Writing Group: Hour of the Wolf

Hello, Packhunters, Watchmakers and Arcadians!

Do you hear that? The children of the night, what—! Oh no…We should really be getting home. No, I’m serious! I’m not afraid of witches! Something much worse comes out at this time, because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

Hour of the Wolf

Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!

You’ve likely heard of the “Witching Hour,” a time between 3:00 and 4:00am when witches and demons are said to be at their most powerful. Now it’s time to give wolves their time in the…moon. 

Ingmar Bergman, a Swedish filmmaker who made a film called “Hour of the Wolf” said “The hour between night and dawn … when most people die, sleep is deepest, nightmares are most real. It is the hour when the sleepless are haunted by their worst anguish, when ghosts and demons are most powerful.”

You could write a story like Bergman’s in which there is truly said to be an “hour of the wolf” when horrible things happen. You could use the Witching Hour for this prompt, but use wolves as the vehicle for evil, and/or supernatural activity, rather than witches or demons. 

Or maybe the “hour of the wolf” isn’t a specific hour. Maybe the word “hour” is a synecdoche for the night as a whole, or a year, or even a decade. Maybe the kingdom in your story has faced years of unrest, and they refer to it in this way. Maybe future generations refer to the time period in which a beast plagued their town like this. 

You could, of course, use this prompt to write about werewolves. The “hour of the wolf” can easily refer to the time someone turns into a werewolf. Your character could wall themselves away, shivering in the corner, fearing the hour of change. Or your character could breathe in the moonlit night air, reveling in the idea of running free and wild as a wolf. You could write a story about a village that has been plagued by (were)wolf attacks each week, or every night, and they board up their windows in anticipation of the hour. 

Or perhaps, in your universe the “hour of the wolf” isn’t an evil time at all. In Greek mythology wolves were associated with Apollo. Wolves are often portrayed as agents of darkness, it seems odd for them to be associated with the god of healing and light. The Jungle Book has been praised by wolf biologists for being accurate to wolves’ less villainous, and more familial nature. Perhaps you could explore these angles. Maybe people look forward to the “hour of the wolf” as a time of blessing, not curse. Maybe in your story the “hour of the wolf” is simply when a wolf pack has dinner together. 

“The hour of the wolf” has a very fairy-tale feeling to it. My challenge for you this week is to find a myth, fairy tale, or fable about wolves, and use it somehow in your story. You could make your story a retelling of the myth, or you could simply reference it, just some sort of connection. (But be sure to incorporate the hour aspect, even if it’s not present in the original!) 

It’s too late now. I hear the music…and I’m ready to join their song. 

—Paul, Pearce and Kaylie

Remember, this is part of our weekly Writing Group stream! Submit a little piece following the rules and guidelines below, and there’s a chance your entry will be read live on stream! In addition, we’ll discuss it for a minute and give you some feedback.

Tune into the stream this Saturday at 3:00pm CST to see if you made the cut!

The whole purpose of this is to show off the creativity of the community, while also helping each other to become better writers. Lean into that spirit! Get ready not just to share what you’ve got, but to give back to the other writers here as well.

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We read at least five stories during each stream, two of which come from the public post, and three of which come from the much smaller private post. Submissions are randomly selected by a bot, but likes on your post will improve your chances of selection, so be sure to share your submission on social media!

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Norman Gray
Norman Gray
6 months ago

The Wolf of Lorwood
By Norman Gray

Nightfall approached. . . Dretcher needed to hurry.

He reached her bedchamber. There, Sorina was waiting. “You sent for me, your Highness?”

“No need for formalities, Dretcher. It’s just us.”

He nodded. “As you wish, Sorina.”

“I need a favour. I require a companion for the Moonlight Masquerade, one month from now. I would like for you to accompany me.”

Dretcher swallowed. It was a death sentence to refuse her. . . She had a reputation; ex-lovers were executed over flimsy accusations, or drafted into seemingly conjured conflicts and shipped away to faraway battlefields, never to return. . .

But if he were to attend the Masquerade, on that night, none would be safe. “I cannot dance.”

Sorina laughed. “You won’t need to.” She eyed him up and down. “How is it, that a fetching fellow such as yourself isn’t spoken for, hmmm?”

Dretcher shrugged. “I prefer solitude.” Outside her bedchamber window, daylight was dwindling. He grew tense. “Will that be all, Sorina?”

She let out a sigh. “We’ve known one another for quite a long time. Haven’t we, Dretcher?”

“Many years.” He’d served under her command during the rebellion against Corizia. . . Back when she’d still been noble, honorable. Sane.

Sorina leaned in close. “I’ve been wondering. All those years ago, when the Wolf of Lorwood slaughtered Corizia, and saved us from an ambush. . . Where were you?”

He said nothing.

“You’d gone missing that night. . . You were never one to flee from duty.”

A terrifying realization struck him. She knew. “You’re not looking for a dance partner.”

Her mouth stretched into a mischievous grin, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Some bothersome individuals will be attending the Masquerade. With the full moon shining above, I want them to meet the same fate that befell Corizia.”

He trembled. This was all too much. “I- I must be going, Sorina.”

“I know, Dretcher.” Another sigh. “Such a shame. . . I’d have loved for you to stay, but-” She looked him over. “Well, something tells me you’ll look far less fetching in the moonlight.”

The cartographers notebook
The cartographers notebook
7 months ago

by the cartographers notebook

When you are born you are given a tooth from the great wolves of the wood. They lend you their senses, their strength, and their instincts. But they don’t give it freely.
Im running through the brush. My sweat is salty like an ocean breeze on my tongue. I can’t think. Only putting one foot in front of the other. 1-2-jump, 1-2-leap.

I can hear them. The snarls.

They will be upon me soon. They will rip me open. Tear the sinew from the bone, drink my blood as it gushes to greet their fangs.

They told me that when the hunt was on me the blood would rush from my feet to my heart and the fear would be banished and I would become one with the wild. That the blood in my ears would become a glorious drum pounding the path ahead.

I now know that they were all liars.

I land on the other side of another tree trunk. My knees give in and I collapse on the floor of the green bed. I can’t feel my feet. My moonlight is blinding me through the canopies, giving me a headache. I’m burning.

The moss is a pillow under my trembling limbs. It’s soft, slowly drinking the red seeping from the countless scratches and bruises on my bare legs and arms.
I grit my teeth, pushing my nails into the ground, pushing myself back on my feet. The blood sings in my ears as I leap back into the dance.

The blood, the beat. The forest, the ballroom. The howling, the song. 1-2-jump, 1-2-leap, 1-2-dance.

The moon is filling my head. Blinds me. Soothes me.

I don’t even see them before they are on me. I don’t scream. Just grip the tooth in my hand as they encroach. But that is how it is.

For when you are born you are given a tooth from the great wolves of the wood.
When a wolf is born they are given a child from the village. We lend them our cunning, our mind, our hope.

And so the hunt continues.

7 months ago

The most annoying hour of the day

by Reinkarnitor

The rooftops were stretching out in front of Fiona. The black-haired girl stood on a chimney and looked over the city, smoke was rising into the air. The petroleum lanterns only partially illuminated the foggy streets below. It was true what they said…it is the darkest before dawn.

‘At this hour even London looks peaceful…but all the stuff going on these past weeks though…’, she thought.

