Little Boy Lost
Thank you to Whirled Peace for inspiring me to write this
"'Tis the night of death," a passer by muttered to young Remus, blessing him quickly with the sign of the cross. Remus scurried along, running from the elderly women who tried to protect him from the hoard of ghosts and demons that would be running free tonight. Since he was a child, most women tried to prepare him for them. They doused him in holy water and painted his face black and dusted his clothes with flour. They wanted to disguise him as a spirit of death, so he would remain unharmed while the dreadful night progressed.
Although, Remus wanted nothing to do with this night. He padded nervously down the cobblestone street, wringing his hands together to hide his palms, keeping his head down to shield his eyes with his bangs. He was trying to hide from the superstitious people of his town, because if they discovered what he would become on this night, they would not think so kindly when protecting him.
Earlier that week, something strange had happened to him.
He had been walking home from school in the afternoon, though the sun had been hidden by ominous clouds. It was as if the world itself was anticipating this event, making the atmosphere as gloomy and grim as possible.
He had heard an eerie growling, and he had stopped to look around for wild animals looking for a meal. But he had seen nothing but trembling trees, their leaves crinkled in the icy cold.
Then, he felt as if something was following him, watching him, but slinking away as soon as he turned around.
"Who's there?" He had called softly, increasing his pace until he was nearly running. Panting, he had just barely reached one of the gates to town before he was attacked.
A giant, heavy shape dropped upon him, pinning him to the frosty ground with strange-shaped hands. Remus desperately tried to escape, but the dark object kept him firmly held down. He couldn't recognize what it was. He smelled its foul breath and felt its course, matted hair, but it's face was dimmed by the gloom of the day. Yellow eyes gleamed in front of Remus, sparkling menacingly at him. Then, the creature opened his gaping mouth and lunged for the boy, piercing sharp, glistening teeth into his neck.
Remus screamed as pain shot through his body, making him see stars as the teeth penetrated his flesh deeper. His skin popped and bled under the pressure, but the blood was not his. It was a foreign blood, stinging as it dribbled down his shoulder.
As the moon cleared, he saw the creature who had just bitten him. A wolf, of some sort, but much bigger than any wolf Remus had ever seen. Its rows and rows of teeth shone crimson as it smiled at its handy work. Huge, hooked paws were pressed on Remus's hands, digging them into the wet ground. The monster weighed down on his body, and he could feel the rough rising and falling of its massive chest.
It leaned its muzzle close down to Remus's ear, so he could feel the heavy breath, blocking out any other natural noises of the forest.
"Don't worry, little child," it growled, and its voice made Remus shiver from head to foot. It was like the deep rumbling of thunder, though it sounded dull and relaxing, yet even Remus knew it was evil. "It won't be so bad." Remus was released from the crushing hold, but he didn't make a move to get up. He couldn't move; his bones felt like they had been ripped from his body, leaving him nothing but a pile of flesh. He rounded his eyes on the creature, who was still grinning down at him, his smirk resembling a lit pumpkin sitting on a house's porch, keeping away evil spirits. Its eyes bored down into Remus's skull, making his head throb with the mere powerful aura radiating off the giant dog. "Being a werewolf." The monster leapt away, its spiked tail trailing after him as he blended in quickly to the dark colors of the forest.
Remus laid there, unable to believe what he had heard. He had heard a dog speak. He had understood the low, echoing growls, the hisses and whimpers. He had understood an animal talk, and was rolling the words over and over again in his mind.
A werewolf…one of the most deadly creatures in the world, running loose on Samhain(1) night, the night where demons escaped the gates of the other world. He had heard dreadful stories of the monster biting poor children and transforming them into a monster themselves. He had heard the priests bless the children with luck, telling them to stay safe and wary of the looming creature hunting them.
He had…been bitten.
Now, Remus avoided the gazes of the townsfolk, knowing what they would do to him if they knew. As the days went by, the full moon approached. Tonight, the moon would shine bright and full, to light the path for demons and spirits. This morning, he had discovered dark, stringy hair growing on his hands and feet, a much grimmer color than his own hair, which was golden and sweet. It was the exact color of the werewolf that had infected him.
