

Blood Moon Rising

666

Family Secrets

Copyright © 2018 S K Gregory

All Rights Reserved

Familiar Love

Copyright © 2018 Kat Gracey

All Rights Reserved

O.M.F.G

Copyright © 2018 DJ Doyle

All Rights Reserved

Sorry

Copyright © 2018 Jo Zebedee

All Rights Reserved

Tally

Copyright © 2018 Ashley Ford

All Rights Reserved

Freya's Lost Pack

Copyright © 2018 Donald Armfield

All Rights Reserved

Contents

Family Secrets

S. K. Gregory

Familiar Love

Kat Gracey

OMFG

DJ Doyle

Sorry

Jo Zebedee

Tally

Ashley Ford

Freya's Lost Pack

Donald Armfield

## Family Secrets

## S. K. Gregory

"This is the stupidest idea you have ever had," I said to my friend Kirby.

He grinned in that annoying way he did. "You're just scared. Admit it, you actually think it will work."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yes, Kirby, you're actually going to be able to summon a demon. I'm shaking in my boots."

"You're shaking in your fuzzy slippers," Kirby corrected.

I shoved him. "Shut up." I tucked my pink slipper clad feet underneath me. We were seated in my basement along with our other friend, Shannon. She was currently gorging on pizza and had yet to add her thoughts on Kirby's idea.

"I think it's dumb," she said finally.

"Thank you!" I said.

"But it could be fun," she said.

"Yeah, real fun. Most teenagers go to parties on a Friday night, but let's hit up Satan, I'm sure he's a real chill dude," I said.

Kirby started laughing hysterically.

"What's going on down here?" Mom said. She stood at the bottom of the stair in a pink robe and hair rollers.

"Nothing," I said, covering the book Kirby had brought over on demons. He had found it at an old junk shop downtown.

"Do you kids want anything from upstairs?" she asked.

"No, we're fine, Mom," I said, wishing she would leave. My slippers didn't compare to her outfit, not that Kirby and Shannon hadn't seen it all before.

We had been friends for years and my house was the popular hangout because of our basement. It used to be full of junk that my parents had collected over the years. Then Dad got the idea of cleaning it out to create an exercise room for himself. That quickly turned into a man cave, but since he mostly came home from work and fell asleep, he rarely used it. So, it unofficially became out place to hang out.

I think Mom was glad we were out from under her feet, but not out partying.

When she went back upstairs, Kirby put the book back on the table. He flipped it open to a random page and started reading.

I grabbed another slice of pizza, wondering what kind of parties were going on outside these four walls. I know I should be grateful that I had two good friends, but part of me always felt like I was missing out on something.

Yeah, a hangover and embarrassing pics on social media.

"Here's a good one," Kirby said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Thought all demons were bad," I quipped.

Kirby ignored me and started reading from the book.

"Azareen is a powerful demon who has the ability to grant wishes to those that are worthy. Cool, like a genie."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure. And what exactly would you wish for?"

"Easy, money, girls and a sweet ride."

"Typical. What about you, Shannon? What would you wish for?"

Tucking her red hair behind her ear, she shrugged, but her face went beet red.

"I know what she would wish for. Brett Turner."

"Shut up!" Shannon cried, throwing a balled up napkin at Kirby's head.

Shannon had been crushing on Brett for over a year now, ever since he spoke four words to her. Those words were – "Sorry, didn't see you," after he bumped into her, but the way Shannon behaved, you would think he had proposed.

"Why don't you just ask him out?" I suggested.

"Are you crazy?" she said. "I can't do that, he's dating Lucinda. She would kill me."

This was part of the reason we were losers. None of us ever had the balls to change things. Myself included. Maybe if one of us did, things would be different.

"There's a summoning spell," Kirby announced.

"For God's sake, Kirby. No one cares," I said.

Shannon got up and headed to the corner of the room to grab another soda.

Kirby started to chant, struggling with the foreign words. It kind of sounded German, maybe?

He finished with a flourish and I opened my mouth to call him an idiot, when my mother appeared in front of us. Appeared as in poof, magically appeared as opposed to coming downstairs.

"What the..?" she said, looking confused.

I was still trying to figure out what was going on when Kirby exclaimed, "Oh my God. Oh my God, Sarah, your mother is a de..."

His words were cut off when Mom slashed her hand across his throat. Blood hit me in the face and when Kirby toppled over, with a gaping hole in his neck, I started to scream.

Mom's hand had morphed into long black claws.

This isn't happening, this isn't happening, I kept repeating it in my head, but it didn't change the scene in front of me.

"Stop it, Sarah," Mom snapped.

I closed my mouth but started to whimper instead. Mom picked up the book Kirby had been reading.

"Where the hell did this come from? I thought they were all destroyed."

She turned to look at me and I almost fainted. Her eyes were completely black.

"You're a d-d-de..." I started stuttering and found it impossible to stop.

"Demon?" Mom finished for me. "Yes, I am. But right now, we have more pressing matters, like getting rid of the body."

I glanced at Kirby, half hidden by the coffee table, then I turned and vomited on the floor.

Mom put her hands on her hips and sighed. "Try and stay calm, Sarah. I was going to tell you all of this when you turned eighteen, anyway."

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and glared at her.

"How can you be so calm? You killed Kirby!"

"He knew what I was, I didn't have a choice. It's unfortunate, but it happens."

She knelt beside his body, rolling him onto his back. In my mind, I was trying to reconcile the woman in front of me with my mom. My mom who baked us cookies and was a member of the PTA.

"This is a joke, right?" I asked, hopefully, waiting for Kirby to spring up and say 'Gotcha!'

"Grab the trash bags from under the sink," Mom said.

"Mom?"

"Now!" she said.

I got to my feet, my legs were like jelly. I moved to the sink in the corner, my mind went blank for a moment.

There was an open soda can on the ground. It was spilling out onto the beige carpet – grape soda. All I could think about was the blood from Kirby's throat.

Mom glanced my way. "Hurry up." She paused and looked around the room. "Where's Shannon?"

Shannon? She was here when Mom appeared. The soda. I put two and two together. She had seen Kirby die, then most likely legged it up the stairs. None of us had noticed.

"She, uh, she went home," I said. "Stomach ache."

I turned away to get the trash bags, so she wouldn't see my face. She always knew when I was lying, but right now she was to pre-occupied with Kirby to notice.

If Shannon was here, would she kill her too? She said herself, no witnesses. I handed Mom the trash bags, wondering what Shannon would do. Her parents weren't home, so she would probably call the cops. Would they arrest Mom? Could they?

I watched as she moved the coffee table out of the way, opened several trash bags and laid them out on the floor. She rolled Kirby onto them. I saw his eyes, frozen open in terror, before he flopped face down onto the plastic.

"Mom, maybe you should turn yourself in," I said.

She didn't seem to hear me. Maybe I should call the cops. It was the right thing to do.

"Mom?"

"Sarah, we will talk once we get rid of the body. We can't let your father see this."

"Does Dad know? Is he like you?"

"No and no. He'll be home soon. Go to the garage and open the trunk of my car. Move."

I scuttled up the stairs as Mom wrapped the body and hoisted it over her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

Like he weighed nothing. It was still Kirby. His parents knew he was here. How did she expect to get away with this? I was an accomplice now.

I could tell Dad. He would know what to do. All these thoughts were flying through my brain. I had no idea what I was even doing. I realized I was in the garage.

Mom dumped the body in the trunk and slammed it closed.

"Now we need to clean up the blood."

How many people has she killed? She is so calm. The thought sent a chill through me. Would she get rid of me just as easily if I turned on her?

We returned to the basement and Mom dumped half a bottle of bleach onto the carpet and started scrubbing.

"Clean your face," she said.

It seemed like such a Mom thing to say that for a moment I couldn't understand why she was saying it. Then I caught sight of my reflection in a mirror on the wall and I saw the blood sprayed across my face.

I grabbed some napkins, soaked them in water and started scrubbing my skin. I kept going even after it was gone. I could scrub for days and I would still see the blood there.

I'm the daughter of a murderous demon. Then it hit me. Mom was a demon, which made me a half demon. I stared at my hands, looking for claws, but they were normal looking.

Rushing to the mirror, I pulled back my lips to see if I had sprouted fangs.

"Sarah, what are you doing?" Mom asked.

"Looking for fangs," I answered.

I saw Mom roll her eyes in the reflection. "We don't have fangs. We're not vampires."

"We? So I am like you?"

"I said we would talk af...What's this?"

I turned to find her holding Shannon's backpack. Shit, she had left it behind.

"That's mine," I said.

She arched an eyebrow, turning the bag over to reveal the name SHANNON bedazzled onto it.

"Why would Shannon leave without her backpack?"

Her eyes travelled across the floor to the soda can and it all clicked into place for her.

"She saw!"

She barrelled toward the stairs and I forced myself to move in front of her, blocking her way.

"Mom! Please stop!" I cried, trying to hold her back.

"Get out of my way, Sarah. There can't be any witnesses."

"Please, Mom. It's Shannon. She's never hurt anyone."

"And you think she's just going to forget what happened? The cops are probably already on the way."

"I'll talk to her. I'll convince her to keep quiet."

"It's not up to me, Sarah. There are rules. If I let a human live, then the Order will come, and they will kill us all. Your dad included. Is that what you want?"

I started crying, how could she put this on me?

Mom pushed past me and ran up the stairs. I chased after her. Shannon lived a few houses down from ours. The house was in darkness when we got there. Maybe Shannon had gone somewhere else. Like a neighbor's house.

Mom banged on the door, then called, "Shannon, sweetie? Come out. It was all a big joke. There's no need to be frightened."

Her voice was all sweetness and light, but I could see the clenched fists. She was going to kill her.

I grabbed her arm. "Mom, don't."

She shook me off, grabbed the door handle and twisted it sharply. It broke off and the door swung open.

She marched into the house, moving swiftly from room to room, searching for Shannon. I followed her, my heart in my throat. Every time she opened a door, I expected to see Shannon, but the house was empty.

"Goddamnit!" Mom yelled. "Where the hell is she?"

"I don't know," I said, glad that she hadn't found her. I couldn't watch another friend die.

As Mom did another sweep, I stood in Shannon's bedroom. I picked up one of her stuffed animals from the bed and hugged it to my chest.

"Wherever you are Shannon, don't come home," I whispered.

Maybe she ran into town to get the cops. I know if I was her, I would run and never stop. Shannon was always running away. As a child, whenever her parents would argue, she would run to the treehouse in the back yard. She hated conflict.

I peered outside, into the yard. I wonder... The yard was pitch black, I couldn't even make out the treehouse from here, but I was sure she was there.

"Where would she go, Sarah?"

I jumped at Mom's voice in my ear. I backed away from her.

"I don't know. To a neighbor? Town? She could be anywhere."

Mom looked like she was going to implode. "Let's go," she said finally.

Back home in the basement, Mom continued with her cleaning. I sank into a chair in the corner. I wondered how long Shannon would stay hidden. I needed to distract Mom, get her to forget about Shannon long enough for her to get somewhere safe.

"How many?" I asked.

"How many what?"

"People have you killed?"

She squeezed her rag out into a bucket, before adding more bleach. The carpet was destroyed, it would have to be replaced.

"That's not something you need to hear," she said finally.

"You said you were going to tell me when I turn eighteen. Why then? What happens when I turn eighteen?"

"Half demons start to exhibit powers at that age. I'm required to tell you, then the Order will test you and your abilities. Then they will give you a place in our world."

"I don't want a place in your world. I don't want to be a killer like you."

"That's the human side of you talking. The Order will teach you how to block emotions. It will make things easier."

"This is insane. Why are you living in suburbia? Why marry a human and have a kid? It makes no sense."

"The old days when we were worshipped are gone. Nowadays we have to assimilate. Blend in with the humans. Two demons can't procreate. We can only have children with humans. Better a watered down demon, than letting our kind die out."

I wondered how many demons were out there. Acting like regular humans. Other moms, teachers? Cops?

"No," I said, getting to my feet. "I don't want this. I can't deal with this."

I headed for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to go to bed and hide under the covers until the world made sense again.

The sound of the front door closing stopped me. Dad?

"Sarah, keep your mouth shut. You've seen what happens when humans find out. Do you want your dad to end up like Kirby?"

"No," I croaked.

She got to her feet. "You and Kirby had a fight and he stormed out. Shannon went home too. Kirby knocked over some soda which is what I'm cleaning up. Okay?" She had me by the shoulders.

"I'm home!" Dad called.