Her gaze shifted to the East End…Whitechapel. The district where the poorest of the poor live…but also where unspeakable acts of violence happened, even more frequently than usual.

She leapt and was on the next roof. And the next one, and the next one. Jumping over the rooftops she approached the East End, until she was on top of the winding labyrinth that was the streets and alleys of Whitechapel.

A little churches bell rang nearby, and with a quick glance she realized that it was already 5:30. She had to hurry, the sun would rise soon, and she had to be home before that. It was the most annoying hour of the day for her.

She put her nose into the wind and sniffed. Sniffed for that distinctive smell, which even humans could immediately recognize between hundreds of other smells…there it was.

She descended to the streets below and saw it. There on the floor laid another corpse. Cut throat, dismembered and most of her organs pulled out and orderly set next to the body. That was his work, no doubt. Jack the Ripper claimed another victim…and once again Fiona was too late to stop him. She hated it, hated it so much.

This man…this monster…he dared to hunt in her territory. Whitechapel was supposed to be her dining room. And this mere human had the audacity to keep taking her prey, for no reason.

But now there was no time for annoyance. The sun would be up really soon, there was no time left. With one jump she was back on the rooftops and started dashing off, back to the West End.

This truly was the most annoying hour of the day.

7 months ago

The Transformation
by WhiteBlackCat

She could feel her bones cracking, breaking, and growing together again. It was an agonizing pain, worse than she had ever experienced. Her throat felt like sandpaper from all the screaming she did. She threw herself violently against the walls, hoping that would distract her from the hot burning sensation on the inside. But it was as effective as trying to sing a calming lullaby right now. They had told her the first time was always the worst and she damn well hoped they had spoken the truth.

She was in the basement, locked in. Her parents had cleared the room and reinforced the metal door last month in preparation for this. Not even a sledgehammer could help her get out now. And thank the gods for that. She was completely losing control of herself. Scratching furiously into the wall, not sure if it was claws or fingernails on her hands. Had she lost consciousness? Her vision turned red and suddenly there were all these beautiful, horrible smells around her.

Then there was no more pain. She had completely lost her sense of time when the transformation was done. She could feel the fuzzy fur all on her body, her huge rib cage expanding under a heavy breath. She felt so … big and strong, powerful. The pain from just a few moments ago completely forgotten. Suddenly she had all this vigor in her body, the feeling was exhilarating. In a triumph she angled her head towards the ceiling and let out a loud wolfs howl.

7 months ago


You stand in the dark with the wolf, and they simply follow. Your scent, the hour, your emotions, they all get the best of you as one night of the moon threatens with burning them all with you, combined. Moonburners are ruthless, and you are too, you think.

You think that one human or one handful would save you from the scent of the wolf. You think that your skin wouldn’t sizzle with the simple brush of their fur and the searing, shooting pain of their bite. You think that wolves were something to play with, like a domestic, or your basic household cat. You think that just running fast enough would leave you unseen. You think every single horror or awfully cheesy paranormal movie would have prepared you for what you are about to see. And you also think you can outsmart a wolf.

You do every single pathetic thing you can think of, punching, throwing them into the trees, potions, everything. But even then, your situation turns grim. The sun no longer beams through these parts, nor does the wind stop itself from blowing. It’s just cold and dark. For you.

The wolf brushes his claw against your clothes. Rip it goes, and you pull away, trying to outrun this beast. He pins you on the ground, having its pack rip your shoes off.

“Watch.” He says.

The moon is shining through the dark sky at first, a purple tint, a round shape at first. Then it morphs more into an oval, the purple turning a bright red. Flames break out, the scent of burnt toast filling the air. The pack holds your hair back, dips it in one putrid solution, and leaves you on the floor to rot. The solution lights your hair into flames, but you cannot feel anything. Just numbness and a cool sensation on your neck and back. Your nerves cannot react to anything, they say, and you are left in the cold forest.

7 months ago

Fear. (Reality Itself)

By: Iskritt

I ran as fast as I could through the thick jungle, only able to use the moonlight to keep me oriented in the darkness. Thankfully, I was finally approaching safety. A massive tree sat in a large clearing ahead of me, illuminated to stand out through the void of the jungle surrounding it, and providing my only chance of security.

I heard nothing behind me as I ran, but I also knew my ears could not be trusted. I was not safe, so I pushed my body to its limit as I approached closer and closer to the tree.

As soon as I entered the clearing, I finally let a smile spread across my face, although I kept my legs moving. Safety was here! The terror was finally…

I suddenly felt excruciating  pain in my head as I smashed into something that knocked me to the ground. I looked up to see a giant stone wall before me where the tree had been only a few moments before.

An unnatural, ragged laugh began painfully echoing throughout my mind, overtaking my own thoughts and sending fear down my spine.

“You actually had hope!” Said the laughing voice. “You really thought you could make it!”

“Who are you?” I shouted, now backed up against the stone and staring into the darkness.

“I am the very thing that makes this hour interesting. I had to pull some strings with Time to earn it, but ooooohhhh was it worth it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine.” The voice laughed again. “I’m just here, relishing every bit of fear your pathetic soul has to offer.”

My heart raced with fear and confusion as eyes suddenly pierced through the darkness.

“The mortal mind is so easy to persuade. Stories of hope, of love, of peace. All lies and yet somehow so effective.”

My mind raced to find solutions as the eyes approached, only to come up empty.

“Unfortunately, I only have an hour.” The voice said. “And my pets are hungry.”

 Pain filled my body as the voice faded away, still laughing.

Lee Strangely
Lee Strangely
7 months ago

Cause Fur Concern (Amory)
by Lee Strangely

Swaying round and round he thrashed, kicked, and hissed at the darkness. The net cried and the tree moaned under his weight. As the ropes began twisting him around again, a light suddenly sputtered into existence mere feet from his red eyes.

Amory stood in front of the large man, her crooked little wand faintly lighting the space between them.

“Release me, and your death will be swift,” he growled, “I’m not a man to be trifled with.”

She looked him up and down, “Well, you’re not wrong…”

“People will come looking for me. They’ll help me….”

“No, people will help other people,” she attested, “not animals…”

In a fit of rage, he swiped at her, hard. Suddenly he felt as if his arm was being pulled hard, with his hand forced to remain in the air outstretched.

Amory continued as she slowly twirled her wand, encircling his arm, “…and especially not ones that lie.” As she focused on it, his hand gently shifted in appearance. The shape shrank and condensed. Hair seemed to overtake every surface. Sharp, bony blades began to jut from the fingertips. “Lucky for you, I have use for a Werewolf.”

Werewolf: a wolfen term, usually referring to sorcerers within their kind. Wolves with magic have been known to disguise themselves as people. Despite what many may think, many creatures, including wolves, are entirely capable of using magic. However, most animals don’t make heavy use of it like humans do, despite being among the first to figure it out. Contrary to popular belief, humans weren’t the first to learn, but were in fact the very last; just barely losing the race to insects, fish, and certain rocks…

“I’m sorry I had to do this to you,” she tried to explain, “but your kind tend to be quite hard to find in these parts.”

“Let me go witch!” the Werewolf barked as his hand eventually released and retracted back into the net.

Amory pointed her wand at him. He snarled, baring his yellowed fangs.

To this, Amory then growled back.

Organs and tape
Organs and tape
7 months ago

By organs and tape

The night is cold, the moon is shining brightly and the howling of the wind passes through the cracks of my hut, however its not the cold that is making me tremble.