Even though he was young, he knew what happened to a human when their blood had been infected with that of a werewolf. During the full moon, he would change, not only his body, but his thoughts as well. The priests and teachers had told him that a man forgets everything he had known when the strong lust for blood overcame him on a full moon. He would kill his best friend, if they came face to face, and the wolf happened to be hungry.
Remus couldn't let himself be unleashed on the innocent people of his town. He wished nothing but happiness of them, so he knew what he had to do.
He had to leave.
He had to vanish from the peaceful village and live in the forest, amongst his kind. Where the people would be safe from his blind wrath, and not have to worry about a young, uncontrollable werewolf chasing them from their home.
Remus did not wish to leave. He liked it here, he received much kindness and love from these people. He couldn't believe the decision he was making, but he cared much more for these people's safety, than his own desires.
He was young and inexperienced, clueless of the world outside his home. But now that he was a creature of death and suffering, he would have others like him. He would live with them, and understand what it was like to be alone.
Tonight, the town would light their bonfire in the center and thrown in their crops and livestock as sacrifices to the spirits. If they discovered him, they would be terrified, and try to push him into the fire himself. But he knew they would be no match against a fresh werewolf.
The cold was already starting to set in. The harvest was over, and the start of winter was coming. The air was frosty and the trees were dying, their leaves crinkled and broken from the ice suffocating them. Everything was dying; the crops, the trees, the grass…but Remus wanted to keep the rest of the town alive for years to come.
The sun was beginning to go down. The townspeople gathered around the center, throwing logs into a giant pile. The men were dressed in white and their faces blackened, protecting their wives and children, while they sheltered under tiny, tarp blanket tents. They would be expecting Remus to join them, but he hurried past them. He silently said goodbye to his parents, knowing that if he tried to see them, he would change his mind and risk their lives.
The town was not big, but Remus took so long getting to the gate watching the people live. He couldn't help but to slow down and admire the men's bravery, the children's carefree playfulness, the women's selfless caretaking. They were all good people, and did not deserve to be bitten by a werewolf, who was in fact, one of their own.
But the sun was sinking down faster and faster, and the moon was rising in the starless night sky. As Remus realized this, he felt more fur sprout on his hands, and then, the rest of his body. The hair grew longer and darker, and he could feel his vision heightened, his sense of smell and hearing increasing to superhuman.
He accidentally bit his lip, and found that his teeth were changing too; sharpening into points, dripping saliva at the tips. He ran faster, his feet thumping on the street as they turned into paws.
He was running, not for his life, but for his friends'.
He tried to hurry, but he was slowing down. His body became heavier, and fur grew on his shoulders, making his temperature jump to over 100 degrees in the chilly air.
He fell to his knees, which painfully lengthened into legs, bending to form scrawny hind-legs. His arms grew as well, twisting until he was forced to walk that way. His back curved and ears appeared on the side of his head. His clothes lay shredded to the ground, as he grew twice his size.
As he transformed, he felt the pain as if all his bones were being shattered and then moved around, fused back together in new positions. His mind started to whirl, until he could see nothing but darkness, smell nothing but the beating blood of humans.
In the back of his mind, still childish and occupied by Remus's thoughts, and not the werewolf's, he shouted at himself to remember who he was. But the voice was so tiny and insignificant, the new werewolf pushed it away and bounded back to the bonfire.
His body pumping with adrenaline, he ran to the people gathered around the fire, blazing with life until it just barely touched the shining gray moon.
As the people saw him, they screamed and ran for their lives, gathering the small children and women into their houses, slamming doors and locking windows. They attempted to escape, but Remus was faster. He easily knocked one of the strongest men to his back with his enormous paw and leapt at him. He tore the man to bits, flinging bloody lumps of flesh into the fire, which burned and carried the scent of crisp human into Remus's nostrils. He threw back his head and howled, the sound reverberating throughout the night, shaking the earth to its roots, trembling the clouds into waves of terror that covered the sky, shimmering with the light of the full moon.
Once his first kill was nothing but a pool of blood, Remus licked it up hungrily. Blood dripping from his jaws, he searched around for someone else. The men came at him with torches and spears, but Remus took them without blinking. He swiped them off their feet, slashing giant scars and gashes through their chests. The last of them cowered at his knees, paralyzed by the monster creeping towards him. With a yowl, he raised his claws and slashed off the man's wrist. He screamed as his hand flew through the air and joined the piles of flesh surrounding him. Blood spilled from the open wound, draining him of all his blood until he was barely alive. Once he was satisfied with the torture, Remus took one oversized claw and slit the man's throat, catching the spurts of blood on his tongue, craving more.