"Sarah!" Mom hissed.

"Okay," I said, because what else could I do?

I didn't want Dad to end up dead too. I went upstairs to find Dad taking off his coat.

"Hey, honey. Are you okay? You look upset."

I choked back tears. "Um, yeah. Kirby and I had a fight."

"Oh. I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm sure you two will work it out."

"Yeah. I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Night."

Let Mom finish telling him the lies. I got into bed, not bothering to change. I curled up into a ball and shut my eyes. When I did, the events of tonight replayed and I saw it all again. I started to shake. I put my fist to my mouth to stop myself screaming.

Please let this be a bad dream. It can't be real.

*

I jerked awake to find the sun streaming in my window.

Morning? When did I fall asleep?

"Sarah! Breakfast is ready." Mom's voice came from downstairs. It sounded normal. For a brief moment, I had hope. Hope that it had all been a crazy nightmare.

I got up and hurried downstairs. As I entered the kitchen, Mom was on the phone.

"No, Beverly, I haven't seen Kirby since last night."

Hope vanished. Kirby's mom would call the cops. They would come here and ask questions.

I shoved my feet into my sneakers and ran out of the house.

I had no idea where I was going until I found myself in Shannon's back yard. If her treehouse was good enough for her to hide in, then it was good enough for me. I climbed the wooden ladder and crawled inside. It was dark and cramped. It was fine when we were seven, but not now.

I found an old mouldy blanket and some of Kirby's old action figures. I picked them up and clutched them in my hands. Poor Kirby.

Someone sniffed loudly, and I nearly screamed. I squinted in the darkness. There was someone huddled in the far corner.

"Shannon?"

"Are you going to kill me?" she said softly.

"No! Of course not."

"What about Kirby? Your mom killed him, didn't she?"

"Yes, but I didn't know what she was. What she would do. I swear."

"When my parents get home, I'm going to tell them everything. They'll get her locked up."

"You can't do that, Shannon. She'll kill them."

Shannon started to cry. "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Shannon, you have to run. It's the only way you'll be safe."

"Run where? I have nowhere to go! No money."

"I don't know, Shannon. But if my mom sees you she will kill you. Please, just run."

It took some persuading, but I finally convinced her to go. I acted as a lookout as she grabbed some things, including her life savings – 200 bucks. It was enough to buy her a bus ticket anyway. I had no idea where she would go after that, but wherever she went, she would be a hell of a lot safer.

Once she set off downtown, I went home to check Mom was still there. She was waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"I needed some air," I said.

She came toward me, eyes blazing, but was interrupted by Dad wandering in, wearing only his boxers and a white t-shirt. "Did you say something about breakfast?" he asked, yawning.

She plastered on a smile. "Yes, dear. There's bacon in the pan."

She motioned for me to follow her into the living room.

"You know where she is, don't you?"

I looked her straight in the eye. "I did. Not anymore. She has left town."

"You little...If the Order finds out..."

"Who is going to tell them? I'm not. Think about it. Shannon and Kirby will both be missing. Do you want the cops looking for two bodies? Or two teenagers, madly in love, who ran away together?"

She frowned as she considered it. "You can sell that?"

"I'll sell whatever you want, as long as no one else dies."

She folded her arms. "As long as Shannon keeps her mouth shut and keeps moving, it could work."

"Good. I'm going to get changed," I said.

Back in my room, I changed my clothes. I found an old gym bag tucked at the back of my closet. Checking that Mom was still downstairs, I threw some clothes into it, then hid it under my bed. Mom might think everything was fine, but it wasn't. I would stick around long enough to give Shannon a head start, then I was getting the hell out too. I just had to try and act normal until I saw my chance.

I went downstairs and ate breakfast with Dad. Poor, clueless Dad, who thought he had a perfectly normal family. If he knew what Mom was, would he hate her? Would he hate me? I hoped not. I didn't plan on leaving a note when I went. There was so much I wanted to say to him.

I got up from the table and kissed his cheek. "Love you, Dad," I said.

"Is that your subtle way of trying to get out of clean up?"

"No, I'll do it later, I swear."

As I was heading for the stairs, there was a knock on the front door. I froze. Who was it? Kirby's parents? The cops?

Slowly, I made my way to the door and opened it. Two men stood on the other side, both dressed in black. The tall one looked like a wrestler, with dark hair and a beard. The other one was a foot shorter, bald with glasses.

They must be cops, I thought. My stomach clenched as I thought of the lies I would have to tell them.

"Hello, my dear. Is your mother home?" the bald man asked.

"Um, yeah. Mom!" I called. I didn't like how shaky my voice sounded. They were going to know something was wrong. Mom appeared from the kitchen. When she saw the two men, her face turned white.

Way to look innocent, I thought.

"Sir, what an unexpected surprise," she said.

"Sir?" I said. Why was she calling him sir? I caught on to who they were as they stepped into the house and closed the door.

Dad came into the hall. "Oh, we have guests."

The big one lashed out, striking Dad in the face with such force, he flew back and hit the wall behind him, his body crumpling to the floor. I screamed and ran to his side.

"You killed him," I screamed.

"Please! I have the situation under control," Mom babbled.

"I don't think so, Azareen. We're here to clean up your mess."

About the Author

S. K. Gregory writes horror, urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. You can find out more about her books through her website

www.skgregory.com

## Familiar Love

## Kat Gracey

"I am never dating again," Dana said, slamming the front door behind her.

Her best friend, Becky, looked up from her place on the couch. "Does that mean you're into chicks now?"

"Very funny. Although after tonight, that might be a good idea. What is it with these jerks I end up with?"

She moved to the refrigerator and grabbed a pint of mint chocolate chip, her go to when she was having a bad day. Considering her luck lately, it was a wonder she didn't weigh 300 pounds.

Becky was already waiting with two spoons.

"What was wrong with this one? He seemed perfect."

"He was. On paper, anyway." She paused to scoop some of the ice cream into her mouth, revelling in the minty goodness.

"We went to dinner, he was charming, polite, he even pulled out my chair for me. Who does that anymore? The last guy didn't look up from his phone long enough to say hello. So we ordered food and we started talking about our jobs. I told him that I am a graphic designer and he said that he was a designer too. When I ask him a few questions, it was clear he was lying. So I called him on it. He laughed and said he was just trying to impress me. He didn't even have a job, he lied and when I said I would never date a liar, he just lost it, started shouting, I've gone to so much trouble, why do I never get it right."

"Sounds like he was really invested," Becky said.

"It was one date!"

"Well, I'm sure the next one will be better," Becky said.

"I don't know, Bex. Maybe I should just give up and become a nun."

Becky laughed. "You wouldn't last a week. The right guy is out there. I promise."

"Yeah, but he's probably married."

She left Becky with the ice cream and went to bed. It wasn't that late, but she was tired.

Curled up in bed, she wondered if she was the problem when it came to dating. She was the common denominator.

Maybe I talk too much, or I'm saying something that turns them into psychopaths.

Unable to sleep, she grabbed her phone and opened the dating app that Becky had signed her up for. Becky did her due diligence, thoroughly checking out each guy, hunting them down online, before organising a date. Dana often wondered why she didn't go into law enforcement as opposed to being a personal trainer.

Maybe Becky just sucks at picking guys, she thought. But she never agreed to any dates she didn't want, so she couldn't blame Becky either.

Dana flicked through the pictures, ignoring the personal info and focussing only on their appearance. She was too caught up in finding someone who was successful, who seemed to be going somewhere in life. It was time to try a different approach, to go with her gut for once. What did she have to lose?

She was scrolling for about fifteen minutes when someone caught her eye.

Caramel colored eyes and a warm smile, specifically, caught her eye. According to his profile, his name was Marc and he was a veterinarian.

Score.

And as luck would have it, he lived within three miles of her.

Grinning, Dana sent him a message, not expecting a reply, but one came through less than five minutes later.

'This is so weird, I was looking at your profile during lunch, but I was still working up the nerve to send you a message.'

When Dana glanced at the clock again, it was 2am. She had been talking to Marc for hours.

'I should really get some sleep.'

'Sorry, I should have realized the time. Could we meet for coffee? Tomorrow?'

'Definitely.'

Dana went to sleep with a smile on her face.

*

"Where are you off to?" Becky asked, as Dana passed her on the way out the door. She didn't want to say anything to jinx the date, but she was too excited.

"I'm going on a date." She held up her phone with a picture of Marc on it.

"What? With who?" Becky said, leaping over the couch to snatch her phone. "Who is this guy?"

"His name is Marc, I was talking to him last night. We're going to get coffee at the diner near the mall."

"I thought we agreed to decide together on who you date."

Dana laughed. "I don't need your permission. He seems nice, and it's just coffee."

Becky frowned. "What happened to becoming a nun?"

"The nunnery can wait. I have to go, I'm going to be late."

"But wait..."

Dana hurried out, ignoring Becky. She didn't want to show up late, some girls might believe it was fashionable, but Dana thought it was just rude.

She had butterflies in her stomach and she couldn't help but wonder if her bad luck streak was finally over.

Marc was waiting for her when she arrived. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt and khakis. He stooped to kiss her cheek when she greeted him.

"It's nice to meet you," he said. "And can I sound completely cliché and say that you look more beautiful than your picture?"

Dana felt herself blushing. "Oh, thank you. That's sweet of you to say."

They took a seat at one of the tables. "What would you like to drink?" Marc asked.

"I'll have a latte, please."

Dana watched him walk away from the table and it was quite the view. She fanned herself with a menu.

When he returned with their drinks they started talking about what they liked doing.

"Don't laugh at me, but I actually like ice skating," Marc said. "It's a great way to unwind."

"I love ice skating, I would beg my mom to take me to the rink every week. We should totally go."

"I'd love to. I don't really get a lot of free time with work, but I love what I do."

"I would love to work with animals, but I don't know how you deal with it when they have to be put to sleep. I would be a wreck."

"I'm not going to lie, I get choked up at times."

"Do you have any animals of your own?"

He lifted his phone. "I do, actually. This is Lola."

He showed her a picture of a husky puppy with big blue eyes.

"Oh my God, she's gorgeous!" Dana cried, earning her a few looks from the other customers.

"She's a sweetie," Marc said. "Maybe you could meet her some time?"

"I'd love to."

"I'm just going to go to the restroom," Marc said.

Dana pulled out her phone and shot off a quick text to Becky. It's going great. I love him!

She finished her latte as she waited for Marc to return. He was taking a long time, she hoped that nothing was wrong with him. Or he's busy climbing out the restroom window!

She started tapping her fingers on the table. What if he had left? Maybe he was just too polite to say anything, and he took the coward's way out.

If he has run off, I'm going to die of embarrassment.

Just as she was about to leave herself, he appeared from the restroom. She breathed a sigh of relief.

His shirt looked a little crumpled and he seemed out of breath. What the hell was he doing?

"Is everything okay?" Dana asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, fine."

"You were gone a long time."

He glanced back toward the restrooms. "Oh, yeah, I got a phone call. Sorry."

"Was it something serious? Do you need to leave?"

"No, of course not. I'm happy here with you."

He took her hand in his. Dana felt her brain turn to mush as he gazed at her with his gorgeous eyes.

"Why don't we go back to my place?" he said.

"What? It's the middle of the afternoon. Oh, you mean to meet your dog."

"My what?" he asked.

"Your dog, Lola."

"Oh! Yeah, sure, that. And we can, you know..." he waggled his eyebrows at her.

"We just met. I've known you less than a day," she said, shocked that he would suggest it. He seemed like a decent guy.

"Well it feels like it's been a lot longer. Let's just be honest, you like me, you're hot as hell, what's stopping us? Let's fu..."

Dana slapped him in the face. "You're a pig."

She stormed out of the diner and back to her car. What a creep! He seemed so nice, where the hell did that guy go? But of course, it was all an act to get into her pants. She felt like such an idiot.

As she was getting into her car she glanced in the diner window. Marc was standing in his boxers! He had stripped off his clothes! What the hell?

Dana wasn't waiting around for him to come after her, she jumped in the car and sped away.

As she entered the apartment, Becky appeared from her room, visibly panting.

"What's wrong with you?" Dana asked.

"I...was...on the...treadmill."

"Really? I thought it was just for hanging your clothes on."

"Ha ha," Becky said, dropping onto the couch.

Dana rolled her eyes. She was going to injure herself if she wasn't careful. The girl was supposed to be a personal trainer, but she was the most unfit person Dana had ever met. She was tempted to check out one of her classes at some point to see if she actually worked out or if she just sat in the corner eating donuts and yelling at people.

