#wv05

An excerpt from Aaron Yeung's story, as seen in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD.

More of Aaron Yeung's work can be found here.

At first glance, everything is as he had left it. His complimentary hotel-brand notepad remains where his last idea had left it, on the counter. His suitcase remains by the bed, untouched and closed firm. His button-up shirts, strewn about in the many weeks, lie piled on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

But, carved into the room, a visage even in the dark. Enormous and somehow having left no mark on its entry. Sitting down, crooked, still with him looming upright, the thing is still slightly taller than him. And yet, like everything else that exists in a hotel room, it does not feel completely out of place. He stares.

The shape of its head is almost like a dog’s. Ears pointed, body black, like some naked Egyptian god of death. It reaches out, its outstretched limb an equivocal gesture, almost beckoning, motioning him forward.

Still drunk, he blinks through the sight, half caught on the door. As he realizes the meaning of the motion, he clambers clumsily away from the threshold, limbs and body almost enthralled forward. As the door shuts, closing out the lights of the hallway, the room is left in blackness. And somehow the thing seems clearer, more defined in the dark.

He sees it clearer then, the details and familiar outline.

He manages to form words through his slack jawed astonishment.

"All right. I get it. Very funny. What's that, the last of the budget?" The thing makes no sound, no movement save for the falling of its arm to its side. "New prototype for the sequel? That it? Very cool. Very, uh, realistic..."

Networking in LA isn't just about meeting the right people. Sometimes you move in the sphere of a goddess older than the sky. Read about it in Rock Creek Werewolf's story "The Hunter", as seen in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD.

More of Rock Creek Werewolf's work can be found here and here.

Ruiz was in his forties, with a string of television and film producing credits in both Mexico and the U.S. Successful but non-descript, with no red carpet shots or references, industry events or press releases. That was weird in our industry; a low profile got you nowhere fast. Despite that, he’d amassed quite a list of projects. I catalogued it all mentally, my eyes zooming down my smartphone screen while he was in the men’s room.

“ Aqui!” Ruiz finally said in exasperation when I tried again on Wolf Blade. “I just don’t want to do that kinda stuff. It’s a personal thing.” He was sweating now, fidgeting. Something was bothering him. Cocaine? Is that still a thing? Nah. But you can never count anything out in the Industry. “I want to help you, Miguel,” Ruiz said finally.

“Manuel,” I corrected.

“ Lo siento, Manuel. You’re obviously driven. You’ll make it in the Industry. Just not with this script. I’ll get you a referral. Maybe a pitch to Netflix or Amazon.”

“Gracias,” I said, forcing the tone of gratefulness (it’s not just actors that can benefit from acting lessons). I am making it in this industry, thank you so very much. But a connection is a connection. “That’s a great help. Thank you for helping to bring Wolf Blade to life.” (Barf). I minimized the script on the e-reader. Checking the time on the main screen made me wince. “Gotta go. My girl is waiting for me up at Griffith Observatory. I’ll be in touch.” I moved to stand.

“What’s way up there tonight?” Ruiz asked, looking glad that the sales pitch was over. A hook! It never gets old.

“It’s a monthly stargazing party,” I said as I stuffed my Kindle into my briefcase. “ Mi novia’s at UCLA’s astronomy program, and she goes up there with her telescope and camera stuff. The smog isn’t bad, so she’s excited to get some good shots. You into space? Star Wars or Trekkie?”

Ruiz looked distracted then. “No. I just know someone who works on the stars a lot.”

“Anita’s mentor at UCLA has done a lot of consulting in the Industry, with Gravity, Interstellar...” I offered. Name-dropping could be another kind of bait. “David Anderson. He sets up these star-gazing things.”

“Don’t know him!” Ruiz cut me off, so sharply that it knocked Veracruz out of his smartphone stupor. There’s a story there, I catalogued. I left the gents with their café and headed out the door.

I flipped on my shades and made my way north, dodging the café’s black chalkboard easel with the inane welcoming pun and the Lookie Lous taking Instagram-ready shots of the sand-colored tabby cat resting underneath it. It was a beautiful L.A. day on the palm tree-lined boardwalk as I headed for my wheels through the Muscle Beach beasts and the ever-present Chihuahuas in people’s arms.

Howlin' in the Rain

A preview of Emil Josephine's illustration published in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD. See the rest in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD! Download the entire issue for any price on Gumroad or Itch.io! Your purchase will benefit all of the contributors to this issue.

An excerpt from David McCoy's story, as seen in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD.

More of David's work can be found here.

Jacqueline held onto Anthony’s arm as they approached the person on the cot. This was the person sharing his lycanthropy; a young man in only his jeans, deep in slumber. She wondered how Alex had convinced Daryl to go through with this. Was this student just following up on an ad he’d found? How much of her money would find its way to his pockets? She was grateful, all the same.

She found herself inspecting his tan body, searching for some abnormality or scar proving he was a werewolf. The only things she saw were his excess of body hair and the slight point of his ears, which was easily missed in his wild black hair. It was astounding that someone so rugged could become like the ebony beauty in Jacqueline’s mind.

“Their eyes,” Alex said, wheeling a small metal table to the bedside. Syringes, gloves, rubber bands and thin metal tools on a paper towel were laid out. “You can tell by their eyes. Otherwise you’d never know. Now if you could have a seat.” He motioned toward the other bed.

