The Curse of the Full Moon
I knew it was coming. The feeling of untamed anxiety told me so, just as it does every month when the moon is at its fullest.
The curse has been with me since I was a child...but how long I've been a werewolf doesn't matter. All that matters is here and now.
The house is silent and dark as I unlock the back door and step out onto the porch and into the cold, frosty February night air. I shiver and see the clear sky with all its winking white eyes and the one single, large, bright eye. IT is the moon, huge and white as my fangs are against its milky gleam.
A shudder runs through my whole body, but not from cold. It's the sign, the first sign of the transformation of my fifteen-year-old body of a girl becoming the animal.
I leap off the porch and into the frozen snow that feels like freezer burnt vanilla ice cream beneath my bare feet.
The prickling sensation traces through my veins...
All my bones twist and turn to become a new structure as gray fur spreads across my arms and face like ripples in a pond.
I grow larger, my whole face pushing out...my nose and mouth melting into one to form the snout.
My teeth enlarge and curve as they change into the shining fangs...the ones I'll use for tearing and biting with.
My fingers shrink and paws replace my hands.
I feel no pain as all this happens to me. Only a feeling of sheer joy and terror all at once as my heart beats faster...so fast I can hardly breathe...
I'm panting, drooling...
On all fours I rush over the white world beneath my wolf paws, into the woods.
So dark and concealing...
I see every flicker of movement within my colorless world, smell every hint of fear, and hear every sound of the alarmed rabbits and deer as they scurry for cover from me.
I reach a hill side and stop for breath.
I throw my head back and let out my howl. IT is long, shrill, and echoes off the trees and mountains beyond.
"I'm here," I'm saying within the howl, "and I'm hungry."
Yes. The scent of a human wafts over the sharp breeze in my direction.
I head for it, bounding.
I keep going into the woods until I spot the wandering man, bundled up to keep warm as he sits near a dying camp fire.
I make no sound as I creep toward him.
One paw, then two. The saliva runs thick over my chin. I can't help it. His scent is intoxicating.
HE suspects nothing with his back turned. He rubs his hands over the fading blaze.
I'm so close, inches.
I'm on him! I dig my claws right through his coat...into his warm flesh...
A half strangled scream is all he manages...
Then, I stop and think.
"A partner would be nice," as I close my jaws around the back of his neck...and bite him long and hard...
Submitted by Jennifer tissot