Stories by

Read This: Flash Fiction

A Lycanthrope's Tale 

I hate the moon and my people now fear it. It has caused more death to us than all of our enemies combined, for as long as any of us can remember. And it’s my fault.

The first time it happened, I still lived with my mother. Fortunately, I was in the woods by myself, so she didn’t know. I was too small to kill then. I wish she had found me; she could have killed me and the only death would have been mine.

Because of what I had become, I had to stay by myself most of the time. Eventually, I grew up and I learned to kill. At first it was deer and elk and no one really noticed. There were a lot of predators in the forest. The first time I killed one of my own still haunts me. Just like all the rest of my victims.

I was still not full grown, but I was close. She was gorgeous. Our families had hoped that she would choose me. She did, and I killed her. We were alone in the forest, part of the ritual of our people for those who were not yet paired. I hadn’t figured out yet that my change was caused by the moon. It was still another night or two before it went full, but that was enough. Her body was so badly mangled that even her own mother did not recognize her. I left then, to live by myself, but it didn’t matter. I knew where my people were and I hunted them down one by one.

I’m looking up at the moon and I know the change is coming. I can always feel it. My blood starts boiling and it feels like my skin is being ripped from my body. Ironic, since that is what I do to my victims. I fall to the ground, writhing in pain. I pray that someone will find me and end my life, but no one wants to take the chance. They know to avoid this part of the forest.

The change is complete. I lie on the ground, panting, covered with sweat. When the wind blows over me, I feel a chill. It always takes me a few moments before I can walk; no matter how many times this happens. I find it much harder to balance on two legs, but after a short while I am jogging to the cabin. Inside I find the clothes, the boots, the hunting knife and the rifle with the night-vision scope. I know the wolves will be out hunting, even when they know I am out here, too. Their heads and pelts decorate the walls of the cabin. If I am inside here when I change back, I will be sick. Our legends tell of one who can walk between men and wolves; the lycanthrope. Now, I will go and hunt my people. Maybe tonight one of them will kill me instead and release me from my curse.