I am thrilled to hand the blog to C.I. Kemp today. As I have an interest in werewolves I enjoyed this post about Autumn Moon and I hope you will too.
Guest Post from C.I. Kemp
Hi, Daisy. Thanks for letting me use your blog to tell everyone about Autumn Moon.
I’ve always been passionate about wolves.
Sure, I grew up on “Little Red Riding Hood,” the big bad wolf, and all those Aesop’s Fables where the wolf is always the bad guy. I watched Lon Chaney, Henry Hull, and Oliver Reed go from human beings into slavering, bloodthirsty, bestial killing machines. And I bought into it.
Later on, I became more environmentally conscious and I made a startling discovery: wolves are not vicious cold-blooded monsters! They’re gentle and intelligent, devoted to their pups, supportive of their pack mates, and timid in the presence of humans. Also, they’re extremely monogamous. That’s right – when wolves couple, it’s for life.
Given these facts, I wondered if it was possible to write a werewolf story which is scary, yet true to the actual nature of these wonderful animals. I’d like to think I succeeded with Autumn Moon and that you’ll enjoy reading it
Five hundred years ago: In a remote wooded area, the victim of a hideous atrocity vowed that one day, retribution would come.
Today: Homestead, Montana was a nice, quiet town. Until the wolves came. Now, Homestead will be plunged into a wave of horrific violence.
Two people stand between the oncoming terror and the previously peaceful town. The first is Nielsen Johns, a rugged woodsman / naturalist who lives with a Mexican Grey Wolf he rescued and raised from a pup. The second is a beautiful single mom, Annette Highlander. Annette’s love and awe of these animals hide a dark past and a five-hundred-year-old curse.
United in their passion for the wolves — and each other — Niels and Annette are confronted with a secret that threatens to engulf their town. They must uncover that secret in a place where things are not as they appear — where wolves think like humans; where humans kill like beasts.
“The alleged carnage of the werewolf pales in comparison with the actual cruelty of the human race. The nature of the wolf is gentle, pacific; the history of mankind, especially towards its most vulnerable members, is anything but. In view of that fact, any savagery attributable to the werewolf must be seen to derive, not from the nature of the wolf, but rather from the nature of the man.”
– Nielsen Johns, Author of Of Wolves And Men
In the darkness, he could make out a shape.
A pair of red eyes materialized.
His finger began to tighten on the trigger.
It came as a guttural whisper, in a voice Niels recognized, despite its distorted quality. “Annette?”
He lowered the gun and reached into his pocket for the flashlight.
“No! Please don’t!”
The cry sounded almost pained, as if it were coming from a mouth not designed for human speech. Niels understood.
It was Annette and she did not want him to see her as she was.
He knew what he would see — a misshapen caricature of the woman he loved. Her features would be barely recognizable beneath a veneer of disfigurement. Her face and body would be covered in hair, making her look more like an apish circus freak than a beautiful woman. Her jaw would be deformed, distending forward, with sharp slavering fangs. Her limbs would be twisted into configurations more animal than human and her digits would be elongated. Her knuckles would be swollen nodules, ending in jagged curved talons.
Niels removed his empty hand from his pocket.
She was in a state between a human and a wolf. Despite the grotesqueness of the situation, Niels longed to rush forward and press himself against her, reassure her with his touch.
As if reading his thoughts, the shape spoke again, “You don’t have to come closer, Niels. Just keep my children safe.”
The red eyes, the only part of her that was fully visible to him bobbed up and down. She was nodding. “I know,”
“Keep them safe, Niels,” she said again. Then, the shape receded.
“Wait!” Niels shouted and took a step forward.
She turned with amazing quickness and the silhouette that was Annette held up a hand – or whatever passed as a hand in her current form. He stopped.
“No. Have to go.” A pause. “If I don’t come back, kill him!” Another pause. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Before the words were out of his mouth, the eyes and shape disappeared into the night.
About C.I. Kemp
C.I. Kemp is a lifelong horror buff currently living in the wilds of northern New Jersey with his technologically advanced son and neurotic cat. By day, Mr. Kemp works in the Information Services industry; by night he is an avid reader and writer of thrillers, horror, dark fantasy, and occasionally erotica and humor. He is a member of the Garden State Speculative Fiction Writers. When not engaged in pursuits which involve scaring the pants off his readers, Mr. Kemp enjoys hiking, biking, and various other outdoor activities.
Connect with C.I at www.ci-kemp.com