#werewolfhome

[nightlioness]

Bark In The Dark is the ultimate werewolf hangout with three bedrooms & two bathrooms that are sturdy & stout sure to hold up when the full moon flares about. If you have your doubts, just place this wolf shaped abode & check it out to see the truth be told. All are welcome including humans too, just be ready to party & join in on a few awooooooos!

Can Download Here

[kakitysax]

Halloween Artistic Challenge Day 5: Chainsaw

Ellie leaned against the rafters of the abandoned warehouse, eyes closed in shallow repose. Her weapon sat heavy in her lap. Her target would be here soon. This was a a classic setting.

She glanced down at her blade and frowned at the microscopic flecks of blood dried on one side. Leaning forward, she began to chip at them with her nail. The rest of the saw was already gleaming, but one should really take pride in one's weapon. It was a reflection of the self.

Satisfied, she ran her thumb over the shining metal. Her gaze shifted focus and she found her own reflected eyes in the metal, jet and tired. How had she gotten to this point in her life?

--------------------------------

There was a world that children shouldn't have to face - a world of monsters in the closet and under the bed and lurking in the woods. Some had no eyes and some had too many, some had claws the size of railroad spikes and some had teeth like thumbtacks. The worst kinds, though, were the ones that walked about in the bodies of men.

They reached out from the darkness to touch the world of humans, but humans could not reach back. Couldn't even see the touched places. Not one person could speak into how Ellie was orphaned. Not one person could keep her from slipping out of the human world altogether. She had to do it herself, struggling to anchor her humanity to what joy life had allowed her to keep.

She was half monster and half man. But it was only as one who moved in both worlds that she was able to make change in either.

The warehouse door clanged open. Ellie's head jerked up. She could hear breathless panting from the floor above, the tearful gasps of some unwitting protagonists. Their erratic footsteps tripped down the stairs.

The pair burst into the basement, casting terrified looks behind them. The shut the door behind them, as if that would help.

They moved to the corner beneath Ellie herself, huddling into the wall and into each other. She listened as they struggled to silence their breathing.

Above them, the warehouse door crashed open again. Heavy footsteps fell on the floor above, accompanied by a low scraping noise.

Ellie could hear the boys' breath catch beneath her. A whimper, followed by a string of gentle shushing noises.

The scraping stopped as footsteps began to descend the stairs. Each thud was deliberate. He was taking his time. Did a cat need to stalk caged mice?

Thud. The door shook in its frame.

Thud.

CRASH.

The basement door fell off its hinges and crashed to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust.

The monster stood in the doorway. He was seven feet tall. He was wearing a hockey mask. He was holding a blood-encrusted chainsaw. He hefted it up in its arms and pulled the cord. A deafening roar bounced off the walls as the bladed belt spun.

He began to advance on the boys as if led by the smell of their fear, lifting his saw as he came.

Ellie took a deep breath, pulled on her own mask, and slid off the rafters, landing on her feet.

The monster paused. His chainsaw quieted to a rhythmic puttering as he studied her.

Ellie took her stance between the beast and the boys. "You call yourself a monster?" she snapped over the noise.

The monster studied her. He revved his chainsaw.

Ellie grit her teeth behind her mask and pulled her cord. Her own chainsaw snarled to life.

"YOU CALL YOURSELF A MONSTER?" she roared.

[kakitysax]

Halloween Artistic Challenge Day 4: Imp/Demon

“Look, kid, I think you made a mistake.”

The red-skinned creature inside of the summoning circle was a little bigger than a house cat, and had itself propped up off the ground on its muscular, coiled tail. Its arms were crossed and it looked kind of sullen.

“You don’t want me,” it explained. “You’re thinking of Lilith, or Mephistophiles - someone big and powerful who can just snap their fingers and give you power without even feeling it. Not me.”

The choppy-haired girl sitting on her heels outside the circle shook her head and opened her mouth.

