At Point Blank Comics we are Looking for an Artist


I have just finished the script for my latest 4 issue mini series. Worms is a horror story, a mix of Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Cabin Fever. It is set in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri and centers around Richard and his wife Mary Anne. Richard, a mountain guide is determined to get back to his wife before the Worms takes over their bodies.

If you are interested in submitting a sample of your work please email me at


At Point Blank Comics we are Looking for an Artist


I have just finished the script for my latest 4 issue mini series. Worms is a horror story, a mix of Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Cabin Fever. It is set in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri and centers around Richard and his wife Mary Anne. Richard, a mountain guide is determined to get back to his wife before the Worms takes over their bodies.

If you are interested in submitting a sample of your work please email me at

The Last Hit (a short comic script)


This is a short screenplay that I wrote a few years ago that I have adapted into a short comic script. Those that follow me have probably figured out that I write a lot of different things. I just love writing stories and sometimes a certain story lends itself to a specific medium. I love the hardboiled detective and noir style of storytelling. I bring an element of that to a lot of my stories whether it is the my mystery series or my Perfect 200 series which I would classify as a urban sci fi fantasy.

I have no ability to draw at all so I put some images that I found on Google for the feel that I was going for. I viewed this very much in the style of Frank Miller.


Page 1

Panel 1 Wide: Urban cityscape, dark and gritty

Caption: City of Angels 1940 something…

Panel 2 Close: Front of an old car, 30’s Studebaker,
headlights shining.

Panel 3 Close: Through the front windshield two young men
sit in the front seat of a car.

Caption: I really hate this city. It’s a dirty steaming
cesspool. And I am right in the middle of it.

Panel 4 Close: Through the windshield, The passenger, STU

Caption: I a make my living in this cesspool, so I
guess that makes me part of the problem. That’s why I
plan on getting out.

Panel 5 Close: gun on the thigh of one of the men

Caption This is how I make my living

Page 2

Panel 1 wide: dark alley with light thrown from an open

Caption It’s places like these I make that living.

Panel 2 close: A man leaning on a wall smoking a

Caption I don’t know what this guy did, Hell, he
probably didn’t do anything.

Panel 3 Close: the mans hand on the door as he pulls it
closed narrowing the light.

Panel 4 close: through the windshield Stu and his partner,
JEREMY, sit quietly, waiting.

Any idea why He wanted you to do
this job.

No idea, I thought my last hit was
a month ago.

I hope we didn’t interrupt

Panel 5 close: Stu looks at his partner, and takes a drink
with a half smirk.

Page 3

Panel 1 wide: a seedy motel with half of its lights burned
out and two old cars parked next to each other

Caption last night…

Panel 2 close: Stu lays in bed with a beautiful girl,
under his arm. Her long hair flowing around them

Caption ahhh, Allison. Now there is a dame to die for,
or kill for. Her old man just happens to be my boss
and that ain’t no life to live.

Panel 3 wide aerial from ceiling. The full bed, a ceiling
fan blocks the light throwing shadows around the room and
across Allison’s exposed top. Her breasts young and perky.
Their bottom are covered by a sheet that is woven between

Caption It gets hot in the summer, and even hotter
when Allison shares my bed.

Panel 4 close: Stu is laying a big kiss on Allison


Panel 5 close: Stu and Allison laying in bed

I’ll be glad when this is over.

Fun and sun are almost here.

Two weeks is too long.  I want to
go now.

I already bought the tickets.  I
can’t exchange them.

Panel 6 close: Allison crawls out of bed pulling up pink
lace underwear

Panel 7 Close: A phone on the nightstand. (ring ring
ring)Stu hand reaching for it.

Caption Allison’s father, The Boss

Panel 8 close: Stu’s face as he speaks into the phone.

Hello, sir

Meet Jeremy in one hour at the

Yes sir.

Panel 9 wide shot from ceiling. Allison stands across the
room topless. shadow thrown across her chest. Stu sits on
the bed with the phone in his hand.

I’m sorry

You know the plan? Be safe.

Page 4

Panel 1 wide aerial shot of alley, it is dark and the
Studebaker sits in the same spot, quiet.

Panel 2 medium shot: Stu and Jeremy hold their guns near
their faces

Caption nah, he didn’t interrupt anything..

Panel 3 wide: Stu and Jeremy crouch down behind an old car
and watch the mark stand about 100 yards away as he smokes
a cigarette.

panel pic

Panel 4 close: Jeremy has a smirk on his face.

