Austin Alan Palaoro
Bio
Stories (6/0)
SAVIOR'S DAY
The day had already begun to heat up as a half-asleep boy named Franklin stirred, peeling his thighs from the grasp of the tattered couch he slept on most nights. He slowly sat up and began rubbing his eyes, the cramped apartment he called home becoming less blurry and, as a result, more hideous as he did so. Despite the weighted scent of emptied bottles of beer and the mugginess that hung in the air, Franklin's gut pained him with a violent grumbling. Waiting the necessary few moments for the gastral outburst to subside, Franklin slowly leaned to his left, grabbing his long unwashed jeans from the floor and put them on, standing to yank them to his waist and buttoning them.
By Austin Alan Palaoro10 months ago in Fiction
So, you’re about to be a Dad™… Part II
INTRO; Alright, so we’ve already been over the fun stuff (if you haven’t read part I, you can find it here); now it’s time to get into the nitty-gritty; in other words, the bloody, butthole-tearing entrance your little milk goblin is about to make into our Earthly plane. How exciting for you! To be more exact, we will be going over a handful of subjects; these include how to prepare for and what to expect in the delivery room, things you need to do once the dust has settled as soon as possible, general infant care, what you should actually be concerned about, and general milestones.
By Austin Alan Palaoroabout a year ago in Families
For I am my own damn God.
On August 11th, 2014 Robin Williams, a man known lovingly by millions for his unparalleled comedic ability, took his own life at the age of 63. I was 19 years old at the time, and for the most part never really concerned myself with the lives, or deaths, of celebrities. The death of Robin Williams, however, stabbed at my gut like a greasy dive bar meal and 17 too many Tecate cervezas. I’d grown up watching this man stand in front of crowds numbering in the thousands as he masterfully guided their imaginations into depths that only he could unearth. This divine ability, along with Hollywood’s better days, culminated in films that grip one's attention by the shoulders, ceasing the worries of the day by headbutting you in the face with humor.
By Austin Alan Palaoro2 years ago in Journal
- Top Story - April 2021
SequesterTop Story - April 2021
Light gently permeated this foreign place from incandescent pinheads in the far off distance, entire galaxies unknown to man spaced far yet not so few between. Clouds of gaseous blue and purple detonations mottled across this great beyond, surpassing the grasp of one’s ability to imagine it’s scope, let alone handle an understanding of such phenomena. My head, both light and lagging, revolved across this vast spacescape in awe, temporarily unaware of the absurdness of my situation as I sheepishly peered into the glory of both past and present. As my gaze descended my eyes caught my pale feet, wide and naked, firmly planted on an imperceptible plain. A torrent of ice began to stretch from behind my eyes up and backward, a measured waltz from neuron to the next which promptly dissipated as it’s travel found the nape of my neck. My lips curled as my mouth cracked in horror letting out a scream, a scream that came up silent as if I were an actor in one of those silent film reels I’d seen as a child.
By Austin Alan Palaoro3 years ago in Horror
Apostle
Decimus’ chest heaved, his breath recouping from chase given to a hulking boar in hopes of preserving his wife and young boy in this, yet another dire Northumbrian winter. His step slowed further, the fallen snow tacitly giving way to his overly taxed boots as he squinted against the frigid wind, looking for a sign that his arrow had met its mark. It was then, upon a hearty maple trunk that Decimus caught the glint of the moon, glowing crimson in a spatter of the boar’s life-wine. Decimus turned his head high to the luminous celestial body, bold and bright among the bounty of sky-stretched stars, grateful for that which he could see but not understand.
By Austin Alan Palaoro3 years ago in Futurism