Monkey Paw Novels & Stories

Ansel snaps through gritted teeth. “He told me that a moon rabbit’s fur can’t be stained or colored by anything - not mud, paint, or even the creature’s own blood. Only two things can leave their mark on a moon rabbit pelt: the blood of a murdered werewolf, or silver.” Nash is watching me intently, wondering where I’m going with this. So is the rest of the pack. I can feel all eyes on me. “Ansel, Amanda, everyone else, can you tell me - is there any discoloration on this?”

I knelt to the monkey, talking low, gentle, trying to keep my voice steady, despite my own raw nerves, Ella's condescending face still burning in my mind, her hand on Jayden seared there. The monkey was small, its coat a rich, shining brown, its gait a fast, quick one that didn't belong in the creepy woods. "Damn, that's a good one," Sarah whispered, her voice low and reverent, her eyes on the creature, its otherworldliness from the other animals of the woods a wonder to her.

“One of them could have its own postcode.” “That’s the good one.” Nova pointed at him. “You are late.” “I’m here.” “Those are different things.” “Traffic.” “You flew.” “Airport traffic.” “You could have bought normal bears.” “I could also have bought no bears.” Nova looked genuinely torn about that. I walked over. He was still holding both, because putting them down would presumably have constituted a defeat. The brown one had a silver bow round its neck. The white one had a tiny crown stitched onto one paw.