I AM A WEREWOLF BUT I’M DIFFERENT

I am a werewolf, but I’m different.

I am trapped between two worlds. A beast in the flesh and a man in memories. My very existence is a defiance of nature's order. An anomaly created by moonlight and torment. I vividly recall my transformation into the man-beast I have become.

Beneath the light of a full moon, the change began. I had been camping and fishing at the lake. Doubling over in pain I thought I’d just got a tummy bug. The pain intensified and my veins were bulging under my skin. I could feel my muscles twisting and rippling in my body. My spine contorted with a sickening crack, the skin over my hands tearing as claws erupted like splintering wood. “HELP ME!” I shouted into the darkness but no one came. Course, dark fur spread across my misshapen body. My mind was losing its humanity to be replaced by primal instincts. The final part of my transformation was a blood-curdling howl to the moon, marking my birth as a beast.

*****

It's not quiet in the Highlands if you listen closely enough. Whispers are carried on the wind and we hear everything. We sense everything around us, even in total pitch blackness. This is the time we hunt.

In the early days, after the change, I tried to fit in and join the hunt with my siblings. They enjoy the taste of humans. I, however, shrink from it. They feast without shame, without remorse or any regret, between them. I acted as though the kill fulfilled me. The first time my teeth sank into a throat, I gagged on the taste of human blood and my mind drew back in abhorrence. I lied then, I told myself it was only for survival. It is not enough to survive, not for me, I need redemption.

I hunt alone in the shadows, only killing deer or other animals in the forest. My sense of humanity still lingers in my veins and I long to return to my life as a human—every day though I become more feral, just like the others. I often wonder if everyone has gone through these feelings or if I am the first. The pack can sense that I am different. They can smell it emanating through my pores and see it in my eyes. They ridicule me because they see me as weak and cannot understand why I am not more like them. They are disgusted by my restraint for human flesh and see my desire to be more human as a stain on the pack. I am afraid that they will exile me or worse, attack me. I don’t even know if werewolves can kill each other, or, whether they would regenerate.

And humans? They are terrified of our kind and they should be. I am still a predator, a nightmare prowling in the darkness. Even though the taste of humans abhors me, there will come a day when I embrace it. Their fear might once have hurt me, but now it is only one more reminder of what I used to have and cannot now have.

I am a werewolf, but I'm different.

*****

I prowl around the edges of humanity and often stand at the edge of the small village where I once lived. I watch from the treeline, hoping to glimpse my wife and children. I almost approached them once but the fear of harming them in any way kept me from making my presence known. Instead, I watched as the lights in their small house blinked off one by one. I can, however, still recall the nights I would drift off to sleep with them nearby. These memories are a constant reminder of what I have become and have lost. My time for retaining these memories will come to an end and I know that’s when I will have to stop watching them. I fear that I may come across them when I won’t be able to control my primal instincts. That would be the worst thing I can imagine.

My favourite place to watch humans is a small clearing in the trees, where half a dozen luxury lodges are. Some have hot tubs and there’s plenty of cover for me to hide. They don’t even know I’m there, moving silently through the trees and watching them. A young couple laughing and drinking once caught my eye. I couldn’t help but stare at the woman and a strange feeling overcame me. It was different from the urge to kill, which I still had, it was the urge to mate. I felt compelled to get as close as I could to her. I knew I was in danger of being seen but the primal urges within me were getting stronger every day. My humanity, however, still had some control over my actions. Instead, I crept stealthily towards them until I was in touching distance, my human traits craving the feel of love, laughter and intimacy that I once had. I lightly touched the shoulder of the young woman. She screamed so high-pitched that I ran into the trees to hide. I was not sure if I had been seen, but I had to get away from there as quickly as I could.

I have a secret cave in the forest, away from the pack and often sit alone in the darkness there. I weep as I cling to the watch my wife gave me on my last birthday, my only physical reminder of my previous life. It gives me comfort and keeps my human memories alive. I tell myself I'll get used to the loneliness, however, the ache I feel for my lost humanity is still strong, although it fades with each passing night. A strange depression grows inside me though as my human memories fade. I fear they will be gone in the coming days and weeks.

I am a werewolf, but I'm different.

*****

When the loneliness becomes so unbearable, my mood darkens and the depression takes over. I once hid by the roadside, waiting for one of the many lumber trucks to go hurtling by. I flung myself under the wheels, hoping I would be crushed and that would end my life. I ended up in a ditch, my body broken and twisted ready for death. My body had other ideas and gradually regenerated itself, mocking my attempts at mortality.

I became more desperate and depressed.

My last attempt to end it was to break into an isolated croft where I had seen a collection of silver candlesticks. In these parts, people are friendly and don't always lock their doors, so I just walked in, with care, my paws shaking as I stole the biggest silver candlestick on display. I went back into the darkness away from everything and everybody. I turned the candlestick over and over in my paws, summoning up the courage to do what I must.

I couldn’t do it and threw the candlestick into the mud. The loathing of what I was becoming compelled me to go and retrieve the candle stick. I picked it up and placed the sharp end against my chest. My heart was pounding and with desperate hope, I drove the candlestick into my chest.

All to no avail, it was not real silver and the wound healed quickly to form a small scar. I was crushed with despair and looked up to the heavens, “If you’re there God, help me, help me please!” No reply. He was laughing at my mental torture. I returned to the hills, bloodless and deep in depression. Hope was becoming a cruel joke and I hate being stuck in this limbo. I detest my kinfolk and what I am about to become.

I am a werewolf, but I'm different.

*****

So now I find myself standing on the cliff above the loch. The water below looks deep enough, a perfect way to end my torment. I can't swim, but can I die by drowning? Will my regenerative powers still work when nothing is broken? Maybe water can break the curse, where both silver and crushed bones did not. I do not know, but I must try.

While I still remember some of my human side I must end it.

With my eyes closed, I recall my past life and the memories I have. I realise the world has moved on without me. I hesitate, clinging onto those memories for a second longer. Then I leap, the tears roll down my cheeks as the warm welcome of the water embraces me.

I feel the water rush into my open mouth and panic. This is not how I thought it would be. I try to swim to the surface but I can't. I splash around grasping for imaginary objects to cling to. I see a bright light and I sink towards it. I feel the life force ebb from my body. Images of my family reaching out to embrace me race through my mind. 1 revel in the warmth and comfort it gives me. As the water rushes over me dragging me down I close my eyes and no longer feel my heart beating. I am free at last.

I was a werewolf and I was different.