I guess the Halloween monster story for the Torque Control short story club must be “The Heart of A Mouse,” by K.J. Bishop. The beginning introduces us to a depressing post-apocalypse landscape with literal fallen angels rotting on the ground. And the narrator is a modified mouse.
That part I like, but his narration comes across to me as: Did I mention that I’m a modified mouse. A really big modified mouse. And I’m living in a harsh landscape. And I had to hit my son, really. Isn’t it cool how everyone around me is a modified animal with human intelligence?
Ugh. I feel like I’m being hit over the head. Even a talking animal can’t overcome my hate for depressing post-apocalypse settings. Sorry guys, I really don’t want to read this one.