"How did your date go?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad?"

"He stripped off his clothes in front of a diner full of people."

"Oookay. That's weird."

"I am done with men. I mean it this time."

Becky looked like she didn't believe her but didn't say anything.

"I think I'm jinxed," she muttered.

"Or you're too picky," Becky said.

"What!"

"Well, there's always a problem with every guy."

"They are legitimate reasons! What are you saying? That I should have gone back to a stranger's house for a quick bunk up?"

"Maybe it would loosen you up," Becky muttered.

Dana stared at her friend in disbelief. How could she say that? Dana grabbed the mint chocolate chip and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her.

*

Dana sat at the desk in her room, staring at the sheet of paper in front of her. It was a list of traits she wanted in a man, something she had written a long time ago. She hadn't even shown it to Becky. Why was it so crazy to want to find the right guy? What was the point in wasting time and energy on a relationship that was going nowhere?

On her list she had caring, successful, funny, smart, loyal and good looking.

"I'm going to die alone," she said.

She really needed to shower and dress. As she stood up, a breeze from the open window blew the sheet of paper outside.

"Crap," she said. She didn't want anyone finding that.

She shoved her feet into her boots and ran outside to find it. She found it fluttering in a hedge near her window. As she leaned over to grab it, it fluttered free and blew up and over her head.

She turned, just as it landed at a man's feet. He bent down to pick it up.

"Is this yours?"

She was too stunned to speak. The man in front of her was a God! He was tall, with dark brown hair, blue eyes and she could see every muscle through his tight t-shirt.

"Huh?"

He waved the sheet of paper. "Are you looking for this?"

"Oh. Yes, thank you."

She took it from him, quickly stuffing it into the pocket of her robe. My robe? Oh crap.

She had come out wearing her pink fluffy robe over her Mickey Mouse pajamas. I must look awful.

Pulling the robe closed, she raked a hand through her hair, hoping it wasn't standing on end.

"I'm Ben," he said.

"Uh, Dana. Nice to meet you."

"I uh, caught a peek at your list. If they are your attributes, then you may be my dream woman."

Dana laughed. "Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed. It is actually a list of things I am looking for in a guy."

"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand for the list.

Reluctantly, she handed it over, feeling her cheeks go red. He read through it. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes and well, you tell me."

Dana took the list back. "You're certainly confident, but for all I know you could be lying."

"Well, there's only one way to find out. Dinner?"

Despite everything that had happened, she found herself saying yes.

*

I must be insane, Dana thought. After all the crappy dates she had been on, she was actually considering another one, but there was something different about Ben. She couldn't deny that there was chemistry, and the page landing at his feet seemed like fate.

Ben was waiting by the pier when she arrived.

"Hi, I thought we could grab something to eat in that little restaurant," he said, pointing to a place just down the shore.

"Sounds great."

Ben let her do most of the talking while they ate, but he was funny and charming. He worked as a doctor. When they had finished eating, they took a walk on the beach.

"Look, dinner was great," Ben said. "But before I say something stupid, I need to tell you something."

"Okay, that sounds serious."

He stopped walking and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, it's probably best to just come right out and say it. This isn't our first date."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure it is."

"No, it's like the 20th date."

"You've lost me," Dana said.

"That's the problem. Every time we go on a date, it ends with you walking out. I have tried literally everything, but it always ends badly."

"Ben, I think you've lost your mind."

"I'm not Ben, or Marc, or Oliver. My real name is Larry."

Dana looked around to see if there was anyone nearby she could call for help. I've done it again!

"Dana," he said.

She looked up to find Marc standing in front of her. "What the hell?" she cried backing away. She stumbled in the sand and fell on her butt. Marc took a step toward her and as she watched, he changed into Ben again. He actually physically changed into another person.

"How...huh...wha..." She had lost the ability to form words.

"I'm a shapeshifter. I can look like anyone."

She shook her head, this couldn't be happening.

"I've been trying to create the perfect date with you, but you always seem to find fault. Nothing I do is good enough."

"No, you can't be every guy I've dated, that isn't possible."

"I have a lot of dating profiles, it's actually very expensive to keep up this ruse. The point is I'm in love with you. I want us to be together. You're obviously attracted to me, and if you get bored with one body I can switch to another. What do you say?"

Dana thought back over all the dates. The rude, obnoxious behaviour, the crazy antics.

"No! You're crazy. Just stay the hell away from me."

She got up and started running.

*

Back at the apartment, Dana locked the doors, checking to make sure the apartment was empty. How could this be happening? A shapeshifter? She had seen plenty on TV, but never imagined that they were real.

How many of her dates had been with...Larry, was it? She felt her flesh crawl, to deceive someone like that. She was so glad she had never gone home with them...him!

Her phone rang and she screamed at the sudden noise. She answered it without checking who was calling.

"Hello?"

"Dana, don't run away from me. We are meant to be together."

She hung up the phone. He sounded desperate, was he dangerous? He could be literally anyone, who could she trust? If she went to the cops, they would laugh in her face. Even if they did believe her, how would they ever catch him? He could do an entire line up by himself!

Her phone buzzed, he had sent her a text message. I can't live without you, Dana. We are going to be together one way or another.

"Shit, shit, shit," she said.

The front door opened causing her to scream.

"What's wrong?" Becky said.

"Oh thank God, it's only you. Close the door, quick!" She wasn't sure if he could make himself look like a woman, but Becky used her key to get in.

"Why?"

She pushed Becky aside and locked the door. "Some sick creep is after me."

"What? Who?"

"It's too hard to explain, but we can't stay here. Let's leave. We can go to my parents' cabin."

"Are you crazy? We can't just up and leave."

"We have to. I'll explain everything once we get there. Pack a bag."

Dana threw some clothes into a bag, she decided to leave her phone behind. That way she didn't have to read any more of his messages. She practically dragged Becky out the door.

Once they were on the road, she kept glancing in the rear view mirror every few seconds to make sure they weren't being followed.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Becky asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Dana sighed. "You know that guy I went on a date with."

"Which one?" Becky said sarcastically.

"Yeah, that's the problem. They were all the same guy."

"What? Like someone in disguise?"

"Something like that."

"No, they looked nothing alike."

"I don't know how to explain it, just trust me. This guy is a total stalker. I just need to get away for a few days, so I can decide what to do."

"Why don't you just call the police?"

"Because...he's a master of disguise."

We arrived at the cabin a few hours later. As far as I could tell, we weren't followed. Becky grumbled the whole way but didn't demand that I turn around, so I guess she believed me.

"There's no wi-fi," she said as soon as we walked in.

"You'll survive."

"Where's your phone?"

"I left it behind."

"Seriously? What are we supposed to do here? At least tell me there is a TV."

"Nope."

"This blows."

Dana left her in the living room while she put her bag in one of the bedrooms. She was exhausted after everything that had happened. All she wanted to do was sleep.

Maybe I'll just rest my eyes for a minute.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up and it was morning. She rolled over on the bed to find Ben beside her.

"Good morning," he said.

Screaming, she leapt up and ran from the room.

"Becky! Where are you? We have to leave."

There was no sign of her. She opened the door and raced outside. Maybe Becky had gone for a walk. Or he has murdered her.

"Dana."

She turned to find Becky in the doorway. "Oh my God, Becky, get out of there. He's here," she hissed.

"I know."

"What do you mean? Did you let him in?"

"No, you did."

"What? What are you...?"

Becky disappeared to be replaced by Ben.

"Oh my God. No. What did you...? Where's Becky? What did you do to her?"

"Nothing. I am Becky. I have been all along."

"No, that's impossible."

"Is it?" he said with Becky's voice. "Why do you think I was so eager to help you find a boyfriend? Why I sat with you, listening to you whine about how no one was good enough for you? When you arranged that date with Marc? You really tested me there. I had to knock the guy out in the restroom and steal his clothes."

Dana stopped. "So you lived in my house, learned everything about me and you still don't measure up? What does that tell you?"

"That you're too picky."

"That I'm not interested! Take a hint!"

He lunged at her, but she dodged him and got into the car. He banged on the hood. "I've come too far, Dana. We are going to be together."

She started the car. "Wanna bet?"

Revving the engine, she jerked it forward, trying to get him to move. He lifted a rock and hefted it at the windshield. Dana covered her face as it broke the glass.

"Get out of the car!" he roared.

Dana threw the car into drive and gunned the engine. The car shot forward, hitting him. He was flung over the hood. Dana kept driving straight towards a tree. Hitting it head on, Ben was pinned between the car and the tree.

Dana got out of the car on shaky legs. Ben morphed into Becky, blood dripped down her chin.

"I just wanted you to love me."

"I'm sorry," Dana sobbed.

She grinned. "I guess I got what I wanted. You'll never date another man again. You'll always wonder..."

About the Author

Kat Gracey is a paranormal romance author from Northern Ireland. She enjoys reading and yoga. Check out her website

www.witchesandwerewolves.co.uk

## OMFG!

## DJ Doyle

1

I've been a little concerned about Father Dylan since that night in Tipperary at the late stage possession, he's been a tad quiet and not as sociable as before. I'd even go as far as to say he was being a right grumpy tosspot.

Maybe he'd had enough of this line of work, who knows?

I mean it's not like we get paid well, there is no fame and fortune, and we risk our own lives. Sometimes I wonder why I still do it. Then my memories come flooding back like a tsunami; my sister. After the possession, I went to visit her. She's in a looney bin. Wait, I shouldn't say that... she's in an 'institution for the mentally ill'. Yes, that's the politically correct wording. I'm not allowed to say what everyone is thinking. All this political correctness drives me fecking mad.

'This offends me. That offends me,'... what a load of bullshit. So fucking what? Just because someone is offended, doesn't give them entitlement. And that is what is wrong with the snowflakes of the new generation, they think they're entitled. Well, fuck that! If they had to struggle like the generations before, they'd be happier, not always wanting to achieve everything out of reach.

Jaysus, I'm going off on a rant with me, myself, and I.

So, after a few hours of tossing and turning in a local hotel that night, I decided to visit Katherine as the sun started to peak over the hills. I hadn't a clue what I was gonna say, I didn't know if she would remember me. Drugs may have had an adverse effect on her brain, making a zombie out of a demon. Father Niall dropped me off in the paddywagon while the lads slept off the after effects of the possession, it really does take a lot out of a person. I remember my first... not the first I saw, which was my sister's, the first demon I vanquished back into their own realm. After my training and a mission in Africa, I returned home and felt I could do more. More than giving a sermon to a congregation of sinners, more than listening to individuals tell me their sordid details, and more than putting kids through a rigmarole of the Sacraments. To say children wouldn't enter heaven because they were not baptised is a shameful statement. The longer I stayed as a parish priest, the more I despised the practices of the Catholic Church. I knew there was a division who conducted exorcisms, I had seen them myself, I just had to connect with the right people. After some research, I demanded to see the Cardinal of Ireland. He refused, of course, but that didn't stop me from wanting to talk with the little bollocks. I kept track of his diary, which didn't take long, and followed him on many of his visits around Ireland. I bided my time, and I finally followed him into a public toilet containing three stalls. He went into the one farthest from the door, I went in the middle cubicle.

"Cardinal Burn," my voice echoed throughout the bathroom, "I'm Father Jack Malone. I have been trying to talk to you for many months now. I want to be on the 'other realm' team."

"This is not the time or place to discuss this topic. Make an appointment with my secretary," he answered.

I could tell he was not amused.

"Stop talking shite, will ye. I've tried that... numerous times. You've avoided every call, every invite. I'm sick and tired of trying to meet you in the middle here. I had to be proactive and take the bull by the balls."

Cardinal Burn nearly choked on his cough.

"You're insubordinate. I won't have it."

"And I won't take no for an answer. My sister was a victim, I understand what I'm getting into. You put me forward for the 'other realm' team, and I won't bother you in the crapper again."

He grunted and flushed the toilet.

"Leave it with me and leave me alone from now on."

The dirty little fucker ran out the door and didn't wash his hands. That is a pet hate of mine. If someone shakes his hand now, they're practically holding his balls in their palm. I'm glad he left the room, I didn't want to thank him with a handshake.

2

A week later, the phone call came. Father Seán invited me over to his quaint apartment in the suburbs to talk. When he opened the door, his short and stout frame was opposite to what I expected from someone who fights demons to look like, and opposite to my tall, lanky frame. He already knew everything about me, so I didn't need to talk about Katherine or my mission.

