Belonging Hum: A Short Story

The narrator then gets up and walks outside, and then the unexpected happens. “…The changing” takes place in the husband. His change makes it to where “the hair begun to come away all over his body…he was white all over, then, like a worm’s skin…” This continues the idea that not everything is exactly as it seems. The wife was in shock since her husband “turned into the hateful one.” The “thing my [the wife] husband had turned into” then howls “a crazy, awful howling”, which can be thought as the yelling a human does. This creature is then told to be a “man thing”, or man, who “had no gun, like the ones from man places do”. Men who hunt wild animals will most often have a gun or weapon for defense, but since this man had no weapon he “picked up a heavy fallen tree branch in its long white foot.” This startles the wolf family because the mother “knew the man would kill” the wolf puppies. The wife knows that her husband would never be so cruel to his kind, but she now knows that her husband is not a wolf. He is a strong man who is ready to kill if it’s

"Tried to teach him The Lord's Prayer once." His eyes traveled out beyond the hut for a moment, toward the gritty, featureless hardpan. "Guess this ain't Lord's Prayer country. You're a gunslinger. That right?"

The wolf stopped just inches away from Todrick. Suddenly sirens erupted around the corner and swarmed around Todrick and the wolf. The wolf quickly turned his attention to the cars that screeched to a stop. Men in padded uniforms stepped out with weapons that ordinary police officers didn’t carry around. Todrick got up quickly, “Sir step away we have animal control here ready to put this beast down.” Todrick quickly stepped in front of the wolf, unaware of how close he was until he felt the hot breath down his back. “Wait, don’t shoot!” Todrick called out holding up both of his hands. “I know this is all out of the ordinary

Billy thrust forward from behind the dune wall and grabbed the wrist of the Potawatomi in one hand and the others exposed throat in the other as he drove his enemy’s hapless body against the sandy ground, pinning his free hand as tightly as any vice. Not a sound escaped the lips of the scout as the iron grip of O’Donnell silently cut off his airway and only a quick and frantic thrashing gave evidence to the mad struggle of life and death that took place upon the sandy dune bottom. A mere moment passed before the Potawatomi scout relaxed in Billy’s grip, his skin turning a ghastly shade of purple as the tongue began to slowly protrude between blood fleck lips. Billy lifted his head, straining to hear the inevitable cry of the Indian wolf pack that hunted him, certain that some sound had escaped to betray his presence. But he heard no shout of warning, no cries of discovery that would surely have followed if but the slightest noise of struggle were discerned by his hunters. There was nothing. The sandy dunes were too quiet, Billy realized suddenly. They seemed as silent as death itself and Billy was for a moment overcome by a panic induced vision of hundreds of blood mad Indians, led by the hulking figure of Mukte’ksago, moving silently toward him from all directions, death in their hearts, searching for the Crafty Wolf, searching for the half-breed known as Main’mwi. He fought urgently against the sudden desire to throw down his weapons and run screaming across the dunes to save his life. To expose himself now was to issue an instant death sentence and his mind rebelled weakly against the feeling while the voice in his head, so silent during the killing, suddenly roared to life and drowned out all thoughts and feelings in a blinding flash of

He looked up at the boy who has spoken to him in confusion. He was dark skinned, and his hair was cropped short in a buzz

“Yeah sure “ so I followed him him down to the basement and he turns around and looks behind him and there's a target on his wall. He showed me all his knives even a couple he made from wood. He turns to the target and says “you think I can get a bullseye with one eye closed and hoping on one foot.”

“Concentrate, Aiden!” He clapped his hands. “Please you really need to focus. This is important. Children have to be careful when they venture into the forest. There’s a pack of wild, voracious wolves with gaping mouths reeling with fangs and forked tongues each as thick as my wrist. They roam the woods, ten feet or more, and then hung in the trees, breathing raggedly tasting your scent, considering how best to devour you. As a matter of fact only, the other day several of them snatched a baby elf out of its sleeping mother’s arms and thrashed the poor little dear to pieces.

On the weary night, a shadowy beast wandered into the town of Hadleyville. Attracted by the light and singing of the town’s tavern, the beas punch open the door. The pieces of broken door flew across the tavern hitting liquor bottles and people inside. The men, too drunk with moonshine, are only able to make out the beast contour marked with moonlight. Anger by the appearance of the beast, the drunkard next to the entrance pull out his revolver and open fire. The bullet, upon contact with the beast, ricochet off and hit another drunkard. The bartender appear from behind the bar counter and blast the beast away with shotgun. While it caught him by surprise, the beast stand tall unmoved. The men at the tavern, scared by the beast, began to scream and retreat. Many jump off from window, gun in one hand and their drink in another. Grendel then

An in-depth exploration of wolf-coats (berserkers). It provides numerous insights into the berserkers and their animal skins but lacks a real thesis—mostly another contextual piece

“But you see, I already have. I’ve already got Georg’s fingerprints on the gun. All I have to do is leave it by his hands,” said Alexander.

“The Patriots have her, Bass! You gotta get her back! You gotta!” The little boy exclaimed as Bass patted his back, slowly lowering him to the ground, motioning to a clansman standing nearby.

The hair of this man was long and matted, and his head slanted back under it from the eyes. He uttered strange sounds, and seemed very much afraid of the darkness, into which he peered continually, clutching in his hand, which hung midway between knee and foot, a stick with a heavy stone made fast to the end. He was all but naked, a ragged and fire-scorched skin hanging part way down his back, but on his body there was much hair. In some places, across the chest and shoulders and down the outside of arms and thighs, it was matted into almost a thick fur. He did not stand erect, but with trunk inclined forward from the hips, on legs that bent at the knees.

The boy only smiled and said, “No need there will not be any need for help.” The boy then walked off and left the village. The boy had already found out where the wolf went. This was because he followed the wolf's trail which ended at a immense gap in a mountain that looked like it stretched beyond the sky.

“Go away! I moaned. Your creeping me out!” The little boy brought back a sob and left.

Aiming at the older boy`s face he pushed down on the small canister that he had been hiding in his left hand. He watched in sick fascination as the contents made their way into the unwelcomed guest’s eyes. He then proceeded to attack with the sword catching the thief unawares.