Lycanthropy: Charlott'es story Chapter 2

The Plot: Chapter 2

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Harriet had never done so before, so when she knocked on my door and cracked it open I was surprised. I sat up in bed and looked toward the door, where she poked her head in.
        She pointed down the hall and whispered, “Your mother’s on the phone. She’d like to speak to you.”
        I knew by the way she was whispering that she was allowing me to get away with it, it was her way of saying she understood. I shook my head.
        “I’m still asleep, sorry.”
        “I thought you might be.” She said, then closed the door quietly again. A few seconds later I heard her say loudly, “No dear, can’t wake her. You know what these teenagers are like. Yes. Of course. Will do.”
       
        I wasn’t really trying to adjust to life in Rosehill. Harriet was nice, chatty, and generally easy to get along with. I, on the other hand, withheld from conversations and tried to pretend I was anywhere but here. It worked well for me for quite some time until I grew bored of it and decided that if I was stuck here, I may as well enjoy it. Semi-enjoy it. I wasn’t here forever- one of these days Lee was going to come and get me, and we’d live together in the city like he’d always said we would.
        I’d had my first conversation with Lee since the day I’d told him I was moving. It had been just like old times; we didn’t discuss where I was even though I was dying to complain and whimper and cry to him about how unhappy it made me being away from him. It was probably better that I didn’t. 
        I’d been in Rosehill for awhile now, enough that I had a bit of a routine happening. I would get up and make breakfast, exchange pleasantries over the toaster with Harriet, eat my toast over the sink as Harriet began gardening outside. Go back to my room and read Malachai’s diaries. Sleep a bit; read more of the diary; go to bed. It wasn’t an action packed routine, but I was content with it. I sat down on the bed now, and opened up the first book to the page I had marked.

Father came back alright after last night. He banged for me to let him in through the kitchen and I sprang up from my bed and ran down the hallway. I was anxious about opening the door and I tentatively asked who was there. Normally, I think he might yell for me to not be silly, that of course it was him, but this time he did not. His voice was calm and soft and he said, “Malachai, son- it’s me. Let me in.” He looked tired and worn. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table and I brought him a cup of tea. I could see the worry in his face but he would not tell me what was wrong. It did not relax me, having him home, like I thought that it would. When Samantha and Mother came downstairs, Mother stopped short when she saw Father’s face. She paled slightly as I looked from her to Father.
        He shook his head. “Not in front of the children.”
        Samantha and I said nothing, though I know she was as curious as I was. In fact, I did eventually find out what Father had discovered, out there in the dark. I was outside when I walked past the kitchen window and I heard them talking. I crouched low to the ground so they would not see me as I listened.
        I heard my Mother ask my Father, “How many were there?”
        There was a pause and then he said, “We don’t know. We never saw them.”
        “If you had to guess, how many?”
        “Six. Eight. I’m not sure.”
        “How do you know they were there?”
        “They- made noises. Ran through the trees. We heard them well enough to know they were there.”
        “Oh God, we’re not going to make it...”
        “Don’t speak like that! We’re safe as long as we’re careful.”
        I think my Mother got up then, and left the room for I heard the chair scrape back and no one talked for the rest of the time I was there. I do not know what this conversation means, but I do know it means danger for our family. We had no idea there were that many of them. We are not safe, as my Father says. If one of them got inside the house, it can be done again.

It is Sunday, a learning day, but Mother will not let us leave the house for fear we might be taken. I scoff her, for it is daylight, and never before have they taken children in daylight! We sit inside all day, and I spend the time thinking of how our lives have changed- the fear we live in! Never before did I think such dangers could befall us. My Father continues to stand guard of the house when darkness comes, and each night he comes back to us unharmed. He has not seen any wolf-men since that first long night, and I pray he will see no more in his life. I pray I will see none, too. To better my spirits, I went outside. I needed to escape the heavy feeling of the house. No one laughs or speaks loudly, and Samantha has been in a rotten mood all week. I have been doing my best to stay out of her way, I think she might be ill. She is bad tempered and quite pale.
        I was not really allowed to go outside unsupervised, but I felt safe enough- I used the window in my room, hoisting myself onto its ledge and jumping out. I did not land well- it’s quite a height. I sat near my window and looked at the garden.  Our two dogs were fighting over a stick. They wrestled and growled at each other, each vying for dominance. The larger one suddenly stood above the other, raising his head high and growling menacingly. The smaller dog, now several inches below him, lowered himself even further and backed away, relinquishing the stick to the winner. I had not seen this behavior before and it fascinated me. The larger dog was now chewing happily on his stick, and the other was watching him carefully from the shade of a small Liquid Amber. I closed my eyes in the sun and let the warmth wash over me. From my position on the grass, I heard something to my left, and I looked up, expecting to see one of the dogs, but they’d left the garden- they must have tired of their game. I heard the rustling sound again and I stood abruptly, searching. It was a soft noise- it could have been anything, but it was more than enough to frighten me back inside. I scrambled up onto the window ledge and threw myself inside, spinning wildly to stare at the gaping window. I expected something to jump in after me, but nothing did. I slowly crawled forward and raised my head to see out the window, but nothing was moving, and I could no longer hear the rustling sound.

