I wake to the dark. Twisting around to look at the clock on my nightstand, I slump back, knowing what the night holds in store, and just stare at the ceiling. A ceiling lit by the feeble green glow of the clock and the dim yellow street light that filters through the curtains and the cold Minnesota rain. A sickly, dreary light, entirely appropriate for the hour of the wolf.
Read More
The Hour of the Wolf
The Locket
It was a tiny thing. A gold-plated romantic heart no more than half an inch wide, with a faceted red garnet mounted in the center. It hung from a necklace chain, also gold-plated. Most of the plating was worn off after years of hanging around her neck, eroded by her habit of reaching up to hold it. She had done that more often over the last seven years since her husband’s death.
Read More