Lenore Wolfe's Blog, page 3

Shadows of DesireIn the underworld known as the Abyss, wh...

Shadows of Desire

In the underworld known as the Abyss, where flames flickered and shadows whispered, lived a woman named Elara. She was not a typical denizen of hell; her heart still pulsed with dreams, and her mind danced with stories waiting to be written. Elara shared her endless days with her husband, Kael, a once-spirited poet whose passion had dimmed in the oppressive heat of their surroundings.

Elara and Kael resided in a crumbling fortress, its walls adorned with soot and echoes of laughter long past. Though the Abyss was a realm of despair, Elara found solace in her imagination, weaving tales in her mind that transported her to brighter places. Each evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon of ash and smoke, she would sit by the flickering firelight, scribbling her thoughts on scraps of parchment.

“Why do you persist in these dreams?” Kael would often ask, his voice tinged with melancholy. “We are trapped here. What good is a story in a place like this?”

Elara would smile softly, her eyes shining with determination. “Every story has the power to ignite hope. If I can give life to my words, perhaps I can escape this hell, even if only for a moment.”

As days turned into weeks, Elara's longing to write consumed her. She envisioned a novel, a tale of love and courage that could transcend their bleak existence. The characters would rise from the ashes, defying the darkness surrounding them, much like she wished to do.

One fateful night, while gathering kindling near the edge of their fortress, Elara stumbled upon an ancient, dusty tome half-buried in the ground. Its cover shimmered faintly, and as she brushed away the dirt, she felt an electric pulse of energy. Inside, the pages were filled with spells and incantations—a guide to unlocking the power of words.

Excitedly, she brought it back to Kael. “Look! This could help me write my novel! If I can harness this magic, I can create a world so vivid that it will pull us both from this place!”

Kael's expression shifted from skepticism to cautious hope. “But magic in the Abyss is dangerous, Elara. It can twist your intentions and bind you deeper into this realm.”

Determined, Elara began to study the tome, practicing the incantations under the flickering firelight. Each word she spoke resonated within her, filling her with inspiration and strength. As she wrote her novel, the words seemed to come alive, painting vibrant pictures of a world filled with light, love, and laughter.

Yet, with each passing day, Kael grew more distant. The shadows of the Abyss weighed heavily on him, and he feared the power Elara was invoking. “You must stop,” he pleaded one evening, his voice breaking. “You are drawing attention from forces we cannot control.”

But Elara was resolute. “This is my chance to break free, Kael! If I can finish this novel, I can change our fate!”

As she wrote feverishly, the energy from her words began to ripple through the Abyss. Creatures of darkness stirred, drawn by the magic that radiated from her pages. The ground trembled as the boundaries between the realms began to blur.

One stormy night, as Elara penned the final chapter, a vortex of shadows erupted around her. Kael rushed to her side, fear etched across his face. “You have to stop! You’re calling them!”

“No!” she cried, her voice fierce. “This is my story, and I will see it through!”

With a final flourish, she completed the last sentence, sealing the magic within the book. The moment her pen lifted from the page, a blinding light erupted, engulfing the fortress. Elara and Kael were swept into the heart of the vortex, where they found themselves suspended between the realms.

In that moment, Elara understood that the power of her story was more than just an escape; it was a testament to their love and resilience. With her heart racing, she whispered a final incantation, summoning the energy of their shared dreams.

The light burst forth, illuminating the Abyss and pushing back the shadows. The fortress crumbled, and as the darkness receded, Elara and Kael found themselves standing in a sunlit meadow, the air fragrant with blooming flowers.

“Where are we?” Kael asked, astonished, as he took in the vibrant world around them.

Elara smiled, holding the ancient tome close to her heart. “We are in the world I created—a place where dreams can flourish. Together, we can write our new story.”

Hand in hand, they stepped into their new life, the echoes of the Abyss fading behind them. In the warmth of the sun, Elara began to write once more, crafting tales that would inspire hope, love, and the belief that even in the darkest of places, dreams could ignite the light.

In a small town, nestled between rolling hills, lived a ...

