I’ve been writing. ALOT. And it’s fanfiction, which I know is not everyone’s cup of chava. So I will eventually have these stories (many of them collaborative, some mine alone; all posted with permission) up on the website for people to peruse.
Currently I am broadening my horizons a bit and writing male characters. I’ve always been uncomfortable with the idea, feeling I would not do males justice, but both of them are becoming easier to write than most of my female characters, whodathunk?
Anyway, I wanted to share this blurb from my werewolf’s story, because the imagery won’t leave my mind, and it’s deliciously creepy.
…His jaws gape in a wide lupine grin. The other bandits are holed up in the house like a great big wooden turtle. He loves turtles. They taste so good once you crack open the shell.
Jon prowled around the house, a growl rumbling through his chest. He murmured, “Little pig, little pig,” to himself and laughed; a harsh, maniacal sound. The doors were barricaded, and if he had to, he could tear his way in, but if there was an easier way to his prey… ah! A window. They probably did not think to barricade the ones on the second floor. His claws bit into the logs that made up the small house, easily helping him scale up to the second floor. As he suspected, there was no one even guarding it. They were probably all clustered in the main room, expecting him to come through by brute force. Licking his teeth, he giggles to himself. “Ready or not… in I come!”
I look forward to when he comes back to himself and realizes what he’s done (and thought of doing). The remorse will be delicious.