One morning in late October, the sort of day when anyone with a reasonable amount of sense pulled the blankets up over their head and reset the alarm clock to noon; a wolverine was snuffling about in the gloomy woods.

As a rule; wolverines don’t have a reasonable amount of sense, being mostly an appetite with claws and teeth.

To Krissa Beetle, an eleven-year old Ainsel girl, crouching behind a nearby clump of blackberries, this wolverine was different. It was larger than usual, like a large dog or a small bear, and it seemed to be humming a tune as it rummaged about in the brush. The humming had a kind of rattly, snarly pitch somewhat like acorns going down a drain pipe, but that was to be expected from an animal whose mouth wasn’t shaped for singing or speaking.

Nevertheless Krissa recognized the tune as an old Wind City folk song, one that seemed to be designed for the sole purpose of scaring little children half to death.

"At dusk I see him in the park
Skipping and hopping like a faun
Smiling with teeth that would shame a shark,
He dances about the new-mown lawn.
Stretching rail-thin arms, he twirls
Around on gleaming-white feet.
Linen garments round him swirls--
A long winding sheet."

Krissa shivered and nervously fingered one of the numerous glyph amulets that bedecked her orange rain poncho.


An illustration for a story entry for titled "The Last Day of October."

I give to display this piece.

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