 

In a small town, nestled between rolling hills, lived a woman named Maya. For years, she endured a life shadowed by abuse, trapped in a relationship that chipped away at her spirit. Her partner, once charming and affectionate, had turned into someone who belittled her dreams and aspirations. Each day felt like a battle, filled with fear and self-doubt, leaving her feeling isolated and powerless.
Maya had always dreamed of becoming a writer. As a child, she would escape into the world of stories, scribbling tales of adventure and love in her worn-out notebook. Writing was her sanctuary, a place where she could express her feelings and imagine a life beyond her reality. But as the years passed, her dreams faded, overshadowed by the constant negativity that surrounded her.
One night, after a particularly harsh confrontation, Maya found herself sitting on the floor of her dimly lit living room, tears streaming down her cheeks. In that moment of despair, a flicker of determination ignited within her. She realized that she couldn’t allow fear to dictate her life any longer. The thought of losing herself completely was more terrifying than the unknown.
With a newfound resolve, Maya began to write again. She poured her heart into her stories, capturing her pain, her hopes, and her dreams on the pages. Each word was a step toward reclaiming her identity, a way to process her experiences and envision a brighter future. Writing became her lifeline, a means of healing and self-discovery.
As weeks turned into months, Maya grew stronger. She sought help from a local support group, connecting with other women who had faced similar struggles. Their stories resonated with her, and for the first time, she felt understood. The encouragement and camaraderie she found there fueled her desire to break free.
One day, with the support of her newfound friends, Maya made the courageous decision to leave her abusive partner. It was a difficult but necessary step. Armed with her notebook and her determination, she moved into a small apartment, a space that felt like a blank canvas for her new life. 
With each passing day, Maya immersed herself in writing. She began to submit her stories to local magazines and online platforms. To her surprise, her work started to gain recognition. People related to her words, and she found solace in knowing that her experiences could inspire others. 
One evening, as she sat at her desk surrounded by stacks of her published stories, she received an email that would change her life. A literary agent had read her work and wanted to represent her. Overwhelmed with emotion, Maya realized that her dreams were within reach. She had turned her pain into power, transforming her life through the very stories that had once been silenced.
With the agent's guidance, Maya wrote a novel based on her journey from abuse to empowerment. It was a raw and honest portrayal of her struggles, but also a testament to resilience and hope. When the book was published, it resonated with countless readers, sparking conversations about abuse and healing. Maya became an advocate for others, using her platform to raise awareness and support those still trapped in similar situations.
Her journey was not without challenges, but Maya learned to navigate them with grace and strength. She discovered the importance of self-love and forgiveness, not just for others but for herself as well. Through writing, she found her voice, and with it, the ability to inspire others to break free from their own darkness.
As she stood at a book signing event, surrounded by people eager to hear her story, Maya realized that she had come full circle. She had not only followed her heart but had also transformed her pain into purpose. Her dream of being a writer had become a reality, and in doing so, she had empowered herself and countless others to pursue their own dreams, no matter how impossible they may seem.

Republished!First Episode August 19th! She has walked 10,...

Republished! First Episode August 19th!

 She has walked 10,000 miles through fire and ash and has become like tempered steel. There is strength in her eyes and unequaled beauty in the lines and curves of her body. She is divinely female. Every rebirth, through the dark nights of her soul, has brought her to this place. Her essence is now a heady nectar. She walks with grace of femininity, and the gaze of many follows her wherever she goes.

Yet, she is constantly searching above the sea of many, searching for just one.

The movement of the many flit about, tasting each other, but they never stay long. They're like worker-bees, tasting of many flowers, their eyes always on the Queen.

There is one. He has grown weary of the mundane. Though nearly exhausted from the constant battles of life, he stands tall from the test of time. Now, he searches above the sea of women who have passed through his life, tired of the everyday. He searches for one who once brought meaning in his life. He knows there’s something more out there, something he can't put his finger on. Yet, her scent was always so much more intoxicating than anything he'd ever known. Her exotic nectar still leads him. 

They meet, their eyes locking. From that moment, everytime they come together, profound joy replaces all the years that brought them to this place. Suddenly, life comes into focus with amazing color and clarity. The air becomes cleaner, the world brighter. Even the music is sweeter.

Yet, once again, life moves in as it so often does. Life in a modern age reveals all, and the buzzing of days gone by send her requests, asking her to friend all his conquests from his past, all who he had chosen to remain connected while trying to hang on to his conquests, and still move forward. He had failed to clean up his life from a time when he had been just content to just be. His choices.

He had not prepared for the one who would move with him, and through him. 

Closing her eyes for a long deep cleansing breath, she now chose a different path, one that did not include a man who still hadn't let go of a time behind them. She sighed, then with a shake of her head—she turned and walked away.

An age-old story. He still hadn't been ready, afterall.

And she's already gone.

She has walked 10,000 miles through fire and ash and has...

