• Where do I begin this story?
    My story.. Our story..
    I'm just another ordinary teen

    Blood was pounding in my ears, clashing with the sound of the rushing air as I run. The sound was just a continuous roll of thunder pounding in my head, shoving out any intellectual thoughts in my mind to make room for the anxious the feeling. The hunger. The thirst that kept me going. I stopped a little suddenly, sliding on all fours across the foliage. My eyes dart around in all directions, and when I find nothing, I recollect myself, more calm now. Then leaning back, the dead leaves crunch softly under the pads of my feet. Two were I once stood, two were my hands should be. Finally after listening for any other movement, I lunge, using all the strength in my back legs and latch onto a tree, running up it as swiftly as I can. I'm not your typical... "wolf-like creature"... I have the strength and cunning of one, with the quickness and agility of a fox, the size of your average lion. Whoever told you a werewolf looked like a hunch-backed man who hadn't shaved his face in a while had a sick imagination. Then there's the fur, sort of long, sleeked back from the wind and a smudged black in color, almost like ash, only darker. I jump down from the trunk, the cool air ruffling my fur as I fall. I land on a small flat part of rock, jutting out from the mountain over the forest. There's a soft thud as I when I land, and it seems to echo though the emptiness of the woods, even though it's barely audible. The rock is like a balcony, giving me the advantage of a birds eye view that goes out for miles. As many times as I've been here, the scenery seems to change every time, giving me a new map to memorize every time. Right now I'm out above the forest, which goes out for miles everywhere except where the mountain stands, as if an unearthly force just dropped it there for reasons that didn't seem to make sense. The continuous thunder is gone now, and the blood in my ears is pounding more slowly now as I calm down, the cold feeling bringing my mind back to me. My blood is naturally cold, 45 to 50 degrees to keep me cool as I hunt. I still don't fully understand every aspect of being.... me, but I do know that the longer I stand here, the closer I am to freezing. That thought helps me keep the hunger at bay for a brief period, as I scan the scenery for signs of life. There's no movement, except for a slight breeze, shaking the frail branches, tossing dead leaves to the ground and dragging them across the old carnage. Decaying plants and petrified limbs, dry and frail. Long sense fallen. Its almost peaceful, but not enough to keep me distracted from the reason I'm there. I take another quick scan, then lift my front paw. I steal another quick glance, then let it drop, hitting the rock with a blunt sound that rushes out and reverberates throughout. It zigzags though the the trees, then falls silent just as quickly as it started. There's no other noise.. it's been a slow night. Not many creatures out for some reason. After it's still a few more moments, I raise my paw again, and push it down quickly, cutting the air impatiently and hitting the rock with a sound that sounds more like a crack. It shoots out more quickly and maliciously, bouncing off the trees violently. But this time there's another sound underneath it. I perk up my ears a bit more, listening eagerly. My breath is slowly becoming visible... it's the sound of a panicked creature. My heart beat speeds up. Quick startled stomps across the dead leaves, violent crunches as the animal stumbles. I lean forwards, focusing more intently on the area the sound escaped from. There's a spot where a tree has fallen, the branches jutting up in sort of a canopy, with the thick spread of leaves preventing me from seeing anything near it. Creating the perfect cover. I grin the best way a wolf can, bearing my canines. Was the perfect cover. The panicked steps become constant now, as the animal charges out from behind it's cover. I focus in on it, straining my eyes for distance in the pale silver glow of the moon. It looks a couple hundred feet away, a deer separated from whatever heard it called home. A little corpulent, but in it's prime and lightning quick as it darts through the trees, but slipping on the dead plant life in its panic. The perfect catch. My perfect catch. I jump down from my perch on the rock, kicking up dirt and leaves with the sudden tremor as I land, my fur ruffled and loose from the cool air. Suddenly the hunger and thirst are strong again, urging me to run, taking control. I'm stepping lightly, and the crunching of leaves under my pads become quicker and sharper with every step. All I want now is it to catch it. All I need now is that taste... the moment of satisfaction and sense of victory when I bite down on the flesh... My movements are purely reflexive now. Quick movements, darting by trees as if nothing can stop me. I can see that creature now. I push myself to go quicker, nearly clipping a huge pine, but that only makes me want to strive for it more. The thunder is pounding in my head now. Taunting me. "You're close," it says, "Don't fail now." And so I'm closer. So close.. I can practically taste it. The animal senses it. It makes a sharp left, almost tripping into a ditch.. but doesn't, jumping last minute over the dried up creek where the water had given up life months ago. I turn just as sharply, trying hard to maintain traction with the ground, and after doing so successfully, I leap over the ditch easily. As I land, I let myself slide across the leaves, with the force from the leap propelling me faster. Just a few more feet... a few more feet... and the chance flashes before me. My chance. In a blackish blur I'm leaping, shoving off the group as hard as I can and flying in the air and pouncing down on its back. There's a jolt of excitement as my claws latch to it, and I lean down, pushing all my force and weight onto its back. And in the split second after I land, it's legs are giving out, and I can feel us moving down. There's a painful cracking sound. It must have collapsed onto its leg in a bad position.. I let myself slide from its back, yanking out my claws at in continues to skid. The deer slides for a good 15 feet, kicking up dirt behind it. Then there's a dull thunk as a tree stops it. I can feel the adrenaline pulsating in me, wanting me to charge at it. But I don't. I stalk up to it, casually, with my fangs shining in a grin. I'm pleased with myself. So is the thunder. The deer's not moving, or making noise, but it's alive. The silver glow shines down on it from patches in the trees, little glowing orbs above it from the dirt tossed up after it. They kind of slow down, settling in the air and gradually disappearing.. as if the creatures spirit is fading away. And now as I approach, the air is still with the sickly sweet scent of fear, and accented with bloody aroma, under toning from where my claws had broken through its fur. Its eyes are open. It gives me a last, long fearful look as I lean in, greeted by its dying aroma. The animals life is hanging by a thread now, so I bite down quickly, cutting the thread swiftly and painlessly, out of the respect demanded by the fallen alli. He assists me, and so I do the same. Then I can feel it. A sudden rush as blood trickles down my canines as I release. And my senses are heightened. I hear the pounding in my ears, the thunder, and the small sounds of nocturnal life underneath it, crisp and sharp. I feel the cool night air, trying to assist my own blood to calm me down, but I can't. I can't calm down as I feel the soft, limp carcass under my paws. I smell the sweet scent, teasing and taunting me, almost a visible mist hanging above it. And I see the creatures frozen expression, and the wet matted fur where I have bitten. The thickly flowing blood glistens like a crimson jewel in the silver glow. A liquid treasure. But all of that is nothing. Nothing compared to the taste. It lingers on my tongue like the taste of a lover, teasing me, a promise for the next time. I lean down, instinct finally getting the best of me, and take a bite. This is ecstasy.
