nervous?” he said with a smile. “They’re retired. Look at them.” He kicked a bit of rusted metal off the top. “I doubt they’d be safe run a train over them.”
She took his hand. “Thanks for bringing me here. I know this place means a lot to you. Do you ever go inside?”
“There’s a broken window around back, but it’s pretty dirty in there.”
A sound, far off in the distance, made her look to the right. “What was that?”
“I don’t know, but I hear it all the time.”
“It sounded like-“
“Go on…”
“No, never mind.”
He bent down and put his hand on the track. “Feel it.”
She did as she was told and felt the slight vibration. “What is that?”
“You were going to say it sounded like a train was coming, right?”
She nodded, a little unwillingly.
“I hear it all the time. And after I hear it, I can always feel the tracks vibrating the tiniest bit.”
She quickly removed her hand from the rusted metal. She wiped the brown dust off her hands onto her jeans as he stood back up. She stood as well and watched the tracks coming from the woods to the right, waiting.
“It won’t come,” he said, breaking the silence.
“What won’t?”
“The train.”
She took his hand, and squeezed it tight from fear when they heard the sound again, this time closer. It sounded like the echoes of the horn of a train, but not the actual sound itself. She continued to watch, waiting.
Photograph taken by Nessa Skotnitsky of Ethereal Fine Art and Photography.
Posted in flash fiction, Zoey and Xander
Tagged art, beauty, couples, dating, dennis finocchiaro, entertainment, Ethereal Fine Art and Photography, fiction, fine art, flash fiction, friends, friendship, funny, ghost train, ghosts, hipster, horror, humor, kitsch, life, love, Nessa Skotnitsky, old buildings, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, relationships, retro, romance, train station, train tracks, trains, vintage
My Second Book, Coming Soon!
Coming soon! Wrags Ink., a new publisher in the Philadelphia area, is putting 
out a collection of my typography on vintage photographs! You’ve seen some of them before here and possibly on my Etsy, but this collection has about fifty images and more than half of them have never been seen before! So get ready, readers! My work is also being featured in a few magazines coming out this summer, and I’ll be sure to let you know about that as it comes up!
Also, once the book is out the prices will probably be going up a bit on my Etsy, so if you want any, better get them soon!
Thanks for reading!
Posted in flash fiction, photos of strangers, Typography
Tagged 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, art, beauty, childhood, children, couples, dating, death, dennis finocchiaro, entertainment, family, fiction, flash fiction, found art, found photograph, friends, friendship, funny, hipster, horror, humor, kitsch, life, love, marriage, music, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, poetry, reading, records, relationships, retro, romance, sad, typewriter, typography, vintage, writing
Fulfilled Dreams
“When you find all of your dreams fulfilled, it’s time to think up more dreams.”
She looked up at him. “Huh? What’s that from?”
“Me, I guess,” he said with a large, goofy smile. “My dreams are all fulfilled.”
“Really. How so?”
“I have this house I made into a home. My first book is published. And then there’s you. I love going to work most of the time. I am not starving to death, I have my health, you know. My dreams are fulfilled.”
“And?”
“And it’s time for new dreams. Time to start reaching higher.”
“Like…another book?”
“And maybe another girlfriend.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
She threw the copy of ReadyMade she was reading at him but he ducked. “See? Everything’s coming up me right now. You couldn’t even hit me with -”
Another magazine hit him square in the face.
“Nice.”
She smiled. “Gotcha! Don’t be so cocky!”
“Hey, can I help it if I’m happy?”
“I’m glad I’m on that list,” she said, getting up and walking over to the couch.
“That doesn’t mean I want to cuddle.”
“Tough. I came over here to cuddle, and cuddle I will.”
“Fine,” he said in his pretend-frustrated voice. He put his arm around her and pulled her in.
“What’s this you’re working on?” she asked, picking up the notebook he had been writing in.
“Ideas. For my next book.”
“Nice.”
“Like I said, new dreams. Not like my first book is doing well. Even the publisher said it wasn’t selling much. Maybe I can use this to get an agent. Or maybe this is the start of something bigger. It just takes the right person to read it, someone like Chuck Klosterman to tweet it, and next thing I know, it starts selling like crazy.”
“Or?”
“Or nothing. I got a book published. It was one of my dreams. I’m happy. It feels good.”
She dropped the notebook onto the floor and it landed on her crumpled magazine she’d used as a weapon just moments ago.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she said after resting her chin on his shoulder.
He smiled. “See? I’m getting everything I want.”
She got up and threw the magazine at his face again.
