The wolves are circling outside my house. I hope the one that is the most hungry for blood gets fed. I can feel the air shift as the frost creeps in. I wake up to scratch marks at my door and wonder if they’re lonely too. I swear I hear them crying in the nighttime so maybe I’ll just let them in. Nothing feeds danger more than curiosity so you might as well face it with closed fists. No story unfolds the way you want it too, anyways- Break the spines of books in order to rewrite a better version. Twisting plots. Letting go of characters that disappoint you in the worst ways. Finding loneliness in stories where the wolves blow the house down. Wondering what made them angry in the first place. Maybe they were never the villain. Maybe the writer caused the chaos and painted them in some sort of darkness. Maybe they need some closure, after all. Turn the key- Let them in. Let them in. Let them in. -AMT©️