GODAN: BLOOD HARMONY by Garret Schuelke (Part Two)

Fiction, Garret Schuelke, Horror, Pulp, Punk Noir Magazine


Floyd Spicer entered the laundry room and leaned his broom against the wall. His small radio started to emit static.


“This is what I get for thrifting a three dollar radio,” Floyd sighed . He placed it on the window still and adjusted the antenna until WIDR, the student radio station of Western Michigan University, came in perfectly.


He looked around and saw that someone had once again removed the detergent dispensers from the washing machine. He rolled his eyes, sighed again, and put them back in.


Floyd examined the rest of the room. His eyes zeroed in on red splotches that covered the floor. His anger grew.


“That’s it—I’m requesting that this room get shut down for a bit!” He opened up the door and pulled in the mop and bucket he had left outside. “I knew this vandalism-warning sign bullshit wouldn’t work!”


The red splotches disappeared after two swipes. He took care of the rest of the floor. His mop bumped up against the storage room door. It slightly opened. Floyd then noticed that doorknob was busted.


“OH…kay,” Floyd said, standing still. He looked down and saw the same red splotches on the floor leading into the storage room.


He looked through the crack. Sunlight beamed through the storage room window, illuminating some leftover bedposts from previous tenets, cleaning supplies, and a mattress on the floor.


Floyd leaned against the door in order to get a better look. He saw a person curled up on the mattress.


“Huh?” Floyd muttered.


The door began to creek loudly. The person instantly sat up and glared. Floyd slammed the door, and ran out of the laundry room.


“Ah, fuck me,” the person said, rubbing his eyes.


“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT NUMBER?!” Floyd yelled, scrolling through his phone contacts for campus security as he sprinted across the second floor. He said ‘Fuck it’ and dialed his supervisors number. He looked behind him and saw that the person wasn’t following him. The phone began to ring. He calmed down, and walked down the stairs.


“Not getting paid enough for this shit,” Floyd muttered, listening to the phone ring.


At the bottom of the stairs stood Gareth. His mask hung around his neck, and his entire front was covered in blood.


“Hey, I’m sorry for scaring you like that,” Gareth said, adjusting his backpack, “and for the mess. I’m leaving now.”


They stared at each other. Floyd’s supervisor’s phone stopped ringing and went to voicemail.




Lord Ruthven felt someone shaking him. He opened his eyes and saw light coming through the sides of the window curtains. The figure gripped his shoulder, and turned him over onto his back.


Lord Ruthven swung. The figure caught his wrist.


“Calm down, son,” another figure, sitting in an office chair across the room, said.


Lord Ruthven pulled his arm away and got out of the bed. “Where am I, Mom? he asked , pulling back the curtains. He looked out the window and saw Michigan Avenue.


“At the Raddison, located in beautiful downtown Kalamazoo!” The figure leaned back in the office chair, allowing her long, black hair to flow down. “This is my first time staying here, and I’m actually liking it. It’s much quieter than Chicago.”


“What a hole,” Lord Ruthven muttered, turning around.


“And you used to say that I was spoiled.” Mysta Avon, Chicago entrepreneur and head of Mysta Industries, said as she crossed her legs. “Now get back to bed before the hole in your chest—and the holes in your head—open back up.”


Lord Ruthven looked down and saw that his torso was wrapped in bandages. He touched his head and felt the bandage that surround his skull. He flinched.


“Careful now, boy—you’re not even close to being healed up. You’ll probably have scars too. You might want to consider growing your hair out again.”


Lord Ruthven growled. “How did you recover me?”


Mysta thumbed towards the bed “I had him monitoring you since you left all of a sudden. As always, my instincts were correct about you being in trouble—near death this time.”


Lord Ruthven looked over and saw a large, flat-faced android with square eyes, mouth, and long, dreaded hair standing obediently, waiting for orders. Lord Ruthven recognized him as the former leader of The Rudkus’s.


“So, you finally got the boy toy you wanted,” Lord Ruthven did not hide his disgust. “Bet that feels good.”


“I always try to relish in my goals being accomplished.” Mysta snapped her fingers. “Upton here retrieved you from the ambulance as I took care of these accommodations.”


Upton walked up Lord Ruthven and stood in front of him.


“What is he doing?” Lord Ruthven asked.