 She has walked 10,000 miles through fire and ash and has become like tempered steel. There is strength in her eyes and unequaled beauty in the lines and curves of her body. She is divinely female. Every rebirth, through the dark nights of her soul, has brought her to this place. Her essence is now a heady nectar. She walks with grace of femininity, and the gaze of many follows her wherever she goes.

Yet, she is constantly searching above the sea of many, searching for just one.

The movement of the many flit about, tasting each other, but they never stay long. They're like worker-bees, tasting of many flowers, their eyes always on the Queen.

There is one. He has grown weary of the mundane. Though nearly exhausted from the constant battles of life. he stands tall from the test of time. Now, he searches above the sea of women who have passed through his life, tired of the everyday. He searches for one who brings meaning in his life.He knows there’s something more out there. Something he can't put his finger on. Yet, her scent is so much more intoxicating than anything he's ever known. Her exotic nectar leads him. 

They meet, their eyes locking. From that moment, everytime they come together, profound joy replaces all the years that brought them to this place. Suddenly, life comes into focus, with amazing color and clarity. The air becomes cleaner, the world brighter. Even the music is sweeter.

Yet, once again, life moves in, as it so often does. Life in a modern age reveals all, and the buzzing, of days gone by, begin to send her requests to friend all his conquests from his past, all who he had chosen to remain connected, with trying to hang on to his conquests and still move forward. He had failed to clean up his life from a time when he had been just content to just be. His choices.

He had not prepared for the one who would move with him, and through him. 

But she had chosen a different path. One that did not include a man who hadn't let go of a time gone by. She sighs, then with a shake of her head, she turns and walks away.

An age-old story. He hadn't been ready afterall.

And she's already gone.

Fall in Love ...

            Fall in Love

                                                         over and over        

        

with timeless romance….

HER BROKEN WINGS COULD FLY

My world had turned techno-colored. I would have never dreamed the expression could have any association with the rich vibrant colors I had found in the wildflowers, the rich, green grass, or the myriads of leaves hanging from giant hardwood trees. My world has lost its vivid brightness, had faded to almost black-and-white, with but a mere hint of color. As if someone had come along and begun to lay in some color and somehow become distracted never to return, leaving but the slightest hue of what could have been….

I would have been almost mesmerized had I been able to focus on anything at all—except for the soul wracking pain that had filled my world to the exclusion of everything else.

~Lenore Wolfe

Sacred Journey

You bellow from the other side of the door, calling me names. You bang on the door, threatening me. I've locked myself in the bathroom again. I turn on the water in the sink and the tub to drown you out. I start singing a song as loud as I can. I'm singing off key, but I don't care. My throat is raw. 

I pray that you do not force your way through the door. You have before. I trust that you don't want to break the door. That is something you have stopped doing. 

I sit here staring at the wall, half catatonic. My legs are shaking, and no matter how hard I try, I can't stop them. I'm not shaking because I am afraid. I'm not afraid. I just can't take anymore. You don't stop. You never stop. You've been hammering at me for hours. You just want me to see—you won't stop until I see, but I understood what you were trying to say before you finished your first sentence. 

I don't know how I’ve gotten to such a state, and yet, I know exactly why I haven’t left. Every time this happens, I wonder how I could still be here where you can do this to me again, and yet, I know exactly why I stay. 

You keep screaming outside the door. You've been screaming outside that door too many times. Sometimes you go on for days. You use to go on for weeks. 

Pain snakes its way through my soul until I bleed. I know the source, and I do nothing to stop it. I let my life torture me in penitence. I do not try to stop the things that harm me. You tell me that I am the worse thing that can happen to my children, and I do not try to fight your cruel words I do not leave. I let myself bleed as if bleeding with stop the torture. I never stop trying to be good, and I never stop believing that I am bad. I never stop telling myself that I am beautiful, and I never stop believing that I am truly ugly. I don't even know what it is that I need so badly to pay for, but I cannot stop letting myself bleed. No one made me be here. No one made me stay. I stay to pay. I am standing in the shadows. I look out at the sunshine, but I deny myself entrance. I am shadow. 

The deeper my pain, the more I feel alive. It is the only thing that I am allowed to feel. If not for the destruction of my pain, I would not feel anything. I see the child of my past who should have been innocent. I see her thin frail body and her pale skin. I see her eyes reflecting shadow. 

