Nocturnal Hunter/ Why I write Supernatural stories

I thought I'd share a poem I wrote recently called "Nocturnal Hunter."

Author's Note:There are 10 lines in an etheree.
As you go up in lines, you go up in syllables.
For example:Line 1 - 1 syllable
Line 2 - 2 syllableand so on.
Line 10 will have 10 syllables.
You can also reverse the ethree starting with 10 syllables and going down to 1.
A double etheree has 2 verses with an inverted syllable count starting after line 10.

Nocturnal Hunter
Dark,
he walks
among blackfields
and shadows,creeping,
stalking prey.Obsidian eye
cool,mercurial to the touch.
Fear all around; heart pumping loud.
Prey jumps, bolts toward hoped freedom close.
Dark pounces, hands cold, firm, kill without mercy.

***

Of course the evokes thoughts of a supernatural creature. That leads me into the next part of this blog...

Why I write Paranormal/Supernatural stories.

I think the supernatural is cool. I grew up watching "Creature Double Feature" in the 1970's and getting my butt scared off. But I always thought Dracula was cool. He only came out at night, he liked to bite his victims in the neck. Holy water freaked him out. Even Godzilla was cool. There were mummy stories, zombie stories, and Frankenstein stories. I don't remember too many werewolf stories growing up.

I got older and graviated toward comics. Comics and the supernatural have something in common though: An extra ability. Wolverine has super healing. A werewolf does too. They've got to have very good powers of healing considering what their bodies go through.

The past couple of years, I've tackled stories that are supernatural/paranormal in nature. I like exploring that aspect. I can go in an original creative direction and have fun with it. And that's the challenge. After Anne Rice, vampires got popular. And overdone. Finding a new take on vampires hasn't been east. I appauld Stephenie Meyer for her Twilight series, because she did find a new spin on her vamps that was original, creative, and had mass appeal.

I hope that's what I've done with my story, "The Wolf's Torment."

Of course people say, werewolves - gross. Who wants to read about werewolves and them having sex? How can a werewolf story possiblity rock like a vampire story.

I'll tell you: Because a werewolf is a man 26 days out of a 28 day lunar cycle. And it's how the man deals with being a wolf that's fascinating. It's pyschological.


Here's an excerpt from "The Wolf's Torment," which deal with witches & werewolves and has a vampire subplot. Enjoy

****

The Set up: Mihai puts his friend, Viktor in a dungeon during his werewolf transformation to keep him safe.

***

Viktor looked through the iron bars, darkness shading over him. “Lock the door.”

His friend’s breathing was very labored. Mihai made sure the door was shut and withdrew the keys, slowly backing away. He sat down against the opposite wall, looking into the cell. Faint light from the night sky peered in through a small rectangular window at the very top of Viktor’s self-imposed cage.

“What is that smell?” Viktor asked.

“Daciana saw me in the kitchen and made me a plate. It’s pork,” Mihai said.

He spied drool dripping out of his friend’s mouth through the dim candlelight.

“Viktor?” Mihai questioned.

A fierce growl pierced the air. Hair grew on Viktor’s body. His legs became shorter. Viktor’s face extended and contorted, and a snout replaced his nostrils. Clothes ripped off his body. His legs grew sinewy with slender muscles. Hair sprouted quickly, becoming a coat of fur all over his body. Viktor got down on all fours. The transformation now complete, the wolf looked at Mihai with feral, amber eyes.

Mihai hugged the wall as the wolf’s snout shot out between the thick iron bars, smelling the air. A sliver of sympathy grew in Mihai’s heart for his friend. The beast pulled back and tried to rush the iron gate with his body, but it held firm. When the wolf realized he was there for the night, he started pacing the cell, drooling and snarling at Mihai. Finally, after an hour, the beast lay down. Mihai said nothing, only noting how Viktor’s human expression of thanks had been replaced with a feral expression of hate.

It was hard to imagine this beast was Viktor. What a contrast to how his mother would use light, making ornaments sparkle and shine in the palm of her hand at Christmastime. Her soul was good. Only time would tell how Viktor’s soul would react to this change. Mihai lay down on the uncomfortable stone floor and fell asleep.

Hours seemed to pass. Mihai awoke to the terrible howls of the wolf in the cell. The candle had burnt down to a stub next to him. Mihai didn’t know what to do to calm Viktor down, but if anyone in the castle heard these cries, Viktor’s secret would be out. His father had no such compassion for such creatures and would surely slay Viktor if he found his friend in this state.

“What can I do?”

The wolf stopped and glared at him, then looked over at Mihai’s plate.

“You want this?”

The wolf nodded his head.

Mihai threw the pork into the cell. The beast that was his friend devoured it. After he had consumed the meal, the wolf began to transform and Viktor, now naked, lay on the floor. The faintest hint of sunlight peered through the small window.

Mihai sat there for the longest time, staring at his friend. Viktor gasped for breath. “Mihai?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for the pork. It helps me deal with the hunger.”