"You're on the team, Jack, this is just a formality. I wanted to meet you before we receive a call. I know you've seen an exorcism, but have you ever closed a large portal?"

I didn't know, I hadn't seen a large open portal before. Just the one the Father's opened to suck that bastard out of my sister.

"Nope, never. Only the minor ones that suck those fuckers back to their realm."

Father Seán explained the different realms, that we know of, and what some are capable of. What shocked me most was the realm that focused on kids to devour, only because the slimy fuckers were a little shorter than most adults and easily overpowered most kids. I blocked my mind and covered my ears with invisible muffs so as not to hear what they did with the kids once they sucked them through the portal. Some want slaves, and they're mighty fuckers. Giants I suppose. They look just like us, yet on a bigger scale, and their eyes are close together. I believe this is where the legends of giants and the cyclops come from. Over the next couple of hours, Father Seán went through every realm and exorcism he'd encountered. My jaw hit the floor a couple of times, reality smacked it open and shoved a dose of the real world down my throat.

It was three weeks later when my first assignment came in. I nearly shit my pants, it had been so long since I saw someone in that condition. I was nervous, and my stomach churned. I vomited.

Pull yourself together, Jack.

We drove to Dublin city centre in a van, this was before we had the paddywagon, and parked outside a large block of apartments. Six priests jumped out of the van and Father Seán rang the buzzer for apartment six on the fourth floor. Buildings were never too high in Dublin. We scuttled upstairs, by the drunk on the steps, hollering his incoherent rant, until he saw the white collar, then it was like - "Oh, hey der, Fatherz. Godz bless, Godz bless."

The smell of piss and shit drifted up my nose, my feet moved a little quicker away from him. I heard a loud fart while we were a floor above and an echoed slur.

"Shorry, shorry, Fathers."

When we found the apartment, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up like a meerkat watching for a predator. I shuddered, and dread crept over my soul; I hadn't felt this way since my sister. My body wouldn't move, it wouldn't go through the door frame.

"Are you okay, Jack?" asked Father Seán.

"I can feel it. It's fighting to hold on, but she's strong and is desperately clutching to life, her life," I answered.

The dumbfounded expression on Father Seán's face said it all. "I never said it was a girl. How did you know?"

I didn't know, my senses were on high alert, and I felt its presence. My gut, my instincts, my sixth sense... one of them, all of them wedged into the crevasses of my brain. I shrugged my shoulders and forced my body into the apartment by holding onto the frame and pulling. It didn't want me there.

Father Niall, Ronan, Tadhg, and Ruaidhrí were preparing the religious 'fake' tasks, like the holy water, the Bible, and the crucifix. Father Seán took me aside and handed me salt. A little canister of salt. My brows covered half of my vision...

'Huh?'

"Their weakness is salt. It burns their skin, it hurts them. We don't know why, the pagans discovered it centuries ago with dried sea salt."

At that moment, I experienced a flashback of when my sister was surrounded by priests. They sprinkled white dust everywhere. I didn't know what it was at the time. Reality just hit me then and there, no wait... Father Seán just slapped me across the cheek.

"Snap out of your daze, will ye. I need your head in the game. The fecker keeps staring at you and snapping."

I hadn't even looked at the girl when I walked in, I think subconsciously I was afraid to. Maybe because of the terror I felt as a boy with my sister. Maybe it was because I knew it felt me, too. One thing was for sure, neither of us were happy to be in each other's company.

"Get him out! Get him out!" it screamed, in such a deep hoarse voice. Her parents stood against the wall and wailed when they heard this voice projecting out of the fragile body of their little girl.

"Stop it, Janice. This is not you," her mother said.

I turned to see a tiny girl spitting yellow slime down her cheek and gnashing her teeth. She growled and squinted her eyes. "Yes, you. Get out of here."

It was then I knew this was my calling, my destiny. It feared me. All eyes in the room rested on me, waiting for a word, a reaction. I shrugged my shoulders like it was no big deal, but secretly I was trembling inside. I didn't want to show the demon my weakness.

It hissed and pulled the restraints holding the girl's arms. They had to use net stockings as cuffs, belts and rope were too big, those little hands would slip through most. Her mother and father knelt on the ground and held their hands together in prayer. Oh boy, like that's going to help.

When I reached closer to them, their eyes opened, and they raised their heads in unison. Scratches decorated the delicate skin, with purple bruising on cheeks and eyes. Their shame etched into the blackness of the coagulated blood in the centre of each scratch, their guilt shone on the blood spots under their skin.

"Trust me. There is nothing you could do to prevent this from happening, and it's not your fault." Father Seán squeezed their shoulders in support. He asked them to do menial tasks to keep them busy while we worked on Janice. Father Niall assessed the girl's eyes and checked her vitals.

"It isn't a late stage possession, this is not gonna be too hard," he said.

Father Tadhg, a tall, dark skinny man, read from the Bible while Ruaidhrí, blond with blue eyes, splashed the water on the bed. The demon just laughed at their attempts, not knowing the real fight was about to come. Father Seán and I sprinkled the salt on the body. It roared out of Janice's little mouth. As I crumbed the salt from my fingers, the skin blistered and little puffs of smoke accumulated and spiralled up towards the ceiling. Scorch marks spread like wildfire.

"Leave her now before you end up in oblivion," Father Seán demanded. He took two black crystals from his pocket, tourmaline, and rubbed them. Crystals are pyroelectric, which generates electricity and stores an electrical charge, causing it to release negative ions and infrared radiation.

A portal opened, and the vacuum sucked the demon from its tiny host. It held on to her being with all its might. A high-pitched scream came from the doorway, Janice's mother, anchored to the ground, hollered from the bottom of her lungs and her face looked like a slapped arse. We do our best not to let the parent or parents see that part, the fright could make them pass out. If they had a weak heart, who knows what damage it would do.

"For fuck's sake. Father Tadhg, get her outta here," ordered Father Seán.

Father Tadhg gently pulled the terrified statue of a woman outside the room and into the kitchen and advised the panicked husband to give her something strong to drink.

In the meantime, during the kerfuffle, the demon tried to re-enter its host.

"Quick," Father Seán passed me the crystals. I think he wanted to see how I reacted under pressure. The portal had diminished in size and lost its vibrant colours. I rubbed the crystals, and within seconds, the portal expanded, flashed brightly, and sucked the demon from her soul and back into its realm. The only legacy it left was the echo of a shriek which quivered my eardrum.

The other priests stood with their mouths gaped in astonishment.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Did ye see tha'?" Father Niall nudged Seán in the arm. His red nose, from years of alcohol abuse, twitched in amazement. I suppose this job would drive you to drink. You could tell he drank the hard stuff like vodka and whiskey, otherwise he'd have a beer belly and look like a pigeon with those skinny legs.

"Yes, I did." Father Seán didn't say much after that. He said a brief farewell to Janice, her parents, and us, then said he had to go somewhere.

Did I do something wrong?

3

At home, after a pint with the lads in the pub to celebrate our victory, a loud bang on the door awoke me from a snooze on my chair. My heart raced, thinking my house was on fire and I didn't know about it. When I peeked through the spyhole, I saw the back of a vertically challenged white-haired man. It was Father Seán. I slowly opened the door and welcomed him in.

"What can I do you for at this time of night? Is something wrong, Seán?"

"Take a seat, Jack. I need to talk to you."

I pointed towards the sofa and gestured for Seán to sit, and I sat in my old comfy reclining leather chair. It was worn down to the threads, but I would never get rid of it. Every evening I slid into my imprinted groove that my arse had made over the last ten years.

"Jack... I'm getting too old for this line of work. I want you to take over the running of the team. Listen and don't interrupt. I know what you're gonna say... you've only attended one exorcism, but you're a natural. Actually, you're more than a natural. I think this is your calling, your destiny. I have never seen anyone open a portal and suck in a demon that quick. I know it wasn't a late stage, but that demon feared you. I've never seen that before," he said, scratching his head. "The thing is, I'm sick. I've got cancer and not long left. My brother invited me to Australia for my last few months, he's the only family I have left in this world. So, will you do it?"

How could I refuse?

"Of course, Seán. I'm sorry to hear you've got that blasted cancer. It has taken many a good person too soon. I'm sure there will be a few teething problems, but you've got a great team, and it would be a privilege to take over."

I heard he passed away four months later, but he did see the Sydney Opera House, visited the Uluru, and swam in the great barrier reef. So I heard. If I was gonna die, I would do those, too.

4

We've had our ups and downs in the team since then. A few were annoyed I'd been given the badge to lead the team, specifically Tadhg and Ruaidhrí, so they took up locations in other regions, one in Asia and the other in South America, leading the teams there. Soon after, we had new members like Father Gavin and Father fuckface Conor. I really should stop calling him names, but I can't help it. He drives me nuts with the same fecking statement after every exorcism or portal closure.

When we received the call about a large portal, I was nervous. I don't know why, but my gut instincts told me this was going to be difficult. One that would leave a lasting impression on me, and not in a good way. My blood pressure went through the roof, and my left eye started to twitch. This was bad, really bad. It opened up near a shopping centre, which meant lots of people would be in the vicinity, all ages. Portals which open near playgrounds and schools are after children, this realm didn't care how old its victims were. That was a bad sign.

We arrived at the scene, and already the area felt like a twister had hit, with leaves and other debris, mostly rubbish, flying around. A McDonald's burger box hit Father Ronan in the face, dirty brown lettuce with tomato pips stuck to his chin and pockmarked cheek.

"Fuck's sake, it's always me. Bloody lettuce." He wiped it from his chubby face and retched with the stench of rancid mayo.

"Hungry?" laughed Father Niall and playfully thumped him in the shoulder.

We turned a corner at the back of the shopping mall to see a massive portal, about ten feet high and eight feet wide. Luckily, the public hadn't accessed the area, and there were no casualties...yet. We needed to get this cordoned off, and quickly. We had a team to help board it up, they were volunteers from the public who knew all about our challenges, mostly due to being affected by other realms in the past. However, this was the largest portal the team had ever encountered and the barrier wasn't big enough this time. We could actually see the realm on the other side. Typically, realms are blocked by streams of light and a fusion of ions. This was a different kettle of fish. What I saw, I just couldn't explain. It was a vast landscape of derelict ancient buildings, the land was barren with scorched earth from a blazing sun, not a drop of water or plant to be seen.

In the distance, a mirage blocked my view until I saw it, and an army like no other, only a mile away. I couldn't count, there were thousands, spread across the landscape. About twenty elephant-like animals, except with no trunks, thundered towards the portal. They carried warriors with spears held high in the air and ready to throw. Ten sabretooth-like tigers, the size of rhinos, roared with aggression waiting to tear victims asunder. Then a mass of giant humanoid being with sharp teeth, bulging muscles, and geared up to the hilt with weaponry. I noticed a female one to the side of the front group, her eyes were white, her hair long and scraggy, and covered in jewellery made from bones. A bone with a sharpened end stuck out of every limb. Her body shook violently as her arms were outstretched towards the portal. She was their demon witch, their portal creator. She is probably the one that sends the spirits of demons to possess our people, to infiltrate us.

They marched forward, and by my guess, they would be through in thirty minutes.

"OMFG!" Father Niall said after he'd seen the army. Blood drained from his face; he couldn't handle such a sight.

"We need to take that witch out before they reach the portal," I said and scanned the list of shops listed in the shopping centre. Only security was there at this time of night, which was ideal for this scenario.

"OMFG!" Father Niall said again, his legs were still stuck to the same position.

"Snap out of it, Niall," I shouted.

I knew there was a sports shop inside with archery gear, I needed the new compound bows and fibreglass arrows.

Why did they have to make them so complicated?

I hadn't shot a bow and arrow since I was a teenager, and that was with one I'd made myself. I was a good shot though, we always had hare stew when required. These bows had cables, for fuck's sake, I would struggle with it.

After explaining that I really am a priest and the urgent good versus evil fight, the security guards finally let me take the bow and arrows. We didn't have much time.

I returned to the portal with the army less than half a mile away. I left Ronan and Gavin to work on the portal and rub the crystals in the hope they might be strong enough to close the portal. They had little effect, it was too strong. I had to take the witch out, which was not something I liked doing. Taking a life is far from what I want to do, but they're not coming here to possess, they're here to attack and kill. They may not know about our weaponry and armies, but I didn't want any casualties on our side.

