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A Batch of Twisted Tales To Stick To Your Ribs
Ruthless Stories by John Martell, Jr.
I do my best to write stories that live in the uneasy space between reality and nightmare. Drawn to the strange, the paranormal and the unsettling, I try to craft fiction that lingers long after the final page is turned.
From eerie encounters to deeply psychological horror, my work explores the fragile line between what we know and what we fear. I like to think my storytelling blends atmosphere and suspense, with a dark imagination to create experiences that feel both hauntingly familiar and disturbingly new.
From eerie encounters to deeply psychological horror, my work explores the fragile line between what we know and what we fear. I like to think my storytelling blends atmosphere and suspense, with a dark imagination to create experiences that feel both hauntingly familiar and disturbingly new.
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A Batch of Twisted Tales To Stick To Your Ribs
Price range: $20.00 through $26.00 Select options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
My debut book,
A Batch of Twisted Tales To Stick To Your Ribs
Is a chilling anthology of sixteen long, short and shorter tales that invite readers into a world where nightmares bleed into reality and every story pushes the boundaries of fear. This collection delivers a range of paranormal and psychological horror tales designed to stay with readers long after they finish the book.
From possessed characters to haunting visions, each story is crafted to unsettle, disturb, and captivate. With a passion for dark fiction and a love for stories that challenge the imagination, I've built a body of work for readers who crave suspense, dread, and the thrill of the unknown.
From possessed characters to haunting visions, each story is crafted to unsettle, disturb, and captivate. With a passion for dark fiction and a love for stories that challenge the imagination, I've built a body of work for readers who crave suspense, dread, and the thrill of the unknown.
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Find Inspiration in Our Brand-New Arrivals
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A Batch of Twisted Tales To Stick To Your Ribs
Price range: $20.00 through $26.00 Select options This product has multiple variants. The options may be chosen on the product page
New Arrival
From The Diary of Rosie Wilkins
Now available at a special 20% discount for a limited time. Don’t miss your chance to own this enchanting read today!
Excerpt
“Bishop Malachai's Magic”
At the word “go” the bishop’s arm fell, slow and solemn, as though lowering the weight of judgment itself. The man before him obeyed. Still whispering the half-finished prayer, he drew in a trembling breath and plunged the sword through his own chest. The sound—a wet, splitting sigh—filled the small room. His eyes, once bright with faith, now clouded with disbelief and regret, found the bishop’s and held there, searching for mercy that did not come.
A frail, rattling groan escaped him. Words tried to form, only to drown in the thickening tide within his throat. His chin dropped, his gaze settling on the dark flower blooming across his shirt. The blood came in slow pulses, each one dimming the light behind his eyes.
A frail, rattling groan escaped him. Words tried to form, only to drown in the thickening tide within his throat. His chin dropped, his gaze settling on the dark flower blooming across his shirt. The blood came in slow pulses, each one dimming the light behind his eyes.
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Excerpt
“Bishop Malachai's Magic”
At the word “go” the bishop’s arm fell, slow and solemn, as though lowering the weight of judgment itself. The man before him obeyed. Still whispering the half-finished prayer, he drew in a trembling breath and plunged the sword through his own chest. The sound—a wet, splitting sigh—filled the small room. His eyes, once bright with faith, now clouded with disbelief and regret, found the bishop’s and held there, searching for mercy that did not come.
A frail, rattling groan escaped him. Words tried to form, only to drown in the thickening tide within his throat. His chin dropped, his gaze settling on the dark flower blooming across his shirt. The blood came in slow pulses, each one dimming the light behind his eyes.
A frail, rattling groan escaped him. Words tried to form, only to drown in the thickening tide within his throat. His chin dropped, his gaze settling on the dark flower blooming across his shirt. The blood came in slow pulses, each one dimming the light behind his eyes.
An excerpt from
“Essence Of Evil”
When he looked back at the little boy a terror stricken guttural gasp came from deep inside him. His elderly grandmother was lying on her side. Balanced across the top of the swing set. An arm bent at the elbow, her head resting in her hand. The other arm hung straight down and she swung the boy gently from side to side... from a noose. The little boy's neck was broken. His head bent at a hideous angle causing his lifeless eyes to look up toward the sky. The old woman stared with a broad grin. It was an image he struggled to shake. Throughout the following day he thought of the boy hanging limp. Arms to his side. Swinging slowly, back and forth. His little head at that creepy angle.
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Excerpt:
“Essence Of Evil”
When he looked back at the little boy a terror stricken guttural gasp came from deep inside him. His elderly grandmother was lying on her side. Balanced across the top of the swing set. An arm bent at the elbow, her head resting in her hand. The other arm hung straight down and she swung the boy gently from side to side... from a noose. The little boy's neck was broken.
His head bent at a hideous angle causing his lifeless eyes to look up toward the sky. The old woman stared with a broad grin. It was an image he struggled to shake. Throughout the following day he thought of the boy hanging limp. Arms to his side. Swinging slowly, back and forth. His little head at that creepy angle.
His head bent at a hideous angle causing his lifeless eyes to look up toward the sky. The old woman stared with a broad grin. It was an image he struggled to shake. Throughout the following day he thought of the boy hanging limp. Arms to his side. Swinging slowly, back and forth. His little head at that creepy angle.
Read More
Some nightmares don’t disappear with the morning light
“They grow with you”
They wait quietly in the dark corners of memory… watching, whispering, reminding.
What once frightened the child in the dark may still be standing there… even now.
Welcome to the chilling world of A Batch Of Twisted Tales, where forgotten fears return and every story hides something darker beneath the surface.
Tonight, when the lights go out… ask yourself one question:
Are your nightmares really gone?
What once frightened the child in the dark may still be standing there… even now.
Welcome to the chilling world of A Batch Of Twisted Tales, where forgotten fears return and every story hides something darker beneath the surface.
Tonight, when the lights go out… ask yourself one question:
Are your nightmares really gone?
About the Author
John Martell Jr.
A lifelong fan of horror whose imagination has been shaped by decades of late-night television, supernatural thrillers, and the lingering fear that something might be waiting in the dark. From childhood nights spent watching horror movies through partially covered eyes to years of writer’s workshops and creative writing classes, I has always been drawn to stories that unsettle, haunt, and linger long after the lights come back on.
My work blends paranormal dread, psychological tension, and nightmare-born imagery into fiction designed to stay with readers long after the final page.
John Martell, Jr.
Senior Notary Public
Survivor Of The Night.
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