J. Tonzelli

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J. Tonzelli

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October 2013


J. Tonzelli is a writer, blogger, and Halloween enthusiast who currently resides in South Jersey. When not prepping his first authored novel for publication, or obsessively checking the weather report for thunderstorms, he continues his appreciation for all things creepy while making too many jokes about skeletons. He loves autumn, abandoned buildings, the supernatural, and films by John Carpenter. You can read more of J. Tonzelli's short fiction, as well as his musings on the horror genre, at his website: JTonzelli.com ...more

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The Art of Rejection

This is Eddie from Friday the 13th: Part VII – The New Blood. He’s a struggling science-fiction writer who none of his friends take seriously because of his outlandish, very niche writing. Before he gets his throat cut in half, he rattles off one of the best self-defeating owns of all time following his inability to get laid by Camp Crystal Lake’s meanest girl: “Rejection. Okay, fine. I can ta

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Published on February 17, 2021 09:31

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J. Tonzelli wrote a new blog post

The Art of Rejection



This is Eddie from Friday the 13th: Part VII – The New Blood. He’s a struggling science-fiction writer who none of his friends take seriously because Read more of this blog post »
More of J.'s books…
“Well, how did you die, then?” the old man finally asked.
“Die?” Matthew threw back. “Are you crazy? I’m not dead. I’m just very late.”
J. Tonzelli, The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween

“How about this?” she retorted, her voice deceptively flirtatious, and in that small, stolen moment in his mind, he quickly spun and grasped her by the small of her back, pulled her close into to him, and made her his. And maybe she resisted at first before giving in, or maybe she didn’t—maybe she’d wanted this just as long as he had. But none of that would matter, because they would finally be together, starting at that moment and for the rest of their lives. And they would love each other and raise children and make music, and life would suddenly be worth living, and Christ, how could anyone ever throw something like that away?”
J. Tonzelli, The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween

“I'm the guy who checks the weather report every day hoping for a thunderstorm.”
J. Tonzelli, The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween

“He walked steadily, feeling them behind him. His stride did not falter; he pretended they weren’t there. He pretended that all was well—that those hideous things knew nothing about what he had done earlier in the night. But each pumpkin he passed nearly leapt off its porch or railing or wooden chair, expanded and morphed and throbbed as if in a funhouse mirror, and joined the procession behind him.

The wind picked up, suddenly and fiercely, and construction paper decorations adorning the houses that surrounded him flapped helplessly against their doors and windows. The man ducked against the cold wind, and from the pursuing army of the jack-o’-lanterns behind him. Cardboard skeletons with fastener joints and witches with shredded yarn hair and ghosts with cotton ball sheets and black crayon eyes escaped their thumbtacks and scotch tape and newspaper twine and they flashed and danced in his face. He brushed at them desperately with his hands, attempting to tear a hole through them and escape.”
J. Tonzelli, The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween

“I hate this night. I hate that it makes me a person so truly removed from the real me; this man who sits in silence in his parlor – purposely quarantined from his family – is not who I want to be. But on Halloween night, this awful impostor wafts over me like morning fog, and I know there’s no resisting him. Like one anticipates the common cold brought on by a harsh winter, I know this broken and terrified man will soon be visiting when the evening of October 31st falls upon us. And on this yearly autumn night, he will sit and drink. And remember.”
J. Tonzelli, The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween

“As the thing came closer, what was left of Nick’s body became revealed and I could see how the dead boy’s eyes had bled from the trauma inflicted upon him; they dripped with steady succession onto the floor between his splayed legs. He looked like a rejected marionette tossed haphazardly in the corner by a frustrated puppeteer, his head drooping so low that his chin rested against his chest. His motionless arms lay at his sides, both of them squeezed into tight fists, as if he’d died futilely trying to defend himself.”
J. Tonzelli, The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween

“I’m an old man, now. I’ve been alone since my 17th birthday. I’d wanted to marry, have a bunch of kids, and maybe be a grandpa. The big family around the Thanksgiving table, laughing and pouring wine and cracking jokes and harmlessly teasing the missus—I wanted that. I wanted to do something good with my life—something right. I didn’t want what happened to Danny, my best childhood friend, to be the only mark I’d ever make in this world. But I thought it best not to fancy such hopes and dreams: a family, love. I’d been cursed by my best friend, and I thought it right not to inflict that curse on anyone who’d be foolish enough to love me.”
J. Tonzelli, The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween

“How about this?” she retorted, her voice deceptively flirtatious, and in that small, stolen moment in his mind, he quickly spun and grasped her by the small of her back, pulled her close into to him, and made her his. And maybe she resisted at first before giving in, or maybe she didn’t—maybe she’d wanted this just as long as he had. But none of that would matter, because they would finally be together, starting at that moment and for the rest of their lives. And they would love each other and raise children and make music, and life would suddenly be worth living, and Christ, how could anyone ever throw something like that away?”
J. Tonzelli, The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween

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This is a group to discuss all the new releases in the reading industry that are a variation of one of these genres. This ranges from crime, to horror ...more



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