Friday, October 18, 2019

The Empty Wrapper

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

He had been by the cave many times before, sneaking through the shadows because he knew he wasn’t allowed, but he just couldn’t help himself. Curiosity often got the best of him, it would be the end of him, his mother claimed, but he just couldn’t help himself. Of course he often got caught, by his friends, or his brothers, or worst of all, his mother; if she caught him then he would have to endure one of her lectures.

“You are too young to sneak out on your own like that, if the others find you before me...” blah blah blah.

It didn’t matter anymore though, because today was his birthday, today was finally the day he would be taught the ways of those he so admired, his father, the other elders. Today he was finally old enough to know the secrets of his people.

The first stop was the caves, those glorious caves that he had snuck off to so often as a child, to watch from the shadows as the elders entered to perform the secret rituals. Now he would finally know what they did inside. As he approached, the smell was what he noticed first, it was intoxicating and drew him closer to the black maw of the cavern. Confidently he strode past the shadows of his hiding place, following the footsteps of his father, until finally he was right outside. The darkness of the cave stood in stark contrast of the full moon light that was cast over the valley, and as he entered, his breath caught in his throat. It was more beautiful than he ever imagined, everywhere he looked, they hung, mere shells barely holding the form of what they once encased, their bright white color fading as they cured in the damp cave air. As he stood there, taking it all in, he felt a firm hand on his back, and he looked over. He saw the question in his father’s yellow eyes, and he nodded, he was ready to see more.

Together they moved beyond the first cavern, into the deeper recesses of the cave.  It was back here where they were kept, he could hardly wait to see. As his eyes adjusted to the blackness, it was their skin he noticed first, so pale, so smooth, and with hardly any fir. The next thing he noticed was the screaming, not the beautiful roar he had been perfecting his whole life, this was more desperate, and terrified. Yes, the humans sounded scared. His father approached again and drew his attention.
“Take a good look son, because this is what separates us from them, their fear. As a werewolf we know no fear. Sure, we may resemble them much of the year, but despite our outward appearance, we are always a wolf at heart. Now come, and sharpen your claws, it is time you learned the delicate art of removing their paper white wrappers.




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