Posted in flash fiction, Uncategorized, Zoey and Xander
Tagged couples, dating, dreams, entertainment, fiction, flash fiction, found photograph, funny, happiness, happy, hipster, humor, kitsch, my first novel, novel, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, published, reading, ReadyMade, relationships, romance, writing
Vantage Point
Terese stood looking up at the perfect blue sky and fluffy clouds before she gathered the nerve to go to the edge and look down on everyone. The building wasn’t that high, and while she could appreciate an amazing view of the city, her fear of heights tended to take over. But she wanted to, so she forced herself, inch by inch, her high heels scraping the cement with each half-step, toward the wall that overlooked the courtyard below.
Ole had been difficult all day; as a matter of fact, he hadn’t been fun to travel with at all. His constant complaints were annoying, his mood swings obnoxious, and his hatred of people in general was exhausting. She practically had to drag him onto the metro and to the different sights. If she left it up to him they would stay in the hotel most of this trip, and he wouldn’t even be trying to have sex with her. He was more likely to watch television.
Terese shook her hands a bit, then her head, her black hair flinging until she stopped and it was frazzled, a strand or two sticking to her lipstick. She wanted to forget the frustration of her relationship and think about the view, attempt to check out Oslo with a positive mind instead of one focused on her problems. She boldly stepped to the edge and looked below to see people milling around. She sighed and enjoyed a pleasant moment, her first one on the trip thus far. She felt the stress wash away as she listened to the water lapping against the man-made walls, noticed two lovers sitting by the water having a moment, and was instantly refreshed.
Until she noticed Ole.
There he was, angrily brushing his jacket off as if the metro got it dirty. Her moment of happiness fell apart and her shoulders began to ache the tiniest bit. He then started brushing off a cement wall, preparing it for his royal ass. He’s the royal ass she thought to herself, then giggled a little. She tried to enjoy the view of the waterfront but her eyes kept resting back on Ole, who checked his watch a dozen times in the few moments she was up there.
She walked across to another view, one where she would not see her annoying lover. The sun was beginning to set and cast a shadow across the area, shadowing her in darkness for a brief moment. If Ole looked up he would have noticed her silhouette from below, but he just sat on the wall wondering how long she would be up there.
She looked around at the walkway where she stood and realized she was alone. She returned to a vantage point near the edge, one where she could see Ole again. Her hand slipped out of her pocket and shaped itself into a gun. She pointed it in his general direction, pretended to look through the sights, aimed and fired.
Photographs by the talented Kristin Brænne, whose work can be seen HERE.
Posted in flash fiction
Tagged annoying lover, city view, couples, dating, dennis finocchiaro, entertainment, fiction, flash fiction, found art, found photograph, friends, friendship, I want to kill my boyfriend, it's time to break up, life, love, Norway, Oslo, Oslo city view, people, photo, photograph, photography, photos, pictures, relationships, romance, sad, terrible boyfriend, writing
The Z Word Origin Stories – The Dane in Combat Boots (Annya)
Annya had to do something to escape the memories of him and their awful relationship. Everything in the apartment still reminded her of him even though he’d moved out months ago. She needed to get out of Denmark, leave Copenhagen behind, and what better way than to travel during holiday to the U.S.? She could definitely escape her demons there.
The long flight was boring but uneventful, exactly what she wanted for the whole trip. The plane hit very little turbulence and the landing was flawless. She arrived.
She tried to speak as little as possible to the cab driver, just a quick mention of the address of her hotel and he nodded; she was a bit self-conscious of her accent. As they waited at a red light she watched a pale woman walk very slowly, dragging her left foot, and noticed the general disrepair of her business suit. A brownish stain covered the front of her blouse, and Annya wondered what sort of chocolate concoction the woman spilled all over herself, and then forgot the woman completely as she yearned for chocolate. If she’d watched a moment longer, she would have witnessed the woman attacking an unsuspecting older gentleman walking his poodle, and might have been horrified to see his blood spurt out of his throat, freshly covering her blouse.
The driver pulled up to a fancy hotel, and Annya was surprised at how nice it was. She looked at the address on the side of the hotel and then down at her agenda, making sure it was right. This luxurious palace couldn’t possibly have cost her so little, could it? She gasped and then realized the driver was waiting for his money.
As she paid him and got out, difficulty with her suitcase exasperated the driver. he seemed rushed.
“No, no don’t help me, I’m fine,” she said to him.
“Sorry, miss, but there have been a lot of attacks around here lately, I’m not getting out. I have a family!”
