Hello Legions of Lycanthropy, Being a new member, I'm not sure if this is the place to post this, and I apologize if it is not. I want to thank everyone for giving me an opportunity to drop in and visit on occasion. I also want to thank The Busboy, and the other Administrators for such a cool site, and their commitment in keeping it so organized and interesting. A couple of days ago I announced my new novel of lycanthropy 'Await The Moon' on the news forum, and The Busboy was so kind as to congratulate me and post the site, which I sincerely appreciated. Well, today I'm putting my money where my mouth is, and offering an excerpt from the book. One bares their soul to a certain extent, when they release their most intense thoughts out into the open and, nothing goes unnoticed in my small, 'Mayberry mindset' Midwestern town. Curiosity is king here, and it will be interesting to see the response to the novel, as its unconventional contents slowly circulate through the grapevine. But it will be good for them, I believe, to use their imaginations, and to open up their minds a bit. They may even perhaps begin to  dream.                                            'He stood and looked up at the window of the cell. The sound of shuffled movements on the stone of the courtyard cut through the silence surrounding him. With this, a sensation of his pulse quickening, his blood racing within him, a sudden chill followed quickly by a slight fever. The noise of the movements above him soon began to be accompanied by the deep groans of what sounded to be animals, but he heard nothing now. His head was splitting. His blood rose in temperature, curdling with the heat that surged through him. The pain in his head gave way when the volcano of molten plasma filled his brain. Quickly his head cleared and instincts held sway. He leaped and grasped the iron bars of his cage, fully knowing whence  the awakening growls came and what they were soon to become. He smelled their transformation, the dead men into living monsters. His thick, sinuous arms tugged, and he wrenched the bars from their hold in the aged cement. Climbing out into the courtyard, he met them as they had only begun to stand. Their swords lay near them and his first impulse was to grasp the closet weapon with his long stout fingers. It sliced quickly and evenly through their necks. He was relentless in the speed with which he dispatched them, and their groans had risen to desperate cries in trying to fully transform before they fell.'  copyright 2013, John Robert Jones  Thank you again for such a cool site! Sincerely, lycanlover

Last edited by lycanlover (2013-11-19 11:08:16)