Books with title Night Creatures

I could hear Dennis talking to my ma. 'She was little,' he said. 'Little like me. But old. Older than you.' Those words gave me a cold shock. I could see Dennis imagining fairies, but old ones?When Bobby's mother moves the family into a rented house in the country, a neighbour tells him that a child was once murdered there. Bobby doesn't care. All he wants is to get back to Dublin and to resume his wild life there, stealing from the crowded shopping streets and racing stolen cars at night. But getting his old life back doesn't turn out to be so easy, and the longer he spends in the old cottage, the more convinced he becomes that something very strange is going on there. Was there really a murder? And if so, was it the one he has been told about?

When night falls and the moon shines brightly, creatures emerge to stalk their prey. Heather Beck presents Creatures Of The Night, an anthology of fangs, claws and jaws. Werewolf Hunting Missing people, cries in the night, unidentifiable animal tracks...this isn’t your average hunting lodge. Eyes Of Red Cute, smart and funny, Lisa’s new boyfriend would be perfect, if only he wasn’t a vampire. Night Of The Eel Something lies beneath the murky waters of Stony Loch, and it’s anything but friendly. The Pumpkin Patch When evil pumpkins grow in Scott’s backyard, Halloween turns into a never-ending nightmare. Call Of The Loon Camp Loon hides an ancient and deadly curse that befalls anyone who enters the woods. Caution: Animals Will Bite! *Creatures Of The Night includes The Horror Diaries Volumes 11-15.

I first saw Lutra, the otter-cub, while I was fishing late one summer night. Slow-moving clouds, breaking into fantastic shapes and spreading out great, threatening arms into the dark, ascended from the horizon and sailed northward under the moon and stars. Ever and anon, low down in the sky, Venus, like a clear-cut diamond suspended from one of its many twinkling points, glittered between the fringes of the clouds, or the white moon diffused soft light among the wreathing vapours that twisted and rolled athwart the heavens. In the shelter of the pines on the margin of the river, a ringdove, awakened by a bickering mate, fluttered from bough to bough; and his angry, muffled coo of defiance marred the stillness of the night. The gurgling call of a moorhen, mingling with the ripple of the stream over the ford, came from the reeds at a distant bend of the river. Nearer, the river, with varying cadence, rose and fell in uneven current over a rocky shelf, and then came on to murmur around me while I waded towards the edge of a deep, forbidding pool. In the smooth back-wash beyond the black cup of the pool a mass of gathered foam gleamed weirdly in the dark; and, further away, broad tangles of river-weed, dotted with the pale petals of countless flowers, floated on the shallow trout-reach extending from the village gardens to the cornfields below the old, grey church.