A little bit more... Hazel's first Full Moon!

The atmosphere in the ballroom was charged with tension. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, paused and waiting. Hazel did not realise that it was her that they were waiting for.

Luke gently positioned her in the centre of the floor, then, instead of leading her in a dance; he left her on her own and melted into the crowd. The eyes behind each mask were focused on Hazel. Just then, the chandelier started to dim. The crowd started murmuring with controlled excitement.

Suddenly Hazel was aware of growling and snarling. She wondered if there were real animals here in the elegant ballroom, surely not. It took a while to realise that the snarls and growls were coming from her throat.

She felt her skin begin to tingle, the sensation started at her left hand, spreading quickly up her arm, across her chest and down the other arm as well as radiating through her whole body. The sensation was quite pleasant to begin with, but quickly became more intense and very soon was unbearably painful.

She was confused. She rubbed her arms trying to alleviate the tingling, burning sensation as she looked for Luke. She could not recognise anyone under these masks. She turned around and around, trying to find someone that she could distinguish or at least someone who would help her.

Her gown was becoming constrictive, she clawed at it and it tore right down the bodice. She shook herself and the ruins of the dress fell away from her. The mask was pulled off. Hazel could not think straight. Why were all these people surrounding her, crowding round? They were making her angry and defensive.

Hazel snapped at hands and faces that were too close. She was a full Wolf now, on all fours.

The people surrounding her were laughing and taunting her. She did not – could not - understand. She dearly wanted to be outside so she made a break for the glass doors. Unfortunately for Hazel, many hands restrained her. Ropes were put around her neck and were pulled from different directions and so she felt herself trapped, held secure. Still she snapped at anyone that got too close.

After what seemed an age of frenetic fury, Hazel appeared to calm down a little. She allowed the crowd to get closer to where she had lain down. One of the young men who had been taunting her from the start got a little close and, quicker than he could react, she snapped at him without warning. She didn’t go for his hand or face, something that could be pulled away quickly and on instinct, but she went in low and hard, biting almost clean through his calf muscle.

With a triumphant howl she yanked her head back and a piece of flesh came away in her teeth.

In an instant, she was face-to-face with another Wolf. He had changed in front of her eyes. Hazel’s hackles rose even more than they were already. She would not back down.

I'm wondering...

Should I or shouldn't I post a little of one of my other stories here?

Here goes...

Though he loathed rushing an experiment, he knew that tonight was the optimum time. The full June moon was beginning to wane; it was the last night that he would be able to conduct this experiment for twenty six days.

Thinking quickly as he spied a lone woman, he had to make his move. She seemed to be very drunk and she staggered along holding onto her shawl with one hand and the wall with her other. Her gait was unsteady and her clothes were dirty, shabby and dishevelled. He took one swift look about him to assure himself that there were not many others close by and none that were within a number of yards of her. Steeling himself now that he had made his decision, he stepped out of the shadows. He approached the woman with confidence and took her arm. He led her, unresisting, out of the alley and through another.

“Are you available dear?” He asked her as soon as he was certain that he had not been noticed.

“Eh? Yeah, yes sir, I am at that.” She grinned up at him and he realised that she was older than he had imagined and by God, she smelled rank.

“Good,” he forced his voice to sound amenable, his special and practiced tone - the one that he used on his better class of patient. “But not here, I know a place not far from here.”

“I gots me a place, lovie,” she began to lead him in another direction.

“No, this way, I have the perfect place,” he did not have the perfect place, but he could find it.

...

“Are we ‘ere then lovie?” The crone asked.

“No. Shut up.”

She looked up at him and something about his concentration must have cut through her gin-sodden brain. She pulled from his grasp. “I ain’t stayin’ ‘ere. You’re up to summink. Be off, let me alone!”

In desperation, he drew the cane from its sheath and as she turned to stagger off, he sliced at her back, cutting through the clothing and into her flesh. The blade was as sharp as his surgeon’s tools and for a moment, she thought that he had just grabbed for her and missed. Then with a small groan, she fell to her knees, dropping her ragged shawl as she tried to reach around the back of herself. Blood was soaking her clothes and she was whimpering as she sank onto her front. Her hands were still fluttering around her sides, trying to get to her wound.

...

Then he saw the beast. It was watching him, sitting in a puddle of moonlight as though by intent so that he could see it better. The light slanting from over the rooftops, made almost palpable by the smog which was beginning to thicken. Then the wolf - which he knew to be a Werewolf - spoke. He almost jumped out of his skin. He never imagined that they could speak.

“Well finish it then. Do not let it suffer so. Do not worry; I shall not steal your kill.” The voice was deep and velvety. He could imagine that voice talking to him whilst he allowed its owner to tear out his throat; it was almost hypnotic in the alluring timbre. He thought of deep silky fur enveloping him as he sunk into unfathomable depths to meet with ecstasy, delight and blood. He stayed silent but he did move closer to the beast.

...

This one was a woman. He gasped but waved for the wolf to go forward.

The wolf looked puzzled - and he was bemused at how an animal could look puzzled. Then it shrugged and moved on past him. She positioned herself on the opposite side of the woman’s body so that she could keep a wary eye on him as she devoured the unexpected prize.

“I do not recommend that you stay too long to watch, my friend. I shall be finished here very soon and my appetite is but whetted. Of course, I much prefer the easier prey such as you have kindly furnished me with but rest assured that your blade is no match for my weaponry.”

...

He took the hint and fled. He became happier once he had reached a populated area and he slipped inside the first public house that he came to, to imbibe some spirits to steady his jangling nerves. He was thankful that all he got from the barman was a glass of whisky and an odd look. Jack did not want conversation and the barman seemed to share that sentiment. He did not trust his own voice to be steady at this moment.

This is disturbing...

There's no wonder that new writers are finding it so very difficult to get even a sniff of a ladder, let alone one foot on the thing!

This article disturbs me.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article669160.ece

I think that this practice needs to be seriously looked at! How on earth can new Publishing Houses compete with those kind of shenanigans?

As a writer that is going to Self-Publish, how can I get my book into those shops? The answer is, I can't.

My book may not make the Best Sellers lists but would it have made it there if this kind of thing wasn't happening?

How many really great books are not getting a fair crack of the whip just because the Publisher simply cannot afford to purchase this kind of advertising - and that's exactly what it is - Advertising!

It's like the 'Infomercials' on TV - They should be clearly labelled that they are NOT independently reviewed but bought and paid for!

The public are being shepherded into buying books that are 'great reads' and 'unputdownable page-turners' when in reality they haven't even been read in some cases!

How many times have you bought a book on a store recommendation or because the author is well-known and published lots and then read it, and thought "What a load of rubbish! I could do better!"? I know I have - I did!

It's WRONG and it should be stopped!

Rant over... more later.