April 6th, 2026 – “The Dad, the Werewolf and the Burglar.”

**Short fable for Easter and spring, also posted on the still-developing Substack newsletter I am tweaking. Tenyokin (3rd novel) continues to move along but still likely a number of months before done. Now go play outside!

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Izzy and her brother Hank were being tucked into bed by their dad Rob one spring night, but something occurred after he left the room and turned out the light.

A thump was heard from outside. A definite “thump”, not just a vibrant spring wind against the flaking, noisy shingles or the low, melancholy whistle of a passing train. It was a very real and very scary “thump”.

“Daddddddddd” shouted Izzy, the more vocal of the two children, as her younger brother Hank ventured a look outside.

The Dad reentered having only just begun to move down the hall. He had not heard the “thump” but could tell by Izzy’s tone of voice that this was more than just a glass of water request.

“Dad there was a noise outside!”

“It was not probably just the wind, Izzy.”

“No I heard it too, something made a weird noise out there.” Hank said and jerked his curly brown hair towards the window.

The Dad entered the room and dutifully looked out into the inky black night and saw nothing out of the ordinary outside. However, being a better than average dad (and let’s face it the bar is quite low) he turned around and felt it was time to dispense some reassuring dad logic.

“Bugsy our family dog has a terrific nose and she would smell anything bad trying to get in. Her hearing is also very good and so she’d let me know immediately. But I can check outside real quick and will make sure everything is ok. But promise me you’ll go to sleep.” And the Dad smiled his best comforting smile.

Izzy nodded and seemed satisfied but Hank looked skeptical. As his dad was leaving he looked over at his sister and threw his little hands in the air.

“I’m scared, our dad’s great but he’s no fighter. What if there is a burglar out there or some murderer? Dad would be killed by some maniac!”

“Maybe.” said Izzy but seemed uncertain.

Now again this was a better than average dad so he hadn’t really exited the room but had stuck around the door just outside their room to make sure they were truthfully going back to sleep. They weren’t. And worse Hank sounded even more scared and frankly he was a little hurt that his own son thought he was such a pushover. So he reentered the room and took his glasses off.

And he showed a side of himself he had hoped to keep hidden. But sometimes kids needed to understand the reasoning and the history if they were to understand the man he was today. So holding his glasses and standing in the kids’ bedroom he let the change occur. Not a growth of fangs and fur and a tail type of change, but a change in his demeanor and his voice that was so strange to his children they wondered secretly how they could ever have missed it.

“In the very rare case where someone was stupid enough to enter this house, and Bugsy had not let me know or this stranger didn’t care about a barking dog, then I would be here. And I would be careening down the stairs and making such a ruckus throwing all the lights on that this stranger would soon realize how tragically stupid they were. Because more than just a Dad guards this house. A ravenous werewolf guards it. And he only does two things. First is he smells things, sniffs things out and tracks things down. But the second thing is only done in the most life or death situations. Situations were you two or your mom are in real danger and no other course is available. When every other course has been exhausted and the danger is real and nothing else will matter, then the Werewolf does the second thing he is good at. And only then.”

And now the Dad was standing close to his children’s bed and they were excited but also afraid. He was speaking so softly now and not moving so they had to really lean in to hear him over the wind and rain outside. What the Werewolf and former Dad said was barely a whisper but they had no reason to doubt his sincerity.

“He drinks human blood. And if absolutely necessary he drinks it by the gallon. The Werewolf comes rushing down the stairs at a burglar and he knows that there is a “right” way and a “wrong” way to break a human elbow so the arm becomes useless. Sometimes useless forever. And this werewolf would be coming in hot and doesn’t care if it’s the “wrong way”, maybe he’s running so hot he prefers that. And the burglar may try to escape back out the window he just came in only to find the Werewolf is following him out that same window. And down the street. And into the grocery store parking lot. And’s that’s where the police would find them, a dead burglar and a beast with it’s mouth covered in blood.”

The children are silent and almost stricken but Izzy in particular did not seem reassured by these statements. The part of the man’s brain that is still the Dad seemed to recognize this but he is already on a roll so may have to explain more.

“Some men are born in palaces and think they built it themselves. And so they treat the entire world like it’s their palace, their whims as destiny. Others … ” and here the Werewolf motions his thumb towards himself. “have but a handful of marbles and are grateful for that. But they are his. And the despicable things he would do to protect them, if absolutely necessary, are part of that.”

And then he nodded at a job well done and looked at Hank and thought maybe his son was now convinced that the house was safe. But as he left he heard a rush of air and was startled to realize it was his daughter gasping and he was worried as he exited the room.