I want to reach out to her, but I cannot. I am afraid that I will break her. I am afraid that I will destroy her. I am afraid of my will. I am afraid of the power of my intent. I do everything inside of me to protect those around me, from me. I make myself behave. I make myself be good. If I do not, I could destroy with my will. I could bend and break the minds of those I love—and that is not love.

You challenge me with your rage. You challenge me with the nasty things you say. I have never heard anyone talk like you. I want to be shocked. I want to be innocent. I want to pretend that I am appalled—but I cannot. I am standing in the shadows, and I am tired of pretending that I am anything that I’m not. For, I am shadow.

I see freedom in the worst of mankind. I see the worst in the hate in your eyes and the venom of your words. I see myself bleeding, and I realize that I don't want to bleed anymore. I see the truth of all that I am, and I realize that I can live with the worst, and perhaps, I can even find the best. I will not be with you when I do. And, it is okay. I am shadow. 

I lay my tear stained face on my bare knees. I came to you to get away from a bad situation, and I have once again traded bad for worse. I've been here too many times. No matter how hard I try, I keep finding myself coming to this same spot in my life. Over and over, I am here, wondering how I got here, wondering how come. I can't stop the cycle.

It is a cycle not of violence but of despair. It is an exact moment, a moment when I pinpoint my deepest unhappiness. It is the moment I realize, yet again, that I have not moved beyond this place, that I am still stuck where I don't want to be. It is the moment when I try, once again, to figure out how I got to be here. This is the place where I question everything I've ever done. This is where I wonder how I'm to go on if I cannot even get myself beyond this moment. 

This moment when I have to face the fact I am still stuck. But then again, perhaps I am not stuck at all. Perhaps this is exactly where I want to be, feeling this deep pain, locked in despair. 

I am shadow. 

For, I stay to pay. I stay, to pay for not being a good elder's daughter. I stay, to pay for not being what I was supposed to be. I stay because, as I write this to you and the world reads what I write, I know my family will pay the price. I stay, because I couldn't believe, and because I couldn't believe I lost everyone. 

I stay because of the truth—their truth, the only truth. I stay, because I must live with the fact that their truth is a lie, and my family is between me and that lie. I stay, because the pain of failing my family will never die. 

They said that you will know the truth, and the truth shall set you free. And even though I now know that their truth was never truth in reality, I stay, because what they have taught me will never set me free but will torture me until the day I die. I stay because you make me bleed, and as long as I bleed—I live. 

PRELUDE TO HER DARK MIRROR

     I’ve lost all fear of being betrayed. I have lost all fear of being abandoned. I have lost all fear of being homeless. I’ve lost all fear of having no place left to turn and no place left to go. I’ve even lost all fear of death itself.

You dressed me up because I’d snubbed you. You dressed me up in a cowgirl outfit and made me dance with you because she’d gone to the dance hall with someone else.

With another of your many affairs, you took me out and bought me a tight-fitting outfit, again at a cheap dress store, because Lilly would be at the study-group, get-together with her husband, and you wanted her to see you had a beautiful woman at home.

You threatened to blow up my world if I threw you out, and yet years later you threatened to make me homeless. And when you had a new girl to whisper to. the same words you'd whispered to me, "I’ve got you, baby, I’ll never let you go"—you threw me out, knowing I had no place left of my own. After all, you had been the one to help me get rid of my things, and you'd helped me to give up my home. Yet you still made me go, though I’d never done the same to you in all those years—all those times I when I should have.

I’ve hidden in closets to escape your wrath, and I’ve taken refuge behind locked bathroom doors, praying you wouldn’t break in. I’ve sat in despair while you forced my bedroom door open, in spite of all the furniture I had placed in front. I’ve lied to cover bruises, and I’ve bled internally from the damage you'd done, and you weren’t done with me. No, you couldn’t be done until you could make me out as the bad one, the crazy one who wouldn’t leave you alone. You knew I loved you, and you used my love to bring me down.

Well baby, I’ve crawled across glass for every ounce I’ve gained since then, and I’ve lost all my fear along the way. I’ve come to know that if I hadn’t been so afraid of being betrayed—I’d have never been afraid of you at all….

Most of all—you will get to watch me be wildly successful at everything you sought to destroy. You will get to watch me be the successful author you said I’d never be. You will get to watch as I live wonderfully—every dream you tried to trample into dust. You did your best to shatter those dreams, so I think it’s fitting that all the things you swore I sucked at are the things that raise me up. Every time you turn a corner and find me there, doing well, I want you to remember the very last thing you did to me—when I was down and out…. 