“I mean, come on, kid,” said the demon before she could speak. “You clearly have some magical aptitude. All you need now is standards. It makes sense that you’re nervous, but you can aim higher than this!” It gestured to the book in front of her. “Go back and keep looking. Pretty sure the bigger underworld names and sigils are around chapter five. That’s what you’re looking for.”

It snapped its fingers and the book began to turn on its own, pages flipping to chapter five. The chapter heading read Netherworld Lords in big black letters.

The girl looked down at the book, then back up. The demon in the ring seemed to be making preparations to leave.

“But I want you,” she stammered.

“What?” asked the demon, pausing.

“Y-you’re Vex, right?” she flipped back in the book to a particularly marked up page and turned it towards him. “Spirit of commonplace irritation and petty spite? L-lord of stubbing your toe and bitching about the weather?”

Vex looked at the page detailing him, then back up at the girl. She looked completely sincere. He reached out and took the book.

“You want...me?”

The girl nodded.

Vex stared at the page for a long moment, running his hand almost reverently over her handwritten notes.He looked back up at her, struggling to form words. “B...wha...what can I do for you?”

The girl shrugged. “Enough,” she said.

Vex looked back down at the page.

The girl sighed through puffed cheeks. “Look...I don’t want to be some worldshaking force. I don’t want to be great or famous or known. I just want a little bit of power. I don’t care who knows it.” She looked down, rubbing a bruise on her arm. “I’m not proud,” she muttered.

Vex looked up. There was skepticism in his face. “You know, it’s typically only major demons who have warlocks,” he warned.

At this the girl smirked, the faintest bit of malice glinting in her eyes. “And you’re not excited to piss them off?”

Vex blinked. His eyes lit up.

[kakitysax]

Halloween Artistic Challenge Day 3: Goblin

I first saw it digging through my trash. I thought it was a raccoon at first, all furry and hunched over. But its fur was black-speckled green, and as I watched it with a growing state of mindfuck, it became increasingly clear that it was bipedal - shoulder blades shifting as it extended elbows forward to feel at the trash.

Disproportionately large claws delicately extracted a piece of used floss from the heap and brought it up to its face. It recoiled slightly and threw it over its shoulder. Evidently dissatisfied with the surface garbage, it straightened up ever so slightly and crawled forward into the bin. Raspy mutters emerged from the area where its mouth would be.

I stepped forward unconsciously to get a better look. Behind me, the screen door slammed shut.

With a burst of frenetic rustling the creature scrambled out of the trash can and whirled around. Massive ears unfolded and cocked fleshy cups towards me. For just a moment I got a glimpse of the biggest yellow eyes I’d ever seen. Then its entire face seemed to shift, eyes and nose wrinkling upward to make room for the massive mouth opening beneath. Three rows of needlepoint teeth glinted in the porch light. It hissed.

I froze where I stood.

It stared at me for a few hard seconds before turning its face back towards the trash, its ears still turned in my direction. It scanned the trash, reached out, snatched a banana peel, and jammed it into its mouth, slurping it up like a forbidden spaghetti noodle. Then it darted away, wriggling into the hole beneath the neighbors’ fence.

[kakitysax]

Halloween Artistic Challenge Day 2: Zombie

My gun is out of bullets. I pull the trigger a few furious times just to make sure, but it clicks hollow in my hand.

With a raw scream of rage and fear I throw it at the zombie. It hits it on the rib cage so hard that it stumbles back a step, but doesn’t significantly delay it.

Behind me, my friends are trying to break down the door. It rattles in its frame, but holds. We made it to hold, after all - never considered that we would need to be the ones getting in, that one of us could get trapped inside. Ironic that that is what will end up killing me.

Michael breaks the glass on the door. It’s useless. One of the first things we did was put bars on it. Still he reaches through, hand bleeding from the broken glass, face smushed against the bars. “Alex!” he screams, and I realize he’s crying.

The zombie is on top of me now and something feral is swelling in my brain, some desperate, human need to stay alive, some apeshit instinct that fills me with an emotion that can closest be compared to rage.

So, it’s going to bite me, huh? How does the saying go? An eye for an eye?

