Daniele Murtas

Daniele Murtas was born and raised on the forgotten island of Sardinia, Italy.

At a young age, he developed an obsessive interest in horror and science-fiction magazines (which he hid between school books). Out of boredom Daniele started drawing offensive caricatures of teachers and neighbors. But driven by critical feedback and the fear of getting beaten, he switched to safer subject matter.

Nowadays his work includes, illustrations for various old-fashioned fanzines, concert posters for local bands and even a design for a tattoo.

Daniele Murtas also writes and draws wacky comics, and is currently infesting an old apartment in Berlin.

Come visit him here: http://dmurtas.blogspot.com.

Stories illustrated by Daniele Murtas

There is Something Going On

Written by Ashton Stevens

This is a work of fiction. Any events or persons depicted do not reflect reality. Please note that neither The Story Shack as a publication nor any of the editors and illustrators representing it have any professional interest in the political discussions surrounding this theme. The story is presented as it is: an enjoyable work […]


Octagon

Written by Eli Epshtein

The crash of the flying octagon artist was awarded with a standing ovation. For a long time, the audience stood and shouted out his name. Some had gone even further and shed a tear or two in light of the extraordinary brilliance they had just witnessed. The flying octagon artist was lying on the cold […]


Advice

Written by Paul Beckman

Don’t wait. Do it now. You might not be able to do it later. You never know. Take your time. Think about the consequences first. You can always come back and do it later. My parents gave me conflicting advice over the years and now I’m conflicted. I haven’t seen them in the two years they’ve […]


Lunacy

Written by Robert Roy Britt

“Gorgeous,” Sara said. “So round and full,” Anaya said. Lying on a blanket at the beach, only their hands touched. Anaya was eager for the night to play out. The sun and moon had just see-sawed horizons. The fat low moon flung nervous yellow bits of itself across an unusually still Pacific of dark velvet, lapping at […]


Strangers in Peoria

Written by Donal Mahoney

I met a proper woman in a proper pub on a Monday in Peoria. It was noon, time for lunch, and we were sitting stool to stool over very large burgers at a long mahogany bar. It curved in and out as if wind-swept and featured high stools with padded seats and backrests, all in […]