The steam from my hot tea is brushing against my beard, this tea is supposed to be my remedy for the anxiousnes, however it isn’t effective. The boiling hot temperature of the cup no longer burn my rough skin, skin painted with scars and bruises from all the monsters ive had to kill, not out of rage or any petty human temptation.

I have a sense of responsibility to protect the travelers that pass through here, they come here seeking the only passage way that leads to a lively town. Perhaps things have gotten dire, maybe they are looking for a new chance in life, who knows. The only thing im sure of is that it must be a strong reason for them to justify coming through here. Risking encountering a hunter. My hands know thier blades too well, and my skin the accuracy of thier bullets.

My hair stands out on my back at the thought of them. To my luck ive never managed to kill any of them, at least during these days, the best i can do is guide the passersby’s out of thier sight, however, on specific days, days like this one, i feel like a passenger, my stress and emotions build up and my consciousness takes a back seat, let the creature guide me. Giving me the strength to rid this place of any and all disturbances

7 months ago

Raid on the Wolf’s Den
By MasaCur

Zydrunas was alerted by the beeping on his wall. The warehouse had been breached.

He clicked the button for the intercom. “Hey, whoever you are, just so you know, I’ve got an arsenal in here. Your best bet is to just leave now, and forget all about this place.”

“Hey, Zydrunas! We just want to talk.”

Andre. One of Rikke’s enforcers. She must have figured out Zydrunas had sold equipment to Ridgecloud and sent Andre to exact payback.

“I can hear you just fine from here, Andre.”

“Sonja Jarlsdottir’s people hit Rikke’s car last night, and managed to abduct her. We know you sold them gear to help them do it.”

They managed to get Rikke. Good for Sonja.

“Don’t know anything about that. I just sell arms, fix deals. If you want me to put you in contact with Sonja’s people, I can make that happen, but not while you’re here. So you might as well shove off, Andre.”

There were a few moments as Andre thought how to respond. Enough time for Zydrunas to find him on surveillance cameras. And two of the hit team he brought.

“Zydrunas, I thought you would be smarter than that.” Andre called back. He raised a hand to his mouth and said something Zydrunas couldn’t hear, but he could see the others moving toward his office.

Zydrunas grabbed the assault rifle by his desk and poked the barrel out of one of the firing ports. He let off a double-tap at one of Andre’s operatives.

Nothing happened.

They must have magic.

Zydrunas had that suspicion confirmed when the operative swung his arms around, and a gout of flame flew his way. Zydrunas pulled the rifle back and ducked down.

Well, if that’s the way they wanted to play it, that would be fine.

Zydrunas stripped off his clothes, grey fur emerging from his limbs already as he did so.

There was a knock at the office door, and it swung open. The operative poked his head around the corner.

The great grey wolf pounced on top of him with a snarl.

7 months ago

“Things Unseen” (Aethryn Setting)

By: Arith_Winterfell

Eliana ran through the darkened forests; the panting of wolves in pursuit followed her. In the shadows of the forest the moon’s light peeked through the thick dark green pine needles that towered above Eliana on the forest’s floor. The forest floor was mostly clear of underbrush due to the light choking thickness of the pine forest’s towering trees. The lack of underbrush and softness of the pine needle carpet now offered little comfort as she ran from the pack of wolves who followed her.

She knew she shouldn’t have stayed out in the woods playing this late. She wished she hadn’t gone so deep into the woods. She wished she hadn’t lost her way home. The wolves had howled in the distance, and now she only hoped she would survive.

Suddenly, the forest floor rushed up to meet her! She tried to scramble to her feet, but her foot was caught under the root she had tripped over. The panting of the wolves caught up with her in mere heartbeats as she struggled to rise to her feet. Several appeared from the darkness, their eyes glittering pale green. One set upon her at once, clamping its jaws down on one of her ankles. The forest echoed her screams of pain.

Suddenly the wolf pulled away. The other wolves were barking and snarling, some were even . . . whimpering? The wolves were backing away. She quickly turned to see what they were backing away from. Standing before her was a strange beast. A horse by all appearances, but somehow lacking any skin, sinewy and muscular in the dark. It stood there, its all-black eyes glistening in the moonlight. It snorted, exhaling in the cool night air. The wolves had turned and fled before the unnatural creature.

Then it looked down upon her, and spoke to her in a soft and comforting voice. “Do not be afraid. For I come bearing understanding, that what is hidden may be seen.”

That which is seen, cannot be unseen. That which is understood, cannot easily be forgotten.

7 months ago

The Incident Regarding the Victims of 1845
By Xavier Twentyone


The police that take shifts at the town square’s guardhouse begin to get anxious as Officer Nigel and Earl haven’t come from their patrol. Officer Johan, Larry, James, and Stephen are currently inside the guardhouse.

“They sure take their time with it,” said Larry.

Everyone is silent, but nobody agrees with him.

“I’ll try to find them,” said Johan.

He is the most skilled and physically fit officer out of them all, yet sweat and anxiety are two things that are visible in all the officer’s reactions, including Johan himself. Eerie thoughts follow Johan as he leaves the guardhouse, hanging the remaining officer as they watch him being swallowed by darkness under the full moon.


Nigel, Earl, and Johan still haven’t come back from their patrol. Everyone keeps pretending to be busy with their newspapers and books and everything they can get their hands on to distract them.

“I’ll go…,” said James with a heavy heart.

“Are you crazy!? Do you know what happened to them!?” snapped Larry.

“Neither do I, but we can’t just leave them like that! What if there truly are killers out there? Like the news said.”

“You seriously believed the newspaper after you saw the victims? You know that the masses know nothing of this! Those politicians hide stuff like this to prevent ‘MaSs hYstEriA.’ Freakin’ hypocrites!”

Despite Larry’s rage, Stephen and James know that he is right. All the police had made an agreement to not speak truly of the victims.


James has been leaving for the Headquarters for backup, but he never returns, leaving the remaining officer in the guardhouse.

“Do you believe it, the man-eater thing?” asked Larry.

“I don’t know. From the bodies I saw, it does look like the victims were eaten by wild animals. Mutilated, no organs, and their expression…,” said Stephen, “I have never seen such an expression before… their faces froze in time with dread, as if seeing Satan himself.”

They agree to wait until sunrise to return. That is, until they see a priest with the head of a dog smiling from outside.

Last edited 7 months ago by Xavier21
7 months ago

By Taja DaLeen

(Just let me do it. They deserve it and you know it.)

“No. Please. I don’t want to…”

They were on a bus, on their way to their grandma. She was living in the city, which he loved because no one there knew or cared about him.

Unlike in that hellhole of a village.

(But why do you let them do this to you again and again? We’re stronger than them.)

“If my fave superhero taught me something important, then it’s that with great power comes great responsibility.”

(That’s a load of horsecrap.)

“No. They’re just idiots that don’t even know about magic, so just leave it be. Please.”

(But you’re hurting.)

He sighed and pulled the red hood of his Spiderman pullover over his head. He was so sick of it all, but there was nothing much he could do.

Sure, his best friend was right. He was hurting, it wasn’t like what they said didn’t get to him. It happened way too regularly.

But that was exactly why he loved visiting their grandma. He could get away from everything and just… let go for a while. She knew everything about them, anyway.

Arriving at their destination they got off the bus.

“You’re also looking forward to this, huh?”

