A werewolf isn’t always a werewolf. Sometimes it’s the old grocer who places the bread at the bottom of the bag; sometimes it’s the irredeemably handsome bartender with a crooked smile, packs of cigarettes filling his pockets like playing cards.… Continue Reading
The man-beast closes his eyes and inventories his world. There are deer in the forest ahead, and beyond the forest there are sheep on the slope leading up the mountain. Although he cannot see them, he smells each one in… Continue Reading
“Of all the fairy stories we tell our children,” said Arkady, “The Tale of the Greater Good is by far the most wicked.” “You sound like the fifth Karamazov brother.” Outside, the cold reduced everything to elemental purity. Traces of… Continue Reading
The west is no place for a werewolf, Cheney thought as he sniffed at the tracks of a stagecoach long since passed. His ears swiveled towards the sound of riders approaching on horseback; lips peeled back over teeth glistening at… Continue Reading
I stumbled through the cabin door and shot the bolt behind me, for all the good it would do. A step-hop over to the lone cot and I was finally able to spare time to tend my leg. My trouser… Continue Reading
I must say that my initial impression of Phillip Fletcher was a favorable one. I believed that he was what might be called blessedly ignorant. He had no idea whatsoever that his father was involved with what the papers were… Continue Reading