So what are your plans after

I guess this is my retirement.

This is your last hit, I swear.

Jeremy, it doesn’t really matter
what you swear.  Once in the mob,
always in the mob. Right?

I guess.  But honestly, I asked for
it to be this way.

Panel 5 close: Stu looks at Jeremy curiously. A light cast
across his face.

You asked for me?

Yeah, this is kind of an important

How so?

The Mark went against the family.
So, you never answered my question,

Panel 6 medium: with his thumb on the hammer Stu cocks his
gun (click), on knee on the ground he gets ready to make
his move

Panel 7 Medium: the man steps inside the building.

Page 5

Panel 1 Wide aerial of the motel. It is still dark and the
motel is full of shadows.

Panel 2 Wide from back of room. Stu steps through the door
into the room casting a light onto Allison who lays on the
bed in the fetal position fully clothed.

Panel 3 He makes his way quickly over to the bed reaching
to hold his lover.

Caption I knew this hurt her so much…

Panel 4 close: He grabs her face and kisses her

Panel 5 Their faces are close together with barely an inch
between them. Light is thrown across Stu’s face leaving
Allison somewhat in the dark.

It’s a hit, isn’t it?

This is the last time, I promise.
After this we will be in Mexico.

I know, I’m just scared.

We’ll be alright, I promise.  I
will be back in a couple days.

Panel 6 wide from ceiling looking down. Allison reaches
for him but gets nothing but air. The room between them
filled with dark shadows

Page 6

Panel 1 wide cityscape, dark and gritty

Caption This is a mean mean town and sometimes things
don’t turn out as planned…

Panel 2 wide: Stu and Jeremy enter the building through
the alley door. Casting light onto their guns at their

Panel 3 wide: a shadow filled hallway lays ahead of them
but Jeremy points to a closed door that is bathed in

Panel 4 medium: Stu makes his way to the door with his gun
in front of him, in a shooters stance.  He pushes the door
open with the muzzle of the gun.

Panel 5 wide: The door opens (creeeeek) into reveal him
stand with his gun drawn. Shadow behind him.

Panel 6 close stepping out of the shadow Stu raises his
gun, ready to fire. Then from behind Stu, Jeremy’s gun
comes down swiftly on the top of his head. (CRACK)

Panel 7 Black.

Page 7

Panel 1 close: In a dark room Stu sits tied to a chair and
unconscious. Head hung between his shoulders facing his


Panel 2 wide: Jeremy slaps him hard across the face and he
comes to life.

Panel 3 close: Stu looks confused at his captor. Jeremy’s
face within inches of his partner.


I’m sorry, Stu.  You were warned to
stay away from her.


Panel 4 Close on Jeremy, his face bathed in light. He
almost looks angelic.

I’m doing it because I’m your
friend.  I didn’t want some guy
that you didn’t know whacking you.
Was she worth it?

I love her, it’s always worth it.

Panel 5 On the white wall behind Stu sits his shadow.
He’s helpless tied to the chair.

Panel 6 close: the barrel of a gun touches a forehead

Page 8 full page

Panel 1 Wide shot of a Jeremy standing in front of a tied
up Stu, his gun to his head, it is flying backward, a spew
of Blood and brain hit the shadow, soaking it in red.

Page 9

Panel 1 wide on the hotel, the Studebaker sits in the
parking lot next to the other car

Caption: … or maybe they go exactly as planned. All
depending on who is telling the story.

Panel 2 close:Allison sits on the bed with a suitcase
beside her along with two plane tickets.

Panel 3 wide: She looks at her watch and picks up the bag
and the tickets and makes her way to the door.

Panel 4 wide: She opens the door and light casts on Jeremy
as he stands leaning on the door frame.

Panel 5 close: Jeremy has a smirk on his face

Caption: At least someone gets a happy ending

Panel 6 close: Allison’s hand, she is carrying a gun

Panel 7 black panel with sound effect (blam)

Panel 8 close: open door of the motel. Peeking out into the night onto an ambiguous figure

last pic

Caption: someone…

Like I said I have no ability to draw but if anyone out there is willing to collaborate I would love to hear from you. I would love to see what this would look like on paper. It might give someone the opportunity to showcase some work as well.


