Whiskey burns the back of my throat as I exhale, settling my gaze on the placid man before me.

A shadow of what he was before.

Because, before, he had light. Had life. Something to look forward to. Something to hold on to. Back then, he thought he was tough-shit. Thought he was the bee’s knees. The cat’s meow. Thought he was something better than the rest of us, stepping on anyone and everyone to get his way. Rabidly pursuing any who thought differently, who dared to try and make him face fact.

Before, he was confident.

Stood proud. Stood tall.

But, now…


Now he cowers, a glare dying in the corner of his eye. Weak, because he knows.

I am the one who snuffed that light.

The one he should’ve left alone.

The one creature that he wasn’t tougher than.

I was the one who showed him that he wasn’t anything special. That he was no bigger than a sneeze. And, I’ll be the one to seal his fate, too.

To steal the son. Continue reading “Consequences”

Undead Truth

People are foolish.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my thousand years, it’s that.

People will believe anything they want to believe. The truth can be staring them down, ready to eat them, and still.

They’ll believe what they want to believe.

A plague of their own. A curse that they consistently choose:

Ignore the ugly truth.

Not that I’m complaining.

Honestly, it makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier. Continue reading “Undead Truth”

Falling To Fate

“I don’t believe in fairytales,” he grumbled over the lip of his pint. Already drowning in the liquid, as this wasn’t his first drink.

Hell, it wasn’t even his second, or third.

It was his fifteenth.

I swear, that wolf can really put ’em away.

“I don’ believe in ’em, ya hear me?” He growled, his claws digging into the metal.

“Aye, I hear ya. Drink that up bud, and then be on your way. The hunters will be out soon.”

“Hrggh,” he grumbled.

But he did as he was told. Bless his tired, drunk soul.

Sitting up, he tipped his drink all the way back. Guzzling it like a pro, very little sloshing out the sides of his snout.

When it was gone, he slammed it down like any lad would, wiped his face-fur on his sleeve, threw a few coins down, saluted, and then stumbled his way out the door.

“Is he always like that?” the kid at the bar asked as the wolf tumbled into the night.

I shrugged. “Just when he stumbles across kids in red hoods.”

“What’s he mean, he don’t believe in fairytales?”

I shrugged. Pretended not to know. Then went about my business. Cleaning mugs, refilling drinks.

It was dishonest of me, sure, but.

It wasn’t really my place to tell the kid that the Big Bad Wolf doesn’t believe in himself.

Was it? Continue reading “Falling To Fate”

Blood For Atonement

I am the one who knocks. Who breaks the town gates down. Tears their security to pieces as I remind them that there is a curse with a claim on them. Remind them that they spilt blood. Regardless of how long ago it was, they spilt blood.

And they must pay.

Again and again and again.

Not until the debt is repaid.


There is no way to pay for the life of someone so precious.


They will pay until they understand what it is that they’ve taken. Until they understand.

What is a life worth to them?

Continue reading “Blood For Atonement”

Bone Loss

Stumbling across things in the woods is what I live for. What I’d die for. There’s so much out there, just waiting to be found.

I was still young at the time. Young enough that I didn’t know.

But now I do.

Some things aren’t meant to be found. Continue reading “Bone Loss”

Spirits May Tell

No one wanted to tell him.

And I don’t blame them.

Not even I wanted to tell him.

Clearly he wasn’t thinking right. Wasn’t in the right mind anymore. Something in him broke, a switch flipped, and, suddenly, he wasn’t the same king anymore.

Such a shame too.

He was such a good king. And he was so young.

He was kind and gentle. Wise and just.

And he was my friend.

But sometimes it isn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough. Continue reading “Spirits May Tell”

Natural Reactions

There are thousands of responses firing in your brain at any given time. Thousands. Keeping track of them all is impossible, and controlling them is an even bigger task. Regardless of your methods and means.

Moment to moment, your brain is doing a million things at once. And, with every moment, there is a different response.

There are a few, however, that trigger a very particular set of responses.

Very different, depending on the situation.

There are moments where your brain has to fire so fast, so intensely, that your brain actually does one of two things.

The first?


Those firings in your brain result in a big blank. A giant question mark. All the fireworks fizzle out at once, leaving the sky dark and empty. In response to all that simultaneous firing, the pressure of your synapses is too much.

You end up doing nothing.

That’s the only way I can explain it. The only way I can understand it. Because my brain has never done that first thing.

It’s always been the second.

Or worse.

Since the curse, it’s been worse.

Much, much worse. Continue reading “Natural Reactions”

Victory Well

Honestly, I have no idea how it came to this. One minute, I was looking into the well, commenting on the old rocks. The decrepit state the old well was in. How it used to be used so often, and now it sat abandoned. Condemned. People speculated that it was cursed even. That the waters never ended in the bottom.

And now?

Now I was hanging off the side. My hand gripping a loose rock as I fought off the notion of falling down. Of plummeting into the dark water.

Of never coming out again.

I don’t know how I got here.

I don’t know.

Continue reading “Victory Well”

Stolen Goods

Have you ever stood on the shore and looked out over the water?

Not in a aw-inspired way. Not because there’s a dolphin out there and, by golly, you’re going to watch it do flips. Not because the sun is setting and you’d like to watch it dip out of sight.

But because you feel the need to? Like, something might come up over those waves, over that horizon line, and if you’re not there, there might not be anything or anyone to greet it?

That waiting.

That understanding.

That knowing feeling that something is coming.

Something is coming.

I’ve just… got no idea as to what. Continue reading “Stolen Goods”