The Curse of the Full Moon

The Curse of the Full Moon

The moon rose full and unforgiving, casting an eerie light across the silent forest. It's a night like many others cold, dark, brimming with secrets. My senses tingled as my skin prickled, fur pushing through a familiar yet painful transformation. The transformation takes me over bone shifting and skin splitting as the beast inside me burst forth. My vision sharpens, colors fading but details springing into vivid focus. The once boring forest floor seemed to come alive with scents, sounds, and sights invisible to human eyes. My ears picked up the rustling of a squirrel in the trees, the distant howl of another like me, and the heartbeat of creature nearby. It seemed frightened , confused yet blissfully unaware of the danger lurking just a few yards away. I stalk through the dense forest, every sound a symphony and every scent a story. The air is thick with life. A mice scurrying, leaves rustling, and some where in the distance, a heartbeat of a lone wander. My hunger instincts drive me the thrill of the hunt surging through my veins. I catch a scent fresh and strong. The lone wander with his backpack over his shoulders unaware of me stalking him like a hunter ready to pounce eagerly on his prey. My human self would be horrified, but the wolf inside reveals in the chase. I follow the trail, muscle coiled and in full speed of my prey. My pack had left hours ago, but I preferred to hunt alone. The thrill of the chase and the freedom of the night in it's glowing mist was so intoxicating. As a human I was trapped mundanity of existence. The human strife of bills, work, a broken coffee machine and ungrateful boss whom I would love to rip his throat out and enjoy every minute of watching his lifeless body wrath around on the cold cement floor. In my wolf form, under the shimmer of the moonlight, I was a powerful primal beast. I watched intently as the lone wandered disappeared inside the dwelling of a local tavern. I caught the scent of a deer and gave chase. This is a meal I was surely not going to miss this night. My muscles rippling as I gave chase through the underbrush. The creature bolted, but there was no escape. I could taste it's fear, sense it's exhaustion with one final leap. I pounced upon his back with my claws sinking into it's flesh as I tore into my prey. Quenching my thirst with the warm taste of it's blood as it poured into my mouth from its jugular. I lay down on the moist ground as I began tearing flesh from it's body enjoying every morsel into the silence of the night. The moonlight bathed the scene in a surreal glow. I continue to fed of my prey lapping and sinking my teeth deep breaking bones with my sharp canine teeth. I felt I lost a piece of myself with every transformation from human to beast.

“Is this what I'm now?” I asked myself.

A creature of the night forever torn between beast. In the dead of night, with blood on my fur with no one but the moon as my witness. I embraced my dual nature, accepting that within the werewolf's curse lies a strange liberating truth that I'm both man and monster.

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a gentle glow on the dew kissed grass. The beast within me howled one last time before retreating. I could feel the change coming. My fur began to recede, my claws shrinking back into fingers. The sharpness of my senses dulled as my body contorted and bones cracked realigning into human form. The transformation was always a harrowing ordeal, but this time I felt different. As the beast receded, memories of the night flooded back. The wild beast through the forest, the taste of fresh prey, and the thrill of the moonlit chase. As my senses returned to their human state, I found myself lying on the forest floor, breathless and aching. The cool morning air was a stark contrast to the feral warmth I felt as a wolf. I struggled to sit up. My limbs weak and trembling, but I finally managed to rise. The forest seemed different and less vibrant now that it was daylight. I looked down at my body. I was naked and covered in dried blood from last night feast. Crusty dried blood covered my face and I could taste hair and pieces of bones inside the top of my mouth. I looked around the forest and there wasn't a soul to be seen in sight. The cold Autumn air chilled my body as I pushed forth trying to fight some type of coverings. I came across a farm house down a narrow pathway. On the side of the farm house was a old clothes line full of freshly dried clothes that blew in the crisp air. I waited for a moment to see if someone would come out of the house. I sprinted forward and grabbed a pair of blue jeans, and long button down flannel shirt. On the side of the pole that held the clothes line, was a dirty pair of men boots. I grabbed everything and ran into the woods. I quickly put on everything and headed back to where my car was parked. There was an odor emulating from the boots. Instead of it being dirt, it was actually cow manure.

“Oh my God!” I said.

I found my way back towards a empty vehicle with keys inside. I could bare the smell of cow manure any longer. I leaned against the door of the car and took off both boots, throwing them onto the side of the road. All I wanted to do was to get back to the city to take a shower and get to my worthless job on time. The curse of the full moon calls me like a beacon in the night.

Deep within the recesses of my mind, the beast stirs. Every full moon calls to it, a relentless summons that no amount of willpower can deny. The transformation is both a curse and a liberation —a painful but necessary shedding of humanity that reveals the primal force lurking within. As the moon climbs higher in the sky, I feel the familiar tug. It's as if the very marrow of my bones is being infused with a raw, untamed energy. Muscles ripple and contort, skin stretches and tears, and in moments, the beast is no longer a mere echo in my psyche—it is me, in all its ferocious glory. Yet, with the dawn, the wild exhilaration ebbs, leaving behind the aches of transformation and the memories of the night’s primal dance. The beast retreats, but it never truly sleeps. It lies in wait, ready for the next call of the wild. And I, forever caught between two worlds, know that no matter how much I try to suppress it, the inner beast is an indelible part of my existence.