I’ll forgive you some day like I forgave you all the rest. Keeping grudges only gives you power, and you don’t have that right…but I will never give you the love you so willingly threw away. And I feel sorry for you—because you’re the one who’s going to miss my love.

Isn’t it funny how we never appreciate what we have—until it’s gone?

Bet it drives you more than a little crazy that I have the peace you’d never let me know. And when I laugh, I'll remember you tried to take that too. Too much joy always seemed to irritate you. I will live each day with joy, knowing that if you hadn’t thrown me out—I'd still be right there shaking, watching your face, all twisted with hate, and listening to every disgusting word you’d scream….

You didn’t deserve all the years I stood beside you, even while you brutalized the love I never tried to hide. Still, you have spared me anymore of the rage that eats at you—and for that I’m thankful we finally, really are—through.

You never deserved—me. And baby, I’m finally home.

Wallowing is how negative energy keeps us lost and confus...

Wallowing is how negative energy keeps us lost and confused. Wallowing keeps us stuck, unable to let go, unable to forgive others. But we must also love ourselves just as much, forgive ourselves, which we often find so much harder to do. When we let go, we go forward. This way, we remove the dam to our emotions and allow our emotions to flow through us, the way it was meant. Emotions are meant to move, the way the river moves. Life is not meant to be stuck, like a pool that becomes stagnant. When we let go, we remove the burdens that wear us down. We release the past. And, in doing so, we release the heavy, dead energies that keep us tied down and prevent us from feeling the pure joy that is our birthright. ~Lenore Wolfe

