Curse of the Wolf: A Readers' Choice Adventure! Part 8

[mad_docs_of_lit]

As tonight is a full moon it seems like a very good time to wrap up our werewolf themed round and let the zombies in, but first - thank you to everyone who voted in our Readers' Choice polls and now we bring you the final part of our Readers' Choice Adventure...



“Quickly. We need to get outside.”

Caleb’s voice has an edge of anxiety to it that makes you shut the trap door obediently. The small earth chamber you’re crouching in is plunged suddenly into an almost total darkness that comes as quite a shock to you. The only weak illumination filters in through the cracks around the trapdoor leading from the bedroom and is only enough to give a vague, grey impression of shapes. In front of you the darkness shifts and Caleb’s voice hisses, “Just follow me and keep your head down, the tunnel’s low.” Swallowing hard, you pursue the sound of his voice into the claustrophobic blackness of the tunnel, clutching a rock you’ve picked up just in case awkwardly in your hand as you crawl along on all fours with painstaking slowness.

Around you, the walls of the tunnel hug tight like a tomb. It’s hot and airless and earth-smelling and as you inch your way forward at Caleb’s shuffling heels, you can feel unidentified things which you hope are just loosened trickles of dirt pattering down onto your head and shoulders. It’s obviously nobody’s ideal way to spend a Saturday night, but you’re sure you were never quite this claustrophobic before: there seems to be something inside you screaming to get out; something that wants to be running free and fast across wide open spaces…

You crawl for what feels like hours, and then,

“We’re here.”

Letting out an exhale of relief you see ahead of you Caleb finally pushing upwards through whispering grass. Some moonlight gleams into the cramped confines of the escape tunnel as you watch Caleb’s sneakered feet scramble out of the hole above you as he hoists himself out. Moments later a face appears at the mouth of the tunnel and a hand is lowered down to assist your exit. Caleb says, “Here, let me help you. You don’t need to keep hold of that rock, we’re safe now.”

“Yes, but just in case,” you insist, your grip on the rock tightening. You think you see something around his oh-so-kind eyes tighten too, but it’s only a flicker and then he’s smiling charmingly again as he helps you scramble free of your prison.

Brushing yourself down you look around you. You can’t have crawled far from the farmhouse, but you’re shielded from it by trees, which will surely buy you a little time to make good your escape. It must be past midnight by now judging from the stillness of the clear night around you. So still, it’s like you can hear everything – the little night creatures burrowing under the soil, the roosting birds murmuring in the trees, and the scents! How have you never noticed before how beautiful everything is at night? On the light breath of air is carried the perfume of night blooming flowers, of some unseen babble of clear water, of moving, running things that make your mouth water… of something else…
You turn abruptly to look at Caleb again, your eyes wide. He smiles his wild smile.

“Yes, I’ve been waiting for you. Ever since you escaped from me yesterday! We hoped mom’s potion would prevent you changing but it seems you’ve been given the blessing anyway. And that won’t do. There can only be one Wolf of West Hezelton so I’m afraid I’m going to have to finish what I started and put you out of your misery before you start getting any ideas,” He snarls, his top lip lifting back in an inhuman mannerism of aggression, “mother warned me about people like you!”

You’re bowled off your feet, landing with a winding thud on your back on the grass before you even register properly what’s happening to you. Caleb crouches heavily on top of you – wait – you blink and realise in an instant that it’s no longer the young man from the tunnel, but a huge beast with the same golden yellow eyes. With a yell you bring up the rock you’re still clutching in an attempt to strike the creature, but the rock falls uselessly from your grip and the sound of your shout turns to a long and animal note of fear; a howl.
Even though you dropped your weapon, Caleb still flinches back as if struck. He has the appearance of a wolf; a huge wolf maybe seven feet long, but proportioned slightly wrong - more like a kangaroo than a dog – as if capable of walking on two legs. It takes only a moment of confusion for you to register that you, too, have become one of these creatures.

With another howl, you launch yourself at Caleb. It’s his turn to be caught off guard by confusion: he obviously didn’t expect you to master your new form so quickly. It’s only seconds before he recovers and starts to fight back furiously, but it’s long enough for your jaws to drip hot blood from where you sank your fangs into his neck. It’s me or him a voice says in your head if there can only be one of us, then I’m damn well not lying down to be slaughtered. You snarl as Caleb uses his greater weight to try and push you down again, his talons like twisted iron nails trying to dig under your ribs. You can barely feel the pain: the adrenalin of rage and survival instinct is too great, although can feel the wet warmth of blood matting your fur. You presume his pain is dulled too, judging by the gaping meat of his throat – he shows no sign of hurting but the blood loss and weakness is very obviously slowing him down. Blood bubbles and pops from that first inflicted, death-dealing neck wound. Caleb’s breath wheezes and his yellow eyes narrow, full of hatred as he takes a final swipe at you, the tips of his claws swatting your cheek, but then falls sideways from the drunken momentum of his own strike. Lying on the floor, Caleb growls as you stand over him on hind legs, but you feel no remorse at all as you kick out at him with a back paw, your claws tearing his throat fully out.

As the life ebbs quickly from him, the wolf-form on the gore-soaked grass shimmers back into a young man, the glamour broken. Caleb’s throat is a bloody shredded mess and his clothes are torn but his yellow eyes still stare sightlessly accusing at you. What a sore loser! No such return to weak, human form for you tonight. Turning your back on the body (even a werewolf won’t eat its own kind) you sniff the delicious night air and, throwing your head back, let roar a great cry of triumph. Only a few hours of night left: you’ll have to make the most of it before you must wait another long month to stretch your wolf legs as the rightful Wolf of West Hezelton!

THE END (OR SHOULD WE SAY, THE BEGINNING..?)


Copyright

LC Hu and Die Booth

"Curse of the Wolf"

© 2011, LC Hu and Die Booth
Self Published
mad.docs.of.lit[at]gmail.com