Tony Martello
Bio
Join an author like no other on various tales that entertain, philosophies that inspire, and lessons that transform us. He is inspired by nature, the ocean, and funny social interactions. He is the author of Flat Spell Tales and much more.
Stories (33/0)
Chasing the Ole American Dream
I always wonder if cavemen and women knew what time was. And if so, did it seem to accelerate and decelerate to them, as it appears to us today? The concept of time has only changed recently (a few thousand years ago since we developed a calendar) and decided to over-civilize our culture. Does time speed up and slow down? I think not (maybe on a millisecond scale if you consider rotations of the earth and electromagnetic cycles and fields). Because of this quandary, let us consider a few concepts: First, consider a metal spring. When you squeeze it, it becomes smaller in length, right? Well, not really. It always goes back to its original size (length) when you release it and take the pressure off. Modern calendars are the pressure to the spring in this analogy. The spring is truly always a fixed size but has open space in the middle between both ends that is not compressed without pressure. Like compressing a spring, calendars squeeze out all the space in our days and weeks that would otherwise be free time or freedom.
By Tony Martello4 months ago in Journal
Donkey Beach
Without any lifeguard training, we were going to Hawaii to save souls. Who needed saving? Why were they in danger? I wasn’t so sure back then and all I did was imagine how much fun I could have on my orange and yellow spongey boogie board. I visualized a billowing sandy beach sprawled out amongst wispy pine trees and a small cove with peaky waves that broke left and right across the sand. With the scene imprinted in my imagination, I stood up on my Orangesicle bogey board, strapped the leash on my left wrist, and surfed it off my bed. I hit the ground hard and burned my right cheek into the old carpet. We were leaving in two weeks, and I would be ready!
By Tony Martello4 months ago in Wander
Beneath His Shades
Every summer a select group of students from Stanford University comes to Fallen Leaf Lake to camp out, row, and water ski the glassy lake of privilege. The lake is so glassy that Randy can see her reflection as she steps into his kayak. The glow of her blond hair reverberates off the water like a radiant beacon warning him of her rocky shores. The sequins on her black two-piece sparkle, emitting interstellar messages from her bikini onto the water surface-reflecting back through his polarized sunglasses. These signals indicate she is an important young woman with status. As Rhonda steps in, the kayak sinks slightly. The first thing Randy notices isn’t her eyes but her pink and black Prada sunglasses. Randy recalls purchasing his Prizm Oakley’s because they were polarized and able to see into the depths of the water. He must keep an eye out for large rocks, branches, and shallow dangers under the surface while steering the boat for his customers.
By Tony Martello4 months ago in Horror
Sharleen And Her Mountain
Sweat drips from her forehead as she climbs the dusty mountain. She turns her head side to side searching for a cool breeze. She notices a slight chill in the air toward the foggier side of the valley. She turns toward the breeze but clips her shin on a cactus needle poking out across the trail. Blood drips down over her socks tainting the all white that once was. She passes a rope swing to her left as she approaches the steeper part of the rocky obstacle. Glancing up she hops off the granite rock and onto the sandy hillside. She eagerly runs up the sandy slope but regretfully slides back down to the rock. More sweat flows down her cheeks and into her mouth. The salt from her sweat parches her mouth and the the blood dries crusty on her shin reminding her of human frailty. Gradually, her vision of the top of the dark and formidable mountain fades and she awakes to an undesirable headache.
By Tony Martello4 months ago in Education
The Put-Back
Craig wakes up at 6:15 am to continue his technical treadmill of life. He carefully picks up his thick glasses, puts them on his narrow face, and rests them on his astute ears. His ears appear larger than average because of his short square salt and pepper cut. He reaches into his closet and chooses a beige, plaid collar shirt. He methodically dresses and marches into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee for the road. He fills the silver and black thermos-style mug and climbs into his white 2019 Toyota Prius hybrid. He drives to the Highway 85 entrance and waits patiently in the single-file line to get on the highway. His average wait per day is about 25 minutes. While in line, Craig reflects on a comment his coworker, John said the week earlier,
By Tony Martello4 months ago in Humor
Rerouting the Brain of An Addict
When you commute to work or walk to school, do you take the same route every day or do you mix it up and try new pathways? Have you noticed that you tend to zone out and go on autopilot when you follow the same exact route each time? After about ten monotonous times of treading the same routine, we have hardwired our path to our regular destination. Addicts with substance use disorders have an even more ingrained brain pathway with the dopamine reward system driving their behavior. This relentless engine stops at nothing and reverts back to the previous behaviors that trigger the motivation to achieve the high like the time before. Their brains are habitually wired to gravitate toward using their drug of choice and this autopilot is in constant overdrive. Certain places, people, and stress can trigger users to relapse or keep using if they haven't attempted a recovery yet.
By Tony Martello4 months ago in Psyche
Blue Beak
When Pat grew up, he worked his way out of the glades to the Gulf by feeding on a variety of fish and vegetation but seemed to have the most luck with bluegill and blueberries along the waterways and lagoons. He and his parents migrated here from Patagonia a few years ago when their local forests were being eaten by a fungus called, “Mal de Cipres.” The fungus’ voracious appetite for Cypress trees caused many Patagonian eagles to migrate elsewhere looking for better shelter. Because Pat was used to feeding on maqui blueberry pies in his homeland, he naturally gravitated toward the bluer, finer foods here in the Glades. As a result, he developed an iridescent blue beak over the years.
By Tony Martelloabout a year ago in Fiction