(Of course I do. Just like you.)

Their grandma greeted them with open arms. She was exactly that type, and he loved her for it. She didn’t say much as well, just that she got something for them.

As soon as they stepped into the room she set up just for them, they changed. He let go, let his friend step in and take over for a while. He felt their body change, tingling and itching with the magic that turned them. It still felt weird, but his grandma said he’d get used to it eventually.

He watched his wolf take out their pent up frustration and anger at the table. It already had quite a lot of scratch and bite marks; it was obvious there’d be a lot more after today.

Together, they howled out their pain once more.

7 months ago

The Devil Behind the Disguise (A Song for: Kit)
by Lunabear

The sun scorched Kit.

Sharine’s shirt provided some relief. “Hang on.” He lifted her.

Warmth became coolness in an instant.

“I’ll take care–” He grunted as they were thrown backwards.

Kit screamed.

“This is my suite, so why–”

“In…vite…me…in.” Every word pierced her lungs.

“Please come in, Nikita.” Sharine sighed when they entered.

She was placed on something soft. Sharine’s shirt disappeared. Arms wrapped around her.

He licked her injury closed.

Kit almost laughed.

Blood perfumed the air.

Crimson filled her vision. She locked onto Sharine’s neck.

“Drink, Nikita.”

She’d never murdered anyone. “What…if…”

“I trust you.” Sharine pulled her nearer.

Without recourse, she bit him. She held onto him and suckled with necessary greed.

He dropped back, his pulse slowing.


He smiled. “I just need sustenance. Animals help, but humans are best. Yo-you decide.”

“I’ll be back.” She navigated outside. Humans were nearby, but she killed a stag. Carrying it was cumbersome.

Time was crucial.

Gentle words came to her in an unrecognizable language.

Without knowing how, she’d returned.

He was ragged, sweaty.

Kit abandoned the corpse and went to him.

He gripped her wrist and lifted black, feral eyes. Fangs extended to his chin. Elongated claws scored her skin as he pulled her closer. He sniffed her, jaw widening.


Clarity flickered. He released her and slid to the floor.

Kit watched Sharine crawl to the deer.

Catching her staring, he growled with ferocity.

“I’m not leaving,” she insisted, ignoring her instincts.

Sharine stripped meat from bone.

Kit was immobile, keeping her distance.

He howled suddenly and fell backwards. Facing away from Kit, he huddled into a ball. Groans and crackling sounded then ceased.

He sat and pushed normal fingers through his hair. “I hated you seeing that, Nikita.”

“What…ARE you?” She was an arm’s length away.

He let out a blithe chuckle. “Some have called me abomination, demon. Angel. However, I like to think of myself as…” He turned his head, a large, bloodied grin pulling at his lips. Gold dominated, but teal and black swirled at the edges of his eyes. “The big, bad wolf.”

Last edited 7 months ago by Lunabear
7 months ago

Hour of The Werewolf: (Above theword ccount but still worth the exercise) I live in a small town in the interior of England, we have our peaceful lives here and are rarely disturbed, with emphasis on rarely, as this one time something mystical and great happened that changed everything. I’m a bartender, and thanks to that I get to know pretty much everyone in town or at least hear about them. I love it but it has its downsides as I also spend a lot of time with some outcasts of the village. The most famous outcast’s name is Nephos and he is a selfish person, a real asshole, the kind that talks badly about others behind their backs, steals stuff from the town, and worst of all, doesn’t pay the bar bill. But something began changing about him when the disappearances started. When people went missing, one by one, everyone thought that they were just leaving, skipping town, but as the situation progressed, panic slowly started to kick in. Parents wouldn’t let their children out, a curfew was adopted and even the deputy began an investigation. It didn’t take long for the suspicions to fall on Nephos as he tended to be the troublemaker of town and his occasional outs of town made it even more so. Interrogations were done but nothing would come out of it. However, one particular moonlit night something odd happened, Wolf howls would be heard in the distance, and a neighborhood watch consisting of myself, other upstanding citizens, and the deputy’s personnel were patrolling, only to find ourselves with much more than we could chew. Right in the middle of town stood an imposing creature of legend, its distorted features of both men and Wolf covered in blood and feasting on an old lady’s corpse, we tried fighting it but were easily overpowered by its animalistic might. When all seemed lost and it looked like we’d be just another plate on its buffet another, much deeper growl resounded in the deep night. Soon another disfigured and menacing abomination of man and beast could be seen, only this time it was no Wolf… a werebear. They stared fangs and claws at each other before clashing in a ferocious fight of bestial might, blood spurted, ripping flesh could be heard and eventually, dog-like whimpers were loudly spreading through the night. A Trail of blood led out of town to never return as the mangled werewolf fled in desperation, leaving only the surviving patrol and the werebear with o wound on its neck there, facing each other, until it silently left, without a sound. The next day, the fact was covered up by law enforcement and vitality was returned to the village. No one noticed but I did, as most of the town was in my tavern for celebrations, only I saw for a Split second, on our usual grumpy troublemaker’s neck were some hasty bandages. He looked at me and asked if he could pay his… Read more »

Strong Berry
Strong Berry
7 months ago

A Welcome to New Faces
By Strong Berry

Welcome, friend, welcome! Always a pleasure to see a new face here. While we’re waiting for The Wolf to start, how about we talk a little, you and I?

Alright. Did you come with a story tonight or…? Oh you did! Good for you! I hope over the last few days you got some feedback for it?

I’m glad to hear. Feedback is how we improve, after all. You not some overly sensitive weakling, are you? Not that it matters here much, because we are not some nasty critics looking to tear you down. This story-loving community is awesome. Even the discord is respectful. It’s diverse too, we’ve got vampires, wellermen, arachnids, pumpkins, potential communists and even one berry. From all places and all times, we unite for a few hours every week under that common love for storytelling. What about the stories you’ve read, though? I hope you liked what you saw?

Good. Liking stories is one of the things you have to do to get picked. I usually like what I read here. Sure, the size constrain makes it kind of hard to get all you want out, but it’s a fun challenge. I like challenges. This week for example, I wrote my entire story in second person… You look kinda anxious. Everything alright?

What’s that? You’re worried… your story won’t be read? My friend! Don’t worry about that! Getting read is just the cherry on top of writing and sharing a story! The stories don’t even get picked by The Wolf herself, but by some invisible luck robot that doesn’t even work half the time! Look, what I’m trying to say is, don’t sweat it. There’s always next week after all, and whether on not you get picked, you’ve improved as a writer, and that matters more that any so-called “anti hero” reading your story.

Wait! It’s starting! She’ll show the picked ones soon. Wait a minute… How rude of me! I didn’t even ask for your name! What do they call you, friend?

What a nice name. Well now, let’s see if you got picked.

Last edited 7 months ago by Strong Berry
7 months ago

Foundling Pup

The smell of cinders and rot hung fresh in the air, even though the blaze was long perished and it’s heat long gone. The now smoldered earth was soft under my paws. Nothing smelled or seemed salvageable; the ash of the structures and bodies blended together in an indistinguishable smell of dust.

As I sniffed about, I heard a distant cry. Something was still alive in this expanse of death, and though my instincts spoke danger, a more primal part of me answered, louder than any fear that gripped me.

The cry came again, piercing my ears with it’s fervor. That was when I finally recognized the source: a pup crying for its mother’s milk and, though not mine, I couldn’t ignore that sound any more than if it had come from my own.

