Justin Michael Greenway
Bio
Author of the contemporary Gothic horror adventure, Ravenword and The House of the Red Death, and West Coast native navigating the alien world of the American Midwest. While a sci-fi fan at heart, his muse is not bound by genre.
Stories (23)
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Reconnaissance
RECONNAISSANCE RECONNAISSANCE The outside world was a mystery encapsulated within a cloud of ambiguity in her mind that even the glimpses through the window in ‘his’ station could not clear. The sickly pallor of the miasma drifting over the ephemera of some wasted expanse gave the desolation in her soul a pallet with which to torment her imagination. She can only see a fraction of the teasing portal, yet still presses her face between the bars with eyes groping for anything more the dismal vantage will betray before her chance is lost.
By Justin Michael Greenway3 years ago in Horror
Ravenword and The House of the Red Death - 5: The Baron
5 The Baron The hinges of the door across the narrow passage from where Professor Fichtenberg now slumbers as Romero creak in protest as Vin intrudes upon the darkness. The room is a duplicate of the one he had first been introduced to the night before, yet bereft of the warmth and sundries of habitation. A queer sensation marks the bare mattress and candleless chest of drawers, as if he himself were a ghost gazing on the shuttered remains of a former life. Even the air feels void of natural resonance and threatens to syphon the vitality from his chest. The succubus in that uncanny stillness, however, recedes under the mirth of Parson’s call.
By Justin Michael Greenway3 years ago in Fiction
Ravenword and The House of the Red Death - 4: The Castle
4 The Castle The six members of Ravenword disembark travel-weary and anxiety worn. The night has taken deep hold on both their fatigue and the bus line that was to carry them to the village of Colle, as evident by the handwritten notice posted over the route.
By Justin Michael Greenway3 years ago in Fiction
Ravenword and The House of the Red Death - 3: The Beach
3 The Beach The argument that created the vacancy in the wooden chairs clustered under the vivid turquoise-and-white umbrella now occupied by Ravenword, still rises over the skimpily clad throngs on the outstretched beach. Unprepared for seaside recreation, the company lounges in an array of makeshift beachwear. Parson is the only exception and is delighted to flaunt his fire-engine red, box-cut Diesels and gym-wrought physique. Julia, in a pink bra and the faded yellow short-shorts she sleeps in, giggles at the bare breasts bouncing past them, while Vin and the lesbians recline under the umbrella in board shorts and T-shirts. Billy’s attire remains unchanged.
By Justin Michael Greenway3 years ago in Fiction
Ravenword and The House of the Red Death - 2: The Journey
2 The Journey An innocuous yellow taxi pulls up to the curb at San Francisco International Airport near the sidewalk check-in kiosk where a beleaguered T. J. is coordinating a gaggle of luggage with Motisha barking orders over his shoulder. The sky is a wide canvas of deep blue, which is unusual for the Bay Area, despite the fact that it is late May. Contrary to popular imagination, not all of California is perpetually awash in sunshine, even in spring, and nowhere is this truer than the sullen northern coast of the Golden State. For many, as attested by Samuel Clemens, their coldest winters were indeed summers spent in San Francisco, where the billowing fog is pulled in and out of the Golden Gate on the wings of the biting Pacific wind. But today all suggestion of gloom or calamity is vanquished in the disregard of sunlight and anticipation. Parson emerges from this taxi to the chorus of humanity’s coming and going with Motisha’s strident vocals taking center stage. As the cab driver moves swiftly to the trunk to transfer his luggage to the baggage cart of an approaching porter, Parson watches Motisha and T. J. with a devilish grin. After tipping the taxi driver and skycap, he strolls up to them, his eyes dancing from point to counterpoint.
By Justin Michael Greenway3 years ago in Fiction
Ravenword and The House of the Red Death - 1: The Invitation
1 The Invitation The morning dawns under the outstretched hand of an ancient malevolence lashing the nebulous battalions of dark clouds to stoop low and unleash its vindictiveness upon the waking landscape. The storm had been predicted, but the full-bodied violence of its fury had not. In ages past it would have been recognized as the harbinger of impending misfortune, as nature itself battles of the insidious blight forcing its way into the region. The oldest and strongest of trees bow beneath the dismembering onslaught of the howling squalls this malignant manifestation has set upon the town. Such storms may be known to other regions but, in temperate California, this tempest has wrought a specter of an undefined dread. For there is more to fear in the oppression than damage or calamity, an intent so malicious that not even the angry gales can dislodge it from looming ominously in the heavy atmosphere.
By Justin Michael Greenway3 years ago in Fiction
Star Trek: Ascension -Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen A cold, sinking dread wells in the pit of Captain Picard's stomach as clouds of tumultuous power billow around Alden. Draws all the energy of the matrix, he rises from the defiling ground and glares down upon his two hostages. Picard and Moriarty watch transfixed as Alden raises his uniform is replaced by fields of energy like threads of red fire. His chest and arms expand to herculean proportions and his face luminously white with eyes of penetrating blackness.
By Justin Michael Greenway3 years ago in Fiction
Star Trek: Ascension -Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve Having their adversaries sufficiently in their net, the Romulan warbirds rush in and with artillery raging. The Klingon battlecruisers quickly maneuver in formation to engage the Romulans with fierceness uniquely their own. Under the bombardment, the Enterprise maintains its position next to the Titan, but retaliates with full batteries, deflecting incoming warbirds. Encompassing the field of battle the raptors remain unmoved and inactive at the perimeter. Within the battlefield shields flare and streams of phasers fill the scene as the huge ships volley and charge. The Romulan warbirds use their size to force their way into the Klingon formation as the Enterprise moves over the Titan to shelter it. Swimming through the fray like a barracuda in a feeding frenzy, the Defiant picks out the most threatening warbird and rockets around it with her cannons blasting away at its shields.
By Justin Michael Greenway3 years ago in Fiction
