Fangs And Fur: A Werewolf Story.

s was deathly silent, save for the overexcited crickets and f

tern over the house where Mike Sommers lived with his daughter Lauren. Twelve-year-o

ind. "Ann Shirley has a very bad temper. Ann Shirley must learn to control her temper,' and then

fternoon with that legend above her. She did not cry or hang her head. Anger was still too hot in

n her impeccable hearing. There was another creak, then a series of taps. Two taps. A scrape like fingernails on wood. Pause. Then three taps. Another pause. M

bunny bathroom slippers. Soundlessly she tiptoed to the door a

ack?" She calle

door while making as little noise as possible. Using the yello

a grunt, then a sniffle, like a dog smelling the a

lded her arms." Her dad loved all animals, perhaps a little too much. He was forever bringing stray

dog. She wrinkled her nose and let out a "Yech!", walking closer to the growl. She reached the end of the hallway, where th

d items. There was a milk carton on the floor, its milk forming a puddle like liquid moonlight. The bowl of casserole her dad had made the night before was upturned too. C

slitted. It bared its teeth in a growl and got up from its haunches. The beast was easily taller than Lauren

ast lumbered after her snapping its teeth and knocking her do

her face, then lowered it, its growling reduced to a whimper as it regarded the small girl beneath him. It seemed to reconsider killing her as its p