REALMS OF REASON, INSANITY, MAGIC & MACABRE

Don't Look Back

THE AUTUMN VEIL Illustrations by Roger Hodge* There is a chill in the room today.  Autumn makes a grand entrance as she dances upon the mist and beats her tambourine.  Round and round she spins in twirls, swirls, dips, and lifts; the rustle of her colorful skirt illuminated by the morning sun.  I watch from the window. The pane rattles with anticipation as she rustles by, playing peek-a-boo with the lace curtains hanging there.  I hear the hushed whispers, telling secrets and then, the howling laughter. A shiver runs the length of my spine. Where is my shawl…?  Who? She asks as she taps at my door. Whooooo?  I don’t remember. Something stops me cold as I step toward the threshold; wanting to open it for her but dread fills my veins and I am frozen in fear.  I don’t know who. I only know the room is becoming colder, musty and damp. Again I feel the icy fingers running up and down my back; I shiver.  From behind my veil,...

M. Teresa Clayton's Publications "Books": THE TREASURE OF TIME I woke up that morning to... : THE TREASURE OF TIME is one of the most popular short stories in the best-selling book Storyteller by M Teresa Clayton. Click the link for an interesting read and please FOLLOW this blog - At September's end, one follower will be chosen at random to receive a signed copy of the book. This would make a great Christmas gift for your book lover or keep it for yourself. I will ask you if you would like a dedication placed in the book from me. Again, please FOLLOW this blog. There are two other blogs that are also part of this giveaway, but with different books. Watch for links.

DIRE WOLF Long ago, when I was a wee boy, pretending to be a knight fighting off dragons and creatures unknown, my mother would take leave and come running to me, telling me to never wander off far from our home. “But, why,” I would ask her, “What lies hidden in the wood?"  She remained silent, insisting I mind her every word, the warning seemed desperate, something out there was no good, it was not her words, but her fear and angst that I heard. As I grew up and became a man, I looked at the forest wall, wondering once more, as I often did, what was it beyond the trees?  Next to my fire, just after sundown, I heard a familiar call. T’was the cry of the wolves, was I to fear sounds like these? Among the crickets and tree frogs calling out into the night, the wolves howling brought me a sadness of being so alone that I never wanted to know, out there under the light of a full moon, searching the wood with a howling moan. If I went searching, w...