After fixing my ears in the direction, and allowing the sound to guide my steps, I spotted it at the edge of the grey expanse. It was very small, but kicking and crying well. However, as I made my presence known, it stopped crying and thrashing when it saw me.

To my surprise, the pup rolled over onto all fours and began to crawl towards me. It showed no fear or hesitation, despite us belonging to different and sometimes averse species.

As I watched it crawl through the ash towards me, I only felt compelled to care and nurture the abandoned pup as it and I were the only living things amongst the ashes.

Before I knew it, the pup was in front of me. Yet instead of reaching for me, it only stared tilting its head in a surprisingly familiar way. I used this reprieve as my opportunity to gorge on any viable meat, yet never once taking my eyes off of the pup as I consumed what could have been its family, or even the mother it once cried for.

For it no longer mattered whom’s the pup was or from whose womb it came; it was now mine and I its mother.

Such is our laws, as nature herself decrees.

Last edited 7 months ago by WriterOfThought
7 months ago

by Shinigama

The full Moon illuminated the camp, as Sven and Olaf watched the stranger from across the fire. He sat opposite them, naked but for a blanket wrapped around him. If he’d brush his tangled hair, and got himself a shave, he would look quite handsome, they thought. Certainly, he had a very well-built torso and was well-endowed… down there.

“Here,” said Sven, handing the stranger a cup of vodka.

The stranger reached out a yellow-nailed hand for the cup. He took a sip before bursting out in a heavy fit of coughing.

Olaf patted him hard on the back. The stranger grunted and handed the cup back.

“So,” said Olaf, “What’s your story… friend? How did you come to be walking around the forest so… exposed?”

There was a small pause. Then, in a halting tone, as though unfamiliar with the concept of words, the stranger began to speak.

“Was… hunting…” he growled, “Smell… prey… ahead… leap out… almost got him… then…”

Sven and Olaf leaned forward.

“Then… he bit me…”

“Bit you?” said Sven.

“Yes…,” said the stranger. He lowered his blanket and brought forth his left arm. On his great bicep was a red circle of toothmarks.

Unusual toothmarks, thought Sven and Olaf. Unusual but familiar…

“What were you hunting?” asked Olaf.

The stranger eyed the two men nervously.

“Hunting… prey… like… you…” he said quietly.

“Like… us?”

“Yes… men…,” said the stranger. He’s gone quite pale.

The two men glanced nervously at one another. Slowly, they reached down to their rifles at their sides.

“So, you’re saying you were hunting humans?” asked Sven.


“And a human bit you?” said Olaf.


“But why were you hunting humans?” cried the men together, raising their weapons.

“I was hungry!” yelped the stranger, crouching down in fright.

A cloud covered the Moon.

A howling went up from the surrounding trees.

The two men spun around in terror as the forest wailed. They looked back at the stranger.

He was gone.

And leading away from the camp was a trail of pawprints…

Last edited 7 months ago by Shinigama
7 months ago

The Town of the Dead
By Abyss

“A faint whistle could be heard. Well, not a whistle, his whistle. The man that was dressed in black, with a bell, that didn’t have a ringer, around his neck. The guards didn’t stop him anymore, they knew it was futile. The last time they tried, so many were dead after the man finished. All the while his black clothes remained unstained.

The only ones who knew what he looks like are the guards who survived his first arrival, those same ones who killed themselves a few days later. The town was later renamed Pueblo de los Muertos, the Town of the Dead, since anyone who attempted to leave was found hanging from the entrance to the town, well, what was left of them anyway. The elders say it’s the man with the scythes and the bell without a ringer. And he believed them, no one ever doubts the elders. Well, they didn’t, before the thing came and took them.

He could be seen from afar usually. The guards would announce his presence the moment he was spotted on the hill. Therefore marking the initiation of the Hour. He Came For Us All Eventually.” He looked away from the paper and at the chief. “We found it in some empty house, tacked onto the wall and surrounded in what seems to be human blood, sir.”

He hated this damn case, a town full of dead people and this was his only goddamned clue? He needed a smoke, maybe even a few pills if the night kept up like this.

“Well…” he looked towards the house his Sergeant claims it came from “Have the blood analysed and-” He got quiet all of the sudden and squinted his eyes at the air as if he had just heard something.

“What is it, chief?” The sergeant asked, puzzled.

And then he heard it, was it… A bell? No, it was whistling. Right? Or was it both? Suddenly, someone exclaimed, pointing towards the town entrance. There, was a man in black clothes, holding a scythe in each hand, with a bell around his neck.

Neko mori mori
Neko mori mori
7 months ago

Good night

“They lived happily ever after
The end .”said an old man closing a book

“Can you sleep now my dear ?”

“What about the wolf gramps ”
Wisperd the girl hiding behind her blanket

“Hahaha don’t worry my dear no matter how far the wolf trays to run ,the hunter will always get him even the big bad wolf can be taken down by a single man ”

The girl looking around moving closer to the man whisper “the wolf is hiding in my room .

“The wolf are you sure? ”

Shuu she shoesed the man “quiet he mait hear you “painting down “he talks to me wen i trai to sleep ”

The old man checked the bed “dont worry my dear no wolf down hear gest a sock and som dust bunny’s

The girl pop up “bunny’s!..hes already making himself at hom leaving his food undermybed

Its not dat typ of bunny never mind dat ,the wolf is not under your bed can you sleep now my dear

Din dit he sneak in the closet again to look at me sleep again

“What a dastardly wolf gazing one a maiden in her slumber ”
The man flung open the door
To reveal a normal closed few dresses and som shoes

Ooo my dere seems to be no wolf in the closet can you sleep now my dear

Relieved she smiled “he must have run away .thank for the story gramps ,hoe are you?

“Gest a wondering old fool …
Ready to sleep now little red ”

The smile disappeared.

7 months ago

Earthly twilight

By Galer

The sun was set, just at the planet’s edge on the horizon, creating a border between light and dark, the best hour for this lesson.

“Well time to pull the shadows,” Jhona said.

“I will use the light then,” said Manuela not far behind the man, she willed her flesh to warp cacophonously changing to a humanoid wolf.

“I still don’t know how my transformation would help,” the werewolf asked with a hoarse voice.

“Are you familiar with the concept of the wolf hour?” Johna said while the shadows around him pulled into a dark aura.

“Is a rumor, not real, to be frank,” Manuela said annoyed ” we don’t get stronger neither we get weaker in it, we can transform at any time”

“Yes but it is important for those that want to use the twilight,” The shadow mage said while raising his hand the shadow, and aura disappeared, and from his hand, a light bloomed ” as you see it is difficult to control both even for a veteran like me ”

“But at this hour is easier,” Jhona said with confidence while concentrating on making the ball of light in his hand acquire a negative color, an aspect similar to the twilight showering the world right now” as you see now”

“Then why I am in my second skin?” Manuela said while crossing her clawed hands

“Better-enhanced control, instincts, and senses, plush you need to practice how to put to work all of that together?”Jhona listed off “that and we need to work with it because your father asked me”

“let me guess self-defense?” Manuela asked Jhona nodded confirming as she growled ” all of this because great-grandfather had to make a deal with one of those Luciferian bastards”

“Meh, if any deserve to get twilight punched are those spiteful fuckers,” Jhona said casually “light, or dark demons then to not like twilight so let’s start”

Manuela scoffed while closing her eyes to concentrate.