    ***
    I climb up the tree outside my window, slowly, a little exhausted and unsteady. But still as quietly as possible. Then I pounce onto the window frame, the window still wide open as I left it. I crawl into the room, sore, but satisfied with tonights catch, but too tired to know what I'm really doing. I'm still pulling my tail through the window, and there's a crash. I tense up, a little more awake now, and turn my head around slowly to investigate it. My tail knocked over an empty coke bottle on the edge of the window. I stand there frozen, my tail still caught between my room and the outside room. There's a loud silence as I stand there, my eyes wide. Damn it, I screwed up!... A few moments pass and there's still no reply.. I shake my head, relaxing again. I promise, I could light this house on fire and they wouldn't wake up. I take a few more steps into the room, and start my metamorphosis. Changing is like.... being born again, with a new life, a new existence. You feel yourself shrinking, and the floor beneath you goes through a few different stages of feeling to your feet. As if it's changing, not you. There's a distortion in your vision as your eyes switch over and adjust, like a broken kaleidoscope. Your blood starts to heat back up, but suddenly the night air in this town hits your skin, cold. The shock of which is worse because of all the time you were used to having fur. Being cold outside is different from being cold inside. I hate it more. Finally, your whole body aches as your bones reshape themselves, and your organs are pushed around inside you. Some deteriorate, no longer in use. I can feel all this happening, especially the last, and I exhale at the ache. And then I slouch over, leaning against the desk, the cold hardwood floor under my feet. And then I numb. I wonder how pathetic I look, leaned up against the dresser, clothes-less and breathing heavy in this dark room. I recollect myself, and put on a pair of jeans heaped up in the corner. Them I'm walking to the bed across the cold floor. My legs still ache. The radio is still playing as I collapse, tugging a bit of blanket over myself, face down. I reach up a little, groaning a little and turning the volume up a little bit.
    "It's time for me to get out of here people," comments D.J. Casey to me, his voice adding atmosphere to the room, "but I'll leave you with a song. Wish me luck out there people, you never know what's running around out there at night."
    Now this makes me chuckle a bit.
    "Yea, no kiddin" I yawn as the song begins. Then for me, its lights out.
    ***
    "I bid you good noon," comes a cheap Shakespearean accent. That's my brother.
    "It's 'bid you good marrow,'" I say. He's sitting at the table, a 10 year old stuffing his face with a pop-tart.
    "But it's noon," he says.
    There's no doubting we're brothers. Sarcastic, lean, and long-haired. Well, long for a guy anyway. Like a little hardcore Metallica fan. Only with better personal hygiene. I open the fridge, taking out the O.J., and taking a swig.
    "Maybe if you woke up earlier," he throws in.
    "Amen!" comments my mom, sitting across the table from him, reading the paper.
    "Oh lord, thank you father Allen!" I say loudly, with a mock religious flare, and set down the juice. He turns to respond to that, but he stops. His eyes grow wide.
    "What did you do?!?" he accuses. My mom looks up. And gasps.
    "Drake!!" she demands, "Why is there so much blood on your face?!?
    Oh yea. Damn.
    "I woke up with a bad nose bleed last night." It's pretty clear my expression was a shocked as there's.
    "Yea right," he chuckles, "You know it's probably easier to eat whole rabbits with forks and knives!"
    "I could have walked in with the bunny pelt still stuck between my teeth," I grin at him. Then at mom. She doesn't look happy. She just gives me a cold stare, frozen on her face. "It didn't get on my bed so much. I'm sorry, I'll go wash up now." I say, and flash her an apologetic look. She just nods, her face not as stone-cold-killer looking anymore. I walk down the hallway, turning into the bathroom. I flip on the light, and there I am, reflected in the dull white reflection of the bathroom. I stick out like a sore thumb against the white wall and small towel rack. Or like a psycho. And they're right. It's bad. A ring of dried, cracking blood with a dirty color now, that wraps around my mouth in a thick coating. If anyone saw me know, maybe they might not be surprised about my.. dark secret. I'm a whole 5 feet, 5 inches, with a lean build. Not muscle. Just.. lean. My hair, a little spiky, tends to grow out in all directions naturally, like in front of my eyes. Which are hazel. The average wolf-man. Ok... so maybe just my hair says it...
    So like I said. I'm just an average, ordinary teen. I'm also a werewolf.