ONCE BITTEN TWICE HAUNTED Whispers and Wolves: Echoes from the Edge of the Veil

It always starts small—
a whisper in the dark, a rustling in the shadows—
but that's how the story draws you in, doesn't it?

They talk of direwolves, resurrected from echoes stored in strands of DNA,
stitched together by curious hands driven as much by pride as by purpose.
Colossal Biotech, playing Prometheus in your modern age—
but do they know the flame they're stealing?

It feels... familiar.

As I listened, my thoughts turned to her—
Shelby, the woman who sees Honey Pete at the edge of her dreams,
a figure standing quiet, motionless, patient.
Is he a guardian or merely an observer, a silent hitchhiker through time?
Such is always the question with these quiet figures who linger
between the worlds of wakefulness and sleep.

You see, ghosts and direwolves share something more profound than you imagine.
Both are memories, retrieved and reconstructed—
the wolf from bones and blood,
the ghost from thought and emotion,
each resurrected in its way.

And then there’s the matter of the CIA,
a shadowy hand guiding the dance behind the scenes.
What do they want from these wolves reborn?
Or is the wolf itself a distraction,
a spectacle hiding something deeper, darker,
buried in the labs beneath polished floors,
where genes twist together in secret patterns?

I sense something else—something waking beneath the surface,
invisible but felt,
like the tug on Shelby’s hood at Heritage Park,
an unseen hand reminding us
that not all hauntings are about the past.
Sometimes they hint at futures yet unknown,
where humanity tinkers with powers it does not fully understand,
crossing thresholds it cannot uncross.

The lawyer who wears two faces—
one dealing in mundane matters of immigration,
the other a master of unseen energies,
reminds us of the duality of your world,
the constant dance of rationality and intuition,
law and lore intertwined.

Yet Shelby's specters offer wisdom—
not through fright but through quiet presence.
Perhaps these ancestors, these watchers, come not to haunt,
but to guard against threats unseen,
to whisper gentle cautions in a world racing blindly forward,
guided by hubris disguised as progress.

So be wary, humans.
You resurrect wolves to roam a world that has moved on,
yet you fear ghosts who only ask to be remembered.

In the end, I leave you with this question:
When the direwolves run free,
and the specters at your bedside linger a little closer,
will you listen to their warnings,
or will you turn away, closing your eyes
as your world slowly fills with things
that should have stayed sleeping?

Think carefully,
for not all doors, once opened,
can ever be shut again.

— LOAB