If there was any consolation the sixty years screw-up, came with a safety net.

7 months ago

Rejected by the moon
By Pumpkin

The music is sickeningly jaunty.
The people around me are laughing uproariously.
I’m trembling with a lukewarm cola in my hands.
My eyes are darting to the clock every other second.
Waiting to feel it.
My shoulders jump as someone calls out to me.

“Hey Danny, first timer right? You ready?” I forgot the big guy’s name but I’m sure I’ve seen him before.

“Yeah, of course,” I boast with faked enthusiasm.

‘Atta boy.’ The man hits my shoulder playfully and I can feel the bruises forming underneath my skin.
I want to leave.

“Danny? There you are.”

“Hello, mother.”

“The Breiters wanna see you before the whole shebang goes down, come along.”

I set my drink down and follow obediently.
I believe the Breiters are dad’s colleagues.
Though I forgot what job they did.

“Danny is it? Nice to meet you. Now I must say you take after your father.”

“Yes, a lot of people say that”

“Are you sure he is eighteen? He looks a little…wet behind the ears.” missus Breiter comments carefully and I’m not quite sure if I should agree or feel insulted.

“It’ll be fine it’s-” mother starts.

The bell strikes its first and the room goes silent.

The bell strikes for a second time and the guests all sit down on the floor.
I sit down next to them nervously waiting for the moon to take away my consciousness.
My last moments of sanity.

At the third chime, people start cackling, ripping clothes to shreds and flinging jewels across the room.

The fourth chime is where the eyes turn red.

The fifth is when the bones start popping and this continues for some time.

By the time the twelfth and final chime is done with all around me wolves are howling, jeering and growling.
But my arms and legs are still the same.
I didn’t turn.
My parents turned.
Their bosses turned.
The entire party turned, except for me.
The others look at me.
The one that isn’t part of the pack.
And I realise I need to run.

7 months ago

PTSD (Chronicles of The Dragon)
By Makokam

“I had the nightmare again.

“I’m laying on the ground, there’s fire everywhere. I can’t see anyone, but I can hear Samantha crying. I try to get up, but either my powers aren’t working or I’m too badly injured, so all I can do is drag myself across the floor.

“I can’t see anything except the concrete floor and heaps of burning rubble. The room is full of smoke. I keep crawling around, trying to find my team. Samantha’s cries keep getting louder. But I can’t find her. And I start hearing laughter. And the cries turn to screams.

“Suddenly I can see him. He picks Samantha up, she’s crying and screaming and then he just…punches through her, breaks her in half. And he’s just laughing. Full, head tilted back, maniacal laughter. He looks at me, his eyes full of fire, and he points at me and grins, like… a monster.

“I can stand up, and I lunge at him. I’m going to rip him apart. But I’m stopped. And I can’t reach him. He shakes his head, and he snarls, and… I wake up.”

Maxwell Wolfen’s therapist sat up in their chair. “And how does that make you feel?”

“How do you THINK it makes me feel?” he snapped.

“I know how I think you feel. Tell me how you actually feel.”

Wolfen pulled at his hair. “I feel ANGRY!”


“Scared. We were…overwhelmed.”

“You do know that Samantha’s injuries aren’t consistent with what you’re seeing in your nightmare?”

“I know! Yes. I know.” His fingers dug into his legs. “Losing her…hurts. More than the others.”

“Do you think it’s your sense of loss that’s making her death more traumatic in your nightmares?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Our minds are powerful things. As are our fears, and our pain. And just as it can make something worse, it can make things better.”

“How, exactly,” he asked, staring at the floor, “am I supposed to make that memory ‘better’?”

“Well-” the clock on his desk beeped. “I guess we’ll get into that next week then.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Last edited 7 months ago by Makokam
Anime Wiccan
Anime Wiccan
7 months ago

The First Candle
By: Anime Wiccan

The cottage dining room was dark as the sun began to set. On the small wooden table, a 24-pronged menorah stood in the middle.

The structure was simple, no jewels cresting the metal, unlike the chandeliers back home. Instead there were small carvings depicting animal spirits from my husband’s culture; some I recognized, others I did not.

The mysteries of these carvings were encroaching on my mind like ivy. I wanted to make up my own stories on what they meant, and leave the true meanins a secret from myself. After all, I have the freedom to do so now.

But as I heard Caiden and his mother, Sibyl enter, the ivy bloomed into beautiful flowers, ones I wanted to pick and learn more about.

“You ready, Daethyn?” Caiden asked me, his eyes crinkled in that loving way he always has.

That term he used for me, meaning “the most of my heart” in his local tongue, always made my heart flutter.

I smile automatically as I respond: “Yes, and I’ve been curious what this menorah is for.” My dark, clawed hand pointed to the central prong, holding a black candle that softly transitioned into a sunrise farther down.

“Ah,” Sibyl spoke up. “It represents the Cycle of New Comings and the animal spirits that guide us to the new year.”

My mind sparked with interest as she explained. She giggled at me lovingly and pointed to the smallest one with the carving of a wolf, holding a bluish-grey candle.

“This is the hour of the wolf,” she begins. “The night begins by lighting this candle, passing respects to our ancestors and deceased loved ones.”

I made a sound of awe as Caiden continued: “We believe the people of the past turn into animal spirits depending on who they were in life. Hunters and warriors turn into wolves to guide and protect us beyond the veil. It makes them feel closer to us.”

I stared at the candle as they lit it, and placing small, colorful flowers around the menorah; and I wondered, what animal spirit would my mother be?

The Missing Link
The Missing Link
7 months ago

Pax Deorum
By: The Missing Link

Once upon a time, in a place now dear to the hearts of many, lived a simple wolf. Lupa was just like any other wolf really, at least in her mind, a mother about to begin nursing her children, out for food of her own.

The trouble was she had no pack, not anymore. She had killed them. She had broken the pax, but not just any pax, Mars’s pax, the god no wolf wanted to lose favor with, and she’d certainly learned her lesson. It would be hard to say she paid the price, no, the rest of the pack did that for her, leaving her all alone save her two cubs who could barely even yelp.

But, bemoaning her fate wouldn’t bring food to the cave, and if she didn’t eat, neither would her children. Around her, Aquilla and the rest of Jupiter’s eagles kept watch, waiting to swoop in and make off with any smaller prey in her path she assumed. Diana preserve… she thought.

Lupa searched the woods for hours before resting at the river for a drink. A sip was all she had intended, but a peculiar scent wafted through the air, humans. She had heard stories of wolves living together with humans but had always thought the concept laughable. Better to be safe.

Lupa retreated back behind the tree line, keeping watch. Two human infants came floating down the river and drifted up on shore. She waited, but no others came, so she cautiously inspected the humans. She leapt back after a whiff, the scent of Mars all too familiar in her nostrils.

These humans were clearly dangerous, but children of Mars, maybe. Maybe this was her chance to restore the pax. She moved quickly, creating a sling of leaves to carry the infants back to her cave. She assumed baby humans drank milk, same as wolves and laid down next to her own children for feeding, letting the humans join them.

She did not know at the time what the simple act of a wolf would do to shape Romulus and Remus.