“Oh, he just waiting on my command to force you back into bed if you don’t do so on your own.” Mysta replied, chewing at her nail.


Lord Ruthven glared. “Excuse me?”


“You need your rest,” Mysta stood up. “Cause you certainly can’t face the Gray Wolf of Chicago again in your current state.”


“Fuck off! You don’t tell me what to do!”


Mysta shook her head, snapped her fingers, picked up a bag, and walked into the bathroom. Metal tentacles shot out of Upton’s back and, before Lord Ruthven could react, he was enveloped in them.


“LET ME GO!” Lord Ruthven yelled as he struggled. Upton lifted him off the floor.


“MOTHER KNOWS BEST, DEAR!” Mysta yelled from the bathroom.


She made him stronger, Lord Ruthven thought as he glared at Upton. He tried to summon fire from his hands, but he could not feel anything come up. Upton walked him over to the bed and laid him down, severing his own tentacles.


“This may be hard for you to believe right now,” Mysta said, coming out of the bathroom, “but you’ll thank me for this later.”


Lord Ruthven calmed down. He looked at his mother and noticed that she had changed out of her business attire. “What’s with the track suit?” he asked.


“I’m going out for a little run around the town,” Mysta said, stretching. “You just lay back and heal, Varney.”


Lord Ruthven’s rage exploded. “DON’T CALL ME THAT!” He started struggling to break out of the tentacles wrapped around him. “LET. ME. GO!”


Mysta put her hands on her hips. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”


Lord Ruthven glared.


“Then we got no time to waste.” Mysta bent down near her luggage and picked up a briefcase. “His healing factor is vastly superior to yours.” She put the briefcase on the desk and opened it. “But I don’t think I need to tell you that.”


Lord Ruthven growled.


“He’ll either come for you, or he’ll be making a run for it.” She took a syringe out of the briefcase. “And based on how you fought last time, it might be the former—since I don’t see any reason he has to fear you—”


Lord Ruthven’s eyes widened. “OH, FUCK NO!” he yelled, beginning to struggle again.

“Sad but true, son.” Mysta said, examining the syringe.


“There’s no way in hell you’re shooting me up with your Alkaline Radicals!”


Mysta rolled her eyes. “You want to heal up right now? Cause this is the only way to do so!”


Lord Ruthven stopped struggling. “Just give me a day or two, I’ll be ready by then.”


“Now you change your mind,” Mysta sighed. “I never understood your opposition to my serum.”


“I’m not going to explain it to you AGAIN why I don’t like that shit.” He looked up at Upton. “It worked really well for him and rest of his gangbangers, didn’t it?”


Mysta walked up to Lord Ruthven and pressed her hand down on his forehead. “I think you’ll change your mind once you actually experience it for yourself,” she said, lowering the syringe towards his neck.


Lord Ruthven’s eyes bulged. He screamed, and an arm broke through the tentacles, swatting away the syringe, which smashed against the wall.


“NO RADICALS!” Lord Ruthven yelled, freeing his other arm and sitting up.


“Better calm yourself,” Mysta said, pointing towards Upton, who had his open palm next to Lord Ruthven’s head, ready to fire an energy blast.


Mother and son glared at each other. Mysta, while angry, kept her composure. Lord Ruthven breathed heavily as he sat up.


“I told you to calm down,” Mysta said.


Lord Ruthven grinned. He closed his eyes and grunted. Two arms suddenly shot out of his back.

“NO!” Mysta yelled. “YOU’LL KILL YOURSELF!”


Lord Ruthven screamed in agony. The arms grew claws. Upton got between Mysta and Lord Ruthven just as a demonic monstrosity shot halfway out of his body. It immediately grew long, drooping horns and wings.


“UPTON!” Mysta smacked the androids arms. “GO PULL THE REST OUT OF HIM!”

Upton nodded, and got behind Lord Ruthven. He grabbed the demon by the arms and pulled. Lord Ruthven screamed as the rest of it came out of him.


“TASE AND RESTRAIN!” Mysta yelled. Upton nodded again, wrapped the demon in his tentacles, and shocked it, bringing it to its knees.


“Let him go,” Lord Ruthven said, getting out of bed.


“You’re insane for doing that,” Mysta said.



“I’m way stronger than you’ll ever give me credit for.” Lord Ruthven walked up to Upton and glared. Upton unwrapped the demon and backed away.


