Fantasy-Literature

Dale's friends were worried about him. He was never around much any more, and he never had much to say when he was. He'd just ask if he'd told them about his new job, and then not tell them anything except he had a new job. This wasn't in itself a bad thing. Dale and his friends spent their free time online, often pretending they were werewolves. They weren't lustful or violent. They just didn't have a lot to show for it after the fact, same as with video games. Thing was, it was their only time together, or used to be. Once Dale got the new job, he started training and stopped… everything else. He stepped down as administrator from h

Sometimes what you want for Christmas won't make you happy. "Roy! So good to see you!" I beckoned my old friend inside and hung up his coat. "How are you?" "All right," he replied, "but I still can't grow my own coat." I laughed at the inside joke. Roy and I had more than one common interest, but our obsession was movie monsters. We pored over pre-code comics, and he envied the werewolves even though they always died horrible deaths. "I see college hasn't changed you," I said with a smile. "Unfortunately not," Roy sighed. "You know what? I don't want to be a werewolf. I just want to see one. To see one and meet one, and then I'd be happy

Jeremy Driggers didn't just love coyotes. He envied them. He wanted to be one, and gradually grew less and less guarded about it. He drew coyotes in his notebooks in class. He watched Warner Bros. cartoons and rooted against The Road Runner. He wrote letters to the editor defending coyotes going through garbage cans in suburbia. Jeremy wasn't very outgoing in or out of class, so no one paid much mind to him or his coyotes. He wore coyote T-shirts to class and even put a tail hole through a pair of pants, but no one asked him about it. At night, rather than socialize, he would lie outside and stare at the sky, obsessing about being a coyote.

I'll warn you upfront: this isn't glamorous. At first, I thought I was in a car or on a plane. I woke up in an uncomfortable chair with an incredible headache and no idea where I was. My eyes slowly adjusted to the sickly yellow light, and I saw a ceiling with water damage. I didn't recognize it. I smelled mildew and smoke, which would've startled me if not for the headache. I started to rub my head, but I couldn't move my hand. I looked down, and my wrist was stuck in something. Actually both wrists. And ankles. I didn't like where this was going. Ugly laughter erupted from across the room. "About time you came around!" someone shouted. I

When the madman's lament sings of the curse The chorus of the dead will not silence Though the victim lays quiet in his hearse The prey of a murderer's  violence Dead heartbeats reverberate through the walls But there's no sign of breathing he can find A knock on the door echoes through the halls Will they hear the thoughts running through his mind? There were silhouettes of the men outside Three officers had heard the old mans screams Sounds reveal what his countenance would hide And soon his plan was to burst at the seams Madness and guilt confess the killers part For only he could hear the tell tale heart

*Alarm Clocks Are Evil*                  My alarm clock rang loudly,startling to my waking ears. It was 6:30 , way too early for any normal human being to be awoken, especially by some alarm clock I am almost certain is possessed.  Sometimes it wakes me up ten minutes too early or late and always goes louder than the volume I put it on the previous night. Way louder. I was planning to find out how to do an exorcism, but my computer seems to be possessed as well. It freezes, then shuts down every time I try to do a search, and I am far too lazy to