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John Thomason ~ March 2020

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Featured Author~ John Thomason




Tangerine is the color of a hazy sky as the sun sets.

It takes me back to glorious evenings spent running through the streets at dusk,

diving headfirst into a sea teeming with people. 

I remember how it felt to be free from the constraints of a past life, a mere echo

of a memory that I didn’t need to discern, for I was safe. 

I can still hear the joyous sound of the world singing.

I can still see the powerful unity and love of a family.

I miss those evenings, those exhilarating moments of closeness, holiness, and pure joy.

Tangerine is the color of an evening sky that holds a beautiful world underneath it,

a world that promises security and bliss. 








Meet John...

John Thomason is a perpetually tired author, actor, and artist. He currently resides

in Indiana with his family, continuing to write, perform, and create. 


Maybe I Changed

Took a ride for a while

To distance myself

To get some space, far away.

Told you some things, my friend,

About myself, how I’m 

Stuck in my own hell.

Pretty soon I touched down

The sun was shining

Eyes taking it all in.

Bus to a nice place

Faces round here are new

Sister teach me please

To love like you in a

Place that is brand new.

Stranger you’re a runner

You’re running through life

Tell me how to do it.

Brother you’re moving

Tell me how you get 

Your feet off the ground.

Friend you’re something special

I think right now I 

Might feel somewhat happy.

Papa you told me 

To scare you, better look

Out now, I’m changing.

Father I cannot say

Enough to show you

How I’m better now (I think).

And someday I’ll die

Until then I’ll ride this high.

I’m going home, but this time I’m not alone

For I have found something I can’t explain.

It touches me when I’m sad and broken

And each day I am hoping

That this sensation

Will never fade.

Maybe I changed.





~John Thomason~




     “Damn.” In a moment of anxiety and frustration, I broke my pen, spilling its contents over my hand and desk. The stupid thing had ruined my diagram too. Sighing, I begin to clean up the mess. What a bother. I now have to start over. 

     The diagram itself is a visual representation of the data I’d collected regarding my….

     Come to think of it, I haven’t really thought of what to call it. I’ve always referred to it as “my situation” or “the situation.” The whole affair is extremely perplexing, to be frank. Allow me to explain.

     For the past three months, I have noticed an abnormal amount of snails gathering on the fencepost in front of my window. At first I thought nothing of it. But eventually, I noticed a pattern.

     Every third day, six snails would join the previous number of snails. At exactly midnight, all of the snails would turn in a northern direction, remaining completely still once they reached their desired orientation. Once all of them were facing north, they would remain on my fencepost for eighteen minutes, at which point they would slowly descend to the ground, going on about their business as if nothing had ever happened.

     What does it mean? I just can’t figure it out. I’ve been watching the damned things for almost three months now, and every night it’s always the same. 

I need to stay vigilant. Something is clearly afoot. I’ve heard that demons can cause animals to behave strangely. Perhaps I am being haunted? Some malevolent force has come to torment me for my sins?


     But still, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. 

     I’ve struggled to sleep lately, forcing myself to keep watch for any snails trying to spy on me, reporting back to their demonic master.

     They may have poisoned my food, so I’ve been eating sparsely, so as to build up a gradual immunity to whatever concoction my meals are laced with.

     They’re everywhere. 

     They are silent.

     They are vigilant.

     My God, they might as well be inside my head if they’re able to track me so well.

     No. It couldn’t be.

     But that would explain it.

     The snails, in a desperate attempt to collect more information for that demon, must have gone inside my mind!

     Oh dear God, they're probably listening right now. I need to hide. But I cannot hide, for they will find me, they always do. 

     I need to deprive them of information. They’re inside my head. My brain uses senses for information. Senses, of course!

     Bleach. Perfect. It burns my eyes, ravages my tongue, corrupts my nose, and stings my ears, but at last, they cannot get to me.


     You cannot…

     You can’t….

     I say, this is a rather odd sensation. 

     I feel so much…. 





     I won.




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