“Come here,” Lord Ruthven said to the demon. The demon got up and looked him over. “Look into my eyes.”


The demon did so. Lord Ruthven and his spawn communicated in a way that only they were capable of.


“So fucking stupid,” Mysta muttered.


Lord Ruthven smiled, patted the demon on the shoulder, and led him towards the window. He opened it up, ripped out the screen, and the demon flew off.


“You could have done yourself in,” Mysta picked up the broken syringe, “pulling a stunt like that.”


“But I didn’t, now did I?,” Lord Ruthven said, laying down on the bed.


“Where exactly is he going?”


“Hunting for wolves,” Lord Ruthven grinned.


Mysta put the broken syringe on the desk and walked over to the window. “And how exactly am I supposed to explain this to the staff?” she asked, closing the window.


Lord Ruthven rolled his eyes. “Cut them a check or something,” he said, grabbing a pillow and putting it on top of his head.


Mysta growled. She looked at her android. “Upton, guard duty. I’m going for a run.”


Upton nodded. Mysta glared at Lord Ruthven, who she could already tell was back asleep. “Moron,” she muttered, leaving the room.


Upton stepped in front of the closed door, turned to face the room, and stood guard as demanded by his mistress.




Joseph Crowfoot looked at the campus map again. He scanned the dining hall, and threw the map into the air


“You look very frustrated,” Floyd said.


“OH!” Joseph said, surprised by Floyd seemingly appearing in the booth he was standing next to. The map landed on the table, between Floyd and Gareth, on top of their food.


“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Joseph said, trying to compose himself. Gareth glared at Joseph, and growled. Joseph laughed nervously.


“No prob,” Floyd handed Joseph his map. “What are you looking for?”


“I’m here for the Renaissance Festival. Do you know which way it is to the Sangren Pedestrian Mall?”


Floyd nodded. “Yeah, it’s right across campus that way,” Floyd pointed towards wall. “Go outside, take a right—you can’t miss it.”


“Joseph smiled. “Thanks much!” he folded up his map, and noticed the pizza sauce coating the bottom. “Sorry about the freakout.”


“It happens to all of us,” Floyd said.


Joseph looked at Gareth. “Sorry, friend.”


Gareth grunted. He took another slice of pizza and bit into it.


“For real, I’m sorry—”


“He’s been grumpy all day,” Floyd said. “Even getting a free meal hasn’t made him crack a smile.”


“I see.” Joseph looked at his phone. “I gotta get going—I’m nearly late!”


“All right, best of luck.”


Joseph gave them a quick wave and ran out of the dining hall. Floyd watched him leave. He the turned his attention back to Gareth, who was licking his lips.


“As I was asking,” Floyd held up that days issue of the Kalamazoo Gazette. “You did this?”


Gareth picked up another slice of pizza. “Yep.”


The front page, which had the headline “UNKNOWN CREATURE BROUGHT DOWN BY MASKED VIGILANTEE, POLICE”, featured a photo of Lord Ruthven, in his demon form, laying underneath a white sheet surrounded by members of the Kalamazoo Police Department.




“Cause I was stronger than him.” Gareth took a bite out of the pizza.


“Really?” Floyd looked at the photo. “He looks way bigger than you.”


“He was, but that didn’t mean shit.”


“But he did get you pretty good, with all the blood you shed,”


Gareth swallowed. “Yeah, but I was too distracted to manually heal myself and—”



“ ‘Manually heal yourself’?” Floyd looked confused. “Like a healing factor, or something.”


“Yeah, I can heal myself if I concentrate, or, as when we met, it goes into affect over time.”


“Why didn’t you heal yourself right after you took him down?”


Gareth glared. “I was preoccupied.”


“With what?”


“Getting away.”


Floyd snorted. “That’s it?”


Gareth growled. “It’s been a hard couple of days for me.”


“Oh.” Floyd looked concerned. “What happened?”


Gareth grabbed a slice of pizza. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”




For the first time that day, Gareth smiled.


Joseph ran through the Renaissance Festival crowd. He bumped into a punker with dreads that nearly went down to her waist. Joseph apologized, and kept running. The woman called him a dick, and returned her attention to her subject, introducing herself as Imogene McDonald, DJ and intern at WIDR.


On top of the Bernard Center, Lord Ruthven’s demon spawn landed, and started scanning the area.