I perched on a rock and inserted the first arrow, I had hastily grabbed just the pack that came with the bow, counting them now, I only had five; perhaps I should have brought more, but there was no time to go back now. I pulled the string and aimed for the body of the witch. If I aim for the head, I might easily miss. I aimed through the peep sight and let go. Oh, fuck, I was miles off. It fell to the ground about ten feet in front, I had to increase the draw weight by about twenty pounds if I was to be anywhere close. The witch screeched when she saw what I was up to, and the ones at the front of the army threw spears my way. They weren't close enough, but the spears were bigger than me, I was definitely intimidated. I pulled the string again and the arrow flew by her waist. Okay, now we're getting somewhere. The lads stood behind me, all in awe of my shots.

Gavin nudged Niall.

"Did you know he could do that?"

"OMFG!" Niall answered and stared at the army.

"No, none of us knew," answered Ronan.

I realised I hadn't taken into consideration the pulling power of the portal, it distorted the direction of the arrow.

I adjusted my position, lined up another arrow, and used the peep sight to aim for her chest. I glanced down beside me at the pair of arrows lying in wait, before I turned my focus back to the witch. Sweat dripped down my forehead, onto my nose, past my lips, and gathered on my chin. My heart raced, I felt my pulse in the fingertips pulling the string, they were purple now.

C'mon you fucker.

I let go and watched it, we all did. It flew up and then glided downwards towards the witch.

"OMFG!"

"Shut up, Niall," shouted Ronan, "before I thump you in the mouth."

The arrow penetrated her shoulder, flinging her back and she howled in pain and anger. Sparks flew from the portal, and it decreased in size. With the army only a couple of hundred yards away, their spears were closing in. She broke the shaft and threw it with temper before returning to her trance-like state to open the portal to its original size. No time to think, I placed another arrow in.

Shit, this is really cutting it close.

I let go, and it hit straight into her side, who knows what organ that hit, their anatomy would probably be different from ours. Again, the portal collapsed a little, she fell backwards and broke the shaft of the arrow off. Her determination was more apparent than before and she chanted her mantra to keep the portal open.

Go down, please.

This was the last one, our only hope. If only there was a god to bless this. I thought of my sister, my brothers in arms here with me for this fight. I couldn't let them down, they would be the first to die if those monsters got through.

I aimed at her and breathed slowly, this was it... I had to do it. I closed my eyes and released the arrow. I didn't open my eyes, I couldn't bear it if I missed or did little damage again. I heard a yell of excitement from Father Ronan.

"You did it, you lucky fuck."

I opened my eyes to see the demon witch swaying from side to side, holding her throat. I'd hit her right in the windpipe. Whatever fluid was in them, their blood, must have been choking her. Sparks flew from the portal, it decreased in size. The army was only yards away now, and the look of disgust and defeat on their faces was a relief. Not that this would ever be over, they would try again, and again. Gavin was at the portal, helping it close more quickly with the crystals. We couldn't risk even one getting through, we weren't equipped to fight demon warriors.

"OMFG!"

I'd had enough and slapped Niall across the face. "Snap out of it. It's over. You seriously need to stop saying that before I stop ye, ye little fucker."

It was only a small hole now and would close any second. Gavin turned in delight, wiping his brow in disbelief that we'd done it.

I saw it coming, as quick as lightning, but I couldn't say anything in time. It pummelled through him like a hot knife through butter. One demon had thrown a spear through the portal just before it closed. Gavin's gaped eyes of terror and pain melted my soul. I jumped to him as the tip of the spear fell forward and he slid downwards. Deep red blood erupted from his mouth and painted his clothes and the ground around him.

I turned him towards me, tears flowed from his eyes.

"I don't want to die. Please, don't let me die," he begged.

'Shhh. It's okay, you'll be fine."

His eyes remained open even though the lights had extinguished, and I gently placed my fingers on his lids to close them.

"OMFG!"

"Don't fucking start that again," I said through gritted teeth and welled up eyes.

How am I going to tell his parents and the church?

I didn't know what to do, I just knew it needed to stop. Grave after grave, I got tired of burying my friends. I don't know if I can continue to live with this, the guilt. I'm their leader, and I let them down. Maybe Father Seán chose wrong, maybe I'm not strong enough to do this. My heart ached, my soul in turmoil. I'm sorry Gavin, so, so sorry.

About the Author

D.J. Doyle is the author of multiple horror and thriller novels and short stories from extreme horror to comedy horror. Check out her website at:

www.djdoyleauthor.com

## SORRY'S SUCH A LITTLE WORD

## A SHORT STORY BY JO ZEBEDEE

"Sorry." That's the best I could do? I mean, what use is that, as a warning. I straighten up, my back knackered from being cramped up in the Time-Pod, and I say, harshly, to myself, "Try not to be an asshole this time."

I will try. My track record promises little, however.

Okay. Parameters. I'm here, one day in the future, right where I told myself to be and I have no idea why. The message was urgent, flashing as red as the blood covering the white walls.

Get here. One day hence. Do it quickly.

Well, as quickly as a Time-Pod can be activated. Gone is the jumping-in-and-zipping-back-to-the-Battle-of-Hastings freedom. Now we have to check for leaks, for history-that-has-been-tampered-with-and-don't-bloody-do-it-again, for supplies, for meds, for every sodding thing under the sun. And while that was going on, my self was here, in the future, getting himself killed by the look of it.

Which gives me – I glance at the chronometer, already adjusted to the now – around 40 minutes to get my ass in gear and solve things.

Here's what I know:

The installation I am in has no doors to gain entry, or to exit from. It was designed as a tomb, and that's what it is. But the local population were adamant. In their backyard, yes (with suitable reparation) but not with potentially walking corpses. Hence, the Time-Pod, which can go in and out as needed. It's not what they're designed for, but a contract is a contract, even a poxy service contract. Mostly it's an open-the-valve-check-the-reading-audit-scarper scenario. But not today.

All of this also means I'm surrounded by bodies. Frozen, yes. But still bodies. And, yes, for the record they creep me out. Big time. Their tubes – cryrogenic chambers, to be precise, but a tube's a tube – surround me and their faces look in my direction. That's creep-out-city in anyone's language.

So, first things, first. Count the bodies. Check the chambers. Make sure none of the bodies are moving, or look – dare I say it? Fresh.

Okay. 57 bodies. That's the sign-up rate so far, mainly because of appeals against wills. It's expensive to be down here. It takes huge, ongoing, investment, which takes Trust-funds and disinheriting your kids. None of which is going down well with the relatives. We have 57 down here and another 100-odd up above, waiting for the legalities to be sorted and them turned into a permanent popsicle.

So. Not spooky at all, Matt. Just a load of bodies. Don't think of the blood on the wall, or the desperate message. Especially; don't think of the time passing.

But it's now only 30 minutes to my cry for help. Just saying.

First ten bodies, all in place, all frozen, their bodies caught in a stance that tells you their back will be killing them for about a decade when they get revived. All at the right temperature, nothing to see, move along. Don't wonder if I did all this last time and if I'm just walking myself into whatever trouble I found.

Next ten. All good. 25 minutes.

Next ten. Popsicle-city. One's tiny and that one always catches in my throat. Who freezes their kid like this? I'm down to 20 minutes and I have no idea what's going on down here.

Deep breath. The next bodies are in the older chamber. Read for that the give-you-the-creeps-for-a-year chamber. I duck in, through the low entrance (because why have nice wide doorways a man can see through if you can get to scare the proverbial out of your service engineer instead) and into the First Chamber.

In here, we have the founder of the programme – Mr Den Tucker, no less – his wife, two grown up kids and the board that supported him. There are three spaces left for his grandkids. Sometimes I imagine them all waking up and sitting down in their chambers to take stock, and that weirds me out. Sometimes I imagine Tucker watching me. I try not to, right now, but still I look at his chamber, at the frosted front, at the shape of him behind the glass and it's all I can do not to run.

Check, fine. 17 minutes. Check, fine: check, fine: check, fine: 15 minutes. Now 10. Of course I'm not thinking about the time. But in 6 minutes I'm going to sound an alarm, and then there will be blood, and I'm going to say sorry to myself.

All the checks are complete. All the bodies are frozen. There is no way in and out of here without a Time-Pod, and there are only three of those.

A soft noise brings me to alert, a displacement of air like a hollow thud. A sound I know well, and I realise I'm in the wrong place, that this chamber is not the danger, that I should be out there, with my pod, not buried back here. I feel around, looking for something – anything – useful, and my hand closes on a loose stone. A good size. Big enough to hammer something with.

My heart is literally trying to crawl out of me as I slip towards the entrance. I scrunch against the old wall and try not to think about the living things that must be down here. Rats, and spiders as big as the rock in my hand. Not a helpful thought, that. They have eight legs. And eight eyes. And I hate them.

The soft scuff of feet is familiar and I know who is out there. Adrienne. My heart starts to beat a little too hard; my hands break out in a sweat. I thought she was onto me last week when she checked the records of my pod. Honestly, you'd think having an affair with a woman dead for 500 years would keep you safe but not from your wife. Not mine. She read the records, she asked why I kept going back to 16th century Caerphilly – I know, I know, but you find love where, and when, you do – and who the bitch was.

My wife doesn't take prisoners. She'll have chosen this ground well. I can't help but think of the three empty cases. I know which of us end up in one. I'm a dick, yes, and I've dicked around – throughout time, even – but I'm not a killer.

Hell, I even let the rock go and I know I'm an idiot, and I'm no doubt the same idiot as I was when I sent the last message, but I still step out, and straighten up, and then call out, "Hi, honey." (That really gets Adrienne pissed.)

Silence meets me, and I admire her poise. I have no doubt she can, and will, do the job needed. I have no doubt I'll be in a case by the end of this hour. But still I go forward, to the Time-pods, because maybe, just maybe, I'll work it out quicker next time. Or, perhaps, I can leave myself a better message. More detailed.

I reach the pods and she's not there. I go into mine, enter a call for help and then look around for something to write some detail on. Something to tell myself to get out, that there's nothing dead trying to do for me.

But a noise makes me turn, and there she is, ninja-like, all in black. In the stark light of the pod her eyes meet mine and I can't look away. Damn, she looks good.

"Tell me I'm wrong," she says and, if I was a good liar, that would be my way out. But if I was a good liar, I wouldn't be here. She'd have believed me when I'd told her I was investigating the monks of Wales, not checked to see if I'd got my domination right. Cistercians, Dominicans, they're all monks to me.

I spread my hands. "Honey. We can talk about this. Move past it."

The slightest tip of her head warns me of her move and I dive, and roll, and make it from the pod, but she's after me, and I have no time. I grab her, twist her. She's faster than me, and more practiced – she could always take me in a fair fight – but I have a good angle and I know what I intend to do.

This time, she's the one backed against my Time-Pod. A quick heave, and she's inside. A slap and the door closes. I send the Pod off with a displacement of air that knocks me to the ground, as quickly as the oh-no moment hits me and I realise what I've done. Ahead of me, scrawled on the wall, is the single word, picked out in blood-red by Adrienne. Sorry. It unmans me. Brings me to my knees as I realise what it means.

My pod will revert to its pre-set co-ordinates. I've sent Adrienne straight to Gwyn. The coordinates I've patched over, so carefully, so many times, and I've sent her to them.

I get into her pod and begin the inputting from memory. It takes too long. I'll be too late. Adrienne will have done all she wants to.

Poor Gwyn, dead 500 years ago and about to meet that death. I'm sorry, I say, just as Adrienne did. It's a game to us, who come, and then go, who leave destruction behind that we do not need to face. But today the game is real, and I've killed Gwyn, just as surely as if I'd done it myself.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. It's meaningless. It's useless. But I still am.

About the Author

I write books about people, both science fiction and fantasy, either in my space opera world of Abendau, or on the streets of Belfast. An Amazon bestseller in Space Opera and Alien Invasion, a brief moment of knocking Star Wars off the number one spot was a high point of excitement in my writing life.

www.jozebedee.com

## Tally

## Ashley Ford

1

The dull drone of my tattoo needle never failed to put me in a peaceful zone. My life could be in shambles, everything around me insane but the moment I clicked on my gun, it all vanished. Cocooned by the comforting noise, I lost myself in my artwork. Every tattoo became personal to me because they were personal to my clients.

At 25, most would wonder how a petite 5'5 brunette with freckles, glasses, and big green eyes came to own a tattoo shop. It was left to me by my mentor, Rafe. A big bear of a man with a bark meaner than his bite and a heart bigger than he let on. At 16, he caught me stealing from the store next door to his business and offered me an internship instead of juvie.