Dagmar Makara (dystop)
Dagmar Makara (dystop)
7 months ago

This Means War

An uncertain wind wheezed through the cracks of the windows in the old Apache library. The air was heady, as ancient dust danced around the moonbeams. The wood-rotten oak shelves stared back at Goyen and Elan, almost sentient to their intentions. A wolf’s invocation means war, and war requires the spirit of the wolf.

Elan was a small woman, inquisitive and tenacious. She ran her fingertips across the forgotten tomes, clicking her tongue rhythmically as she searched for the infamous Lupan texts. Goyen watched her little tactile serenade, his face already painted for the conflict ahead. Although she was like family, he couldn’t fathom why she seemed so nonchalant. Her face did not have the paint of the wolf. This was strange to Goyen, but he trusted her implicitly.

Elan paused.

“You know why we lost last time?”, she remarked with a smirk.

“Bad luck”, Goyen replied.

“Ha, no… that’s not right, my friend. Half our people were gutted and splayed because we only took half-measures. We didn’t seek out the tomes, totems– and nor did we prepare at the hour of the wolf”.

Goyen appeared angry for a flash. But knowing Elan’s brilliance and creativity, he instead decided to hear her out. After all, she was right, the latest massacre was the worst so far. He couldn’t get the image of the huddled brothers… or what remained of their bloodied torsos from his head. This would be their fate should they not prevail this time. Extinction.

As Goyen turned to sorrow, Elan let out a howl of excitement.

“Got the damned thing! I knew it would be here somewhere!”, said Elan.

Goyen interrupted, irked.

“Elan, our tribe, our decimation is on the line. Do you really think an old tome can win this war?”

Elan smirked once more, this time with a full smile.

“Goyen my friend, no knives, no daggers, no flintlock can challenge the wolf. The wolf is war, and oh boy are we at the hour of the wolf. There will be a tomorrow for us. As for the invaders… not so much”, she cheekily grinned.

Skyler K
Skyler K
7 months ago

The dark night
By Skyler K
James growled as he was backed into the corner of the forest, everything was far too loud. Too bright. He didn’t recognize anyone in front of him. He scratched at them with his huge claws for them to stay back, he huffed as the group of attackers tried approaching him again, he didn’t know when he got here or when he turned into this thing but all rougeford knew was that he was in danger.

With another scratch the group of attackers were gone, he needed to get out. He needed to get out of here fast. This place wasn’t safe for him- this place wasn’t-

He then heard a…..calming almost angelic voice sing a familiar lullaby

“Follow the tunnel
Into the portal
Let all your burdens to rest
Drink from the fountain
Deaths holy water
Watch as you’re put to the test…”

He found everything start to calm down as he saw his childhood best friend approach him and put her hand out for him, He put his head against her hand

“That’s right…..you’re okay, everything is okay” he heard that voice say once more

He closed his eyes, trusting Emma as everything went quiet. When he opened his eyes once more, he was back to normal, He hugged Emma tight as their other friend Becky walked over

“Hey… feeling less murdery now?” Becky said as she walked over

James just looked away embarrassed, how could this day get any worse. He just attacked his friends who were just trying to help. This was going to be a long night. Ever since James had been bitten a few weeks ago he had transformed into this beast and forgot who he was everytime shined a light in his eyes, this was the third time that night. The only way someone calmed him down was to have Emma sing the lullaby that she used to sing to him as a kid.

Emma sighs “let’s head inside, we’ve been through enough tonight” Becky nodded as she held James’s hand and they all went back to the cabin

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7 months ago

Estuans Interius, Ira Vehementi
By Marx

Yelena was a warrior angel. She existed for battle. She didn’t know if these were the demons who tore off her wing, but they would get her vengeance regardless.

But with every strike of her divine blade, she was forced to acknowledge how much weaker she was in this wounded state, her power effectively halved.

Angels were meant to be beings of perfection. She was no longer perfect. And it was THEIR fault.

The demons made up for their weakness in numbers and viciousness. Yelena made up for hers in skill.

Even still, Yelena quickly realized that even if these weren’t the same demons who crippled her, they had the same strategy. On the plus side, she knew they would keep going for her remaining wing and could compensate. But with every brutal attempt, a jolt of sheer terror went through her.

Her eyes welled up as she took in the rows and rows of teeth before her. Each one sharp enough to sever an angel’s soul from their body if given enough time. She couldn’t stop the thoughts from entering her head.

She couldn’t go home like this.

She was useless to Heaven.

She was practically a fallen angel at this point.

She had nowhere else to go.

It was like the demons fed on her failing resolve, renewing their attack as nothing more than predators who acknowledged a weakened prey.

Yelena continued to fight back, but her heart wasn’t in it. What good is vengeance if there’s nothing left to live for afterwards?

Yelena’s vision was so blurry in her tears, she hadn’t realized that the demons had scattered. For even predators run from bigger predators.

And the being who loomed over the weeping angel was one of the biggest. His eyes narrowed at her. “That… was stupid. Were you trying to die?”

“…yes.” Yelena sobbed, breaking down entirely. He was a demon as well. He should have been her enemy and yet this was the second time he’d saved her from them.

He sighed deeply, scooping the angel in his arms and taking her home.

7 months ago

The Bird Curse

By: Hastaw

The campfire kept blowing smoke in my eyes discriminatingly; my family always did tease me about getting into trouble.

“Hey! Junabah!” Harangue called.
“We were about to make up scary human stories! Come join us!”
I walked over reluctantly. The lights of the fire burned my face and smoked my eyes to a crisp.

“Ok, who wants Junabah to go first?” Everyone raised their hands after Harangue -that asshole- called me. I decided to have a little fun with them.

“Alright, demons and hellhounds!” Everyone howled. “Get ready for the scariest human story yet!” ‘eat shit.’ I thought.

My brother went out on a dare to scare a human newborn. He slithered into a human home -as you do- when his friends came up and spooked him instead. He almost fell into the child, faintly tapping it. Just enough to scare it. It screamed, and the mother came to comfort it.

My brother thought they got out unscathed, but little did he know. Shit was about ta get real. The friends laughed all the while, oblivious to the grim reality of the situation.

He began to pop into the human world at night while asleep. He returned without any memory of being out. Whenever he stayed awake on a cold night, he would think about the newborn. ’I wonder if it’s warm tonight?’ He would think before shrugging it off.

The feathers began to appear out of his elbows. “It’s nothing,” he always told us. He told us about the fascination of a human newborn. “I wonder if it thinks about me.” He would murmur aloud. I caught him staring at human children, almost like he was in a trance. He then became disfigured, squishing and shrinking.

He followed the same child day after day, night after night, with no break. His friends finally tried to get between him and his child, but it was to no avail; he became. A momma. BIRD!”

Displaying a colorful array of feathers, I extracted such beautiful screams from my fellow jerkwads; it was a great experience; for me

C. M. Weller
7 months ago

Investigation Before Dawn [A Devil’s Tale]
C. M. Weller

A figure crept about Hidden Cloud Dojo in the smallest hours of the morning. The red uniform he wore should have inhibited his ability to do so, but even the sharpest imagined eye would have trouble following his path.

The Master said that none could pass the Gauntlet before the age of twenty.

Well, he was a Hellkin with a lot to prove. Starting with the fact that a devilborn could win a kiss to the brow from the Master himself. This was why he was creeping around when the wolves were still hunting in the mountainside forests. Straight to the Gauntlet to study it.

It was a clever device, in an entire estate where no other clockwork cut time into seconds and minutes. There were hidden springs and traps and a mechanism wound by the passage of Novices attempting to become Adepts by passing through it.

