The Wolf's Curse

Fear is my ruler, it keeps me chained. My skin strains as it pulls itself tightly over my bones, my veins are stark and bold against my pale flesh. With each passing second, my breathing becomes more and more laboured as I strain to fight for control. The beast within claws at my chest, shredding its way out. The rising moon departs from the clouds, entering my lane of sight. One second I’m chained to the tree, the next I’m sprawled in the mud, soaked to the bone and shivering. I glance down at my wrists, expecting to see my skin raw and red. Instead, it isn’t even marked from the iron chains that had bound me. As I trudge home, the sun begins to rise, coating the grassy plains in its warm glow. I pick up my pace, I don’t want to run into anyone that’s out and about this early. Explaining would be near to impossible. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

“It has fangs as large as your fingers!” Ansel Maine roars at the crowd of bar-goers. He waves his hands wildly about for all to see.  

“The beast’s eyes are without pupils!”  

The crowd of men gathered around his feet stare up at him intently, hanging onto his every word.  

“Fur as black as night, stained red with the blood of its victims.”

“That’s enough,” Guthrie calls out as he slides two drinks down the bar to a few men. “I don’t need you scaring off my customers.”

“The beast will do that, not me,” Ansel retorts, taking a seat at the bar, across from Guthrie.

“If it's even real.”

“It is, I’m telling you, I saw it with my own two eyes. These disappearances are caused by the thing!”

I turn away and fain interest in my beer, watching the liquid with earnest. Nobody seems to notice my lack of attention, they’re all too interested in the stories Ansel tells. The argument between the two men flies back and forth for a few minutes until the room falls silent. I wasn’t listening, but this I can’t ignore.

“You'll be doing what?” Guthrie asks, no one else dares speak. I wonder what all of the fuss is about.

“I’m going to skin the beast,” Ansel states, pulling a wickedly sharp knife from his belt and stabbing it into the table. Guthrie cringes at his lack of respect. “Then you’ll all see I'm telling the truth. I may even give its head to you so you can mount it on a wall. This place does need a little decoration if you ask me.”

My blood runs cold. A few murmurs pass around the room.

“I’ll join you.” A stranger calls from the back. Everyone turns to face in their direction.

“You’ll need a team of course,” the stranger explains. “A beast this large will surely need more than one man to bring it down.” 

“And who might you be,” Ansel demands. “I don’t recall having seen you in these parts before.”

“The names Lana,” the stranger announces as they remove their hood, revealing their dark shoulder-length hair and warm brown skin.  

Everyone gasps as they take in her appearance, including me. Beneath the hood is a woman, she grins as she takes in the room's surprise.

“But y-you’re a girl,” Ansel stutters.

“Woman,” she replies. “And if I’m right you’ll be needing all the help you can get.”

I take the dirt road home, my shoulders slump as I walk. I fear the upcoming moon more than I ever have. Before I knew I would wake up, living and whole, but never truly alive. But since the newly developed hunt for my head, I’m no longer certain. After the mysterious Lana signed up, most of the bar followed. I can’t help but remember what my father would always tell me when I was a child.

You’ll die, son, on your twentieth birthday. Your life will be a short one.

The words echo in my head, for years I’ve pushed them aside, never truly believing them. However, the next full moon is in three days, and also just so happens to fall on my birthday. It could be a coincidence, but I’m no longer sure. The thought of my head - no matter the form - hung up for all to see sickens me. I wonder if they’ll ever connect the dots, or if they’ll think I was taken by the beast.

As I turn the winding corner I come face to face with Lana, I jump back in surprise, and fear. Her golden eyes zero in on me, it feels as if she’s staring into my soul. I force myself into a calm state.  

“Sorry,” I mumble as I try my best to hurry past, but she grabs my arm as I try to leave. Her grip is firm.

“I’ve seen you before.”

“Yeah, back at the Seven Moons.”

She nods but doesn’t seem entirely convinced.  

“So you’re really going to kill the beast?” I ask.  

“You sound nervous,” she says.

I inwardly curse, if she finds out what I am I’m dead.

“Do I?”

“I won’t die if that's what you’re worried about,” she says, grinning.

I shake my head. “I’d just hate to lose a lot of good people at the hands of the beast.”

“We’ll be armed.”

I go to leave again, but she calls out.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

I turn around. "Marson. Marson Banks.”

A toothy smile breaks out across her face. As she leaves, I wonder why she has come from this direction, only I live out this way. I study her as she turns and leaves, and it's then that I notice a shred of material stuffed into her back pocket. Its reddy-brown colouring stands out against her dull grey pants. I turn and run as fast as I can, I don’t stop till I make it home.

As soon as I’m back home, I’m quick to check all the locks and windows, searching for any sign of tampering. I find none, but I still know she’s been here. The rag she had in her pocket was on my table when I left for the Seven Moons, along with a vial of my blood, and a book of myths. The blood and book remain, but the rag I used to clean it up is gone. Lana knows. She’s probably back at the bar telling the hunting party what she’s found.

“There was a vial of his blood on the table, and a book on myths opened to the page on werewolves.”

I’m as good as dead. Father knew it and, now, so do I. I may not have believed his rambling then, but I do now. The Seer he had seen all those years ago had been right.  

“His twentieth birthday will be the end.”  

That is what she told him when he’d asked for even the teeniest snippet into my future. My fate was sealed before I was born, now all I had to do was wait. If it's accurate, I still have three days.

I’d have thought after all the years of my father telling me that I would die, it’d be easier to face. The sun hangs low in the west and I watch it as it slowly sinks behind the hills. My last sunset. I can’t imagine it being any more beautiful than it is. Then it's gone and the pain begins. I reel back as I feel my bones shatter and reform, my skin further pales as it stretches. Course black hair begins to grow on my back and arms, soon it will cover me whole. My vision blurs, then clears as my eyes adjust, I can see so much more, even with my darkening surroundings. The moon will be out soon, it's just a matter of time.  

