Werewolf

When I found this story—which I don’t even remember writing!—there was no copyright date on it, but it must be in the 1987 or 1988 timeframe; had basic writing errors in it, and the “look” of all my other works from that time period. It was one of the five files I have in which there were no dates in any of the file’s metadata.

Werewolves—the traditional kind, not today’s pretty, glittery kind—are, along with mummies,  my favorite monsters. As a kid, The Werewolf of Ponkert was one of my favorite novels. Here’s a little more information on that novel.

I’d written about mummies and vampyres, so here’s one of two werewolf tales I’ve found I’d written.

This story has never been published.

 

Werewolf

©F. P. Dorchak, 1988

 

I just kept running.

I didn’t know if I could ever get away from what I’d seen. I knew that physically I could probably—eventually—get away, but the horror I’d witnessed would remain with me forever….

It all started innocently enough. I was walking home late one moonlit night after a movie, taking the proverbial short-cut. I was thinking about how great my life had been going…of my new girlfriend, Shelly, especially. We’d met about a month ago, and it had been love at first sight for the both of us.

I was thinking about her hair…of how it shined in the light—any light. Of her soft beautiful features…the way she walked….the way we held each other. It was a feeling I wished on everybody! Everybody should have a mate, someone to hold and love. I was walking on air! It seemed as if nothing could bother me—nothing!

Well, it was then that I heard a commotion up ahead of me.

My head was still muddled with sweet thoughts of Shelly, but not enough to cloud my mind. I knew what the sounds of a fight sounded like. There was a scuffle going on up ahead, and though I hadn’t been in a fight since grade school, I still somehow wasn’t all that comforted by my physical size and capabilities.

As I got closer, I was able to distinguish the sounds better. I heard a high-pitched screaming which no doubt came from a woman…and some deeper grunts that sounded like a man exerting himself. But I also heard something else…sounds much deeper than the rest of what I heard, sounds that sounded like…an animal.

An angry, ravenous animal.

Instinctively, I reached for my side, my hand coming to rest on my encased buck knife. Still there, at least I wouldn’t be totally unaided if necessity reared its ugly head….

The female voice raised in pitch, crying out for help from anybody…but nobody seemed to answer her call. The male voice was wavering. I stopped in my tracks. There was no mistaking it now, people were fighting for their lives. I felt something twist in my stomach, sweat seep out of my pores.

I withdrew my blade, extending its four-inch, shiny blade. On the blade itself was an engraving commemorating the men of the sea. The engraving had been done over in pure silver; the knife was never intended for use, but for display only. I got it from an old buddy who sails, and liked it so much I came to carrying it around.

I approached the fray, blade glistening in the moonlight. The woman saw me and stepped back to allow my entrance, pleading for help. I’m not sure what she was wearing, but her attire was in tatters and she was bleeding. She held a broken tree branch. I approached hesitantly, steel pointed forward, and looked at the scene. Two figures struggling, one appreciably larger than the other—and naked. And there was a growling coming from the naked, larger one that stung my soul; it was that animal sound I’d heard.

I got closer, unsure of what to do, though at the same time knowing perfectly well what needed to be done. The man was being ripped to pieces by his naked attacker. I thought back to Shelly—what if this same thing happened to her? The woman continued to plead for my assistance, calling to any others who might be listening. She again approached the thing atop her man and pounded mightily with the branch that had finally shattered apart in her hands on a back-that-wasn’t-a-normal back…a back that was…changing….

I was frozen!

I watched helplessly as the boyfriend was mutilated.

How could I just stand there and watch?

I grew angry with myself!

This man was already beyond any help that might arrive…his woman not much better—but I couldn’t let what was happening to this man happen to the woman…I had to try something!

I grasped my knife tighter, allowing my anger to fill me…it was the only way I could get myself to leap forward…which I did.

My steel buried itself into the thing’s side.

I felt my whole body trembling as the act was completed.

I had done it!

The beast uttered a pained howl, throwing the now dead body of the man away—then turned on me. It didn’t have to hit me to physically knock me over, just seeing it’s face was enough.

The face I looked at was not like my own, or any other man’s.

And it was still transforming.

A transformation between a man and—and a monster.

The face contorted with thick animal hair and leathery skin sprouting all over it…long, razor-sharp teeth completing extension from within an angry lupine maw. A far-too muscular and brutish lithe form taking hold over the soft, sallow flesh of a man.

I was knocked to the ground as the beast ran past, clutching it’s side. As it got past me it stood for but a moment in the pale moonlight and shook its hairy, narrow, and wholly wolf head back and forth as the contortions continued to torture it. His hands—which were now actually claws—went up to his “face.”

The whole of this thing’s body was ripping itself to pieces!

As it fell to all fours, rippling muscles and fur now covered it. This was clearly no longer any kind of a human being I’d ever before known.

The woman stared, unseeing, at the wolf—the werewolf. She’d stopped screaming a long time ago.

The wolf licked its teeth. Looked back to me.

I saw some stickiness along its side—the side I had knifed. The blade still gleamed in my hand, some of the beast’s blood on my hand. The wolf looked toward the girl. Before I could react let alone think, the beast had leapt towards her and knocked her over—intentionally avoiding my blade.

The silver. The silver in the engraving, that’s what kept it from me.

The wolf gave one well-placed bite on the woman before continuing onward into the cover of night.

Her throat was gone.

As was the wolf.

I stood there…I stood with my bloodied and gleaming knife still outstretched, my senses traumatized. I couldn’t do anything for her boyfriend…and now I’d been similarly cheated out of her life, too! I didn’t know what to do.

 

So I ran!

At first I ran after it, but then thought what would I do when I caught up with it? What would it do to me? Surely it wouldn’t stay afraid of me and my puny weapon for long. It was larger than me…quicker than me. Far more lethal.

So I hid.

But I can’t stay here forever…alone and terrified. It’ll find me. The wolf has my scent.

It’s only a matter of time.

Short Story Links

Links to all my posted short stories are here.

 

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About fpdorchak

Paranormal fiction author.
This entry was posted in Leisure, Short Story, Spooky, To Be Human, Writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Werewolf

  1. Karen Lin says:

    I love a story that doesn’t have a happily ever after. I couldn’t help but think of Michael Jackson. 🙂 The descriptions are great.

  2. xtian54 says:

    I liked Munn’s stories, too. His novel _Merlin’s Ring_ was one of my favourite fantasy novels.

    And (this may be a faulty memory-circuit), I seem to remember you writing something like this — or, at least an early draft of it. Definitely sounds like the stuff we were writing back in the day.

    • fpdorchak says:

      Hey, “xtian54,” thanks for stopping by!

      You know, I might have…these stories here are only the stories I already had in my PC. I have others that I’d only written out longhand and haven’t gotten back to. I’ll have to see if I did do one as we’d done…”back in the day”! Man, brings back memories!

      Again, thanks for stopping by here! :-]

  3. Paul says:

    I’ve always enjoyed werewolf stories, too, so good for you, Frank — tackling one like this. Just about time to rewatch the 1941 classic …

    • fpdorchak says:

      Thanks, Paul! I don’t really do monster stories any more, so it’s interesting to see my early work! And I’ve always like a GOOD (operative word…) werewolf or mummy story…even now!

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