John Hanna
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Stories (9)
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The Cloak of Death
Wherever I am, whatever this place, one thing is certain, time is irrelevant. There is no moon. There is no light. I am engulfed in total darkness, lying in a warm liquid – a mixture of aggregated blood and urine. The putrid stench overwhelms me, quickly filling my nostrils and etching itself into my torn, tattered clothing. The devil himself has come for me.
By John Hannaabout a year ago in Fiction
A king and his son
The six-year-old prince walked uneasily to the great hall where his father awaited. Two guards opened the massive oak doors and the prince entered, certain he was about to suffer the king’s wrath. But it seemed on this particular day he had been spared.
By John Hannaabout a year ago in Fiction
Man
The tyranny of man is exceeded only by his greed. The past has made him cynical and the future insecure. Fear has poisoned his mind and corrupted his heart. Society has taught him to think not feel; that knowledge is something learned not gained. It is inherited through blood, sweat and tears.
By John Hannaabout a year ago in Poets
Trump Satire
This is Donald Trump - your president (#AKAGod #POTUS). Although none of us saw this coming, I’m doing something no other president has ever done. It’s something new, something we’ve been working on for quite some time and we’re very proud of it. I am sending you each Trump Tweets (#generosity #donaldtrumpisthoughtful). It’s the same as US dollars, just has my face on it. I’ve already talked to the banks and they’ve all agreed. Best. Idea. Ever!
By John Hanna4 years ago in Fiction
The Power of Manifestation
A little backstory – I write lyrics but I don’t play any instruments and I don’t sing. I heard about a contest 99.5 WYCD was having where you show up to Hockey Town showing your love and support for the radio station and the chance to win front row tickets/backstage passes to the Taylor Swift Concert at Ford Field. My vision was winning backstage passes, meeting Taylor Swift, giving her my lyrics and getting recognized as an amazing song writer. While I did not get the chance to showcase my writing, I did win front row.
By John Hanna4 years ago in Psyche
A collection of prose poetry and poetry
Man The tyranny of man is exceeded only by his greed. The past has made him cynical and the future insecure. Fear has poisoned his mind and corrupted his heart. Society has taught him to think not feel; that knowledge is something learned not gained. It is inherited through blood, sweat and tears.
By John Hanna4 years ago in Poets
The Cloak
Wherever I am, whatever this place, one thing is certain, time is irrelevant. There is no moon. There is no light. I am engulfed in total darkness, lying in a warm liquid, a mixture of aggregated blood and urine. The putrid stench overwhelms me, quickly filling my nostrils as it becomes etched into my torn, tattered clothing. The devil himself has come for me.
By John Hanna4 years ago in Fiction
