Werewolf, Ghost & Gypsy Stories

Mirror Image - A human hull transformed into an everlasting prince of the night, a Vampire. So much is gained, but not without loss.

One with so many powers is now powerless to gaze into a simple looking glass.  What does this malaise represent? No turning back? A release from mankind, yet the need for mankind in order to survive?

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Widow Maker - The city lay shrouded in the distance, looming like a fragile virgin clothed in white. The year was 2785.  Vincent’s keen eyesight cut through the fog, singeing over the towering steel buildings like a guided laser.  He was searching for something lost, something that he would probably never reclaim.  continue

The Haunted House - "Over here, I tell you!  The coffin is over here!"  Mona rolled her eyes up at Frank. Idiot. He was acting if he'd found the secret entrance in the wall rather than her. She had a good mind to turn back and let Frank stand his chances of being sacrificed by the coven of she-male vampires that inhabited the dungeon of the castle. . . . continue

The Crying Veil - Anna's eyes widened in terror as the wedding veil she had situated on her head was suddenly covered with blood - drops of blood.  She detected crying, pitiful crying as if someone in her head were in agony.... continue

The Ethnic Vampire Wars -A thick layer of fog lay captive in the valley below the castle.  It was the Ethnic Vampire Wars.  continue

Pretty In Pick - “Right here – pile it on right cheer,” the hick told Qieu, pointing his half-full fork of spaghetti to his plate.   continue

Goat's Pine al la Mode - Goat lived in a valley that was sparsely clothed with pines, red cedars, and sumac that turned a vivid red each autumn.  As so was the season, for autumn had settled in for a brief visit that soon would welcome winter.   continue

 

 

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WEREWOLF ON THE PROWL

Shadow Rider

Written by Sky Taylor, Sky at Dawn

The night was young.  The yellow sun had vacated the cloudless sky a short hour ago leaving behind a shroud of intense heat.

 

Even so, Cally sat close to the blue-blaze of the campfire, a paisley blanket surrounding every inch of her small form except her face.  Something was out there, mingled with the darkness.  This 'thing' had been staring at her for what seemed to be an eternity, in actuality - mere minutes.

This child of hell lay waiting in the shadows, allowing time for her fire to dance and die - to seize the final moment in time.....her time.

There was a rush through her system, as if she'd taken a sudden plunge from an aeroplane, in a parachute.

Her thoughts circled as she remembered the man back at the camping supply store in the park earlier today who had seemed overly-interested in her.  He had insisted on loading her tiny sack of supplies in her jeep, asking her a volley of questions in the process.

'Where was she planning to camp? How long was she staying? Was she camping alone? Did she happen to have a pet with her?"

Fear rushed through her body and seemed to lodge in her throat.  Her worst fears were realized as the subject of her thoughts stepped from the shadows, the reeds lodged along the bed of the river bank echoing like distant drums as the wind kicked up simultaneously with her fear.

He had returned for the kill, a rifle lodged in his gloved hand, aimed directly at Cally as she sat shaking by the light of the campfire in the hot breath of Summer Evening.

When she would have screamed, a loud growl like that of a giant wolf penetrated the air from behind her, the stranger cocking the rifle and firing a shot that echoed along the riverbank, joining the haunting echoes of the reeds.

Cally watched in shock as the large wolf fell mid-air and landed not two feet from her.

As she fought to recover, the stranger ambled quickly to the kill.

As Cally viewed him with wide eyes he told her, "Third werewolf this month."

Moral of the story: Sometimes, our worst fears are not in front of us, rather behind us.

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