“Ok I guess I was wrong, he’s a fighter underneath it all, this is great!” Hank exclaimed and seemed kind of excited his Dad turned out to be so fierce.

Izzy put her head in her hands and groaned and Hank did not understand why. He was worried when he saw the tears in his big sister’s eyes. The wind and rain continued to howl and just briefly the electricity flickered so the room was totally dark. In the dark Hank heard his sister’s voice and she was scared.

“This is worse! Don’t you get it? How many stories have we read were the Dad turns out to be a monster? The king who locks up his daughter, the wizard who turns his family to stone by accident. Some dads get so wild and scary but they turn it on the wrong people, like their families. This is much worse than any burglar.”

Hank thought about this and Izzy was often right so he too became worried. The Werewolf sounded so cool just a moment ago now seemed like a terrible new specter in the house.

Damnit, thought the better than average Dad just outside the doorway, I’ve screwed it up twice. Time to be honest and tell them the whole story. So he went back into the room for a final time.

He was hurt and ashamed to see the looks on his children’s faces so he summoned his best Dad abilities to try and steady the ship.

“There is a final person you need to think about. The Burglar himself. What do you know of them? Because I’m sorry to say that a burglar is, more often then not, just a troubled young man who does not have his head on straight. He’s not thinking clearly, or else why would he be breaking into houses? He may know there are werewolves out there but maybe he doesn’t care or is so desperate and alone that dying doesn’t seem that bad. Maybe he is hungry and hasn’t eaten in four days. Maybe he slept under a bridge the day before. Maybe life was more chaotic and cruel then he imagined. Life often is.”

And so the Dad was close to his children’s bed again and looked down and they thought he looked so sad. Here was a secret coming and both Izzy and Hank looked at one another, this was some new magic, some different spell that their dad was weaving. And it was sad but felt true. The rain had quieted now but could still dimly be heard and the little nightlight on the dresser, that one with the two owls nestled next to one another, it looked on at the scene at the foot of the bed.

“Here is the truth, here is the answer to the riddle. For most of my life, I was the burglar. A pissed off man willing to take stupid risks and hurt those around me if it meant running away from the pain. In your own life, you may wear similar hats, they may change in a single day and will inevitably change over the course of your life. So I am not eager to go careening down the stairs to enact violence on some pitiful fool, having been in that position too often to cast blame and judgment. Better to build things up and protect those things that are most precious. People are more than their worst day. In this house we search for wisdom and understanding, even if we are prepared for danger. But I hope it doesn’t come to that. Now I will check outside again about that thump but try to get some sleep. I love you guys. Goodnight.”

The two children seemed satisfied and a little in awe of that answer, which, the now again Dad reflected, might be the best he could hope for. He ran into his wife coming out of the bathroom and she looked confused at how suddenly tired he seemed.

“Rough bedtime tonight? “

“The worthwhile things usually are.”

“Sorry about that crash earlier, I dropped the big cooler for the beach trip tomorrow and the soda went everywhere. But I know it was kinda loud.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The two softly padded into their bedroom and the wind continued outside. But the Dad thought he heard something there in the dark, far away. It could have been a child’s laugh but it was impossible to be sure.

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Thanks for reading, hope the weather is good wherever you are.

Best,

Charles

January 23rd, 2026 – Tenyokin update and winter projects

Hi all, I wanted to update any interested readers that I am thick in the weeds on my third novel, the science fiction dystopia Tenyokin (Ten – yo – kin), and am currently about 25-30% finished. Well over 100 pages at this point but the final novel will likely be 450-600 pages. This period, the “after the honeymoon phase” period of writing a book, is often the most challenging. It has been slower than I hoped but continue to find the story exciting.

I am now also on the platform Substack, along with Bluesky, Youtube, etc, and the temptation to work on those other avenues is sometimes strong. A working writer needs to be communicating with readers, disciplined in their writing schedule, reading for inspiration, and analyzing what works from what does not. It can be difficult to predict what will resonate and catch fire in terms of output. Ultimately the stories need to be interesting to me, so whether it is a full novel or short fiction or a podcast, they should all evoke something meaningful in me. In an era where so much is decided by algorithm and trends, being true to what I find important should take prominence.

April 17th, 2025 – Roadmap for future Charles Brace novels and stories

Hi all, the above video briefly describes what I am currently working on and some of my future projects for the years ahead. Working hard on the sci-fi epic Tenyokin (Ten-yo-kin) but wanted to lay the groundwork for any interested in other stories I plan on pursuing before the age of 50. So throwing down the gauntlet and hope they sound intriguing to those of you curious about the process. Enjoy!

Reminder that my first novel, Anatomy Summer is still available on Amazon.

Anatomy Summer now on sale!