Joseph stopped to catch his breath. Okay, now where’s my group at, he thought. He put his hands up in frustration. Seeing a bench, he walked up to it and sat down to rest next to someone dressed as a warlock.


“So, you said earlier that you were coming from up north?” Floyd asked.


Gareth took a sip of his water. “That also falls under ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’ category.”


“Hey, you brought it up earlier when we first met.”


Gareth glared. “I was just trying to make conversation so you wouldn’t freak your shit.”


“Okay, let me guess then: Traverse City?”


Gareth cringed. “No,” he muttered, wiping his hands off with some napkins.


Floyd hummed. “Alpena?”


Gareth cringed again. Floyd’s eyes widened. “Damn, I guessed right?” He clapped his hands together. “I’m from Alpena!”


Gareth tossed the napkins to the side. “Good for you.”


The demon spotted a student holding her corgi. The corgi barked, put its two front legs on the students shoulder, and licked her ear.


“Are you originally from there?” Floyd said, following Gareth


“Yeah,” Gareth muttered, walking faster as they left the dining hall.


“Oh! What year did you graduate high school?” Floyd kept up with him. “You look about my age—I graduated in 2006!”


“No, I didn’t mean that!” Gareth exited the Bernard Center. “Leave me alone!”


“Wait, what?” Floyd got in front of him. “Why the hostility?”


“Look, I’m sorry for being a dick, but I already told you enough.” Gareth pushed past him. “I have a secret identity to maintain, and I gotta get back to Chicago.”


Floyd narrowed his eyes. “Dude, you told me your real name.”


“Shit,” Gareth thought it over. “Well…that’s not really my name!”


Floyd grinned. “Then what is it?”


“Niles Standish.”


“Okay, now I know both your real AND fake name.”


Gareth realized that Floyd had unknowingly tricked him. His anger grew.


The demon dove towards the student, claws outstretched.


Gareth caught a faint scent that he recognized as Lord Ruthven’s. “He’s still alive?” he said, looking around and sniffing rapidly.


“What?” Floyd asked.


The demon reappeared into their view, shooting back up into the air, holding both the student and her dog.


Gareth saw it, cursed, and dashed into some nearby bushes. Floyd followed him.


“Is that the same thing you fought last night?!” Floyd asking, crouching besides Gareth.


Gareth put on his mask. He then transformed—his hair instantly turned gray, and his finger nails grew into claws.


“Guess it is,” Floyd said, speechless.


At the same time, Joseph shot up from his resting spot. He watched the student scream into the demon’s face. The demon roared back. The corgi barked at it and attempted to attack, though it was unable to escape its owners grasp.


“So much for a peaceful class vacation in the U.S.,” Joseph muttered.


The demon roared again, and bit down onto the Corgi’s head. The student screamed louder, and thrashed about, as it tore the dog’s head off its body.


Joseph looked around desperately. He noticed some of the students were running into a building called The Peace Center. He followed them inside and immediately saw a sign indicating that the bathroom was downstairs.


“OUTTA MY WAY!” Joseph yelled, pushing the students aside. “I’M GOING TO BE SICK! LET ME THROUGH!”


The students did so, and Joseph entered the bathroom and went into one of the stalls. He locked the door, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and concentrated. His entire body became enveloped by a red aura. The aura swirled around him, and suddenly disappeared.


Joseph now wore a black spandex suit, bearing a red wolf’s head on his chest. He also had red gloves, red boots, a red cape, and a wolf’s head mask. He held out his hand.


“Looks like Kalamazoo will be the first American city,” a rapier materialized into his hand, “that Wolf Savage will make an appearance in!”


Godan sped through the fleeing students, knocking some of them over. Fuck this, he thought, crouching down. He leapt into the air, heading towards the demon.


“This is so fucking cool!” Imogene, one of the few students who did not run away, said to herself as she recorded Godan flying through the air with her phone.


Godan grabbed onto the demon’s legs. He immediately climbed up to the demon’s shoulder and punched it in the face. It’s not him, Godan thought. It then dawned on him that someone was screaming in his ear. He turned his head and saw the student, covered in her dogs blood, still clutching it while crying. The demon roared.


“Sorry about this,” he said, grabbing the headless carcass out of the students arms and shoving it into the demons mouth. The demon released the student. Godan dove off, grabbed the student, and held her close as they landed.


