Anthony Cicchino

Hi, all! I enjoy writing horror, both prose and poetry. Working on my prose at the moment. Thank you for reading!

512

Writings

Followers

Following

Anthony Cicchino

Hi, all! I enjoy writing horror, both prose and poetry. Working on my prose at the moment. Thank you for reading!

512

Writings

Followers

Following

Return

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

Birds circled overhead. I didn’t look up to see them, but I heard their flapping and their calls. I knew they’d come. I wanted them here.

My hands grasped my knees, legs folded on the green grass of the hilltop. From below, my clan looked up, first at me and then at the birds, knowing what was coming. Scents of boiling pots and cooking vegetables flowed from the camp, yet I wanted none of the fo...

Drama

Music

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

He vibrates his hand with the tempo of the record player, looking out the window of his seventh story apartment. Below, he sees a playground and the parents seem to run with their kids to the beat of the song. There’s no way they can hear it, though, so far away. So he grabs it with a wide open palm and throws it down there for them to hear, cracking open his windows.

“Here!” He shouts, tossing ...

Drama

Seashell

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

Adam held the shell in his gnarled hands. In some ways, it reminded him of his skin. He shook his head, trying not to think of his age. How he could be so impressed by the shell’s age, yet despise his own, was a conundrum. Yet as he sat in his wheelchair at the beach, near the shore, he couldn’t bring himself to toss the shell back into the sea. He would be dying soon, so it would be no use to kee...

Drama

Lungs Like Cherry Blossoms

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

Her hand fell from mine. She looked so pale there, in the hospital bed, as the machine stopped beeping and made one long, flat noise. The nurses rushed in, the doctor called, but I still stared at her hand. Limp and already turning a color that wasn’t her. I didn’t hear anything, didn’t see anything but that hand, and her nails, slowly turning black and curling in on themselves into her palm.

In...

Drama

Horror

Death

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

“He hasn’t spoken. I think he’s terrified, mate.”

“They always are. Look at ‘im there, trembling. We got deeper dungeons than this. Should we show him?”

“No, Captain. Leave him here. We’ve written to his family, askin’ for the ransom.”

“No, I have a better idea. Bring ‘im back up to deck.”

“Back up? After all this walking? Oh, look, mate: he’s soiled himself.”

“Makes my idea all the better. T...

Horror

Tree

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

Mark watches the leaves fall in the park. They remind him of his dad, who he hasn’t seen in years. Although his heart hurts when he thinks of how they used to share breakfast, dinners, stories, trips, there’s some semblance of that in the leaves still. Every fall, he comes and sits on the bench and waits for leaves to part from the stem and branch and float on the wind to wherever they might go. H...

Drama

Marriot

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

The gravestone stared back at me as if it were Her, alive again and before my eyes. No name, no date, just the one word: Marriot. I thought of a thousand other reasons for it to have that word and no others. I even looked around in the weeds and other stones to see if maybe they all had such a word. But no luck. It was only Her gravestone.

Cool, swampy waters engulfed me as I sat, legs crossed, b...

Horror

Woodsman

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

I want to cook the soup tonight, but I can’t. The moon is half-full and the air is cool. When those conditions meet, I must not gather from the garden. That’s what I’ve always known. I don’t have any vegetables stored inside; its been a harsh winter. So, my mother’s recipe book eyes me suspiciously from the corner of my cabin and I hear the wind whipping on the eaves; another foreboding omen. I wo...

Drama

The Dead Musicians’ Support Group

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

Robert’s fingers ached. He tried to curl them into his palm and out again, one by one and then all at once, but nothing moved. He stared at his fingers, once so agile, so lithe, and watched as they sat there on the table top in silence, unmoving.

Anna’s throat burned. She had been unable to talk for weeks, and when she tried to speak to ask for water or tea nothing came out. She had to write her...

Drama

Parents

Anthony Cicchino

1 min read

I pressed my ear to wall. “Listen, my brother said. I heard them speaking.”

I didn’t hear anything at first and I rolled my eyes. Then, I heard them: the voice of our parents, fighting like they always did. Except, this time, it was quieter, more reserved, as if they cared that we were listening. That was new. I scrunched my brow and saw my brother nod; he knew I heard it too.

“Mom?” I said, d...

Drama

Mystery