Lines drawn upon my skin
Stories of life they tell
Artfully placed
Color stark against alabaster
Some call them sacrilege
Understanding them not
Destroying temples we live in
I call them stained glass
Some call them ugly and gross
How is that art?
I call them beautiful
Expression of self
you don’t want to hear my story
Don’t listen
you don’t want to see art
Don’t look
But Don’t judge my Ink


Lover’s Painting


image from google

Lover’s Painting

Mist hung heavy in the late fall afternoon as Abby stepped out of the taxi and onto the cobblestone street. Bushes sat behind a long wrought iron fence lining the perfectly manicured lawn that surrounded the three story turn of the 20th century mansion. The gate stood ajar so Abby helped herself up the walk dragging her wheeled suitcase behind her.

The wrap around porch squeaked as Abby’s foot landed just in front of a big blue door and placed her fingers around the big brass door knocker and rapped gently. In echo of the porch the also door squeaked as it opened. This place could use some oil Abby thought as a small man’s face appeared just inside the foyer. Darkness hid the rest of the man but Abby could size him up from his tiny head.

“I’m here to see Mr. Stanford.”

“Yes, you must be Abby McIntyre. Please enter.” he said with the wave of a hand.

Abby stepped in through the door and into the grand foyer her eyes drawn to a beautiful shining mahogany staircase that ran winded up three floors. Abby heard a door open and close and a strange clacking sound.

Soon another slight gray haired man met her gaze from the top of the stairs. His step slow with the aid of a walker.

“Good evening Ms. McIntyre,” he said as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs with his walker clacking the entire way. Abby watched as he passed Renoir’s and Picasso’s and Van Gough’s and Rembrandt’s.

“Good evening Mr. Stanford, it’s good to see you again.”

They leaned in and Abby could feel his brittle bones behind his wrinkled skin. Flesh around his frail tired eyes seemed to droop more by the second.

“I’m sorry it has taken me so long to get around.”

“I understand, its okay, you are just in time I believe.”

“Can I see it?”

“Absolutely,” he said taking her hand. “It is why I called you.”

They strolled hand in hand down a long hallway to another wing of the large home. “You know you remind me of someone I knew years ago Ms. McIntyre.”

“I guess I just have one of those faces.”

“I believe it is more than that, Ms. McIntyre.”

“It is beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes lay upon the most beautiful painting she had ever seen. The fourteen by fourteen canvas was small by most standards and it wasn’t by a famous painter. As a matter of fact it was the only known painting that the person ever completed, a self portrait of him and his lover, a dark haired woman who lay on his chest, her face hidden by his hands on either cheek. He gazed down, appearing to gaze into her eyes. However the mans face and begun to crack and peel with age and it was Abby’s job to restore the beautiful painting to its original grandeur.

“It is a shame someone of this talent only did the one painting, isn’t it?”

Stanford pointed to tarp covering a painting that sat on an easel. “When you finish you restoring the painting, I’ll show you that this isn’t the only painting he completed, and I’ll show what the woman on his chest looks like. But it is a surprise, Ms. McIntyre.”

She turned and opened her case and opened it up revealing an aray of paints and scalpels and brushes.

“Ms. McIntyre, I will leave you to your work. If you need anything the butler will get you whatever you need.”

“I think I have everything I need in my case.”

“Your room is just down the hall. I will not see you until you are complete. It was nice make your acquittance.”

“As yours, Mr. Stanford.”

After three weeks of work and when the face reappeared Abby saw the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. There was a rapping on the door behind her.

“May I enter?”

She recognized the voice of her employer. “It is your house.”

A warm strong hand fell upon her shoulder. Abby’s blood ran cold as she turned and saw a young man before her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “you must be Mr. Stanford’s son.”

“Ms. McIntyre, may I call you Abby?”

“Sure, I guess.” she stood as still as a statue.

“May I show you the painting Abby?”


As the man removed the tarp her heart skipped, leaped from her chest like a frog. The face she stared at sat staring back at her and it looked as though she were looking into a mirror. And the man that stood beside her looked like a spitting image of the restored painting.

“Is that?”

“Yes, Abby.”

“Are you?”

“Yes Abby, thank you by the way. You saved my life.”

“But how?”

“I honestly don’t know, I just know that as my painting ages I do as well, and I also know that restoring it restores my youth. I know that yours never ages but you will. My curse is I must watch you age and die, but my gift is that I get to spend a lifetime with you before that.”

Abby sat quite, staring into the deep blue eyes of the dark haired stranger that she had fallen in love with over the last three weeks.

“Abby, would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Yes.” she said it without even thinking, like the answer just came out with no control over her mind.

Evening fog sat on the cobblestone street as they as she walked arm in arm with the new love of her life. And she knew he walked arm in arm with the love of his many lifetimes.