Ilona Ciprian

Short Stories

• Adventures in Woofdom

  • Haunted Houses Aren’t For Wolves Pt3

    Moira sighed, all these days… locked in her house alone… and suddenly everyone was visiting. When the wolf tried to sit up, likely to start running again, Moira shoved her back onto the couch; pointing a finger in her face, “Sit. Stay. Good dog.”
    
    She didn’t miss the livid glare she got for her trouble, but hey, she was dead. Big deal. Walking to the front door, she listened as the sound of footsteps made their way along the porch. Slowly and carefully, she turned the knob and slid outside, invisible to the hunter that was lurking. Leaning out she could see his back as he tried to peer through windows, only to have his view blocked by curtains.
    
    Leaning back, she rested her shoulder against the doorjamb. She looked at her nails for a moment, counting to five. When she reached ‘five’ she pushed the already open door a little wider, getting some room for a good swing before she slammed it. Hard.
    
    She took off running as soon as she heard the hunter change directions. Invisible as she was only the sound of her boots could be heard as she ran down the end of the porch, easily hopping the railing and landing on the grass with a good thud.
    
    She ran for a good distance and found herself slightly tickled by the idea that she never got tired anymore. The property had several acres to it and as she lead the hunter straight to the property line, she didn’t even feel the need to break her fast pace. She did slow a little though, trying to hear the hunter behind her as she zigzagged through the trees.
    
    She led him straight to the property line and the moment she passed over it, she found herself standing right back in the living room. “Don’t do that… it’s really fucking creepy.” Moira turned to look at the wolf sitting on her couch, “What’s really fucking creepy?” The young woman huffed as she prodded her side, glancing up at Moira with reproach, “Reappearing like that… all Casper and stuff.” Moira rolled her eyes, what an ungrateful brat.
    
    “You’re welcome.” Moira snapped, the wolf just sighed giving a begrudging, “Thanks” in return. Moira resisted rolling her eyes again and was tempted to tell the wolf to get out but nature spoke first. Lightening streaked across the sky and thunder rumbled the house, rain came down now in a torrent, “Well, your little friend is now screwed… he won’t be back for a while. And unless you want to smell more like wet dog than you already do, I suppose you are stuck here.”
    
    “Perfect.” Ilona muttered.

  • Haunted Houses Aren’t For Wolves Pt2

    Laying in bed seemed like the best idea ever. Ilona didn’t want to move; she wanted to stay right where she was. In bed, wrapped up in soft sheets and warm blankets. Her blue eyes opened slowly to the bright room… someone had pulled the curtains back? It was a distant thought though, as she became preoccupied with the wandering hands of her bed mate, the feeling of strong fingers sliding up her bare back in such a familiar fashion was enough to have her melting into the mattress. Letting her eyes slide shut, savoring the feeling for a few moments she stretched before turning over and reaching out for his warmth. Her palm made contact with firm flesh and she smiled as she slid her arm around his neck, pulling him close so she could be wrapped up in his arms again.
    
    “Rowan…”
    
    “Who’s Rowan?”
    
    Ilona’s eyes snapped open and she found herself starring into a pair of grey eyes. Eyes that were decidedly not male and decidedly not alive. She shoved herself away though she didn't get far as her shoulders came up against the back of the couch she'd been laying on, “What the… “ she hissed sharply, sinking back down into the cushions as her movements caused a great deal of pain. A reminder of her current predicament.
    
    “Yeah, that was not the best idea. Though it doesn’t look like you have very many good ideas…”
    
    As her vision came into focus Ilona starred at the blond haired ghost sitting across from her. “You are dead….”
    
    “Oh, she isn’t blind!” Ilona glared at the mouthy one and snapped at her, “I will eat you. I swear on everything sacred and holy, if you don’t knock off the snark… I will eat you.”
    
    There was a snort and suddenly… there was a thumb in her side. The scream came out through gritted teeth and ended on a rather nasty growl. “You aren’t going to eat anyone… you can barely stay sitting up, Loupine.”
    