I looked up to him and wanted to ink people just like he did. I spent years drawing and honing my skills, eager to make him proud of me. Little did we both know, he would kick it from a massive heart attack only 3 years after I legally picked up the gun. He was like the father I never had, and I promised to honor him the only way I knew, by becoming the best freaking artist I could be.

"Okay. That should do it. Damn, girl, you took that like a champ," I said to the waiflike blonde currently face down on my table.

I had just completed a huge phoenix on her back, the red and gold flames practically billowing off her delicate, pale skin. The girl definitely had a high pain tolerance, only asking for one break in our 3-hour session.

"Thanks, Rocky. I can't wait to see it."

As she took the hand-held mirror I offered and approached the wall mirror to admire my work, I sighed and looked around my shop. It was Monday night so business was slow, but my other two artists each had a client.

Duke bobbed his head to the music blaring from his earbuds as he etched out an intricate flower on the right forearm of his customer. The music kept him from noticing the girl was staring at him, clearly infatuated and who could blame her. At over 6 feet tall, he was movie star handsome with dark hair, a chiseled jaw, and a gorgeous grin. One look from his arctic blue eyes made most women swoon. Add to that he was an amazing artist, I considered myself lucky to have nabbed him.

As luck had it, I ran into Duke 3 years ago in a nearby coffee shop. After nearly spilling my hot latte down his shirt, he commented on my full sleeve and I discovered that he was new in town and looking for work. The other booth belonged to Reese, who had been on for a year and a half. He was kind of quiet, short and thin with long blond hair and brown eyes that didn't miss much. He was a total gamer and a bit of a nerd, but he was my nerd.

They both were like brothers to me. I appreciated them taking a chance, picking my little shop to showcase and profit off their skills. My shop was modest, but booth rent was still $300.00 a month, no exceptions. Duke had been in the game ten years while Reese had only been tattooing for 3 but the kid had talent, no doubt about that. The three of us did alright together.

I stifled a smile, sneaking a glance at the newbie who was currently inking a name surrounded by hearts on his client's upper arm. He hated fluff pieces, but I always told him, give the people what they want and make your money. He would get around to doing the bad ass art he loved and excelled at. Standing, I stretched and cashed out my satisfied customer before cleaning my station. I didn't have anyone else booked for the day and was about to offer a lunch run to the guys when the bell above the shop door chimed.

I popped my neck and turned only to freeze. The man that sauntered in gave me pause. He was taller than Duke and twice as buff. His coffee colored duster had seen better days, but they matched his worn boots and his chestnut locks were in desperate need of a trim.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

I approached, noting his nearly black eyes swept up and down me before returning to my face.

"Lookin' to get some work done today?" I asked, stopping behind the desk toward the front of the building.

He nodded slowly, rubbing the dark stubble that covered his chin and moving toward the far wall that was plastered with our combined works. We never labeled them, so customers could make an unbiased choice, but strangely enough every piece he looked at belonged to me.

I glanced back at the guys, who were oblivious to what I was doing, and turned back to find the stranger directly in front of me, invading my personal space. I pushed him back a step with my right index finger and he gave a crooked smirk.

"I know what I want," he finally spoke, his voice like smoke.

"Okay..."

I waited but he didn't elaborate, instead brushing past to stroll to my empty chair.

"Sure, have a seat," I mumbled.

He shucked his coat and didn't hesitate to peel off his formfitting white t-shirt as well. All the saliva in my mouth dried up and I tried to keep it cool and professional, but he was ripped like I had never seen in real life before.

He straddled my chair backwards.

"I need your ID before we do anything."

He turned on the wheels to face me and motioned with his head. I followed the movement to the license that I could have sworn was not on my station table seconds before.

"Gimme a second."

I made copies and had him sign the appropriate paperwork. With the legal stuff out of the way, I settled into my seat beside him.

"Okay, Mr. Smith—"

"Rigel."

"Okay, Rigel. What did you decide on?"

He turned again, giving me the wide expanse of his back.

"A tally."

"A whata?"

"I want a tally mark. Single. Black."

"We do have a $50.00 minimum."

"Fine."

I hesitated. Why would anyone want a single tally mark? Why something so small on such a large area? But I was simply here to please, not question. I cleaned my hands, opened a new needle, and fired up my gun. I drew a straight vertical line on the back of his left shoulder, about 5 inches in length.

"Right. All done."

I went through the steps of wrapping his "tattoo" and rattling off instructions for care.

He paid, tipping me $20.00, and got up to leave.

"Until next time," was all he said and he was gone.

"Hey, space cadet. Lunch?"

Duke's words from right next to me broke my trance since I was staring at the front door after Rigel. I blinked and cleared my throat before flipping him off.

"Yeah, sure, jackass. I'm starvin'."

Two months later....

"You can't tell me you didn't screw him, Rock."

"Fine, I won't tell you then."

"You can't fool me. I know you," Duke tried again to psych me out, but I was sticking to my story.

Honestly, I was a bit embarrassed about how my date had ended last night.

Ethan had been asking me out for a while. We often ran into each other in the neighborhood since he worked at the auto store a few blocks from us. He was cute enough, a bit too nice for my liking, but I finally gave in. After dinner and a movie, we went back to my place and...I woke up to find him gone. Apparently, I fell asleep on the couch, fully clothed and he bailed. That explained why he wasn't answering my calls or texts. But I wanted to speak to him to at least apologize and find out what happened.

We had had a few drinks, but I wasn't drunk, and I don't remember being tired at all. It was just unlike me. I tried to put it in the back of my mind and prepare for my regular client that was due to walk in any minute. Every Monday for the last few months, he came in at noon like clockwork for an addition to his tattoo. Reese was on the phone booking a client for the following week while Duke was pestering me about my love life.

"I'm telling you, it 'aint right. A chick like you should not be single. I don't get it."

I flipped the page of the latest Rebel Ink, half listening to what he was saying.

"Maybe I like being single, Duke. Ever think of that? I can hook up with who I want, when I want and I'm good with that."

"See, you say that, but I call bullshit. Women aren't like men. We can do that but you guys, eventually want more. Always."

I rolled my eyes and closed my magazine.

"How about this? When I'm 50 and still single, then we can panic."

I chucked the magazine at him and he caught it with a chuckle.

"Fine. Backing off now."

I saw him just about to add something more, when I was saved by the shop door bell. Thank you, Rigel. I asked Reese to get his paperwork done so I could set up and Duke came close as I was getting ready.

"What's this guy's deal?" he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, his tattoo is a little weird, don't you think?"

"Duke, yesterday you tattooed a cowgirl on a man's arm riding a penis instead of a bull and you think his tattoo is weird?"

"Ready?"

Rigel's voice made Duke jump and back up a few feet.

"Yep."

I motioned to the chair and as he stripped, Duke hung around.

By now Rigel had ten tally marks across his back in sets of five.

"So, we were wondering—"

"Not we," I corrected.

"Fine, I was wondering what's up with the tally marks? What are you countin', man?"

"You don't have to answer him."

"He's a big boy, Rocky. He can speak for himself."

Reese came over to see what was going on and Duke kept at it.

"Gotta be women, right? A guy like you could be smashing a new girl every night if you wanted."

"It's not women."

"Men?"

Rigel threw Duke a sharp glance, but he only shrugged.

"Hey, nowadays, I have to ask. Uh... how about dusters you've ran through? The one you have on seems like it's on its last leg."

"No."

Reese peered over as I slathered tattoo goo on Rigel's newest tally and covered it. I'd never admit it but there was something that happened when I touched his skin. There was almost a magnetic pull between us whenever I made contact. I wondered if he felt it too or if I was just crazy and imagining things.

"Dude, those kinda remind me of Sunny's clipper tattoos."

"From Into the Badlands?" I asked and Reese nodded.

"Oh, like a body count? Shit, are they for people you've killed?" Duke joked.

He and Reese laughed but I felt Rigel tense under my hands. At the same time, the lights in the shop flickered wildly but then stabilized.

"Dammit, Reese, please check the breaker. Can't have that shit happen in the middle of working on someone."

"On it, boss."

"Are we done here?"

I may have imagined it, but Rigel was being more curt than usual.

"Uh, yeah. You're all set."

He slapped down his payment and usual tip before rushing out the door.

"See, like I said weird," Duke muttered.

2

"Another round?"

"Why the hell not?"

My best friend Mitzi flagged down the bartender as I shook my head. For such a skinny thing, she sure could put away her tequila. Her slender tall figure, blonde hair, and double Ds didn't take long to get some attention. She ordered more shots and plopped down on her seat, her edgy straight bob swinging.

"Finish telling me about this guy."

"There's not much to say. I don't know anything about him."

"But you're interested?"

"I don't know what the hell I am."

She had talked me into a trip to our local watering hole for girl talk and lots of alcohol. Mitzi was the total opposite of me, worked 9 to 5 at a bank, not a tattoo in sight. She had probably never gotten so much as a parking ticket she was so straight-laced. Maybe that's why we got along so well. Sugar and salt, fire and ice, heaven and hell.

We had known each other for 2 years and I considered her more like a sister than a friend. She got me and not many people did.

"I don't know, Mitz. I'm starting to think I'm not meant to be with anyone. I go on dates and then I never see them or hear from them again."

"That's just the alcohol kicking in. You are a total babe and a great catch. If I wasn't straight, I'd date you."

She leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the lips, making us both erupt into giggles.

"Looks like I arrived just in time."

In unison, we both looked at the man standing beside us. We brushed him off and erupted into another fit of laughter as he walked away.

"That was rude."

I almost choked on my next shot at Rigel's voice.

As I coughed, Mitzi pounded my back and stared at Rigel in awe. I could relate.

"What—what are you doing here?" I wheezed.

"Looking to have a drink, that's all."

"What's your poison?" I asked, catching my breath.

"Whiskey."

"First one's on me."

I turned to wave down the bartender while Mitzi eyed Rigel.

"Is that blood on your face?" she asked.

"Must've cut myself working," he replied, brushing at the small, dried specks on his cheek.

"And what do you do exactly?"

"What I have to."

I shot her a "told you so" look. Rigel was far from an open book. I passed him his shot and he gave me an appreciative nod before walking away.

"Roxanne, he is gorgeous! A little scary but still you did not say he was full on hot!" Mitzi screamed.

I shrugged, hiding the fact I got nervous the moment I heard his voice.

"You got it bad," Mitzi laughed and I shook my head.

"I think we both have had enough. We should get outta here."

"Fine, fine. I do have an early morning. Need an Uber?"

"No, I think I'll walk."

"Rocky..."  
"Don't start. I have my blade."

"I know you can look after yourself. I still worry."

"It's only a few blocks. I will call you when I make it home."

The season was starting to change so there was a slight chill in the night air. Didn't bother me, I had so much drink in me I was feeling a bit warm anyway. I started to remove my leather jacket to the black tank underneath but thought better of it. My small apartment was only about a five-minute walk from the bar and I had done it several times so I wasn't worried.

"You shouldn't be walking alone."

I almost jumped out of my skin as I passed the first block and Rigel appeared beside me.

"You plannin' on stabbing me?" he nodded to the boxcutter clutched in my fist.

"To be determined."

I put my blade back in my pocket and continued walking.

He fell into step beside me.

"If it's all the same to you. I would see you home."

"If it makes you feel better."

We walked in silence for several steps, passing darkened shops that had closed hours ago.

There was so much I wanted to ask him, but I couldn't muster the courage, which was unlike me.

"Never seen you this quiet. At the shop, you always have something to say," Rigel said.

"Any question I ask, you won't answer. Why bother?"

He didn't deny it, so we went back to silence.

My apartment came up faster than it ever had in the past and it was time to say goodbye.

"Well, this is me. Thank you for the escort—"

"Can we go out? Tomorrow?"

I blinked rapidly at his question.

"What?"

"Just to grab something to eat?"

"Sure?"

He took my questionable response in stride, giving me a tight smile and watching until I made it safely into my apartment. I texted Mitzi as promised, omitting my meeting with Rigel, before stripping down and snuggling into bed with my grey Maine Coon cat, Felix, to fall asleep.

3

"You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks, Reese."

"Late night with Mitzi? You imbibed too much, didn't you?"

"No. I just didn't sleep well. Nightmares."

"What about?"

"I don't remember."

But they were bad enough that I woke with long scratches on my arms. I'd never hurt myself in my sleep before and I wondered just what I was dreaming about. I self-consciously pulled on the long-sleeved plaid shirt I had worn to cover the marks. The heat of summer still lingered so my saving grace was the top's off the shoulder style.

"By the way, I'm taking my lunch out today."

"Why? You always eat here."

