The Werewolf and the Haunted House – 4

I snagged David’s jacket sleeve and stopped him from crossing the threshold. I whispered, “Hold on a sec, just hold on.” He turned his head to me, his eyebrows raised. “We can’t do anything,” I said. Quizzical look on his face. “Do you really want to watch a family get murdered and not be able to do anything?” He pressed his lips together and peeled away a short strip of gray paint from the doorway. I continued, “It’s one thing to read about it and another to see it happen. Let’s just go, maybe–” Thunk from inside the house. We jumped. … Continue reading The Werewolf and the Haunted House – 4

The Werewolf and the Haunted House – 3

“Nope nope nope,” I repeated as I got to my feet. I set my sights on the car and started walking toward it. Eyes front, Elizabeth. Ignore the house at your back. Ignore the hard-packed dirt under your boots, when by all rights it should be mud and scrubby weeds and the occasional styrofoam soda cup. Ignore the smells in the air, the ozone and that hot, sour stench from a paper mill that’s been gone for decades. Ignore the way the patrol car seems to shimmer and how there are no grass stalks whisking against your hands like there … Continue reading The Werewolf and the Haunted House – 3

The Werewolf and the Haunted House – 2

I got out of the car and paused, one hand on the door handle, the other on my Maglite. David had removed the dome light after we’d parked, the better to sneak up on dipshit ghost hunters, so it stayed dark, no light to mess up my night vision. Not that I was using my eyes to check my surroundings. I took a quick sniff, picked up nothing to be concerned about, and gently shut the door. I heard the squish of David’s footsteps–it had rained a couple of days ago, and the dirt road was still soft–and then his … Continue reading The Werewolf and the Haunted House – 2

The Werewolf and the Haunted House – 1

(From Ghostly Legends and Monstrous Myths of Texas, by Harrison Folger, copyright 1994 by Big Armadillo Press at the University of Texas) On October 30, 1920, Merllyn Sanger came home to his two-story frame house after a 12-hour shift at the Collins Paper Mill. Sanger, like most people in his tiny community, didn’t have a car; he’d ridden in the back of a horse-drawn cart with other mill workers. It beat walking the six or so miles, even if the cart dropped him off at the head of Tyrell-Sanger Road and left him with another mile to walk. (The narrow, … Continue reading The Werewolf and the Haunted House – 1

Real Life Horror: The Night Stalker

Ricardo “Richard” Ramirez was born February 29, 1960, in El Paso, Texas. The youngest of five children, he suffered two serious head injuries during his childhood: at age two, a dresser fell on top of him, cutting open his forehead; at age five, a park swing knocked him unconscious. The latter injury caused epileptic seizures that persisted into his teens. Ramirez’s serial killer future was further helped by his physically abusive dad and his whackjob cousin Miguel “Mike” Ramirez. Mike Ramirez, a Vietnam vet and Green Beret, regaled his then-twelve year-old relative with tales of his exploits in Vietnam, which all … Continue reading Real Life Horror: The Night Stalker

Real life horror: Matawan, New Jersey

Originally posted on grafiklit:
insert jaws theme music here. ? (Rerun here, because it’s the hundredth anniversary of these attacks.) I’m profiling a different sort of killer today: the shark (or sharks) responsible for the Matawan Creek attacks in 1916. It started on July 1, 1916, when 23-year-old Charles Van Sant arrived in Beach Haven, New Jersey. Eager to escape the heat, the vacationing Philadelphian dove into the Atlantic Ocean. He was about fifty feet from shore when other swimmers noticed a large shadow following him. He never heard their warning cries. The shadow pulled him under. A few moments later,… Continue reading Real life horror: Matawan, New Jersey

Bulletproof Werewolf – Chapter One

CHAPTER 1 — FIVE DAYS EARLIER. The bead of sweat finally reached my neck. I wiped it away. It was a typical July evening on the Texas Gulf Coast: hot enough to make you sweat, humid enough to keep the sweat sticking to your body like a second skin. It made people mean and unpredictable, like rabid dogs. Or rabid wolves, which made me Little Red Riding Hood. Only instead of skipping through the woods with a picnic basket, I was pacing up and down a cracked sidewalk with a Sig Sauer nestled at the small of my back. I … Continue reading Bulletproof Werewolf – Chapter One

Bulletproof Werewolf – Prologue

I have been writing a novel since, oh, 1998 or so. It’s gone through a lot of changes, but the core concept has always been the same: there’s this cop, who is also a werewolf, and her last name is Anderson. For a while, I had a premise that involved the Satanic Panic of the 1980s and a cursed role-playing game (influenced by Werewolf: The Apocalypse), then it mutated into just some random werewolf who goes around biting people to build up an army (like a lycanthropic Charles Manson). Then there was the half-conceived notion of a half-bright guy in … Continue reading Bulletproof Werewolf – Prologue

Podcasts! (Or, It’s Not Too Late to Like Them Before They’re Cool)

I don’t know how it is in your cozy little corner of the world, but in my corner of southeast Texas, when I mention that I listen to podcasts, I always have to stop and explain what it is. “It’s radio, basically. Internet talk radio. You download episodes on your phone and you can listen to them whenever. It’s great.” At this point, the listener’s eyes will begin to glaze. “You have an iPhone, right? There’s a podcast app, it’s purple and says ‘Podcasts’. Just press it and there you go.” Now the listener is nodding and regretting his/her decision … Continue reading Podcasts! (Or, It’s Not Too Late to Like Them Before They’re Cool)