I tried not to read too much at once- there were only three books and I was a fast reader. I wanted to savour them and draw them out for as long as I was here. I put the book down and thought about how my life had changed. I just stayed in my black room with its used furniture and its books and wished I was somewhere else. I would stare at the window from my bed and wonder about the things that could happen to me. The Wishing Chair sprang to mind- I remember when the wishing chair sprouted wings and Jo, Bessie and Fanny hopped on and they all escaped from wherever they were. None of my furniture was going to sprout wings- I didn’t have any chairs, either.
        I thought of Malachai, imagining how he would have been outside the diaries; different I suppose. I thought he was probably as unhappy as I was. There were many instances where he could not stand to be locked up any longer, and he would escape through his window and sit beneath the sill, gazing at the garden. He felt calmed by the tranquility of his surroundings and it almost made him forget his fear.
        I wished that he would describe himself, for I had no picture of him in my mind. I did know what his twin Samantha looked like, for he described her often. She was tall, with dark hair and darker eyes- almost black. She had a dark olive tint to her skin. I imagined she would be beautiful.
        Samantha was quiet and thoughtful- both of them seemed to be. Being twins, Malachai was probably just a male version of Samantha- tall and lithe with dark hair, and those black eyes I imagined so often.
        Malachai was frightened of the wolf-men but Samantha did not seem to be. It was almost as if he described it, wrote about it, without even noticing her reactions. To be truthful, I did not like his sister.
        I liked his father. I admired the bravery and the sacrifices he constantly made for his family- the way the fear had changed him. He now spoke softly to his son and daughter, and the family’s affection toward each other was stronger.
        As I read on, the diary entries grew more exciting, but the most exciting one so far was the day that Malachai met the Wolf.