"Just because, kid. Is that alright with you?"

Reese shrugged and went back to sketching in his pad. Duke was busy working so I didn't have to hear any crap from him. His client took him over into lunch, so I hurried out before he gave me the 3rd degree.

I met Rigel across the street from the shop and suggested lunch at the park that was within walking distance. They had several food trucks and I was craving a good fish taco.

"This isn't what I imagined when I asked you to lunch."

I raised my eyebrows as I practically inhaled my third taco.

We'd found an empty bench in the least populated part of the park. Rigel was barely eating, instead watching everything around us with an annoying alertness. Of course, that was when he wasn't studying me like a hawk.

"So... you from around here?"

"Born and raised," I responded around a mouthful of food.

"Siblings?"

"Nope."

"Parents?"

"Dead. Skipped out of foster care and been on my own since I was 14. What about you? Where are you from?"

"Here and there."

I stopped chewing to narrow my eyes at him.

"What?"

"You can't ask me 20 questions and not give me anything in return."

He sighed and stretched one leg out in front of him, elbows perched on the back of our bench.

"My life, my background... not worth telling. Trust me."

We were interrupted by the cutest little girl with pigtails and a Scout's outfit. An older woman, her mother I assumed, stood watching in the distance, with a black dog on a leash.

"Excuse me. Would you like to buy some cookies?"

Rigel shook his head, but I couldn't say no to that face.

"How many you got, sweetie?" I motioned to the green satchel she carried.

"Ten boxes."

The dog growled and barked once in our direction. I smiled at the little cutie.

"Okay, I'll take them all."

She and Rigel looked at me like I had two heads.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really?!" she echoed, her blue eyes wide.

"Yeah. How much do I owe you?"

As I stood and reached for my wallet it fell from my fingers. Rigel bent to retrieve it for me from beside the little girl's foot when the dog went berserk, barking and pulling on his leash.

"Jessica, hurry up, honey. I don't know what's gotten into Bower," the woman called out, barely able to restrain him.

Rigel looked from me to the dog but didn't speak as he passed me the wallet.

Once my sweet treat transaction was done, I realized Rigel hadn't stopped staring at me.

"What?"

"That was nice of you."

"Gee thanks. I do have a heart, you know."

He took a few more seconds to observe my face, his own taking a strange expression.

"I'm sorry. There's some place I have to be."

He left me totally bewildered and looking confused. Like Duke said, weird.

4

"Shit is crazy. Small town like this," Reese mumbled, visibly disturbed.

The three of us were gathered around the flat screen TV in the back breakroom of the shop. The perky reporter on site at our local dump was reporting a body had been found in the early morning hours.

"I can't even remember the last time someone got killed here," I commented, chewing on my thumbnail.

The cameraman panned over the huge mounds of trash and rubble before landing on the cops and CSIs combing the area. One of them stumbled and then stared at the ground before waving his colleagues over. If I wasn't mistaken, he shouted something about another victim and the camera panned back to the pretty newscaster. She told us she was getting new information and would bring an update as soon as possible but it appeared another body had been discovered.

Duke shut the TV off and we stood in silence for a few seconds.

"Okay, guys, I better get ready for Rigel."

But surprisingly, he didn't show up. Nor the following Monday. An entire month passed and he was still AWOL. I thought about him a lot at first, wondered if he was okay and then decided to put him out of my mind. Maybe he had just been passing through town, like many people did.

My nightmares continued. Each time I would wake and couldn't recall the details. My body told their story through scratches, scrapes, and bruises. I was clueless to their origin. Reese had said maybe I was sleepwalking and should set up a camera in my place. I was becoming more receptive to the idea since apparently I'd done something to my cat during one of my episodes. It was all I could figure since he suddenly wanted nothing to do with me and not in the typical asshole cat way of "leave me alone until I want to be bothered". He was genuinely terrified and hissed like crazy whenever I was near.

My crew and best friend were threatening to drag me out by my hair for a social evening since I'd basically become a hermit the last few weeks, so we hit a club around the two month mark of Rigel's disappearance. For me, it just wasn't the same. The discovery of those five bodies in the dump changed my view of what I felt was a peaceful and safe town. Now, I felt on alert all the time, constantly watching my back.

In the middle of the only club we had, I tried to enjoy myself. Duke, Reese, and Mitzi were dancing and drinking and having a hell of a time. My head started swimming and I needed some air. Slipping out without being seen, I leaned against the brick side of the building to light up a cigarette. As I took a long drag and flicked the ashes, I heard a noise to my right.

A man shambled down the street toward me and the hair on my neck stood up. I tensed but he stumbled past without even giving me a glance. Because I was focused on him, I was caught off guard when my right arm was yanked and I was pulled into the alley around the corner.

"What the—get off!" I struggled but he was bigger and stronger than me.

I didn't stand a chance. His face hidden by shadows, the man slammed me into the wall and I saw stars as the back of my head bounced off the hard surface. I pressed the cigarette I'd managed to hold onto into his forearm and he swore before slapping me. The pain left me temporarily blinded and a sweltering heat bloomed in my chest. It spread to my limbs and my vision started to darken when Rigel suddenly appeared behind my attacker.

Without a word, he spun the stranger around with a hand on his shoulder and followed up with a right hook that dropped the man like a bag of rocks.

"You okay?" he asked nonchalantly, but his body still seemed on guard as he watched me.

I took a breath and landed a kick to the creep's stomach with my boot. Rigel stifled a smile and I exhaled loudly, the warmth I'd felt fading away.

"No. I'm not okay."

He seemed to relax once I did.

"Want me to call the cops?" he offered.

"I just want to go home."

I stepped over the unconscious asshat and staggered back toward the club's front. Rigel followed at a distance. As I reached the door, my friends exited, clearly looking for me.

"Roxanne! What are you doing out here?" Mitzi hugged me tight and I snuck a glance at my silent savior.

He had his hands deep in his duster's pockets and was staring at the ground.

"Hey, Rigel. Long time, no see," Reese said, drawing everyone's attention to the addition to our group.

"Uh, yeah."

He turned to me.

"I'll be by the shop tomorrow...a little late if that's alright."

I nodded. After what he did, I would wait all night for him if need be.

Duke asked me again if I wanted him to hang around. Again, I told him no. It was already 9:30 and Rigel hadn't showed yet. Reese had left at 9 for some game tournament. I kind of zoned out as he told me the details of it.

"Duke, I'll be fine. I'll call if I need you."

"Do that. I'll see you."

I locked the door behind him since Rigel was to be the last customer of the night. As I waited, I scrolled Facebook from pure boredom, I kicked back at the front desk. It had been several weeks since I checked it. I was more of an Instagram girl. I paused as I came across Ethan's page. It was filled with RIP comments and messages of condolences.

"What?" I whispered and rapidly scanned his wall, trying to find out what happened.

He was one of the bodies found in the dump several weeks ago. A knock on the door startled me and I put my phone down to open up for Rigel.

"Hey."

"Hey," I said distracted.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, I just found out a friend of mine died."

Rigel's heavy boots followed me into the shop.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. He was one of the people found in the city's dumpsite. I think they're still investigating, trying to find out who killed them."

"Or what. I heard the bodies were torn to shreds. Like maybe a wild animal did it."

I whirled to him in horror, but his face remained neutral.

"Let's get your tattoo done. I'm really tired," I mumbled, annoyed at his callousness.

He started to disrobe.

"I actually need 5 more tallies this time. I didn't want anyone else touching my tattoo while I was gone."

"That's fine."

As I worked, I couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't quite right.

"Since, it's just us...do you wanna tell me what these stand for?" I asked to fill the silence.

He didn't respond. I had finished the fifth when he finally spoke.

"They're from hunts."

"You hunt? Like animals and stuff?"

"Something like that."

I was confused.

Shrugging into his duster, Rigel pulled out the largest blade I had ever seen. Light glinted off the serrated edges. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn't move.

"Wh-what is that for?" I stammered.

"I told you, hunting."

"Okay...well it's cool and all but can you put it away now?"

I gave a weak smile.

"No. I need it."

My smile dropped and I stood slowly while Rigel changed his grip on the weapon.

"What are you doing?" I whimpered, starting to shake.

"What I have to."

I made a dash for the front of the shop. Rigel's hand snagged the back of my shirt, but I didn't stop and the thin fabric ripped letting me make it to the door. As I fumbled for the lock, Rigel crushed me against the glass and switched off the lights before slinging me back. I hit the shop desk so hard, I felt a crack in my rib area and I fought to breathe through the pain.

Crumpling to the floor, I crawled on hands and knees, trying to reach my phone. A boot on the back shoved me flat before Rigel's knife sliced down my right shoulder. Screaming in pain, I somehow got to my feet and put enough distance between us to face him. He didn't seem to be in a rush, instead slowly stalking me.

"Why are you doing this?" I cried.

"It's my job."

My legs banged against my station and I fumbled behind me for the first thing I could put my hands on.

"Stay the hell away from me!"

I lifted the tray that held my ink, sending the small pods flying, and put it between Rigel and me. He stabbed into it and forced his hand down, pushing the tray and protruding blade towards my face. Straining, I was able to wrestle it away and threw the impaled tray to the floor. A lucky kick to Rigel's stomach connected and I made a run for the back of the building.

He caught me half way.

"Could have made this painless but you chose to be difficult," he growled, yanking me around and gripping me by my throat.

He extended his hand and the overhead lights flickered. The blade dislodged itself from the tray and flew through the air into his palm.

"How did you—"

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve. They've kept me alive this long," was all he said before slamming the hilt against my temple.

I sank to my knees in a daze, feeling the blood trickling down my face. Struggling through blurred vision, I still tried to get away, pulling myself along the floor.

"Any last words, Roxanne because you are going to die here."

At his words, a strangely familiar heat erupted in my chest and rapidly spread. A fury rose in me unlike anything I had ever felt.

"No!"

My voice didn't sound like my own and I shoved to my feet. Rigel hadn't approached me and he seemed to be waiting for something.

"Look," he said.

"Wh-what?"

"The mirror, Roxanne. Look in the mirror."

Taking trembling breaths, I slowly turned my head and stopped short.

Glowing green eyes burned back at me. My hair was wild and shaggy and halfway down my back. My limbs were impossibly long. Black claws protruded from my fingers and had torn through my sneakers at my toes. My mouth felt funny and I bared teeth which were razor sharp. I looked half human, half animal.

"What did you do to me?"

"Nothing. This is what you are, Roxanne. A monster that mutilated those people in the dump. You killed them, including your friend, Ethan."

"No. I didn't do that. I didn't hurt anyone. I didn't hurt Ethan," I cried, looking at my hands in horror.

"At first, you black out during transformations, but you will start to remember the bloodshed, the bodies. I'm a hunter sent here to kill you. I left because you didn't know what you are and your human half seemed so...innocent and good. The others I've killed all knew that they were monsters. They just didn't care because the bloodlust had taken hold. I left and hunted elsewhere for a while because I didn't want to go through with it, but they sent me back. If I don't kill you, another hunter will come and finish you off."

This couldn't be real. I prayed I was dreaming but deep down I knew his words were true and I wasn't ready to die. He saw that realization in my eyes and lifted his blade a second before I launched at him with a feral scream. My propelled weight knocked him flat and I shredded his duster with my claws before his blade sliced across my abdomen. The hot pain forced me back and he jumped to straddle me, aiming for my throat.

I caught his wrist with both hands and struggled to keep the sharp tip from puncturing my skin. Rigel grunted with effort, his hand shaking, but I was stronger than I knew. I flipped him over my head and spun to crouch, facing him. On his back, he motioned and the tray shot in my direction but I backhanded it away as he got to his feet. I snarled and loped forward on all fours, dodging the kick he aimed at my face. His blade quickly followed, slicing across my left cheek. Ignoring the sting, I swiped with my right hand, leaving deep diagonal gashes across his chest. Rigel cursed and stumbled back to fall over Duke's chair.

He crashed to the floor and I leapt. Landing on top of him, I latched onto his neck, sinking my six-inch claws deep into the tissue there. Warm blood seeped against my palms. Gurgling, he managed to impale my side, the knife scraping bone. I let out a scream of agony and removed my right hand to plunge it into his chest. My claws gouged deep as I searched for his heart.

"Roxanne, please—" he gasped, and I faltered for a moment before coming to my decision.

I leaned in close to his face.

"You said that I'm a monster, remember?"

"Others will come..." he wheezed.

"Let them."

I tore into his chest cavity, ripped out his heart, and devoured it.

"Roxanne, what the hell happened here?"

