January Howlings
Maybe you remember last month when BlackAlchemy hosted a bunch of fan written, werewolf flash fiction over at The Voice of Rage and Ruin. Well, it looks like it’s falling to me to take over for February since she’s been MIA for a few weeks now.
I hope she’s:
A) Drinking margaritas on the beach in Mexico, petting pool boys
B) A rich, successful, published author with far too little time to maintain her blog
C) Holed up somewhere with an axe and some Molotov cocktails fending off zombie hordes
My original plan was to just let Howlings fall into obscurity because I’m totally lazy. It turns out though, that we’ve already got submissions lined up! The people have spoken and who am I to deny them?
So what are you waiting for? Write your werewolf stories already! Post them in the comments below. Haiku, flash fiction, short stories, we like them all. If you’ve got something longer you’d like to share(that’s what she said), email it to us and we’ll post a link and an excerpt.
This month, we’ve got a great story from cool chick DeadEndEmily. Chickens can check out her tamer – and remember “tamer” is a relative word – works here, while the braver among you can see her gorier stuff here.
Merry Christmas, Anya by DeadEndEmily
Read the full version here
She took a drag of his cigarette before snapping his neck. He lay there lifeless as a dead bird that had plunged head first into a glass window. “Sucks to be you,” Anya mused aloud looking down at his broken form. She was naked, and her ivory skin was streaked in mud from the back alley where she was now standing. The man was a known murderer for the Polish mob. The only people who would miss him were the scum that paid for his services. There might be a short hunt for his killer by both the police and Pols but they wouldn’t find anything except a smoked cigarette and his body. The police would assume it was a mob hit, and the mob would probably think it was a revenge scheme. Of course both of them would be wrong. Anya stepped out the cigarette with her bare foot and looked up at the shinning luminescence of mother moon and let out a piercing howl as she melted from woman to wolf. She looked back once more at her kill and sprinted into the darkness.
Two fingers was all it took.
“That’s not the way you do the shocker!” and then I roundhouse high fived my bro Scott and man, we laughed at that old dude!
That high five was sweet, but now I’m wondering if it was worth it.
All my bones broke at once. My skin ripped to shreds.
I don’t think that was the shocker. Pretty sure it was the evil eye.
My face, Jesus, it feels like my mouth’s being ripped open by a car jack.
Never mock a gypsy. Well, that’s one lesson learned.
“Regret” is the last higher thought I have before the surface area increasing folds in my brain flatten and all I can think is
meat meat meat meat meat
“What… Huh?”
Just seconds ago he was at home eating his mother’s hot chili – but immediately he recognized it as a dream. His head hurt – bad. As he reached up to touch it, Rick repeated to himself, “Don’t let there be blood, don’t let there be blood.” His fingers found the familiar warm syrupy goo in a small puddle – warm, so it must still be fresh. He was completely naked, except for a watch, which read 7:14, sunup. Memories flowed in the opposite direction of his oozing blood. “The drop! Oh my God! They went through with it.”
Months of training had gone by – but he didn’t understand why. The mission was scorched earth. No one really expected to survive. Suddenly the sunrise was blanketed by a black shadow – too dark to see any features. Fear poured over Rick. He scrambled back, searching for a weapon.
“Rick. RICK, calm down!” The tubby naked man smiled. “It’s over.”
“Why are we alive?”
“I guess we’re just better than we thought. Look around.”
It was just the two of them in the desert – but the desert was pocketed with smoldering caves and bodies – of men and wolves.
“I guess they – we – don’t change back when the die in that state.” Todd opined, in more of a scientific tone than one of empathy. Rick was a little disgusted. Those canines littering the field, though not recognizable, were their comrades. Teddy Willerson, Richard Winkle, Mike. Which were they? It didn’t matter. They were all dead.
“Death was certain.” Rick muttered, talking to himself more than his tubby companion.
“Yeah, well get over it. Maybe we’ll do it again! We’re useful! We knew we could use this disgusting curse for something. Now they’ll know. We’ll be accepted – look! It’s a helicopter! We’re being pulled out!”
Rick squinted. The helicopter donned the military gray star signifying the good old US. It took a second, but Rick realized it stopped its approach and hovered about two hundred yards away. The Tubby man started jumping – waving his hands in the air. “What’s it doing?” He said, “Hey.. HEY WE’RE OVER HERE!”
“John. John, stop. John, get your ass down.” Rick said quietly, trying his best not to be noticed.
Before he heard the crack of the long range sniper rifle, rick was covered in blood and brains from his fellow Werewolf. He froze, lying in the dirt, trying not to breath. The helicopter circled the site for what seemed like an hour until it finally turned around.
When the noise of the chopper finally died down Rick scrambled to his feet, his head light from the slow loss of blood. He ran across a man who was ripped in half. He barfed. Looking around, he knew he needed clothes, food, water, and cover.
No, no, really guys…werewolves!!
Yeah, right…
*Sneaks up and leaves Kreativ Award and sneaks off*
http://conversingwithnovels.wordpress.com/2012/01/09/fiftieth-post-wow-kreativ-blogger/
A werewolf rolls dice.
Twenty! Critical Success!
This will be bloody.
Howl… Into the darkness!