Something is eating away at Milo. Perhaps it’s the stress from dealing with his oppressive older brother. Maybe it’s his low blood sugar. It could be his remorse over the twenty three dead women buried in his backyard. Or possibly it’s the beast inside of him, trying to fight its way to the surface, with or without the help of the full moon.
Something is devouring Milo, and this time it isn’t just his guilty conscience.
Today's guest entry comes from the very talented author, Thom Erb. He brings us an excerpt from an upcoming novella entitled "The Cleansing."
A novella by Thom Erb
The large bay window shattered into a million shards of glass and thousands of wooden splinters pierced the frail author as he screamed, flinging himself on the floor. Shock white lightening flashed, exposing six mammoth figures standing in the shattered window opening. Glass crunched under the large paw-like feet as the creatures fanned out in the circle shaped office.
The largest creature stepped forward. Dante’ could make out few details. The lightning and moon behind them blotted out most of the light. It stood slightly hunched over, wide shoulder overshadowing its thin waist. Loose blood stained trousers covered its thick lower body. A thick coat of rain slick fur covered its barrel chest. It heaved up and down as its nose twitched in the night air.
“We can smell you human. There’s no use in hiding,” A guttural growl drowned out the emo-filled tones of Coldplay. Dante’ could feel warm urine soak his trousers.
Dante’ flailed on hands and knees behind his large wooden desk. His face, arms and chest burned with pain from several glass shards. Blood ran from the multiple wounds and he saw the creatures turned their elongated nose in unison into the cold air- sniffing.
My blood! Dante’s frantic mind raced. He looked for a way out. The creatures tossed his six thousand dollar leather sofa in front the door. He had nowhere to go.
The harsh fall wind and rain filled the office. Growls of anger filled the office. It drowned out Dante’s pathetic whimper as he scrambled toward the huge desk.
“Ohh, nooo...do—don’t h—urt.” Dante’ cried out, on all fours looking for an escape.
The large creature peered down over the opulent desk, its drool splattered on the keyboard. “We won’t hurt you, meat,” Its deep voice sounded as if its throat were filled with gravel and mud. It squatted down and smiled wide- lightening flashed, exposing its face.
Dante’ squirmed against the wall. The creatures face was something out of a horror movie. He could see human features, but something made it different, bestial. Its nose jutted out like a German Sheppard or even a wolf. Its large fang-like teeth, stained with blood glinted in the moonlight. Its eyes were deep set under a wide forehead. The eye were red pinholes that peered deep into Dante’ as he screamed and threw pens, paper, and empty wine bottles at the slowly encroaching creature.
“For centuries we have endured. Let you live, while you spread your lies. We have had enough,” Dante’s eyes flashed wide and the creature lunged at him. Its jaws hyper-extending, exposing a wide maw and the serrated teeth burrowed deep and harsh into his face. Hot white pain exploded and all went black. He could feel rows of razor-sharp teeth tear into his skull, as blood gushed as if a water balloon filled beyond its limit.
An artillery burst of thunderclaps drowned out Dante’s feeble cries for help. He could barely form a thought, much less discernible words. He collapsed under the weight of his attacker and felt something in his neck snap. He heard the sickly wet crack and now, the only sense left was that of sound. All he could hear was the sound of crunching, slurping, and chewing.
His last cries for mercy were lost amongst the raging storm and soul wrenching growls.
Hell-spawned howls filled the dark room as the blood soaked monsters fed the bloody remnants of the bestselling author.
Thomas A. Erb is a genre fiction writer exploring all shades of darkness and light and the varying definitions of heroism. Refusing to pigeonhole his writing, Thomas continues to craft tales that blur the lines of dark, fantasy, thriller, weird western, science fiction for both adult and young adult audiences.
His first novella, Tones of Home, was published in May through Crowded Quarantine Publications (UK)
Thomas is also an artist/illustrator of murals and comic book/graphic novels.
When not writing, Thomas enjoys quality films, television shows, role-playing games, playing drums, comic books and rooting for the Dallas Cowboys and New York Yankees. He lives in upstate New York with his wife Michelle and their old crotchety yellow lab, Rask.
Thomas is a member of the Horror Writer's Association and you can find out more here: