S. Hileman Iannazzo
Bio
Writers read, and readers write.
I write because I enjoy the process. I hope that you enjoy reading my work.
Stories (20/0)
The Sharks Smile
The Smile Of a Shark S. Hileman Iannazzo Shark Challenge Entry 7/28/2021 He used to work there. For most of his adult life, Jeff had been in charge of the water quality and appearance of the largest tanks the aquarium had. These tanks used to house dolphins, penguins, etc; but Jeff’s favorite was a single, 30 year old, great white shark who lived alone in a tank out back. Jeff enjoyed his work and had planned to retire from “Great Bay Aquarium'' when he turned 65. That was before the once popular fish museum had become a sad, deserted, haunted place, with empty exhibits and graffiti on the glass that used to separate the animals from the public. They’d been forced to shut down, when activists and other “People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals” stepped in. There were whistle blowers, raw footage, sciencey statistics and guys like Leonardo Decaprio, putting zoos and aquariums on full blast for the public to see. Laws and regulations were tightened. Attendance dropped as more bad publicity was leaked. It started with eliminating the dolphin breeding program Great Bay had been famous for. The coastal aquarium was successfully producing dozens of baby dolphins a year, to be sold off or well trained to “perform” for the rubes in the stands. Jeff knew that most of the aquarium's exhibits were “harvested illegally”. He didn’t like it, but he was getting paid to take water samples and keep an eye on Grady.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo3 years ago in Fiction
Dyna 4
I rushed into the small café and at once spotted Lynn. She was sitting in our favorite corner, sprawled out in an oversized armchair, her hair pulled up loosely with an elastic, a book resting on her knees while she examined something she had just plucked from between her teeth. Stopping quickly to place my order, a double mocha latte with whipped cream and chocolate Jimmies. I threw myself into the chair across from her. Without wasting another moment, I reached for a chocolate chip, chocolate dipped pastry from the overfilled tray teetering on the edge of the low table between us. Hardly bothering to chew, and ignoring the crumbs that fell into my misbuttoned blouse, I savored the sweet tasting treat, letting it linger in my mouth before swallowing. Almost immediately, the headache that early that morning had settled behind my eyes, began to retreat.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo3 years ago in Fiction
"Images"
S. Hileman Iannazzo “Images” Brown Paper Box Challenge Entry 7/22/2021 The old man had been ignoring the tattered and slightly damp brown paper box that was sitting in the corner of the foyer of his assisted living apartment complex for over a week. There were six units in his building, and since he almost never got mail, save for catalogues and bills, he figured it must belong to one of the other five elderly folks. For eight days he walked by it before he finally stooped to read the name on the package. “Marcus White”. “Well, I'll be damned,” he muttered to nobody. He carried the box into his home and set it on the coffee table. It was tied with twine, and it had no return address. He struggled to remember if he had ordered anything, his mind got confused sometimes, he was after all 98 years young. Old fart’s like him were talented in the practice of forgetting shit. He set about putting his groceries away, such as they were, since Meals on Wheels brought most of his chow, he usually came home from the market with some prune juice and maybe something sweet, diabetes be damned.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo3 years ago in Fiction
Blind Date
The Blind Date S. Hileman Iannazzo
By S. Hileman Iannazzo3 years ago in Families
Pinky
S.Hileman Pinky Redraft, 7/16/2021 When I was a wee five year old Stace, I can see that my mother and father inadvertently made what I refer to as a grave error in parental judgement. With four kids in tow, they moved to May Street. May Street is located in the small mill town of Lawrence Massachusetts. It was a decent apartment, with four bedrooms. There was a small yard and we could walk to school. The problem lay in the location. They moved us across the street, (DIRECTLY across the street!) from Bellevue Cemetery. Bellevue is an extremely large and extremely old place of burial. It opened in 1847 and there are nearly 50,000 souls in it’s ground. 600 Veterans, some dating back to the Civil War. Obviously at five I did not have the benefit of knowing its history, at five I only knew dead people were across the street. As I later grew into an avid horror fan, ironically I was petrified with our new address. In 1978, when I lived there, it was painted a cheerful yellow, it had tin mailboxes hanging askew next to doorbells. There was a narrow alley that ran into a small but private back yard. My mum hung curtains and I unpacked my Sesame Street pillow case, and for a while, it was home.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo3 years ago in Horror
Slumber Party
Slumber Party S. Hileman Iannazzo Herb sprawled contentedly. His left arm was tucked under his head, and his right tossed lightly across his chest. Looking at him, I thought, “He looks like an angel” and then I mustered up as much force as my exhausted 110 pound frame could manage and I drove my knee into his rib cage with a primal groan.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo3 years ago in Fiction
The Wide Wide World
S. Hileman Iannazzo June 29, 2021 Not to brag, but I learned to read the year before kindergarten. I’m not a prodigy, I just had a very dear, elderly aunt who, with great patience, taught me the basics. She was a spinster, and for a time, she lived with my family. I’m not sure how old she was, but to five year old me she seemed at least a hundred. She even smelled old. My brothers would giggle when she, without a shred of embarrassment, would let go of a dusty fart, sitting on the couch next to me. Her name was Bertha, but everyone called her Byee. We didn’t have bedtime stories in my family, but thanks to my Byee we damn sure had books.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo3 years ago in Families
The Before
“The Before”, Doomsday Challenge, S.Hileman Iannazzo 6/26/2021 I had been sick most of the morning, nothing too out of the ordinary, fever, aches and vomiting. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t wake up feeling this way, hell I couldn’t remember “before” at all. I’d heard some stories, of when it was safe to play outside, safe to let snowflakes land on your tongue, when sitting in the sun wasn’t painful and didn’t sear a persons skin like a roasted chicken. Except for Tom, I never knew anyone who lived in the “before”, but then I didn’t see many people. Tom was my best friend, and we’d been living in this place as far back as I could remember. Tom was quiet for a lot of the time, but I relied on him, and he on I. Tom didn’t like to talk about the “before”, and he would never tell me about the angry scars that ran down both his arms. Yet though he rarely spoke of it, but still he and I would pretend we lived in the “before”, turning on all the lights in the basement that was our home, trying to give the illusion that we were playing in tall grass, barefoot and sticky with sweat from running through fields that we constructed in our minds. We’d pretend there were other kids there, but except for the odd (and often scorched cat), who had made its way inside to get warm, we were alone. Our room, buried deep in the ground, was functional, and sterile, but devoid of any creature comforts.
By S. Hileman Iannazzo3 years ago in Fiction