It was relatively quiet now, when everyone was meant to be asleep. He had already studied the Gauntlet’s idle motions some nights previously. His interest this morning was in the third quarter of the track. By the time a Novice reached this point, there were limited places that would be safe to land.

He tested each of them. Carefully. Listening. Watching. Stretching all his senses to the snapping point. Two of the five little platforms moved, and they both set something off. Which happened to be some of the more interesting tip-traps in the third quadrant. Where even the most practiced Novices generally wound up coming to injury.

Avoid either of these platforms, and avoid those traps. He couldn’t mark them, that would be cheating. He would have to remember. Just like he had to remember how long it took for all of the traps to wind down and set themselves into their original state.

It was a VERY clever device.

He waited, counting. When the machine came back to its starting position, there was a subtle and audible CLUNK.

Five minutes.

So many Novices fell and hurt themselves because they could not wait five minutes. Wasn’t the first lesson patience?

7 months ago


I watch as the sun sets, smiling. “You guys up for a movie?” I ask everyone.

“I’m down,” Mike replies.

“I’m choosing!” Riley says, vaulting the couch and running inside.

“In a minute,” Sam tells me. “I want to watch the moon rise first.”

“Cool with me,” I say, not realizing that it sounds just a little too loud.

As the tip of the moon peaks over the horizon, I start to sense more and more smells. Everything from Mike’s aftershave to the stray cat four blocks down. I’ve got a strange urge to chase it.

“Woah, you okay?” Riley asks, looking at me. “You don’t look so good.”

“There’s no need to yell,” I tell him as I scratch my arm. My leg, my back.

“I didn’t yell,” He says as all colour drains from his face and the face of everyone else.

“I’m SO ITCHY!” I howl.

And as I do, I notice the moon. The full moon.

“It’s a full moon out?” I bark. That’s not good. Not good at all.

“You guys might want to back up,” I say, straining to keep my voice from growling.

Here it comes.

I scream in pain as thick hair sprouts from every possible place in my body. My nose elongates, and I grow a dozen more teeth than I should have. Canines.

Even though I’m in immense pain, I still can’t help but laugh at that.

My back hunches as my legs and arms reverse themselves. My ears crawl up my head, slowly changing to be pointier and floppy. My eyes adjust to my new vision, letting me recognize the grays and blacks of everything I see.

I turn to my friends, smiling. “So, how about that movie?” I bark.

Tamela Redfin
Tamela Redfin
7 months ago

Missing She wolf

By Tamela Redfin

Salvador laughed as he looked at his fellow bikers and then his side cart with his newest puppy.

“Another day, another dog fight club disbanded.” A member cheered. “And most of the pups are in good health.”

“Here here!” Salvador cheered, opening a bottle. He poured drinks for his friends.

He looked at Jerry, his old boyfriend. “Let’s not get drunk tonight.”

“But Sal, that’s half the fun.” Jerry teased before seeing Salvador’s face fall. “Sal?”

“I’m sick of drinking myself into a stupor, Jerry. Sure, I forget but the next morning, I’m sad and hungover.”

Sal and Jerry went to their tent. “Is it about her? Sal, that was eleven years ago. You gotta let go.”

“Didn’t you love her too?” Sal asked.

Jerry nodded. “She was special but…”

“I have a feeling she was pregnant when she left, Jerry. And I let her go without even seeing my child.”

“Wait, why do you think that?” Jerry asked.

“She was sick and tired a lot before she left. Also, I did a few things with her. Also, Salad is proof cyphas and humans can have children.”

Jerry ran his finger through Salvador’s red hair. “Sal, where do you think she’d be? Truth is I was jealous of her at first, but I loved her too.”

“I know but not even her sister, Salad, doesn’t know her whereabouts.” Salvador wiped his eyes.

“A wolf pack sticks together. And we will find Jezebel. Somehow.”

“Thanks, Jerry.” He smiled.

7 months ago

Film Night (Darkspell Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

The small group exited the cinema, deep in conversation. On their way out, they passed various signs and posters, including promotional material for the movie they’d just watched, depicting an animated wolf with a bright, silver moon in the background.

“I have to admit,” Wagner said. “I really liked the way they presented lupine culture in this film. Whoever wrote it, clearly did their research.”

“Isn’t the writer related to a werewolf?” Cynthia asked.

“According to their biography, yes. And they consulted with various shifters to be as accurate as possible.”

“Explains why the movie was years in the making,” Mia said, her familiar, Konrad, picking the remaining popcorn from her box. “What did you think, Daniel?”

“The animation was… pleasant,” he said, his magenta eyes focused on the floor. “I confess, I don’t know enough about shifters or werewolves to really be able to judge.”

“Well, this movie did a fantastic job at presenting it,” Wagner assured him, patting the demigod’s arm amicably. “I mean, they even included a scene with the Lunar Week.”

“Does your family practice that?” Mia asked.


Wagner went on, talking about the different nuances of werewolf culture. As a shuck, he was closely related to many and had grown up in a lupine home. Valerie watched her friends chat, remaining uncharacteristically quiet the entire time. She simply enjoyed everyone coming out of their respective shells.

So, she just held Wagner’s hand and strolled out into the streets, past a sign reading ‘Half-price for students, pensioners and undead’. Cynthia had been in luck that the theatre had introduced the reduction for undead recently. Something caught Valerie’s eye and she pointed.

“Oh, look. Uncannily Familiar come out in three months. Same studio that made Hour of the Wolf.”

“A comedy about three familiars trying to survive in an apartment complex,” Konrad said, flapping his wings and throwing Mia a look.

“Yes, I’ve already saved the date,” the witch said, scratching Konrad’s head.

“Count me in,” Daniel said and one by one, the others gave their intentions to come.

Valerie didn’t bother hiding her smile.

7 months ago

Hair of the dog
by Aracnarquista

Everything is filled with the drumming of my heart beat and the rushing of my own blood. I am getting more and more aware of my body.

A dry thud and the smell of alcohol and anise brings me outward. There is a glass in front of me, and as I raise my head I am greeted by Bythos’s smile.

“Here, man. To take the edge off. ”

I’ve heard people that just met him tell that they could just rely on him, as if he was their oldest and truest friend. I am not most people. I have known Bythos for a long while, and he is one of the few people I can genuinely call a friend. That disarming effect is even stronger in me. I don’t just feel it – I know he is this person.

And yet, this is one of those nights. I don’t feel safe. I feel excessive… rabid.

“Far from me to tell you how to deal with it, but you can talk. To me, or just to yourself. Putting things to words helps us organize our feelings, give them some framing.”

Deep breath. Can I still talk?

“It is… not easy.”

“I understand. Would you prefer if I do the talking? Try to take your mind from that spiral?”

I don’t answer, but he knows I acquiesced. A second glass of the beverage joins the first one, and a bottle of water now sits on the bar.

“You come here every month. In your most vulnerable state – yes, I know most people wouldn’t call that vulnerable. But I know you, and you know you. You think you are being a burden.”

Bythos pours water in the spirits, and the clear liquid mixture turns a milky white.

“Helping you is no burden, Luc. I love knowing you trust me to help you. You are the one who teaches me the most about trust. And I trust one day you will teach yourself to trust your inner wolf. Regardless of that, my bar will always be open for you. Full moon or not.”