Werewolf Drabbles
Wonder of Wonders, I actually posted something in here. I didn't feel like messing with FictionPress.
This is a series of drabbles centered around werewolves, using a chart of 100 word prompts. Strictly speaking, they're not actually drabbles since they're not exactly 100 words in length, but meh. Here's the first few.
001. Beginnings
At first he thinks it was just a dream. It's not the first time he's had that vague, threatening feeling in dreams that something was just behind him, stalking him and he knows that if he turns around it will get him. When he does, that's the moment he always wakes. Except this time, he didn't wake up.
But the next day, everything seems to be okay, so it had to be just a dream, right?
002. Middles
He was just beginning to get the hang of this werewolf thing. Then he saw the Others. Sitting a few tables over in the restaurant, strolling by the cafe, quietly reading books in the library. Somehow he just knew they were like him. And they knew it too.
003. Ends
He didn't want it to end this way. He might have resented it once upon a time, but he had changed his mind. Why was this happening now? The pack had warned him away from the meadow of yellow flowers, but the scent had drawn him, intoxicated him, and he stood there drinking it in for hours.
He could already feel the changes, but he still couldn't move. The pain was distant, fading. Before long, the full moon was shining down on a solitary man, sitting alone among the blooming flowers.
004. Insides
Werewolves wear their skins on the insides. It's one of those older, obscure parts of the myths, forgotten because it doesn't fit into the public's neat little image of the Noble Wolf. But I've seen it. Kill a werewolf, and even if it looks like a normal human on the outside, cut it open and there's a thick layer of fur just on the other side of the skin.
005. Outsides
Werewolves are good at hiding. Not that I mind particularly; it makes the hunt more...interesting. I've gotten used to picking them out of a crowd. There's a certain look about them, it's in the way they move and the way they look at you as if your prey, even in the daylight. Most people can't see any of this, but then, they're not looking for werewolves. Maybe if more people were aware of them, it wouldn't be so easy for them to hide what they are behind a human exterior.
006. Hours
The clock's ticking the time away. One minute, two, three...
The parents sit in the waiting room, holding onto each others' hands as though it's the only thing holding them together, and they watch the door hopefully.
Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine...The woman begins to cry as nothing happens, and her husband tries his best to keep his own tears back while he comforts her. He thinks sourly that they never should have been out. They could have gone camping any other night, and the locals had warned them to wait, even just a night or two...
One hour passes, then two...Finally the doctor comes out. The parents look up, at once hopeful and terrified. The doctor shifts uncomfortably under their gaze and is reluctant to look them in the eyes. "The bite is infected, and it's spreading fast. Right now, the boy is delirious. It's uncertain if he's going to survive the night."
The woman chokes out another sob, and the father can no longer hold back his own tears.
007. Days
Adam recovers amazingly quickly. The doctors are in awe when he walks out of the hospital only a few days after being rushed in, near death after being attacked by a feral animal. Now he walks out with his parents, hardly a scar except for the bite mark on his back.
008. Weeks
He's beginning to act odd. Adam was always a bright and cheery child, but he has become sullen and irritable since leaving the hospital. He is lethargic during the day and restless at night; he has also stopped eating dinner with the family and avoids the kitchen. The glint of silver seems to be everywhere, and he turns his eyes away from it. Still, it's only been about a week since the incident, perhaps he'll return to normal in a couple of weeks.
009. Months
They can't go through this anymore. The boy has become a terror in only a few months, and even his own parents are afraid to go near him. They have to lock him up every full moon, and they lie awake all night, dreading that he might break down the door and come for them. They cry and scream, but they can't see any alternative. They love their son dearly, but more and more each day, it seems as though their son is already dead, leaving a monster in his place.
010. Years
It's been years since he's been to this house. He's surprised they still live there, actually, but he supposes they don't want to reveal the secret that they buried years ago. In a way, he's almost glad that they did what they did, both for himself and them. He no longer hates himself, though he's not so sure about his parents.
The moon is waxing, but Adam knows he will be long gone before it becomes full. He briefly considers knocking on the door, see what they'll say, but he doesn't. He's still dead to them.
011. Red
He wakes up one morning, and it's not until he goes to brush his teeth that he noticing they are stained red with blood. It's on his hands and under his nails as well, and he thinks it's probably on his sheets as well. He wonders where his wife is. He didn't remember her coming home before he went out last night.
012. Orange
She had the strangest eyes. He had never seen eyes that bright orange color before, not among humans or werewolves. He asked her once if they were contacts, but she said they were natural. She was new in the pack, he wasn't sure if she had just been turned or if she'd transferred from another pack. She didn't seem upset or unnerved, so he didn't think she was new. Pretty soon, he thought he was in love. She had such beautiful eyes.
013. Yellow
"So what's that supposed to be, anyway?" he asks, looking at the painting.
