Nuns And Werewolves
A Modern Day Tale of Witchcraft and Deception
by
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Then the low growling noises began again. Elise took her hands away from her face and looked back at Michael. His eyes were once more filled with that look of madness and they were fixed intently upon her. She shook her head absentmindedly as she uttered what she feared were her last words. “No Michael…no.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
She could smell him now as he continued towards her. A fetid animal smell mixed with that of blood and semen; it was nauseating. She was paralyzed with fear; she was going to die. Closer he came, and she could not move. She felt his immense hands at her throat. Then…
“No Michael!” she screamed, abandoning any sense of protecting him, and pouring all of her energy into opposing him.
The gnarled hands left her throat as his body was thrown backwards. He hit the sofa and toppled over it, landing on the floor. He seemed dazed as he lay on his back, his arms slashing sluggishly through the air in front of him. The deep-throated growling noises sounded more like moans. Then he became still, except for slight jerking movements. He was unconscious.
Elise hesitated for a moment, to be sure that he was out, and then she ran past him, fighting the urge to stop and try to help him. She wanted this thing on the floor to be Michael again, but she knew that she must stay out of his reach until she could regain control of her emotions. She ran into the foyer and stopped to collect her thoughts. She would lock herself in one of the rooms upstairs and pray that he could not get to her.
‘Why can’t you concentrate?’ she thought. ‘Which room? Which room is the safest?’ She struggled to remember the layout of the mansion as she cautiously hurried up the dark staircase. She held tightly to the banister as she climbed into the blackness.
She was almost halfway up the stairs when she heard the crashing sounds of breaking glass and noises like furniture being knocked over. Michael had regained consciousness and was in a fit of raving madness.
Elise stood motionless, trying to be quiet, hoping that the darkness would protect her. She shivered at the sound of the bone-chilling howl suddenly echoing through the house. A long plaintive cry filled with hopelessness and sorrow; or was she misreading what she was hearing? Perhaps what she really heard was lust and hunger coming from a violent blood-thirsty animal.
Elise remained perfectly still. The house grew quiet; then she heard the faint sounds of sniffing. ‘Oh God,’ she thought, ‘He can smell me.’ She thought she could hear the sound of his bare feet on the stone floor. Yes, she could hear him. He was in the foyer. She could hear his labored breathing now. The sound renewed the image of his tortured face in her mind. She wanted to call out to him, to help him. If only she could control her thinking enough to subdue him again.
The sounds of the breathing grew fainter, as if he were aware that she could hear him and he deliberately altered it. How could he be so cognizant and still be this animal wanting to hurt her?
She had to get away…Now! She carefully resumed her ascent, being as quiet as possible, deliberately placing her feet down as softly as she could, taking one step after the other.
The foyer became as quiet as a tomb. The only noises were the muffled sounds of the wind howling outside and the beating of Elise’s own heart, which she feared might give away her location. She paused for a moment and listened.
She could not hear him, but she could sense him. He was climbing the stairs; a wolf stalking his kill. Then she could hear his breathing again. It was not so heavy as before…but it was closer.
She reminded herself to be careful with her telekinetic powers. She could never forgive herself if she hurt him. ‘But,’ she thought, ‘Dear god, he wants to kill me.’
Her next move was instinctual. There was no more time to think about it; she lunged up the stairs. She made it to the top landing and fumbled in the darkness as she moved along the wall.
The horrible beast, growling in the darkness was upon her in an instant. Her feet left the floor as his powerful arms lifted her body and pressed her against the wall.
“Michael…please…Oh God…please.”
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About the Book
Nuns and Werewolves was written to be sheer entertainment. It is a modern day gothic tale peppered with witchcraft, lycanthropy, violence, lust, and murder. Heavy and dark; yes, but also campy and sexy. Over-the-top characters carry the story of the tumultuous lives of two women brought together as young orphaned girls; raised in a remote convent school with nothing to keep them entertained except their schoolwork and one girl’s knowledge of witchcraft, which she secretly shares with her only friend.
At the age of seventeen, the girls are disunited due to their differing philosophies of life and their mutual desires for a young male artist who is working in the convent school. Their conflicts lead them into dark spells, lycanthropy, and murder.
Thirty-two years later, the conflict continues. One of the girls is now the mature mother of the artist’s philandering gay son, who has inherited his father’s propensity to howl at the moon. She engages the services of the campy Grande Dame of Wiccas in an effort to exorcise the spirit of a vengeful ghost from her home.
A seance gone wrong, reanimation of the dead, unrequited love, a gay love affair, a ninety-four year old wizard and a gala Halloween celebration in
About the Author
As a kid growing up in
Always fascinated by the macabre and supernatural; I loved anything to do with creatures of the night. My imagination fueled my ability to scare my cousins and friends with ghost stories during our many sleepovers. My elders always assured me that there was no such thing as werewolves, vampires, witches, zombies, etc. but I was never quite convinced that their claims were true.
After spending time as a young adult in
That said; I must state that all of my characters are fictional. (No...really!) Any similarities to anyone living or dead (?) are purely coincidental.
Nuns and Werewolves is my first solo attempt at writing a novel. It was created in conjunction with co-authoring another novel, Indecent Discretion, writing a children’s book, Dee-Dee Liverplease, working on my third novel, Murder In The Pigsty, and the publication of my first short story, “The Rescue”.
Writing has become a true labor of love for me. I hope that you, my readers, will experience at least some of the enjoyment while reading Nuns and Werewolves as that, which I had while writing it.