Duke and Reese arrived early, before I was finished.

"Guess I'm busted."

I turned to my guys with a grin, before stepping aside to reveal the large round table I had set up in the middle of the shop with donuts, coffee, and breakfast sandwiches.

"What is all this?" Duke asked while Reese just gawked.

"Just a little somethin' to show how much I appreciate you both."

Reese tore into the breakfast and I looked on with a smile while Duke came to my side.

"How'd things go with Rigel?"

"I finished him— finished his tattoo. He said he's leaving the state for work, so he won't be back."

"Can't say I'm not glad about that. Guy gave me the creeps."

I nodded in agreeance. Eating Rigel's heart apparently had restorative side effects for me. All my wounds healed instantly after, leaving no trace of our fight.

"So...I have to confess that all this," I motioned to the spread," was not without ulterior motives. I hoped I could bribe one of you into giving me a tattoo today."

"Of what?" Reese asked, biting into a jelly donut.

I glanced in the mirror on the wall, my eyes glowing green for a split second. I turned back to them with a smile.

"A single tally... but with room for more."

About the Author

I hope you enjoyed my tattoo tally tale. October is my favorite month because I am a huge horror fanatic. I'll admit Halloween is my favorite holiday. I normally write paranormal romance and urban fiction but plan on creating more works in my beloved horror genre. Keep up with me on my Facebook page www.facebook.com/fordashley83 or on Instagram @asha_ford2parker. Happy Reading!

## Freyja's Lost Pack

## Donald Armfield

##

The never-ending battle continues...

An onset slaughter, riding out chilled-wind currents during the winter solstice and its bitter grab it has on the humans. The frigid weather is a frozen constriction, like frozen boa constrictors clenching tightly with its frozen grasp. This time of year, the humans become easy targets, trapped in their own world of what Christmas has to look like; a group of carolers, late night mangers locking up for the night and even the occasional homeless man--drinking away his stolen funds as a donation bell ringer. This year though the humans will get a break in the small town of, Port Delany.

The Heodenings Hoard has rose from their dormant sleep, again. A hibernation of fertility to grow and devour the living. The blood thirsty revenants only surface every four years, in attempt to spread their deathly curse over the humans. They reproduce like ants, feeding the queen until the seed vessel bursts and out comes the scurrying crawlers, morphing into the undead-living. Coming to the surface to strengthen their coven and become the superior-dead, to walk amongst the living. They must be stopped.

*

Our legend begins during the Hjaðningavìg, the never-ending battle against separating the dead into higher powers for the ultimate breed. In turning events before the Ragnarök. Odin resurrected a group of soldiers that had the ability to manipulate mortals and then feed on their blood. Later, the mortals resurrected themselves and carried out the curse to become the superior-dead.

Freyja, (mother,) seen this event coming before it happened. She traded some of her dead with Aesir in exchange for twelve creatures. Mother raised us as wolves, later taming us to become warriors. Our bodies grew in size and the appetite for mortals became large servings, but had to cease. Mother used the power from her gleaming torc, to diminish our hunger with the turn of the moon phrases. Our appetite became scheduled and equally satisfying. Mother then heard of Odin's revenants and the sickness they carried and decided to turn her pack against the Heodenings Hoard. Adding in one more cycle to our eating habits of mortals. A more powerful urge, to devour the wakening of The Hoard on every, fifty-third moon phrase.

After Ragnarök the pack dispersed, traveling to different parts of the world. The immortal living and a hunger to feed became cumbersome, but we would never let down our mother. In the turn of the centuries we became hated by the mortals.

The mortals have such a strong bond with one another and when one of their kind falls dead, they become raged with anger. With this new change of events our pack became the hunted.

The mortals found ways to numb our strength at first. Speaking in verse and calling upon larger Gods with strange artifacts in hand. We had no choice in the matter, but to retreat and full-fill our need to feed on something else during that full lunar phrase. Later the mortals created weapons, made out of silver, that burns when it comes in contact with our bodies. Then we seen one or our brothers from our pack fall dead.

With another change in events we came together and discussed what Mother said, "During a feed, the mortals must be dismembered, so they can no longer walk amongst the living." We tried the opposite of what Mother said. Leaving just one chosen mortal with all its appendages connected, sinking our teeth in, only to drink its warm blood.

During the next completely illuminated phase we could sense our new sibling, even in a different part of the world. That night after the monthly feed we howled a different tone. All of us looking up at the same moon.

Now hear us howl......

Port Delany

15:15 PM

(four hours til sundown)

Unlike most werewolves having a demonic curse or a witch's spell, our only form is a wolf. Instead when mortals are in our vicinity or we cross paths with one, unless they are considered food, our inner-power let's off an aura of shielded vision, disguising our true form as mortal look-alike.

As a pack our strengths become extremely powerful. Raised by a Valkyrie to battle as one but when our powers combine we bring death that reapers can't chase. In other meaning, when we choose to kill a monster, like the filth or The Hoard themselves, those beings astral bodies cross over to an alternate hall in purgatory, where it never returns, closed off by Hades himself.

Our keen scent has brought us to these parts of the Northern Hemisphere. We can smell the filth on the revenants when they rise up and out of the ground. The revenants never change their ways. It's always the night before the solstice and then they shelter themselves, usually in a cave or an old run down factory. The gloomy weather has already moved in, clouds pasted over the dark skies above. The Hoard may already be out there, spilling their repulsing sickness.

The scent became strong, near an old air base used for military training. A few of the bunkers look run-down and weathered. We stop outside a bunker labeled, "Whit's Landing." One of my siblings' barrels through the large wooden doors of the bunker. We all howl at the sight beyond the doors. The revenants have already started transfusions of their repulsive venom. Tarnishing a few adolescent mortals, probably using the base as hideaway to experiment with drugs. The three teenage males and two females lie in puddles of their own blood, the gullet of their necks torn and mutilated. The blood seeping out of the teenager's necks is still warm. Using our strengths as a pack, we finish off the job, ravaging the unbeaten hearts of the poor mortals, before the change of becoming the filth.

A squall of sleet begins to blast out of the skies above. We bound through the freezing rain, down one of the old runways, following the scent of the revenants, coming to a stop near a slope, that travels down into a forest landscape below. The scent passes over the treetops, the revenants have taken flight. We huddle together in a circle and let out a long bellowing howl. With our strengths combined our bodies become one, housed behind sleek black feathers of a raven to take flight and continue pursuing the filth in its tracks.

Upon coming to a clearing overlooking the gloomy skies above. A pile of discarded animal carcass lies in heaping mess. The blood of the animals covering the fallen foliage from the trees of the forest. The revenants must be desperate, either for the taste of blood or in hopes the animals will be sickened by their curse. They must be driven for the thirst of blood, unless they have found a way to spread their filth on the little forest dwellers. To be on the safe side we morph back to wolf form and shred the chest cavities of the little creatures, disposing of their eternal organs. Having a small feast ourselves on the once beating hearts of the little creatures, the taste I have to say is exquisite.

Further into the forest we come to an evacuation site, where a group of lumberjacks has equipment spread out over a fifty-foot radius. The site is at a dead silence, not even a bird can be heard from the treetops above. As the leader of the pack, my siblings follow me into the center of the evacuation site. We can all smell the foulness of The Hoard, but can't seem to get an eye on their hiding spot.

Suddenly a pair of lumberjacks spring out from behind a bulldozer. They are infected by the Heodenings Hoard, hissing at us and ready to strike. Their mouths are open, exposing their fangs, saliva dripping from their hanging tongues. My siblings and I take a fighting stance, digging our paws into the ground, snapping our jaws with a series of barks and fierce growls. Our wolf form quickly alters, growing in size; limbs and torso modifying, bulging into a muscular mortal-form. We stand on our hind legs ready for the infected lumberjacks to make first strike.

The new filth dashes through the air collectively at full force. One of my siblings grabs hold of one of the assailant's throat. His claws dig into his neck and he throws the former lumberjack across the site, tearing a chunk of flesh out of his neck in the process. Myself and two of my siblings catch the other lumberjack in mid-air and begin to mangle its body. Our sharp claws separating flesh from the bone and rupturing its eternal organs. The other cursed-lumberjack makes a second attempt at an attack. It's exposed insides of the neck, looking like an eruption of the esophagus. Our keen reflexes are no match for its attempt. Grabbing hold of the lumberjack and slamming him to the ground. Ravishing and mutilating its corpse, partially chewing on its insides and then spitting them onto the ground.

We take one last look at the corpses of the lumberjacks, then slam our heads back and howl at the full luminescence moon in the sky above. "Aaaaaarrroooo!"

The Hoard will not spread its filth, during this solstice. It will all end before dawn, just like all their other striving years. A struggle to spread their curse in results of failure.

Port Delany

4:18 AM

(one hour til dawn)

We followed The Hoard's disgusting odor to the boarder of the town plaza. The hail and wet weather came to a calm, with small flurries still dusting the grounds. Standing on the boarder of the plaza we can see the early rising humans, getting ready for a day's work. As I mentioned before, our true form quickly alters when a human catches a glance of us. When our bodies morph into normal wolf-form our vulnerability decreases in power. It's our only downfall against The Hoard, as opposed to humans, who have come up with a few ways of killing us. Staying in the shadows and darkened alleyways is our best bet.

A large overnight factory has the strong stench of The Hoard, lingering out of it. We will have to cross the road under the streetlights. We can't risk being noticed by humans. My siblings follow in steps behind me down the darkened alleyway to the edge of the building. As the leader, I peek my head out around the corner and see no mortals in the open. I also notice the factory across the way has a window open on the first floor level. I turn to my siblings and motion toward the open window. We make a dash for it jumping in the window without being spotted.

Individually we scatter throughout the main lobby of the factory, hiding behind pieces of furniture and underneath three different tables, cluttered with various magazines. The lobby is dimly lit by a small lamp on a center table, and a string of floodlights heading down a corridor to the west of the building. I notice there is no humans in sight, so I crawl out of my hiding spot, the pack follows my lead. The stench of The Hoard is very strong, they must be down the other end of the corridor. We move stealthily, retracting our claws inside our paws so they don't click along the tiled floors.

I hear a scream echo overhead, we speed up our trot and barrel down the remaining length of the hallway. The scream came from a room at the end of the hall. The pack and myself enter the room and freeze in our fighting stance. Our lips draw back with a snare, showing our jagged canines. At a quick head count, I notice The Hoard hasn't increased in size since our last encounter. The leader of their hoard and his six stinking revenants, feasting on the overnight staff of the factory.

The Hoard pauses from their pathetic slurping and turn their heads in our direction. They hiss at us, with their dark crimson tongues peeking out along their lip line. Within the blink of an eye we morph into our lupine-superior form. At the same moment one of the revenants flies through the air at one of my siblings. My brother swats at him with a stiff arm, like a buzzing bug. The ugly immortal slams against the wall on the other side of the room. The other five revenants hiss and rise up off the ground and hover over the three corpses of the overnight staff, lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

The battle went one-sided quickly.......

Our enhance capabilities reign supreme;

an inner-rage endowed in our blood, with

a tight seal over the spread, of such filth.

A twenty minute battle; irresistible,

overwhelming to the odds, a waste of time

.....the filth will never multiply

With daylight's crest, just coming over the horizon

a weakness to its curse; dread, fear of vaporizing,

into the landscape---the cross over to alternate purgatory.

Port Delany

5:22 AM

Adieu we HOWL to you...

As the solstice moon fades with the crisp morning sky, I lead my pack north. Disappearing into the morning fog, passing over the forest. The brisk winter weather, feathering the grounds with a light dusting of frozen particles. We find our way up an eminence slope, overlooking the early morning tundra below.

The Heodenings Hoard has failed once again during the quadrennial event. Now they must sleep with their disgust, hidden from existence until further adieu. The mortals that have fallen may have been more, the repulsive curse circling around inside their discarded human vessel's. We will not know for sure until the next winter solstice. The pack will continue to hunt the humans and large creatures to survive. Our immortal existence of one purpose and one purpose only. To keep this filth from becoming the superior-dead.

We arch our neck back and express our love for the orb of the night, with a long melodiousness howl. Aaaaaarrrrooooo!

About the Author

Donald Armfield's active imagination gathers in a heap of words....and after a few days of organizing and a short nap, his dexterous writing abilities compile a masterpiece. (well....that is what he likes to think.) Donald's short stories and poetry has appeared in multiple anthologies, blogs and e-zines. Follow his Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/donald.armfield) to stay updated on future projects and exclusive content.