She shoots him a grin. "What do you think?"
He shrugs. "I don't know; it could be anything, really. It's hard to make out."
The shape on the canvas was an amorphous black form on a background of shadows. The only discernable feature was a pair of feral, glowing yellow eyes. He decided she must have gone through a ton of black paints.
"It's supposed to be a werewolf, actually," she states matter-of-factly. "They're...interesting, I think." She blushes involuntarily.
She flicks her brush at him playfully, and he soon returns it with a glob of yellow paint, and the two of them are soon laughing and waging a war of color.
He smiles to himself. Perhaps, some day soon, he'll show her more about werewolves than she's ever seen. Maybe next full moon...
014. Green
It was his first full moon since being turned, so the others were content to cut him some slack this time. It was a wonderful night, too, with the round moon shining down brightly among a blanket of stars, they would have been able to see even if they'd been human. The new wolf was gangly, and awkward still, getting used to four legs. He kept falling over, and soon he just gave it up and rolled around in the silvered green grass, free and playful as a child.
The other wolves smiled with their eyes and watched him, recalling fond memories of their own.
015. Blue
The pup whined as he followed his mother to the water's edge. In the darkness, the lake was more black than anything, but the moonlight filtering down through the clouds gave it a blue tint. He stuck a paw in it. It was cold and wet and he didn't like it, and he backed away until stopped by his mother's reassuring body.
He looked down at his reflection in the water, but he didn't recognize the little boy's face staring back at him.
016. Purple
Every day, she stopped to look at the purple flowers blooming in the garden as she strolled past. The house beyond was falling apart and the road itself was pretty far out of the way, but even though it was abandoned, the old garden still produced the most beautiful flowers. She liked walking this path, even if it was much longer than going through the suburbs. The purple ones were her favorites.
At night, she also walked by the old house, but she didn't notice purple flowers; they all looked grey to her. But she still enjoyed smelling all the rich scents of them. Being colorblind had its advantages too.
017. Brown
She looked in her mirror every day, but her hair was always that drab shade of plain, ordinary brown. She wanted to be a blonde, even if it came from a bottle, or have hair of fiery red or mysterious black. Her parents wouldn't let her dye it, even other natural colors. Why had she been stuck with brown hair?
A few months later, her life had changed. She fell out with her old friends but found new ones, friends that understood her. She was beginning to like her new life. One night she saw her reflection in the water, and she was amazed. The wolf's pelt of black-tipped gold was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Now let's see how long it takes for someone to actually notice this...:P
This is a series of drabbles centered around werewolves, using a chart of 100 word prompts. Strictly speaking, they're not actually drabbles since they're not exactly 100 words in length, but meh. Here's the first few.
001. Beginnings
At first he thinks it was just a dream. It's not the first time he's had that vague, threatening feeling in dreams that something was just behind him, stalking him and he knows that if he turns around it will get him. When he does, that's the moment he always wakes. Except this time, he didn't wake up.
But the next day, everything seems to be okay, so it had to be just a dream, right?
002. Middles
He was just beginning to get the hang of this werewolf thing. Then he saw the Others. Sitting a few tables over in the restaurant, strolling by the cafe, quietly reading books in the library. Somehow he just knew they were like him. And they knew it too.
003. Ends
He didn't want it to end this way. He might have resented it once upon a time, but he had changed his mind. Why was this happening now? The pack had warned him away from the meadow of yellow flowers, but the scent had drawn him, intoxicated him, and he stood there drinking it in for hours.
He could already feel the changes, but he still couldn't move. The pain was distant, fading. Before long, the full moon was shining down on a solitary man, sitting alone among the blooming flowers.
004. Insides
Werewolves wear their skins on the insides. It's one of those older, obscure parts of the myths, forgotten because it doesn't fit into the public's neat little image of the Noble Wolf. But I've seen it. Kill a werewolf, and even if it looks like a normal human on the outside, cut it open and there's a thick layer of fur just on the other side of the skin.
005. Outsides
Werewolves are good at hiding. Not that I mind particularly; it makes the hunt more...interesting. I've gotten used to picking them out of a crowd. There's a certain look about them, it's in the way they move and the way they look at you as if your prey, even in the daylight. Most people can't see any of this, but then, they're not looking for werewolves. Maybe if more people were aware of them, it wouldn't be so easy for them to hide what they are behind a human exterior.
006. Hours
The clock's ticking the time away. One minute, two, three...
The parents sit in the waiting room, holding onto each others' hands as though it's the only thing holding them together, and they watch the door hopefully.
Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine...The woman begins to cry as nothing happens, and her husband tries his best to keep his own tears back while he comforts her. He thinks sourly that they never should have been out. They could have gone camping any other night, and the locals had warned them to wait, even just a night or two...