“OKAY! OKAY!” Godan yelled, pushing the screaming student away from him. “YOU MADE ME DEAF!”


Wolf Savage flew out of the Peace Center and went straight up. He extended his rapier, and stabbed the demon from behind. He demon coughed up the dog carcass and wailed. Wolf Savage poured his energy into his sword, causing red energy blasts to erupt out of the demon from various points.


“Fast and easy,” Wolf Savage said, grinning.


The demon suddenly turned around, causing Wolf Savage to lose his hold on his rapier, and swatted him away.


That’s usually a one-hit take down, Wolf Savage thought, regaining his composure. He looked down at his uniform and noticed that it was splattered with blood. “Ugh! Really?”


The demon roared, and flew at Wolf Savage.


“Pretty good call on my part,” Wolf Savage raised his fists, “not going with that snow white variation of the suit.”


Who the hell is that, Godan thought as he watched Wolf Savage and the demon trade blows. He clenched his fists. At least he’s giving me a good opportunity!


Godan jumped back up. He landed on the demon’s back and put him into a headlock.


“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” Wolf Savage yelled, backing away.


“None of your business!’ Godan said, tightening his grip. He turned his head towards the demons ear. “Where’s Ruthven at?”


“Ruthven?” Wolf Savage asked.


The demon shot upwards, and began flying around erratically, trying to get Godan off.


“ANSWER ME!” Godan yelled, raking his claws across the demons chest. It flew backwards and smashed Godan into a building.


“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Wolf Savage yelled, driving his fist into the demons stomach. The demon coughed up blood. Wolf Savage winced as the blood splattered his mask. He then started rapidly punching it in the stomach.


“SHIT!” Godan yelled as Wolf Savage’s blows caused him to be crushed even harder between the demon and the building. “STOP IT, YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER!”


“WHO ARE YOU CALLING ‘DUMB’?!” Wolf Savage then saw some pieces of the building fall to the ground and realized what he was doing. “Oh, no,” he backed away. “Sorry!”


The demon shot upwards, causing Godan to lose his grip. He grabbed the handle of the rapier, pulling it out of the demon’s back.


Just what I need, Godan thought, looking at the sword that he thought would stop his fall, more pain.


Godan looked over at Wolf Savage as he passed by. Wolf Savage looked flabbergasted.


“HELLO?!” Godan yelled, waiving his arms around. “YOU GONNA SAVE ME, OR WHAT?!”

Wolf Savage snapped to attention. “Right!” he yelled, swooping down and catching him. “How the hell are you holding that?!”


“Huh?” Godan looked at the rapier. “Why can’t I hold your sword?”


“I’m the only person that can wield it without getting burnt!”


“Burnt? Doesn’t feel that hot to me.”


They heard screeching. They looked up, and Wolf Savage move just in time to dodge the demon’s slash.


“THROW ME AT HIM!” Godan yelled.


Wolf Savage nodded. He twirled around, and let go of Godan’s hand. The demon turned around. Godan then thrust the rapier through the middle of the its face, destroying its nose. Godan held onto the hilt, put his feet against the demons chest, and braced himself as they crashed into the pavement.


“BLAST HIM LIKE I DID!” Wolf Savage yelled as he flew down.


“Do what?” Godan replied, standing up, shaking from the impact.


Wolf Savage landed. He pushed Godan to the side, grabbed the hilt of the rapier, and sent a surge of energy through it. The demon’s head exploded.


“That,” Wolf Savage said, bring the rapier up and twirling it around. “I should have put more power into it when I first attacked.” Wolf Savage put the rapier in his holster, placed his hands on his hips, and smiled. “He was tougher than I imagined!”


“More likely, you’re not as tough as you think you are,” Godan said, glaring at Wolf Savage as he wiped the chunks of demon off himself. He sniffed at Wolf Savage rapidly.


“Is there a problem?” Wolf Savage asked.


“Plenty,” Godan looked him over. “You smell really familiar.”


They heard a commotion behind them. They turned around, and saw a woman pushing her way through the slowly emerging crowd of students.


“Looks like the student we saved is coming to thank us!” Wolf Savage said.


Godan cringed. “I think you’ll be surprised.”


The woman emerged, notepad in hand.


“That’s not the chick we saved,” Godan said, sighing in relief.


“HEY, GUYS!” the woman said, reaching them. She took a deep breath.


