Contributor: Jules Browne

The thing slithered in the darkness like black blood on wet fabric. The hiss, the howl that slipped from its broken lips hung haunting in the air, bit into Derek’s soul like a slash of broken glass. His hackles were taut, fierce, knuckles tightening against the handle of the broken baseball bat.

Whatever it was, he could feel it watching him, staring, studying.

Hungry.