Mother has agreed to let us go back to learning. I am glad because it has been very dull being at home all the time. Sam and I walked there, and though it was summer and very light outside, Mother made us wait until there were many children on the road on their way too. I still think it faintly ridiculous that she could be worried about us during the day. In my mind, the creatures only exist when there is darkness, and my fear is minimal during the hours of daylight. The morning was hot already- humid and sticky. Sam complained the whole way there that she would need another wash by the time we arrived. I could have done with one myself- the sweat was dripping off me. We arrived at in excellent health and I enjoyed the day of learning more than I ever had before. My friends were thrilled to have me back, and we spent all lunch hour laughing and joking like we used to. During lessons, my concentration slipped from fear of the wolf-men to language and science. The day moved quickly, and before long, the school sessions were over.
          I met Samantha under the tree near our road so we could walk home together- strict instructions from our Mother. We were nearing the end of the road when Samantha turned to me.
        “Malachai, can we walk through the forest like we used to?”
        I was obliged to say no. I was. But I didn’t. Thinking back now, I see how I could have killed us right then and there. It could have been the end for us, and Mother’s careful words would be for nothing. Come right home- don’t dawdle. Be sure you’re careful, stay with the others. I think of her words, and how true her warnings had been. If we had come right back, if we hadn’t strayed.. But it was too late. We’d left the path and continued towards home through the thickets of trees that made up what Sam and I called “the forest”. Sam walked beside me, a determined look on her face. She was not afraid, and nor was I, but as we became surrounded by the trees, my heart beet faster, and I was suddenly very aware that we were in a very secluded area. I could feel eyes on my back and constantly turned around to look. Samantha didn’t seem to notice. We should have heard the change in our surroundings- looking back now, we should have noticed. It seemed to happen all at the same time. I looked up, surprised at how quiet it was- no birds, no rustling in the trees- nothing. Just silence. We rounded the bend close to home and stumbled upon a carcass. It was the body of a dog. It had not been dead for long- there was steam slowly wafting from its hacked up body. I gave a small yell, and jumped back, pulling Samantha with me. Guessing immediately what had killed it, I grabbed my sister’s arm and began pulling her in the opposite direction, the way we had come. But she was transfixed. I wasn’t looking at her, just trying to pull her with all my strength so that we could escape. She wrenched free of my grasp.
        “Malachai.” She whispered my name softly. I almost didn’t hear. I turned abruptly to see what the hold up was, and that’s when I saw it. It was smaller than the first I had seen, but its size was still incredible. It was crouched to the left of the dog’s body, still and unmoving- I was not surprised I had missed it the first time, it blended in very well. I leant forward very slowly and touched Samantha’s arm, my eyes never leaving the wolf.
        “Let’s go, Sam.” I whispered, careful to keep my voice even. I didn’t want to startle it into an attack. She didn’t move. She looked terrified. I took a grip on her arm and began to pull her towards me- her body had gone slightly stiff and she was easier to persuade this time, after all she was closest to the thing. Slowly I pulled her toward me, easing her backward. The wolf watched us almost placidly- tilting its head to keep us in sight. When I had dragged Sam level with myself, I turned to her very slowly.
        “Sam, I want you to go home- go and get Father. Tell him where I am.”
        She just looked at me, no emotion showing in her face, but she did not argue. She nodded slowly. I was worried that her departure might encourage movement from the Wolf, but it did not. As she carefully moved away, it remained still; it stayed that way even as I heard Samantha break into a run, a run that promised safety for her but only a chance of safety for me. If Father came quickly enough. I looked around helplessly. I knew I could not run myself- I could not leave it here, alive, ready to kill the next thing that wandered between the trees. Spying a large stick to my right, I shuffled over, and bent to pick it up. As my hand enclosed around the heavy base, the wolf let out a low, grating growl. I froze. It was almost like it knew what I planned- I had forgotten the animal’s intelligence. I had forgotten what it was: an animal that knew that ways of hunting, and a man who knew the ways of men. The perfect predator. Sweat broke out on my face, I could feel my skin prickling, but I could not allow it to win. I tightened my grip on the stick and began to straighten up. The growl increased in volume and I stole a glance at it. It was standing now, the hair on its back raised and its teeth bared maliciously. It was spitting and hissing, its eyes never leaving mine. I was standing up straight now, just three meters from the animal that so clearly wished to kill me. I tried to think of how to kill it, and I wished I had seen my Father kill the one I saw with the spear. My stick was thick, but it was not sharp. I imagined myself just taking aim and bashing it on the head to try to knock it out.
        It hadn’t stopped growling since I picked up the stick. The noise was stopping my thoughts- my first priority was just to make the noise stop. I felt that if I could make it be quiet, I would have the advantage. It was then that I did what others would have considered the dimmest thing- I dropped down to all fours. It did startle the wolf and it did stop growling- briefly. It began again almost a second later, but it’s confusion was apparent. I began slinking my way towards it, one hand then the other, then my left knee, then my right knee. I gained almost a metre when it lunged at me. There was no warning- it was so fast I didn’t even see it preparing to jump. Its body slammed into my shoulder and I was knocked to the side. I lay on my back as it stood above me, the clear winner. I think I may have said something, or cried out, because it looked down at me then, baring its teeth. I realized I couldn’t die this way- I was my Father’s son, I could be brave like him. I found my strength and rolled the wolf off me, clubbing it in the side of the head with my fist as I did so. I followed the roll through, pushing myself back up onto my hands and knees, and I don’t know why I did what I did next. I don’t know if it was because of what I had seen our dogs do, or whether out of sheer desperation. But I stepped close to the wolf, which was in mid turn to attack me again, lifted my head far above its struggling body and let out a deep, menacing growl. The effect was instantaneous. The wolf halted mid turn and pushed itself to the ground. It fell to the ground so fast it was as if an invisible force had pushed it from above. I was so shocked, I relaxed my body and instantly knew it was a mistake. The wolf took full advantage. It threw its entire body weight onto me, and its enormity blew my brief dominance away. It fastened its teeth into my arm just above the elbow and I heard my skin tear. Then a crack like a stick being snapped in two.  I let out a scream, I couldn’t help it, the pain was like fire. I began to blindly bash at it- my hands, my legs, my knees, everything. Anything to break its grip. Blood was pouring out of my arm, and because we were wildly thrashing on the floor, it was landing everywhere. I finally hit a tender spot and the wolf gave a yelp, springing off me. Before I could even catch my breath, the wolf gave a shudder and slightly stumbled, twitching. A bloody arrow head appeared through its neck and I looked up wildly to see my Father, standing not twenty meters away, a bow raised to his shoulder. He let another loose that appeared in the wolf’s chest. It gave a whine and fell to the forest floor. I knew it wasn’t dead- it was still twitching and shaking, moaning softly. My Father yelled something to me, but I did not hear what he said. I bent down to the wolf, my fear dissolving, and I felt a sadness I could not understand. I had been the death of this creature. The thought that it had tried to kill me did not enter my mind, I just felt a loss for its life. It could not help being what it was- even though its creation, its very being was wrong, I could not condemn it for that. I had forgotten what came next. The wolf was dead- the shaking and twitching I had mistaken for life, was the human person trying to break out. Once again before my eyes, the huge hairy body began to change. The fur shrank back and the tail disappeared. This wolf was a woman- a girl, really. She looked younger than me and I was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt and horror. I spun on the spot and rejected my stomach’s contents onto the forest floor. I felt so sick. I had just killed- my Father and I had just ended the life of a young girl. Someone’s daughter, someone’s sister. It could have been Samantha. My Father reached me and tugged me up from the ground. He said nothing but lifted me into his arms and began to run for home- he was probably thinking there could be more. I was too tired to think like a hunter, like he was thinking. My arm was growing cold and I remembered that I was hurt. I tried to tell my Father that I was alright, and that I had sent Samantha home. I wanted to know if she was alright- had she even made it home? I did not think that his being there was the product of her reaching home safely.

