I'll send the wolves that hunt at night, charging through the shadows with a thunderous whisper, tickling the air with fetid breath that smells of death. Teeth glint like steel in the moonlight, howls calling for blood. They hunt within the dark, blackish coats reflecting hell fire. One bite and you're forever theirs, forever mine. Don't fight the wolves, give in to the sinful desire. I am the wolf. I am Christian Jensen.
So much is going on I don’t even know
where to start. Okay, so I made the announcement that I signed with Bootrope
and things there are running like an out of control freight train. In addition
to the four books I’ve already submitted to them I have a couple DOZEN more
that are going to head over there in the coming weeks. Also, I’m working on
another book, Believe in the Dark Man,
with Cassandre Dayne, the best selling author and my previous co-author for Toxic Leash, The Darkness Within and I Like
to Watch. On top of that I have a new book I’m working on. It’s a demonic
possession piece and will be chocked full of some terrifying things you’ve
never imagined and will wish you didn’t let into your mind. Additionally, I
have brand new stories coming out in not one but two magazines. More details
when they’re ready to go. On top of that I have released a new YA under a pseudonym.
I’ll make the official announcement when I get the okay from my editor.
So yeah, I’m busy as a one legged man in
an ass whooping contest, and I plan on taking first prize.
I’m really tired and need to get some
sleep, so here is an excerpt from my current Work In Progress, currently
unnamed. Think demonic possession:
must be losing my fucking mind.” Karen busied herself with closing the doors as
gently as she could. She didn’t want father Downey to know what had happened.
She didn’t want to show that kind of weakness. Karen filled a glass with water
and headed back to guest room. The door was closed, which she thought odd. For
the life of her she couldn’t remember closing it. “I’m sorry father, I should
have offered you something sooner.”
completely understand, Karen. You’re just a stupid cunt who doesn’t know any
better.” Father Downey had his back to her. He was still standing at the foot
of the bed, his head bowed. He was facing the old woman who simply looked
blankly at the ceiling. Karen thought the old woman was smiling, but that had
to be a trick of the light, or the angle she was looking from.
did you say, father?” Karen was aghast. How could a priest speak to her like
that, in her own home no less? She had known Father Downey for fifteen years.
He had performed the ceremony at her wedding, baptized their children, and
blessed their house. She had never heard him utter a single curse word, let
alone talk to someone in such a manner.
said I understand, Karen. You’re under a lot of stress. “Father Downey turned
and took the glass from her shaking hands. “I think you should sit down, you
look very pale.”
course she had heard wrong. Father Downey wouldn’t say something so hateful,
not to her or anyone else. He was a man of God, a good man and priest. She was
tired, her mind was playing tricks on her. Karen touched a hand to her cheek
and felt the heat radiating off it. Maybe she was getting sick on top of
everything else. It would make sense. She hadn’t slept right in weeks. She was
barely eating. Yes, of course. She had misunderstood.
something about Father Downey didn’t look right. His eyes seemed swollen, the
pouches of skin under his eyes were usually sunken a little and darker than the
surrounding skin. He normally looked like a man who didn’t’ get enough sleep,
but the color in his cheeks and the bright smile distracted you away from such
things. He wasn’t smiling now and his skin looked pale. There was a hollow
quality to his cheeks that made him look sickly. Karen wasn’t sure, but it
looked like there was a rash spreading up from his neck.
us begin.” His voice sounded weak and raspy, nothing like the usual confident,
bass filled rumble Karen knew from church. His hand was shaking as he took
several large swallows of water from the glass. There was a muted clink! noise,
the kind made when two glasses touched as if in a toast. The water from Father
Downey’s glass turned pink almost immediately. “I think this glass is broken.”
He held the glass up the light coming from the window. Murky swirls of pink
were missing with the water. Blood dripped from a slice on the priest’s lip as
he handed Karen the glass.
father. I’m so sorry.” Karen took the glass and looked at it. A long cut went
from the rim to the base. A chip was missing and blood stained the edge. “I
don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sorry. Let me get you something to
Karen turned to leave the room Father Downey said; “You really are just a
useless slut. Forget the water and just get on your knees and suck my fat,
voice didn’t belong to the priest. Karen was sure of that. Ignoring what was
surely just another trick of her addled mind, she quickly left the room. She
placed the glass in the bathroom adjacent to the guest room and removed a towel
from the rack. She turned and stopped. The door to the bedroom was closed
again. She was positive she hadn’t closed it and saw no reason why the priest
would. Now Karen was getting scared.
opened the door and walked in. Father Downey was sitting on the edge of the
bed. There was no denying how sick he looked now.
do you feel okay?” His skin was waxy and pale. Sweat stood out on his forehead
and there definitely was a rash spreading up, bright red and blotchy, from his
It was a struggle to even get that one word out. “Come, let’s give this amazing
woman her last rights. I think I need to get back to the rectory and rest.”