Hearts That Howl (c) 2009
The Story That Has Inspired My Coming Novel!
Part One: A Confession.
Most people believe that this is just the subject of superstition and legend and yet, I can assure you it is not! For I myself, was not only a Sorcerer, skilled in the art of Shape shifting, but I am a Werewolf, or better yet a Loup-Garou. For this is the French term for werewolf. In fact, I was destined to become a Alpha, or leader, who came from a long line of Loup-Garou Alphas; going back to the mid 1500's.
I now admit this openly; since I have recently become a Christian, I feel I must not only confess this to God but I must take responsibility for my actions. For in the almost seventy years I have lived, I have murdered almost a hundred people.
You are likely wondering how I could get away with killing that many people, and there are three reasons why this was possible. First, I lived in a Homestead in the middle of a vast wilderness of Quebec Canada, which I had inherited from my father. People disappear up in these mountains all the time, even with modern GPS systems, things still can go wrong. The second reason was that these killings had been spread out throughout a time period of over sixty years. The last reason was that many of the people I had killed, belong to a secretive Christian organization that few people out side of this group even knew existed,
My ancestors first became involved in Sorcery as a way to denounce the French Monarchy and the Catholic Church. It was a symbol of rebellion, and a way to obtain power. However, the ability to change ones form was never considered a curse, not in our family anyway! Even though I had a extended family in France, my main family consisted of my father, mother, grandmother, myself and my twin sister. I also had five uncles and four aunts.
I will never forget my first human kill; I was only ten and yet I was large and strong for my age. I had started “the change” as we called it, when I was seven, but only hunted deer and small game. I could track game for miles after I changed into a Loup-Garou.
There was always a conflict between my human side and my “howling heart” as my grandmother called the werewolf tendencies. The little boy part of me was terrified and yet fascinated by my darker nature. I would cry when I felt “the change” overtake me, and I would cry when I returned from my time as a bloodthirsty werewolf! I was a very confused young man.
That fateful night of my first kill, happened during an ice storm in early winter during a full moon known as the "Wolves Moon" in some Native American cultures. On that night, an Indian family that lived close by had ran their truck of the road and made the mistake of coming up to my family’s cabin after sunset during a full moon.Even though we had taped into the darkest realms of humanity, we were not ones to hunt down the innocent. This is the reason why we chose to live so far from civilization so we would not be temped to hunt humans. However if someone unsuspecting person would happen upon us when my family had not recently feed, that was another thing entirely!
The bitter storm had kept us from venturing out to get fresh meat, and for a “howling heart” like me and the rest of my family, fresh meat was necessary for our survival. A werewolf needs to kill, it is what we do. Without the kill, the taste of hot blood-we die!
The atmosphere was filled with anticipation, excitement and guilt. From the moment my father told us, the family of four was heading up the path that lead to our house, we all knew what would happen. There was the father, mother and two young boys. The oldest was about eight.
I think the older male Indian, seemed apprehensive, and yet he was in a desperate situation. He had to get his family out of the elements. That night it was already ten below and dropping! What choice did he have?
The man had a rifle strap to his shoulder, but the thing about a werewolf is that we have uncanny speed. A man could be the quickest man alive and still be no match for even an inexperience werewolf like my self.
My father invited them in, like any concerned neighbor would. My mother got several blankets and then led them into the living room were a roaring fire was waiting in the fireplace.
Suddenly, tears started to well up in my eyes; I fought back, oh how I fought! I quickly glanced around the room to see if I would pick-up any hints from my family of what I should do and to see if they were aware of my dilemma.
My grandmother was knighting in her rocking chair and humming quietly, my father was cleaning out his tobacco pipe as he stared out the window. I did not know were my mother was, until I heard her clanging around in the kitchen. My twin sister was sitting on the carpet across from me, playing with her dolls.
All this it time it seem like my heart kept pounding loader and loader, until it drowned out the sound of the wind. I watched the Indian family to see if they maybe suspected something. The man and the woman talk in whispered voices and seem uneasy. The two boys were already asleep on the floor. Then, my father turned to me and smiled reassuring. He then asks me if I was hungry in French.
That was all it took, something broke loose in me and I started to wail uncontrollable at the top of my Lungs! Then, every thing happened so fast, that to this day I am not sure of all that happened next.
I know that my father leaped on top of the Indian man, as his victim also lunged for his rifle that was only sitting a foot away from him. The father started yelling for his boys in his native . tongue. How I knew what he was saying I do not know. When the “howling heart” takes over strange things happen.
The oldest boy was now wide-awake, and was standing up staring at me. I did not know it then, because I was “caught up’ in the moment, but I had rip off all my clothes and had changed into something that must had look like a “dog/boy” to the young Indian.
I will never forget how calm he acted. He stared into my eyes with a blank expression on his face. He quickly flung open a jack-knife and jabbed it at me as I snarled at him. Then when he saw how futile this was, he offered to give it to me if I would spare his life! As I stood there trying to comprehend the madness of the situation, my sister leaped on his back, ripping open his throat with her newly formed fangs!
I now rushed in to help her, only to have her snap at me, like I was her enemy! That is when I started to understand the power of the transformation.
I did not have long to ponder this, for when I glanced to the left, the Indian father, was pointing his riffle at me, from were he lay on the ground, barley alive! I could see his finger slowly squeezing trigger, so I did the only thing I could think of, I threw my self on him, howling like a rabid dog!
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