She finally freed the suitcase and started pulling it toward the front entrance as she heard a scream from somewhere a few blocks away. She looked around, saw nothing and headed inside the hotel to the desk.
“Hello,” she said to the perfectly groomed clerk . She handed him her passport to keep from chatting, and the man took it and found her room number. He grabbed a sheet of paper that shot out of the printer and asked her to sign.
After getting the key to her room she went to the elevator and hit the up button. The sound of the bell woke her up from a daydream, and she was surprised at how relaxed she was already. This trip would be the uneventful but fun adventure she needed to put all her horrible, scarring past behind her.
This story is the origin of one of the many characters from my new book, The Z Word, available on Amazon in paperback and for Kindle. Like us on Facebook.
Posted in flash fiction, Horror, The Z Word: Origins
Tagged cannibalism, Dane, death, Denmark, dennis finocchiaro, holiday, horror, love, monsters, murder, relationships, romance, The Walking Dead, The Z Word, undead, vacation, zombie, zombie apocalypse, zombie flash fiction, zombie stories
Zombie Haiku and Art Contest
To celebrate the release of my first book, The Z Word, our facebook page is having a contest! Just click Welcome under the photograph.
We’re looking for the best zombie haiku and zombie art* out there!
The contest rules are simple. It must either be a haiku (5-7-5 syllables, 3 lines) or art that is your original work.
Prizes include signed copies of The Z Word (with a special inscription just for you!) and lots of other random zombie paraphernalia! So come by our page, like us and start posting your work!
The Z Word is available through Amazon on paperback and for Kindle!
*Artwork may be used for promotional purposes. Artists will get samples of anything created with their image as long as they give us their contact info.
My first book!
My first book is out and available via Amazon! Check out the paperback or Kindle version HERE or click the cover art:
War. . .murder. . .disease. . . A zombie cares not for these things. In a zombie apocalypse, you’re only as powerful as the weapon you wield, only as strong as those you surround yourself with, but no matter how hard you try, you probably won’t survive in the end. The Z Word is a collection of short stories about people trying to do just that. Zachary, a former nerd, uses his vast knowledge of zombies learned from pop culture to survive, rescue others and even-he hopes-get his first girlfriend. A principal strives to keep the few child survivors alive in a school, while neighbors battle it out over a zombie hunting contest, and a teenage girl leaves home to take her chances out on the road. Some barricade themselves inside their homes while others stay on the move. But humanity will endure and humans can sometimes be the best in the worst situations. The Z Word is a manual of what to do-and not to do-in a world ruled by the dead. Don’t make the same mistake others have, heed these stories . . .they may be your only chance at survival.
Posted in flash fiction, Horror, The Z Word: Origins
Tagged apocalypse, apocalyptic fiction, art, dennis finocchiaro, fiction, first book, hipster, horror, Kindle, love, novel, published, record, romance, short stories, survival, The Z Word, undead, zombies
In the Middle of Nowhere
The car was broken down, and while Jennie and I were sulking, Doris and Roy were sitting on a log chuckling to themselves, having a little picnic with the brown bag of goodies Doris had bought at the five and dime. She ate half the apple and then handed it over to Roy.
“I have another one if you want,” she said to me, and I just shook my head. I couldn’t understand how they were so calm. Roy’s car was busted and we hadn’t seen a car in the whole two hours since it broke down.
“Aren’t you guys worried we’re stuck here?” Jennie asked her.
“Nope,” Doris said with confidence. “Someone will come along soon, I’m sure.”
“That’s my girl!” Roy responded. “Always the optimist! Isn’t it beautiful here? I don’t miss the hustle and bustle of the city.”
I can’t believe I just heard Roy actually say that. In the fifteen years I’d known him he’d never been this relaxed. Or this happy.
“What will we do come nightfall?”
Doris smiled as she rooted through the bag to the bottom and pulled out a few pieces of penny candy and offered them around. Jennie took one and listening to her unwrap it was wearing on my nerves. “We could sleep in the car! Roy, you have blankets in the trunk, right? The ones we keep for emergency picnics?” He nodded as he pulled a toy pipe out of his pocket and started pouring bubbles into it. “Wait, you bought it?” she asked him.
“Yup.” At that he put it to his mouth and bubbles started to explode out of the plastic piece of junk.
“But it won’t come to that,” Doris added. “Someone will come.”
I couldn’t take this much longer. What would we do, huddle up in the car under a tiny blanket, shared by each couple? Doris and Roy were bananas if they thought I would get a good night of sleep in that jalopy that couldn’t even handle a simple drive to Cape May. Doris and Roy started whispering and giggling to each other in that loving way. The way they always do it.
