Michael J Massey
Bio
I am a Care Manager, amateur boxer-in-training, chaplain that enjoys spending hours crafting short story fiction. Published author and screenplay writer.
Stories (19/0)
Adventures Of An Adrenaline Junkie
Icy blue water reflected the intense sun of southeast Iceland, as Ryder Lee Matthews gasped for breath in a rapidly shrinking air pocket under the Fjaðrá River. His mother Ruth warned him that the lack of impulse control was going to kill him. Seems like it was the one thing she was right about. RIP Ryder Lee Matthews, RIP Ryder Lee Matthews. What a ridiculous wordplay to roll through his head while submerged here in some forgotten river in the middle of Iceland. Ryder could swear he could her voice and feel his Dad’s warm embrace while he was fighting for his life under the riverbed outcropping.
By Michael J Massey3 years ago in Humans
From Russia With Love
Artem was bound to the hard wooden chair with stiff leather wraps around his hands and feet like a pig trussed up for slaughter. The bare room was stunk of dirt, sweat, and expensive cigarettes. The wind outside the grimy window howling and dashing snow against the glass. An hour ago he was in his flat in Moscow. Now, this. His memories flooded over him in emotional waves.
By Michael J Massey3 years ago in Humans
Love Is A Battlefield
Paris 1941 Evie could have been arm candy for some pathetic SS officer, but she made a vital decision right after her parents were forced to billet a Nazi officer in their home in the 17th district. Paris would return to the way Paris was, Evie planned on it, no matter what the cost. Head and eyes forward, smiling at the local men and ignoring the invaders, she headed to the Metro station to catch her train to work. Dark wavy shoulder-length hair and full red lips, she might be mistaken for Veronica Lake. As a features writer at Paris Match, Evie worked on fashion and film pieces and could often be found rubbing elbows with designers and actors most evenings. Her stories always had a subtle edge to them, subtle digs to the occupying forces without ever really saying anything.
By Michael J Massey3 years ago in Humans
I Spy
I needed the money. Desperately. College costs were mounting, and my parents couldn’t help me. A brother with cerebral palsy and one fighting in Vietnam kept them occupied elsewhere. When Mrs. Garrison called, stuck without a sitter, I jumped at the chance. Two small boys, Michael, five and Adam, two, were easy. A bath, ten minutes of “The Brady Bunch” and they would be out cold.
By Michael J Massey3 years ago in Horror
Warped History
Speeding through downtown Seattle on the maglev train, Sophia noticed not only the diversity of the population but the growth of the city as well. In the early part of the twenty-first century, Seattle was struggling to shed its image as a coffee bean hippie mecca and attract more of the tech market, in particular the space geeks. Glancing around the sleek but inviting train interior, it seems like the city planners got it right. Ever since the US got to Mars, the Emerald City exploded, bringing the space program and its requisite engineers with it. Sophia was part of that migration, leaving the sultry steamy Florida everglades for the cold but cool Seattle skyline.
By Michael J Massey3 years ago in Futurism
My Son Is A Drug Addict
My first son was ( and still is) a charmer. Ever since he was a toddler, he would smile that toothy grin at all of the ladies at the supermarket and laugh. His deep eye color earned him the the nickname“ Mickey Blue Eyes” from my father and he always had a sense of wide-eyed excitement and curiosity about the world. On a trip to the Baseball Hall of Fame with my parents at age 9 or 10 he talked about the players, the trip, the food for a week straight. When asked one year what he wanted for his birthday, he told my sister -in-law , a rock tumbler. After seeing the movie National Treasure, he was convinced that every bill had a clue to worldly wealth, and he was going to find it. Nothing scared him and he was the kid that jumped in without every looking first. We used to call him “our little Bear Grylls” That all changed one summer and I remember it as distinctly as people remember 9/11 or the assassination of JFK or the explosion of the Challenger shuttle. He was 13 and didn’t come home so my wife and I went looking for him and found him with his skateboard and group of friends and he refused to come with us or return home. That was eight years ago and in my craziest nightmares I never imagined the torture and heartache an addiction to drugs would cause.
By Michael J Massey3 years ago in Psyche
The Curse
Friday 8:30AM February Jakob looked up at the Tobin Memorial Bridge shimmering in the crisp winter sun, contemplating his life. Seasons full of bad luck and constant pain. Stuck there motionless, he watched the Boston commuters scurry into the T station on their way to jobs they probably hated and families they loved. How he wished people could see into his soul and help him, touch him, reach him in a way that he truly needed. But they continued to pass by him, too consumed with their own lives to see a lonely, desperate and invisible man.
By Michael J Massey3 years ago in Families