Dreams of monsters, then some PR.

[wolven7]

Dreams of Constantine surrounded in blue fire as he convinced people that he was a detective inspector. An old man came along and told the hotel clerk the truth, and as he did the aura of flame shrank. Eventually, the old man took the clerk to a carnival and convinced him to shoot the little person who worked the ticket booth, with a shotgun.

Something about wandering in the remians of a blasted quarry, talking on the phone, a river valley... Paw prints like a combination of a human and a big cat... Realising what they are, and running for the campsite, meeting up with everyone. We're wandering through the remains of a mill, or a... something. Plastic tarps and half-finished walls... People with me, now, and a dog, and the dog hass gone through a plastic sheet, and the beast falls on it, devouring it. The rest of us run for the warehouse, and we rest there, making plans for escape and the destruction of the minotaur...

I've forgotten the rest, but I'm pretty sure it ended in blood, pain, and tears...

This is for greygirlbeast:

'. . .links to all those books of mine currently in print, the particular editions that need to sell for my publishers to continue to publish books by me. Please grab one or two (or three). And, no, sadly buying "used" copies doesn't help. Thanks:

'Daughter of Hounds

'Silk

'Threshold

'Low Red Moon

'Murder of Angels

'Tales of Pain and Wonder

'And, of course, there's always Sirenia Digest.'

Along that same line, I'd like to remind you of the big-assed networking project: http://wolven.livejournal.com/1411771.html

It's only got a little ass, right now. But you can help.

I'm off to eat... Food of some kind.