Jennie came over and sat next to me. It wasn’t long before she started whispering to me, copying off of them.
“Aren’t they so cute?”
“Sure, sure. They’re cute, and they don’t seem to mind we might die out here.”
“Oh come on. Why don’t we whisper like that anymore?”
“Anymore?”
“Yes! We were just like them when we met.”
I thought back and had to agree, we probably were. But not as annoying. Just to shut her up and reached up and held the back of her hair a bit, pulling her in for a kiss. She smiled. I rose.
“Should I start foraging? Maybe there’s an apple tree or something nearby.”
Doris looked in my direction. “Everything will be fine, Raymond. You’ll see.”
At that I heard the backfire of a truck in the distance, and a tow truck came into view around the bend. Doris stood up and brushed some dirt and leaves off the back of her skirt and smiled at me.
Posted in flash fiction, photos of strangers
Tagged 1950s, 1960s, art, beauty, black and white, broken down car, cape may, city, couples, dating, entertainment, fiction, flash fiction, found photograph, friends, friendship, going to the beach for the day, humor, kitsch, life, love, people, photo, photograph, photos, picnic, pictures, relationships, retro, romance, stranded, vacation, vintage, vintage photograph
The Z Word Origin Stories: Zachary
This story is a prequel to my upcoming zombie collection The Z Word. Like it here on facebook.
Click the photograph to see WhiteStag’s Etsy account where this print and more are available!
Zachary Ward was sitting in his old bean bag chair reading the recent Walking Dead when it happened. A scream ripped through the open window of his bedroom and he barely looked up from the issue. But then, who would? The second scream was the one that forced him to carefully place it on the shag carpet in the basement bedroom he “rented” from his grandmother and walk up to the eye-leveled window.
It had started. He saw two of his neighbors chased down by another, who seemed a bit slower than usual, and a bit more…gray? The slower neighbor latched on to one of their jackets and pulled the woman in, biting her arm as her scream reverberated off the walls of neighboring homes. Blood splattered across Zach’s window as her eyes met his and she reached for him.
It was time.
He ran to the comic he’d thrown to the ground in frustration and held the cover up, looking from the image to the view outside. It was definitely time.
He turned to find his grandmother standing in his doorway, the light from the basement steps silhouetting her figure.
“Mom-mom, how many times have I told you to knock first! I don’t care if you have to do laundry!” he whined. She stood, waiting for something, and that was when he looked back at the comic he’d been reading and flipped to the fourth page. It showed a back lit silhouette of someone in a doorway, a similar scene. He carefully placed the comic onto his sofa bed and reached under, feeling for something.
“Mom-mom, I would answer me if I were you…”
She made a sound, guttural, coming from deep inside, and that’s when his hand hit what he was looking for – a baseball bat. She lunged at him just as he pulled it out, and he swung it at her side, knocking her away from him.
“Mom-mom?” He looked into her eyes, a milky white. He sighed and knew what it was he had to do.
“Sorry mom-mom. You’re no longer the person I knew. I love you.” She stood again, her flowery moo moo flowing behind her as she jumped at him and he swung the bat at her head. The crack sounded different from those of the star baseball player’s he bench-warmed for. After all, his bat had never connected with anything other than wind that whole season his dad forced him to play.
She dropped to the ground, blood oozing from a crack in her skull. Zach looked at her for a brief moment and then started gathering items around his room and throwing them into a backpack. He’d been reading about these things for years now. He’d seen all the movies, even the terrible ones. The books, the graphic novels, everything prepared him for this moment. And he knew what he had to do next. It was time to save the hottest girl in his old high school who just so happened to live across the street and also, however unlikely, never pulled the blinds when she was changing. Why else would a twenty-year-old live in his grandmother’s basement?
As he burst through the old front door of her home, the screams got to him and he winced and lost his nerve for a moment. At that point he pulled out the iPod his cousin had given him when the new one came out and threw the buds into his ears after pushing random. With the bat in his hand he entered the street filled with monsters and victims alike, trying to catch some food or survive, depending which side they were on. He stepped to the other curb and was ready to swing the bat when a song started. The first few notes made him stop as the lyrics “Well no one told me about her…the way she lied” and he laughed at the irony of this song of all songs being the first to play. As he ran across the street one of the zombies came after him and he swung, this time right at its head. It went down fast as two more turned to look at him. He ran around her brother’s van parked in the driveway and checked to see if he could make it to the front door. He took off for her house and got to the door to find it locked. He rang the doorbell and turned to find the two from earlier coming at him rather slowly.
