Howlietzer Publishing

Tag: hero fiction

  • The Tale of the Jackelope

    In the early days of Earth’s creation, there was a huge party. All the animals were invited and amongst them were Angelo Antelope and Rita Rabbit.

    Angelo was a shy, young buck, who didn’t have it very easy with the young lady antelopes. Though he tried to be a strong and virile antelope in front of them, it didn’t help that he was the smallest antelope.

    Yes, Angelo was very small for an antelope; he was a third the size of a normal male. He was constantly made fun of in high school by both the males and females of his species.

    Rita, on the other hand, was a very popular female. She had many suitors trying to mate with her, but she was very weary of them.

    She knew she was beautiful, but she also knew that beauty faded and she worried that they would leave her once she aged. She noticed that among the young male rabbits that approached her, they were only interested in one thing, and she wasn’t interested, however sometimes she found it hard to get rid of them.

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  • The Psychic Society: Chapter 5

    Jillian stood outside the LaGuardia Airport, the sky darkened by black clouds, visibility blinded by sheets of pouring water. She pulled her coat tightly around her neck, relieving the unusual chill crawling down it.

    Her good for nothing brother had the audacity of not meeting her at the airport! And though it was comforting to have such a sum deposited into her bank account, she could have done with a little more accommodation. She reached into her coat pocket and brought out a sheet of paper where she scribbled the address.

    456 Sycamore Avenue Apartment Building 7, Apartment 21, Queens…

    Te cab ride was swift and Jillian found herself standing outside a very nice apartment complex. Staring up the front at the stone and brick that composed the structure, she forgot all about the sheets of rain soaking her clothes.

    Then she felt a familiar pull, as if someone took her by the hand, and guided her through the door and towards the elevator. Once inside, she was urged to press the 6 button. Pressing it, she regained her senses, a sense of panic… The elevator chimed. She was now on floor 6, should she get out to see what was behind that door?

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  • The Curse of Spring-Heeled Jack Part 3

    Bartholomew went to bed early that night, with an unshakeable, eerie feeling. There was something strange about that day after leaving Ms. Berkley’s garden. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him from the corners of his eyes, and when he turned to look, no one was there, like a ghost forever haunting his blind spot.

    Bartholomew still lived with his parents in a little house in a little London suburb called Hollowfield. And after light supper, Bartholomew wished them goodnight and went to bed to ease his worried mind.

    But even under the safety of his covers, in his bed, he felt the eyes of some invisible demon watching him from the darkest corner of his room. Bartholomew focused his eyes, afraid to shut them in case the whatever was to be right in his face the immediate moment he opened his eyes again.

    But as the night wore on, he found his eyes neglecting their midnight duties, and like tired soldiers they drifted off to sleep in the silence of the dark room…

    Bartholomew woke up, startled, struggling to inhale a decent breath for his lungs, as he felt the weight of something heavy on his chest. His window, which was closed before he snuggled into bed that night, was wide open with a deadly cold wind blowing in, but that wasn’t what made Bartholomew quiver in his bed. Sitting on his chest was a man, or what looked like a man. It wore a white ceramic mask with a cocky smirk drawn on and devil horns poking out of the forehead, and in the openings where the eyes were supposed to be, were two red glowing lights.

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  • The Curse of Spring-Heeled Jack Part 2

    “Thank you for allowing me to come over, Ms. Berkley,” said Bartholomew as the two sipped tea on her garden porch. Ms. Berkley smiled, the few wrinkles on her face betraying her age, however her young, blue eyes, so captivating, dispelled any discomfort of his own attraction for her.

    “Well, I so glad that you would be honest enough to come by and fix any mistake you made last time you were here,” she said, winking at him. He had that uncomfortable feeling again. Maybe it was because he was so young and she was so much older, but if he wasn’t so preoccupied with his monster hunt, he would be easily persuaded to stay a while longer and inch his way to her upstairs room.

    She was extraordinarily lovely, her light blond hair teased and flowing like a willows branches down to her shoulders, and her light green sun dress, with its low-cut front made her look like a dryad from the fantasy novels he used to read as a child.

    He blushed, as he felt hotter and hotter from the conversation and he couldn’t help but think she was looking to get a little lucky herself, but surely a beautiful woman such as herself didn’t have trouble finding a man to sleep with.

    “Wow, that sun is beating down, isn’t it?” he asked, trying to find a more innocent subject to dwell on.

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  • The Curse of Spring-Heeled Jack Part 1

    The name had been scarcely heard for generations, only a murmur of the rumoured scoundrel survived after the first attacks, but every once in a while a new story would perk up, as it happened to Bartholomew Craig not so long ago.

    Bartholomew, a young man who just graduated high school, spent the bulk of his time working landscape in the suburbs of London. Mowing grass, raking mulch, trimming hedges, it all kept Barty quite busy, so busy it left him with little time to spend with his friends during this last summer before university.

    It was quite lonely; the most interaction he had was with his clients who had hired him to look after their yards. One, in particular, Ms. Berkley, a retired socialite and rather easy on the eyes for a woman her age, was his favorite, for not only was she pretty but she gave him the most generous tips.

    It was in her yard that he saw an unknown man, or what he supposed was a man until it leaped clear over Ms. Berkley’s six-foot high hedges. Barty couldn’t forget his jet black hair and exquisitely, shiny black suit; he was obviously a suitor of the woman of the house, but what Barty found most peculiar (besides his ability to jump over the hedge, of course) was this white, ceramic mask he was wearing.

    It had devil horns protruding from the forehead and a cocky smirk drawn on the face. There were holes for eyes and nostrils, but Barty was sure he didn’t notice any eyes behind it, but that was overshadowed by his incredible agility and anything beyond that seemed inconsequential besides.

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