Even death couldn’t keep them apart…

Prologue
It was a chilly, rainy night. The rain pelted his windshield so he could hardly see two feet in front of his car—even with the wipers as high as they would go. Wolfram O’Connor was high up in the Smokey Mountains, and perhaps if this had not been his first time up here, and then to have done so in the dark, it wouldn't have felt so—well—paranormal.That was putting it mildly. It had started with the mist, which had settled into the crooks and crannies of the mountain. But that was the nature of these mountains. Then, the rain had come. But, again, sooner or later, it always rained. That was mother-nature.No. It had been the shadows, which seemed to follow him as he drove along, that had finally done it for him.Wolfram didn't spook easily—actually, it was pretty difficult to scare him at all, raised as he'd been on the streets of Chicago. But this place was giving him the creeps. He preferred the back alleys, on any dark night in the city—to this. Wolfram didn’t play around. He knew his sheer size and strength gave him his confidence—well, and his willingness to throw down when it was warranted. He easily admitted, though, that knowing how to fight dirty sometimes gave him a false sense of security. It really didn’t matter how big you were—with the right enemy. And he didn’t know the woods—he knew the streets.On the street—he was equal to the task—no matter the enemy. He’d had to be from the time he’d been a kid when he’d had to protect his little sisters from the gangs.Here—well—he didn’t know the woods. He’d rather face a gun any day—than a cougar.He wouldn't have been here at all if it were not for the plea he had received in his email—from a very old friend. He had almost dismissed it—but he'd been curious. This was a girl he’d never been able to get past. And he couldn’t understand that when all they’d ever done—was fight. And not your run of the mill yelling, type fighting either—but more of the knock-down, drag-out type of fighting.Even their fucking had sometimes been violent.He wished he had left the whole damn business alone. If he were honest, he’d known as soon as he’d seen the email that he should have left it alone. The only thing that made him feel anything, at any given time, for as long as he could remember, was rage and sex. She had fueled both, like gasoline on brittle tinder. All he ever want to do fuck her—or hit her.He winced, remembering a time when he'd come out of a white-hot rage, only to find himself holding a glass candle like he'd intended to cave in her head—she'd been looking him right in the eye, her light blue eyes staring hard into his dark ones like she was daring him to do just that.He wanted to kiss her, to see her creamy white skin against the darkness of his own. He wanted to beat her beautiful ass, see his hands against her flesh. Even when he beat her, he wanted to take her with violent need. And he’d never understood it. Other women pissed him off—but none had created such violence within him.When he finally reached her mile-marker, he could barely see through the rivulets of rain that streaked his windshield. The black, glassy sheen of the pavement, damp from the dark of the storm, and the dim shine of his headlights didn’t help. So he wasn’t that surprised when he ended up passing up her driveway. Scowling, he managed to turn the car around—in spite of not being able to see where the damned ditch was in the rain. He congratulated himself on doing so without some car coming around the bend and plowing into him.The driveway was worse. Google hadn't told him that she was a half-mile off the road. The road was soft beneath his tires. If he got stuck up here—well—she just better damn well make it worth the effort it had cost him to get here. Not that he was trying to think of her in that way.He was a scoundrel—but she was still his friend. And they had put each other through too much already. Who was he kidding? He’d never been able to keep his hands off of her.They hadn't exactly become fast friends. Actually, they had, in a way. But it had taken years. At first, they had always been too busy loving and—hating one another. But all that had changed when he’d had tried to live without her.He hated that—hated that he missed her—hated that he might have needed her in any way.He had tried to hate her too—tried damn hard, in fact. He’d said a lot of mean things. Hell. He’d done a lot of mean things to her. But he hadn't truly been able to hate her at all—not from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. Perhaps that was the thing that had driven him.What was she doing up here anyway?He squinted through the pelting rain. He thought he spotted a light way up ahead and didn’t try to hide his elation. He was just feeling relieved when something gray screamed and landed on the hood of his car.He nearly drove the car into a tree. He sideswiped that tree and came to rest on a much smaller one. Adrenalin shot through his veins and fueled his fury.He jumped out of his car—enraged—ready to beat whatever it had been that had scared him into oblivion—all of his senses telling him that he had not just seen what he thought he had. He’d nearly convinced himself—when that same something landed square in the middle of his chest, driving his large, muscular frame backward with a strength that amazed him, knocking him flat on his back and stealing the wind from him.He froze at the sight of the face just inches above his own—eyes so pale, they nearly blended with the whites of her eyes, stared back. He didn’t move—didn’t breathe—didn’t blink. He knew it was female by her long, white hair—at least he hoped it was female. He had no idea what difference it made. But somewhere in his mind—it made a difference. Cold, gray skin hung from her bones. Her nose was more like two holes in her face. She poked at his face with fingers so long—they couldn't possibly be real.But then—none of this was real. Was it? Nothing on the streets had prepared him for this. Did these things only live in the woods?She leaned in. She was so close that her face was a mere two inches from his. She sniffed. His throat ached. His body screamed for air, but he had the sensation that if he moved even a hair—even flinched—she would tear his limbs from his body. Call it self-preservation, but he didn't move. She sniffed again—then opened her mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth.This time he did shiver.She immediately leaned in closer. Then her pale eyes centered on his—and she stopped. She sat like that for a long moment—her gaze not wavering from his own. Then she put her head up, and she screamed. Wolfram had never heard anything like it before in his life. It sent shivers up the spine.And suddenly he was free—She moved away from him, towards the shadows of the trees—took one more look back at him—then melted into the shadows.Wolfram had never in his life moved as fast as he did now, skidding in the mud as he ran for his car. He slid alongside the door, went down like a baseball player sliding into home, and banged his elbow on the car as his whole body went sideways. His right hip hit the ground hard.He slipped, again, trying to get up. Taking a deep breath, keenly aware his terror was making him clumsy—he forced himself to slow down. He got up and fumbled for the door. Once inside, he quickly locked it—then checked the backseat for good measure.“What the hell was that!?” he shouted at no one in particular. That no one was around to give him an answer—but it made him feel better. He cranked the engine—relieved when it started—but when he shoved it in reverse, the tires spun.He slammed it in drive, then reverse, rocking it back and forth, slamming it into drive and reverse, alternatively. He had to do this several more times before the car got enough traction to move away from the tree and back up into the drive.He stared in the direction of her house. Every sense in him told him that he should get the hell off of this mountain….But he wasn't enough of a coward to leave anyone—especially not an old friend—and especially not her—at the mercy of whatever the hell that thing had been!No—most especially not her!He tore down the rest of the drive, spitting pebbles as he pulled up next to her house. It was dark. He was cold, wet and covered with mud. He looked at the house. He knew there was no one home.He would know if she were there.He hit the steering wheel. And then he hit it again. After a long moment, in which he fought his usual round of temper and cursing, he resigned himself to his fate.Wolfram settled down to wait for her to return. At least there was a yard light in the front drive. He noticed that there was apparently another one in the back. If were not for the lights—he swore that he'd have left her to fend for herself. He turned up the heat on full bore—and then he turned on the radio. He started to feel a little better. Light, heat—sound.But fear still tasted bitter on his tongue.
After a while he turned off the car, still peering beyond the edges of light for anything that moved. Finally—exhausted—he fell asleep.



-To be released January 31, 2018