I do not remember what happened next. I woke up at home, in my Mother’s kitchen, lying on a mattress. My arm was bandaged up but the pain was just a steady ache, not the fire from before. Samantha was not there, but someone else was, a man.
        “Will he be alright?” My Mother asked the man.
        He nodded. “He has been very lucky- the first to survive the attacks.”
        “Will he become.. one of them?” Her voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t hear. There was a pause, and I held my breath as I waited for an answer.
        “I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s like an infection,” the man sighed. “But we still don’t know how it works. There seem to be so many of them, they must be procreating somehow.”
        “So you don’t think…” My Father this time.
        “No. I think your son is quite safe from running with the wolves. He was given a nasty bite, but he’ll survive. Clever thinking sending his sister back to the house for help. He’s lucky he held the thing off for so long. You’ve a clever boy, sir.”
        My Father grunted in answer and I tried to smile. I must have fallen back asleep then because I do not remember any more. The next time I awoke, I was in my own bed, gazing out of that big window, the same as always. I was fully recovered, even my arm did not hurt me. It was still bandaged, but the stinging had gone. I lay and thought back to what had happened. I wondered if we had done the right thing, killing the wolf-girl. If it had been Samantha, would Father have done the same? Would he kill his own to spare others’ daughters? Would I kill my own sister to spare others? I didn’t think so. I think my opinion of the wolf-people has changed. They are still people, after all. Would I kill another? I hope not. But I do know they continue to hunt us. Each night, they lay in wait, eager for a child to go astray. I cannot begin to imagine a creature that would prey on children, but now I know of one. A child, in a wolf’s clothing.

I shivered as I read his words. They did not intrigue me or excite me as they usually did. They frightened me. Malachai was at war with himself. He had survived, the wolf had not. I tried to imagine if I could have killed a wolf if I’d known who it was. I thought I could do it in the heat of the moment, but who could be sure? In my mind, the creature was not evil- it could not help being what it was. But on the other hand, if I was attacked by one, surely I would fight back? I couldn’t imagine myself doing what Malachai had done, though- in his situation, I think I would have selfishly wanted my Sister to stay with me.
eing angry with them. I hated being locked away, I did. I hated not being near the city, not being able to walk to Lee’s just for something to do. I missed my friends, my room. It was then that I decided no longer to be a prisoner. It was that moment, as I gazed into the darkness of the outside world that I vowed not to spend another lonely day doing nothing. I looked up. That window led the way to freedom.