    Ilona starred at her with a whole lot of desire… none of it was a desire for anything that might possibly be considered pleasant. A cold breeze brushed her side and she slapped at the hand that was lifting the hem of her shirt, “Off! Get OFF!” She got her own hand slapped for her trouble, “Shut up.” There was a pause as Ilona just starred at her. “So it’s true… silver is a problem for your kind.” Ilona wanted to get away, she’d never dealt with a ghost before, every nerve in her body was screaming at her to get away and keep moving. This creature wasn’t natural; it wasn’t supposed to be here on this world. It was making her skin crawl.
    
    Suddenly, Ilona’s ghost glanced back over her shoulder towards the door, in a sing-song voice that made Ilona want to punch her she whispered, “Uh oooh… feels like we’ve got company.”
    
    The familiar sound of heavy boots drifted to Ilona’s sensitive ears as someone stepped up onto the front porch.

  • Haunted Houses Aren’t For Wolves Pt1

    The rain hadn’t stopped in hours and that was approximately how long the young girl had been running through the woods. Hours.
    
    Ilona knew she couldn’t stop. The hunter following her had been on her tail (literally) for the past two days. One moments rest could mean the difference between freedom and capture.
    
    This always happened. Every. God. Damned. Time. It was a vicious fucking cycle. She’d get the urge to run, like you do, and she would ignore it for a few days… then, just when she convinced herself it was safe, she would cave in to the urge to run. Then, like clockwork, there was someone waiting in the wings. Just waiting for her to set all four furry feet on the ground.
    
    Such was her luck this time. Again. Go for a run, get hunted. Yay.
    
    She could keep up a run on human legs for a long time… but weighed down by wet clothes, the heavy rucksack that she held her life in, and a deep gash in her left side… she was beginning to feel the dangerous creep of fatigue in the way her boots were becoming a little heavier, her reactions to low hanging branches was getting a little slower. She hurt and she was getting tired. She knew shelter was soon going to be a necessity.
    
    As if on a wish a gravel road appeared under her boots causing her to skid to a stop. A road? A road! Taking off in the direction she hoped was towards a house it didn’t take her long to realize this road hadn’t been traveled in a long while. There were no tracks in the gravel; no shifting from tires or cartwheels… it was as if it had been freshly raked. However, as she ran, the gravel did not shift well under her feet signaling that it really had not been raked in a while.
    
    She followed the road for what felt like a mile, the rain beating down on her black hair. It had once been a brilliant ocean blue… but her shift had taken care of the color for her. Like it always did. She stalled out for a moment when she saw the large house in the distance. It was huge and very abandoned.
    
    Taking the stairs two at a time, she went straight up the many steps to the front porch and nearly collapsed into the heavy wooden double doors. She was certain the doors would be locked, but as the handle gave in under the pressure of her palm, she passed straight into the dark interior. Tumbling to her knees in a heap of wet loupine.
    
    Her body gave it up as she sank first to all fours, then down onto her stomach. Shifting slightly she pressed her palm into the torn flesh beneath her sodden shirt. In the dark she couldn’t tell how much was water and how much was her own blood. Either way, from the way the wound burned, she could tell that it had been a silver blade. Turning onto her side she clutched at her shirt, balling up the hem to press it against the injury, trying to stem the blood flow. Now that she was at rest she could feel the fever creeping up on her, silver… was not her friend.
    
    Resting her forehead against the wooden planks, the scent of old pine and dust mingled in her nose. Closing her eyes tight the slow burning lit up her veins, causing her to heat up like a torch, the telltale sweat breaking out on her skin. “Fuuuuck…” she hissed, the word ending on a whimper as she curled into a ball, doing her best to help herself… knowing that it wasn’t enough. Opening her eyes, she saw lightening light up the room like a camera flash… and though her vision was beginning to blur, it wasn’t so far gone that she couldn’t recognize the shape of another being in the house… and the scent of green tea and ginger