I don’t bother chaining myself up, after all, I won’t be alive to feel the guilt of what I’ve done. I bite back a scream, my enlarged fangs pierce through my bottom lip, blood coats my tongue. All I feel is pain. I wonder if dying will be easier. At least then I’ll never have to go through this again. I flick my head back and forth keeping an eye out for the hunt. Surely Lana’s leading the charge, with all that she knows I’m sure she realises the full moon is tonight. Then the moon flashes before my eyes and I’m pushed to the very back of my mind. The beast takes the wheel.

I fight it back with every step, I can only pray that I’m not too late. Those foolish men were harder to lose than I’d have thought. I hope they’ve taken my word for it and are stalking the night in a safe area. If any of them branch off and come this way I may not be able to save them. The full moon shines bright in the early night sky as it begins its journey. My pain will become worse when it reaches its peak, but right now I’m the one in control, not the beast within. The howl from the next paddock echoes and stops me in my tracks. I pick up my pace, now running towards the source. 

As I reach the top of the hill the small house and the paddock beyond come into view. A little way out I watch in horror as the beast that hides beneath the man’s skin tears its way out. The sight makes my gut churn. The thought that this very thing once happened to me. But this is exactly why I must save him, no fate is worse than this. As the werewolf spins around I fall to my knees, praying that the fading light will cover me. It’s a ridiculous notion I realise as soon as I’m on the ground, the thing still has its keen sense of smell. I peer up, but the beast is missing, gone to the night. I almost breathe a breath of relief, until I realise I have no idea where it's gone.

“Dammit,” I hiss under my breath as I get to my feet. I spin around, searching for a sign to its whereabouts. It could be anywhere, and here I am, out in the open. I’m prey, and maybe, just maybe that’s where I should be if my plan is to work.

“I’m here!” I scream at the top of my lungs, flailing my hands about. I feel like a fool, I probably am, but it's the only plan I’ve got.

I strain to see around me, everything has gotten dark and my eyesight isn’t as good as it once was. Before I can even scream the creature has pounced, pinning me beneath its wickedly sharp claws. They dig at my skin, biting into my arm’s soft flesh. Saliva drips from its mouth, landing on my face in piles of drool. I whimper in fright. The beast's jaws move closer. Now’s my chance, while I can still talk.

“Marson,” I begin but am cut off by a stabbing pain in my gut. The source of my pain comes from the werewolf having shifted his weight.

“M-Marson Banks.” The words come out in a stutter and I’m not entirely sure they’ll do the trick.

“Marson Banks!” I scream.

This has to work, after all, it did for me.  

Before my eyes, the werewolf stumbles backwards and howls in fury. The sound pierces the night sky. It smashes into the ground, its size diminishing and its hair falling out in large chunks that vanish as they hit the ground. The creature writhes in agony, twisting back and forth. I dare not come closer.  

A scream tears from my lips as my body reforms. I’ve never been awake during this part, the most confusing thing, however, is the darkness that surrounds me. Surely it isn’t the following night and I’ve only just turned back. My following thoughts are: Why aren’t I dead? Am I dying? Is my death what’s causing me to turn back? I glance up through my pain, catching sight of Lana. She crouches a little way away, the flesh at her arms is torn and bloody. She looks weary in the silver light. As soon as she notices my stares, she comes closer, not by much but still closer.

“Marson?” She asks.

I nod, although it hurts.

“It's going to be alright, I understand everything may be confusing but believe me it’ll all get better.”

I listen intently to her words, they help keep my mind off the pain as I transform back.

“Am I dead?” I ask.

“No,” she replies. “You’re very much alive.”

As soon as it stops, Lana is at my side. She tosses her coat over my figure and sits beside me.

“I should probably explain some things,” she tells me after a minute or two of us sitting in silence. “You won’t be turning back anymore.”

The words flood me with relief.

“Are you certain?” I ask. It sounds too good to be true.

“It worked for me.”

“You’re like me?”

“Former Werewolf,” she laughs. “Yeah.”

“How did you do it? I thought you were going to hunt me down.”

“I may have led them on a pointless journey,” Lana admits. “Speaking of which I should probably be heading off in the morning. And to cure you all I had to do was call out you're birth name."

“You weren’t trying to kill me?”  

“Goodness no,” she laughs. “Although I understand why you may have thought that. I broke into your house to confirm my suspicions, the blood on that table matched mine.”

She tugs the bloodied rag out from her pants pocket. “I used this old thing to track you down as you were transforming.”

To answer my confusion, she adds. “I’ve got a good sense of smell.”

“I’m supposed to be dead,” I whisper as I stare up at the moon. The seer told my father so.”

“Seer?”

“They told him I’d die on my twentieth birthday.” I glance down at my palms. “Yet here I am, still alive.”

“What were the Seer’s exact words?” Lana asks.

“His twentieth birthday will be the end,” I quote.

Lana nudges me with her elbow. It hurts as she jabs me in the ribs.

“Sorry,” she whispers as I wince. “But don’t you understand?”

“Understand what?”

“It wasn’t your life that was to end, it was the curse.”

My brain takes a moment to catch up.

“So you're saying it came true, and that my father read it wrong?”

Lana breaks into a grin and begins to nod, vigorously.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?”

Alive. The word seems so foreign to my tongue. All my life I’ve lived, but never truly been alive.  

“Alive,” I whisper, testing it out. I can’t help but echo Lana's smile with one of my own.

I’m alive at last.