Jacqueline stared at the tools. She put on a calm face. People got surgery and went on insane diets to get roles all the time. This was no different. She conjured the image of that sleek werewolf. It’d all feel good tomorrow in front of the casting crew. She followed Alex’s directions. “Let’s do this.”

Alex slipped the gloves on. “Let’s be brief, and quiet. Werewolves need their sleep, you know.” He carefully swapped IV bags, rolling the stand near Jacqueline, and directed Anthony to prep her arm, giving him a strip of elastic gauze. “Wrap a band on her and find a vein. Rub a little isopropyl and we’ll be nearly done.”

Under the fluorescent lights, the alcohol burned Jacqueline’s nose. She flinched when Anthony rubbed a thin cloth on her upper arm. His slight frown said it all. She shook her head; she had made up her mind. They were doing this.

An excerpt from Chris Pearce's story in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD.

Theories abounded. Before the FBI released full details of the deaths they were the typical boogeymen—violence in film, the copycat effect, a statistical blip. There simply didn’t seem to be enough information to conclude anything despite the claims of a few prominently vacuous talking heads. The demographic data revealed no meaningful trends. Various experts weighed in as always, offering the same explanations and talking points they did every time.

A forensic psychologist:

“It is disturbing but it is important to remember that these events are still extremely rare— too rare to draw any conclusions. People don’t like to hear that. They think that you’ve always got the data hidden somewhere. They always want some sort of explanation, even when we don’t know enough to explain it. The correlation between media violence and real world violence isn’t as one-to-one as people expect; Catcher in the Rye seems to have inspired at least two assassinations, despite being primarily about early fifties teenage angst. The violence in Rage is mostly by implication—the scene at the end, and the stinger. It’s not possible from that to draw a straight line to all the deaths that have occurred since then.”

A pastor:

“It’s not that there is any sort of occult conspiracy in media, of course; it’s the exact opposite. The majority of people in Hollywood are probably general unbelievers and that’s what the problem is. If you don’t believe in the Devil—if all Satan means to you is heavy metal and Doom, if it’s ultimately just aesthetics, then you won’t give a second thought to using it in your art. No one takes Egyptian curses seriously. You wouldn’t bat an eye at hieroglyphs. But imagine if some of it—even just one percent of it—had real power. Since no one believes in it we wouldn’t notice until it was too late. That’s what we’re seeing now—and now, it’s too late.”

Have you seen the movie?

Psychologist: “No.”

Pastor: “Of course.”

Read the rest in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD! Download the entire issue for any price on Gumroad or Itch.io! Your purchase will benefit all of the contributors to this issue.

Hollywolf Boulevard

A preview of Dobescrusher's illustration published in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD.

See the rest in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD! Download the entire issue for any price on Gumroad or Itch.io! Your purchase will benefit all of the contributors to this issue.

Lycanthromethodolopy

A preview of Frank Bruce's illustration published in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD.

See the rest in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD! Download the entire issue for any price on Gumroad or Itch.io! Your purchase will benefit all of the contributors to this issue.

In Ash Cinder's WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD story, paparazzi seek out compromising video footage of a celebrity whose wolf obsession is more than it seems.

We crept up to Coogler’s estate. I looked around and could see some of the cameras that were visible. They’d better actually be off, I thought as we arrived at the back door.

“Here.” Brent said, handing me the camera. “I’ll get the door open.” He held up his lock picking tools.

I waited, tapping my foot while he worked on getting the door open.

“I swear, if we get caught, you’d better believe it, I will take this camera and shove it up your ass!”

“Easy there, Marky-Mark,” he said, as he slowly opened the door. “We’re in. Wipe your feet. We don’t want any signs that we’ve been in here.” I did as Brent said before heading inside.

The inside of Coogler’s place was just as nice as I was picturing from the outside. It wasn’t lavish, but you could tell someone with plenty of money lived here. We were in a nice little entrance hall that branched out to three more rooms: the living room, kitchen and dining room. At the opposite end was a staircase that I presumed led to the master bedroom.

“Well, let’s find those drugs!” Brent said enthusiastically, sneaking over to the living room.

“Uh, shouldn’t we maybe try finding a hiding spot first?” I asked, following him into the living room. “I thought we needed a compromising picture or video of him?”

“Check out the art,” Brent said, gesturing to one of the framed prints hanging on the wall.

“Someone’s a fan of wolves.” All three of the pictures in the room featured the animal. “I think I remember him saying in an interview a wolf was his spirit animal or something.”

“You think he’s a furry, too?” Brent joked.

“Shut up.” I said.

“Just saying, two of those wolves are anthropomorphic.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s a furry. And I’m surprised you even know what ‘anthropomorphic’ means.”

“You have to admit, that would be a pretty amazing thing to sell to TMZ. Imagine if we got a video of him walking around his house in a fursuit!” He laughed.

At the mention of fur, I looked around the living room and noticed quite a bit of black and grey fur on the carpet.

“Damn,” I said. “Does Elias have a dog or something?”

“Pablo never mentioned a dog.”

“Shit, he’s famous,” I worried. “What if he owns a bear or a tiger or something, like Mike Tyson?”

Read the rest in WEREWOLVES VERSUS: HOLLYWOOD! Download the entire issue for any price on Gumroad or Itch.io! Your purchase will benefit all of the contributors to this issue.