It's the most wonderful time of the year.
Summer is pretty much over, so that means that it's Halloween. The leaves are changing colour, there's a dampness in the air and it smells of woodsmoke. The fog creeps through the forest, covering everything in a chill blanket. My imagination starts to run, wondering what could be lurking in that mist.
The days get darker and the moon once again asserts its dominance in my life. I get a little dark. The stories get more violent and often more sensual. I'm more interested in the way pale skin looks in moonlight than I am worried about whether a woman would really get off as I'm describing.
I've got a few tales in the works right now, including this, featuring one of the many forms of the undead. Let's be clear - they are not vampires with souls and they don't sparkle. They are the base animal instinct that we all repress because we're well-adjusted human beings. Because we can't do it in real life, let's take a fantastical trip to the dark side ...