I grab its arm as it reaches out and hold it in front of me like corn on the cob. “See you in hell, motherfucker,” I say.

And I bite.

This zombie is still relatively warm. He might still have a heartbeat, sluggish and weak, pounding away in his rib cage. But it doesn’t matter. His eyes are glazed over; drool is coming from his mouth. It’s only a matter of time before he deteriorates into one of those nasty green fuckers that I’ve laid out on the floor. His skin yields far too easily under my teeth, cold and waxy, coming off in a clean chunk. No blood fills my mouth. It’s disturbing as hell, but I don’t flinch. I’m not about to give this bastard the satisfaction. 

But surprisingly enough, it flinches. It tears its arm out of my grasp, leaving a hank of its flesh in my teeth, and stumbles back with what can only be described as a cry of pain.

I spit out the zombie meat and watch my assailant with wary confusion.

As I stare, the glazed green look leaves his eyes and color returns to his cheeks. Blood starts to flow from the wound - slowly at first, as if remembering how, but then faster, streaming from the bite mark to form a small pool on the ground.

No way.

The young man looks at me, struggling to focus his eyes. “What...” he croaks, then faints.

I stare at the human man bleeding on the ground.

“Michael, out of the way!” someone snaps. A key jangles in the lock and the door swings open.

Benson is holding the key. He and the others crowd around the doorway, questions dying on their tongues as they see the ex-zombie.

Benson speaks up. “Yo, what the fuck?”

[kakitysax]

Halloween Artistic Challenge Day 1: Ghost

“You just gotta let that shit go, man.”

I shift my feet and hear the soil squish beneath my treads. The clearing has turned over the past week or so into a saltwater bog. All the trees around here are slowly dying. Their brittle, bare branches tilt towards us, as if reaching out for help.

The figure hunched over in the middle of the clearing turns to me. Tears continue to pour out of its eyes as if from a faucet, spilling over its cheeks to splash on the grass.

“I know it sucks,” I say. My elbows are braced on my knees, my fingers twined together. “But nobody can come here and fix how you feel. You need to decide. You can stay here and keep letting this hurt you, or you can move on.”

The creature tilts its head. The water keeps hissing on the ground.

“You can take your time,” I say after a sufficiently awkward silence. “I’m not in a hurry.”

To prove my point, I set my backpack on my lap and unzip it. Out comes a flask of rum. I unscrew the cap and take a drink. The alcohol brings welcome warmth against the mid-autumn wind.

In the middle of the clearing, the creature makes a noise. A mournful, drowning sound.

In response, I pat the log next to me. “You can sit here if you want. Have some rum. Don’t know if you can drink...”

After a contemplative moment, it turns and glides over, long arms scraping on the ground. The ever-flowing stream of water from its eyes continues to pour over the grass with an ambient bubbling noise. It sits next to me, and I can feel the cold coming off of it. It’s hunched over, quietly grieving. But not for the same reason as before, I don’t think.

“Letting go hurts too, doesn’t it?” I ask.

It doesn’t respond, but I know.

“Were you waiting for someone?”

It nods this time. The sound of the water on the ground wavers accordingly.

I nod back and look away, fixing my eyes instead on the trunk of a dead tree.

“It’s okay,” I say finally. “I’m here with you.”

The creature makes a gurgling noise. I look over to find it curled in on itself, shoulders shaking.

I look away again and take another drink of rum.

It’s another few minutes before it stops shaking and lets out a rattling sigh. The stream from its eyes slows to a trickle, then a drip, then dries up altogether. 

I hold out my flask. It takes it in its long, cold fingers, and drinks. Then, with careful, fumbling fingers it screws the cap back on. Hands it back to me. Stands and moves to the center of the clearing.

It seems to happen slowly and quickly at the same time. One moment it is there, looking up at the sun, and in the next there is only white vapor, slowly dissipating into the cool autumn air.

When there is nothing else to be witnessed, I heave a sigh. I put my flask back into my bag and stand up. My shoes squish in the saturated soil.

Back to the land of the living.