Author of Picking Up the Ghost

book cover
Living in St. Jude, a 110-year-old dying city on the edge of the Mississippi, is tough. But when a letter informs fourteen-year-old Cinque Williams of the passing of the father he never met, he is faced with an incomplete past and an uncertain future. A curse meant for his father condemns Cinque to a slow death even as it opens his eyes to the strange otherworld around him. With help from the ghost Willy T, an enigmatic White Woman named Iku, an African Loa, and a devious shape-shifter, Cinque gathers the tools to confront the ghost of his dead father. But he will learn that sometimes too much knowledge can be dangerous—and the people he trusts most are those poised to betray him.

First four chapters are free, depending on how good you are at solving puzzles.


Reviews – What’s Being Said About Tone Milazzo & Picking Up the Ghost

African magic and folklore color this unusual coming-of-age story . . . . [T]his debut entertains with an original approach and mix of breezy humor and dark fantasy.
Publishers Weekly

If Salvador Dali were an author, his work might resemble Tone Milazzo’s Picking Up the Ghost. Okay, maybe Milazzo’s book has a little more structure than Dali’s melting pocket watches. But there is no doubt that Milazzo can paint a world with words, and the surreal setting he created for this coming-of-age adventure is both dazzling and terrifying. . . . [E]ven if you’re not an urban fantasy fan, I definitely recommend this book. Milazzo has unique style that is downright weird, but has a literary quality to it. I think we can expect more great stories from him.
SF Revu

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I love finding these in old books.

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Find me between Milan and Milburn.

I’m embarrassed that I was so catty, and pleased that I’ve come along way since then.
I hope Stephenie Meyer can someday forgive me.

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Not the Best Medicine

Not the Best Medicine

I entered the room where they were giving away free flu shots at work. A lady coworker waited, psyching herself up before she received her shot. “All right,” she announced as she lumbered toward the chair, limbs stiff as branches. “I’m gonna do this.”
I thought a joke might help. “If you’re nervous, picture the needle in its underwear.”
She screamed “Oh Lord! Don’t say needle!”, turned around, and stood in the corner of the room.
My joke didn’t help.

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El Santo Night Fever

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At Royal Ranger camp the various church groups competed in campy tasks; knot-tying, tent building, etc.
One competition was; stick a match in a board, head up, and chop at it with an axe, close enough so the match head would strike against the side of the axe without splitting the match.
My church was the only team to place in this event, and I was the only one in my church to light the match. Meaning I was the only one out of hundreds to pull this off.
My incredible feat of match-lightery went unrecognized. That was the day God died.

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Dearly Beloved

2016-07-25 09.30.38
Mural by my home by The Key & Hammer

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