“Just like Romero said,” Zach actually said to himself as he gripped the bat tighter before thinking better of it and swing the bag around from his back. He pulled out a half-filled bottle of rum and stuffed a rag in it as they got closer, dropping the iPod and letting it yank the buds out of his ears. A quick flick of the lighter and the cocktail was lit. He threw it at the oncoming creatures and watched them ignite and fall, bringing three more into view who were apparently following them.
“Shit.”
He turned and banged on the door, rang the doorbell again and started yelling. Finally he heard a voice.
“Who is it?”
“Lucy! It’s Zach! Let me in!”
“Who? I can’t. Something’s going on! I’m not opening the door!”
“If you don’t open it I WILL DIE!”
He waited, the closest undead thing within reach of his bat and he took it down with one swing. The click of the lock turning caught his attention and as she opened the door he fell inside onto her.
“Quick! Lock it!”
She sat on her ass looking at the monsters slowly approaching and began to shake so he jumped up and slammed it shut in their faces. He threw the latch and slid the chain into place, then offered her his hand.
“Are you okay?” She nodded and then wrinkled her nose at him.
“Oh, you’re that creepy guy from across the street. You live with that old lady.”
“Um…yeah. I was also in your homeroom.”
“Oh.”
She brushed herself off. “What do you want?”
“I was trying to save you.”
“Well, I’m fine. I’m locked in. Safe. You can go.”
“We need to barricade the door, block up the windows and do a quick survey of what you have in here. Got a lot of food? We’ll need it.”
Lucy just stood there staring.
“What?” he asked her.
“Why should I share with you?”
He pulled open the curtains to get a view of the street. “You want to be alone in all this? They’re zombies.”
“They’re what?”
“Zombies. Dead people come back to life. Eating people.”
“That’s stupid. They aren’t even eating the people’s brains. Zombies eat brains.”
“Where in the hell did you hear that? It’s a myth.”
“So are zombies.”
“Then what are those?” he yelled, pointing outside at the chaos.
She looked outside and her confidence wavered. “They can’t be z- they just can’t be.”
She rubbed her arm and looked at him as sweat began to form on her forehead. “Well, what do we do?”
“We do what they always do. Lock ourselves in. Hold down the fort. Hope others find us so we become stronger in numbers.”
The two of them went to work moving furniture and blocking the doors and windows with as much as they could find. A quick inventory found them plenty of food and he filled up the bathtub with water.
“Why do we do this?”
“If the water stops running you’ll thank me.”
“What if I need to take a shower?”
He rubbed his temples for a moment trying not to yell, but ended up losing his temper a bit anyway. He yelled “YOU DON’T TAKE A SHOWER IN THE MIDDLE OF A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!”
Her lower lip trembled and he instantly felt bad. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean it.”
She took a good look at him and collected herself. “I’m fine. I get it. We’re in trouble. I’ll be tough.” She looked out the bathroom window and gasped. “This is for real, isn’t it.”
“Sure is.”
She turned and looked at him, a small smile forming. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m actually glad you’re here.”
He smiled and felt his heart skip a beat. The hot girl from his high school days was happy he existed. That’s when they heard the thump. Zach ran down as fast as he could, Lucy close behind, to find the front door being rattled. He ran to it and pushed up against it, Lucy copying him. That’s when the window shattered.
“No! Lucy get back!” By the time she realized what was going on, a hand grabbed her nearby arm and pulled it through the window. Zach grabbed her waist and pulled her back in, and as she turned he saw the distinct marks on her arm. Bite marks. She looked at it and said “I’m fine!”
“You aren’t. When you get bit you become one.”
She looked at the cuts, wiped away some blood and passed out. He picked her up and put her on the couch.
“Shit.” He knew what he had to do. He ran to the front door and added a heavy armoire to their makeshift barricade and then went back to her. She didn’t wake up. “I’m sorry. I have to leave you. It’s too late for you.”
At that he grabbed the keys to her brother’s van off the counter, ran to the back door, turned to take a last look at the hottest girl in his grade, and left through the backyard.
Posted in flash fiction, Horror, The Z Word: Origins
Tagged art, dennis finocchiaro, dork, entertainment, family, flash fiction, found photograph, graphic novels, horror, love, monsters, nerd, origin story, people, photography, pictures, pop culture, prequel, relationships, romance, sad, The Walking Dead, The Z Word, undead, upcoming novel, writing, zombie apocalypse, zombies
A Flash of Inspiration 