One hour passes, then two...Finally the doctor comes out. The parents look up, at once hopeful and terrified. The doctor shifts uncomfortably under their gaze and is reluctant to look them in the eyes. "The bite is infected, and it's spreading fast. Right now, the boy is delirious. It's uncertain if he's going to survive the night."
The woman chokes out another sob, and the father can no longer hold back his own tears.
007. Days
Adam recovers amazingly quickly. The doctors are in awe when he walks out of the hospital only a few days after being rushed in, near death after being attacked by a feral animal. Now he walks out with his parents, hardly a scar except for the bite mark on his back.
008. Weeks
He's beginning to act odd. Adam was always a bright and cheery child, but he has become sullen and irritable since leaving the hospital. He is lethargic during the day and restless at night; he has also stopped eating dinner with the family and avoids the kitchen. The glint of silver seems to be everywhere, and he turns his eyes away from it. Still, it's only been about a week since the incident, perhaps he'll return to normal in a couple of weeks.
009. Months
They can't go through this anymore. The boy has become a terror in only a few months, and even his own parents are afraid to go near him. They have to lock him up every full moon, and they lie awake all night, dreading that he might break down the door and come for them. They cry and scream, but they can't see any alternative. They love their son dearly, but more and more each day, it seems as though their son is already dead, leaving a monster in his place.
010. Years
It's been years since he's been to this house. He's surprised they still live there, actually, but he supposes they don't want to reveal the secret that they buried years ago. In a way, he's almost glad that they did what they did, both for himself and them. He no longer hates himself, though he's not so sure about his parents.
The moon is waxing, but Adam knows he will be long gone before it becomes full. He briefly considers knocking on the door, see what they'll say, but he doesn't. He's still dead to them.
011. Red
He wakes up one morning, and it's not until he goes to brush his teeth that he noticing they are stained red with blood. It's on his hands and under his nails as well, and he thinks it's probably on his sheets as well. He wonders where his wife is. He didn't remember her coming home before he went out last night.
012. Orange
She had the strangest eyes. He had never seen eyes that bright orange color before, not among humans or werewolves. He asked her once if they were contacts, but she said they were natural. She was new in the pack, he wasn't sure if she had just been turned or if she'd transferred from another pack. She didn't seem upset or unnerved, so he didn't think she was new. Pretty soon, he thought he was in love. She had such beautiful eyes.
013. Yellow
"So what's that supposed to be, anyway?" he asks, looking at the painting.
She shoots him a grin. "What do you think?"
He shrugs. "I don't know; it could be anything, really. It's hard to make out."
The shape on the canvas was an amorphous black form on a background of shadows. The only discernable feature was a pair of feral, glowing yellow eyes. He decided she must have gone through a ton of black paints.
"It's supposed to be a werewolf, actually," she states matter-of-factly. "They're...interesting, I think." She blushes involuntarily.
She flicks her brush at him playfully, and he soon returns it with a glob of yellow paint, and the two of them are soon laughing and waging a war of color.
He smiles to himself. Perhaps, some day soon, he'll show her more about werewolves than she's ever seen. Maybe next full moon...
014. Green
It was his first full moon since being turned, so the others were content to cut him some slack this time. It was a wonderful night, too, with the round moon shining down brightly among a blanket of stars, they would have been able to see even if they'd been human. The new wolf was gangly, and awkward still, getting used to four legs. He kept falling over, and soon he just gave it up and rolled around in the silvered green grass, free and playful as a child.
The other wolves smiled with their eyes and watched him, recalling fond memories of their own.
015. Blue
The pup whined as he followed his mother to the water's edge. In the darkness, the lake was more black than anything, but the moonlight filtering down through the clouds gave it a blue tint. He stuck a paw in it. It was cold and wet and he didn't like it, and he backed away until stopped by his mother's reassuring body.
He looked down at his reflection in the water, but he didn't recognize the little boy's face staring back at him.
016. Purple
Every day, she stopped to look at the purple flowers blooming in the garden as she strolled past. The house beyond was falling apart and the road itself was pretty far out of the way, but even though it was abandoned, the old garden still produced the most beautiful flowers. She liked walking this path, even if it was much longer than going through the suburbs. The purple ones were her favorites.
At night, she also walked by the old house, but she didn't notice purple flowers; they all looked grey to her. But she still enjoyed smelling all the rich scents of them. Being colorblind had its advantages too.
017. Brown
She looked in her mirror every day, but her hair was always that drab shade of plain, ordinary brown. She wanted to be a blonde, even if it came from a bottle, or have hair of fiery red or mysterious black. Her parents wouldn't let her dye it, even other natural colors. Why had she been stuck with brown hair?
A few months later, her life had changed. She fell out with her old friends but found new ones, friends that understood her. She was beginning to like her new life. One night she saw her reflection in the water, and she was amazed. The wolf's pelt of black-tipped gold was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Now let's see how long it takes for someone to actually notice this...:P