“Hey yourself,” Godan said, rubbing the inside of his ear. “Don’t shout, will ya? My ears are still ringing from all the screaming and roaring.”


“Sorry, sorry,” the woman composed herself. “I’m Imogene McDonald, DJ and intern at WIDR. Can I interview you two?”


“Interview?” Wolf Savage’s eyes widened.


“No,” Godan said, “me and this guy have to ta—”


“I’d love to chat!” Wolf Savage said, getting in front of Godan. “Ignore him—he’s grumpy.”


Imogene grinned. “Great! Who are you?” she asked, pointing her pen at them.


Wolf Savage pounded his chest. “I’m Wolf Savage, guardian of Windsor, and Canada’s most well know superhero!”


“Really?” Imogene wrote it down, “so does that mean you’re with the Ontario student group that traveled here for the Renaissance Festival?”


“Yes, I am!”


Imogene looked him directly in the eyes. “So you must be student then? What school do you attend? What year?”


Wolf Savages smile disappeared.


Nice, Godan thought, grinning.


Wolf Savage smiled again. “No, I’m not a student! I just heard about this trip and, going on some information that I got from my contacts, thought it would be good idea to shadow them.”


“Your contacts?” Imogene stopped writing. “So you knew this was going to happen?” She pointed at the headless demon. “Did you tell anyone in the group? Anyone here at WMU?”


Godan covered his mouth, trying to contain his laughter.


“No, because I didn’t want to needlessly alert anyone in case my contacts were wrong!”


He’s got an answer for everything, Godan thought.


Imogene tried to ask another question, but was interrupted by Wolf Savage. “I’m just glad I was here to help before anyone got hurt. Did I mention that this is my first time visiting the United States?”


Imogene shook her head.


“It is! I’m glad to say that I’ve helped out here!”


“That’s awesome,” Imogene said, writing down in her notes. “And how long have you known The Gray Wolf of Chicago,” she asked, pointing her pen at Godan.


Wolf Savage suddenly looked at Godan, wide-eyed. “THAT’S THE GRAY—” Wolf Savage then pretended to cough, and composed himself.“A long time, in fact!” he put his arm around Godan’s shoulder. “Ol’ Gray and I are longtime buddies.”


Godan glared at him. “I never even knew you existed until today.”


Wolf Savage bit his lip and looked at Imogene, who was giggling. He then noticed various flashes, and saw the students gathering closer, taking pictures with their cameras and phones.


“How about you, Godan?” Imogene said. “Why so far from Chicago?”


Godan waved his hand. “No comment.”


“Oh, come on!” Imogene got closer. “Can I get at least one comment, pretty please?”


The crowd had completely surrounded the trio—most of them praising Godan and asking him for an autograph or a picture.


“Godan is just a little anxious being around this many people after a hard battle,” Wolf Savage said. “If you would like, Miss McDonald, I can fly us to someplace where we can give you a more in-depth interview.”


Imogene perked up. “I have a better idea.” She flipped over the paper in her notepad. “Want to be on my radio show? You two can be my first ever interviewees on it!”


No,” Godan mumbled.


“We’ll do it!” Wolf Savage said. “What the time and place?”


Imogene wrote down the time and location of WIDR’s offices, ripped the page out of her notepad, and handed it to Wolf Savage, who assured them that they would be there.


“Cool, I’ll see you guys then!” she said,


Godan pinched Wolf Savage’s arm. “Fly us out of here, now.”


Wolf Savage looked at his arm. “You better not have ripped my suit!” he muttered.


“Or what, you’ll blow me up?”


“That’s one possibility.”


“You couldn’t even find your way here with a map, asshole,” Godan pointed at him. “You expect me to think you’ll—”


Wolf Savage put his arm around Godan’s waist. “Fine, let’s talk.”


Wolf Savage flew them away from campus. The crowd cheered, chanting both of their names. Imogene pumped her fist and congratulated herself.

Bio: Garret Schuelke is the author of the GODAN series (2018-present, Bakunin Incorporated) WHUP JAMBOREE: STORIES (2017, Elmblad Media Group), ANAMAKEE (2016, Riot Forge), and three poetry ebooks. He is also the host of The Garret Schuelke Podcast. He can be reached at his official website, garretschuelke.tumblr.com , or through Twitter @garretschuelke