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Something inhuman has come to Tarker's Mills, as unseen as the full moon riding the night sky high above.
The first scream came from the snowbound railwayman who felt the werewolf's fangs ripping at his throat. The next month there was a scream of ecstatic agony from the woman attacked in her cosy bedroom. Now scenes of unbelievable horror unfold each time the full moon shines on the isolated Maine town of Tarker's Mills. Stephen King
No one knows who will be attacked next. But one thing is sure. When the full moon rises, a paralysing fear sweeps through Tarker's Mills. For snarls that sound like human words can be heard whining through the wind. And all around are the footprints of a monster whose hunger cannot be sated . . .