He prowled throughout the town, ignoring the screams and cries of terror, and the hunks of burning wood being thrown at him from afar. His paws left black, screeching streaks on the pathway as he dragged them. As he licked his lips, blood spilled from his mouth and coated his fur, matting it scarlet.
He saw a horrified woman looking out her window, but when he saw the werewolf's yellow eyes meet hers, she yanked the curtains closed. But he had already seen her.
He jumped towards the window and reared up on his hind legs, smashing his front paws against the window. It easily shattered, sending glass flying into the house and into his fur. But the shards couldn't get past the mounds of hair and muscle. Remus shook them off like they were snowflakes.
He leapt into the house, seeing three children shivering in the corner, while their mother lay unconscious on the floor. Remus growled lowly, skulking towards the children, who pressed themselves further into the wall. None of them were over 12 years old.
Remus bared his teeth and snapped his jaws, catching one of their legs. He dragged the oldest child into the center of the room and feasted on him. He tore the child's limbs off and chewed on them likes dog bones, ripping the flesh off and swallowing greedily. He munched on his meal as the boy's brother and sister hugged each other in fear. As Remus chewed one of the bones and spit out the grease, the girl bent over and vomited. Remus chuckled deeply, the sound rumbling his throat like the crashing of waves, the cracking of wooden pillars.
He finished with his first child, and stalked towards the next oldest, the second boy.
By then, the mother had awaken, and was begging for the werewolf not to hurt her children.
"Take me and be gone, demon!" She shrieked. "Do not feast upon innocent children!" Remus reared on her, roaring in annoyance. She was a stout and petite woman, but lots of fat covered her body. Remus would chew her out like chewing jerky.
The woman fell willingly to her knees, praying softly as Remus approached her. She bowed her head and Remus slashed it off.
Her head rolled across the floorboards, trailing a thick stream of blood. Remus feasted on her like he did her son, and while he ate, the two remaining children tried to escape. They managed to run out of the house, but Remus's keen hearing heard their footsteps.
He abandoned the half-eaten woman and sprang after the children. The boy was faster, and soon left behind his sister, desperately trying to catch up. She called for him to wait, sobbing, but Remus wasn't having any of that. He left the boy to run and settled on the girl. She cried her lungs out as Remus grabbed her ankle with his paw and dragged him back towards him. He was about to dig in, when another instinct took over. He wanted to bite her, not eat her, and bring another woman into the werewolf world. A female would be a nice addition, so his brothers may use her for sexual pleasure, after spending so long in the forest with other males.
He forced her head aside, exposing her pale white neck. Her skin was as white as snow, trembling fiercely as her body pressed into the ice. He howled his accomplishment as he bit down. The little girl screamed in agony as teeth sunk into her flesh. Blood flowed into Remus's mouth, and he gulped it down as he let his saliva seep into the open punctures on the girl's neck.
Once he was done, he removed his teeth, licking his jaws as the girl lay there, convulsing as the werewolf venom slipped into her veins.
"Stop!" Someone yelled, just a few seconds too late. Remus turned around, seeing a man, standing proud and determined in front of him. "Be gone, beast! Back to hell!" As the man sprinted forward, attempting to sink a pitchfork into Remus's chest, he saw something.
The voice in the back of his head was more powerful now, making him choose between having a wonderful meal, or sparing this man's life.
It's father! The voice cried. I can't kill him! Father!! Remus shook his massive head from side to side, shaking the voice from his thoughts. This was no father of his! Just another human, laying himself out to be devoured!
But even though Remus wanted to dive forward, his paws would not move. Then, the man's pitchfork speared him, and he looked down curiously. It did not hurt, it just twitched with regret.
The man dug the fork as far into the strong flesh as he could, but it was not much. Eventually, the wooden prong broke off, and the half end of it was lodged into the werewolf's chest. The entire time, Remus had just let it happen, watching the man try so hard to kill him.
The man, panting hard, did not flee. He kept his stance, his back straight, his head held high.
He had tried. And now his time had come to die.
Remus opened his mouth, letting his foul breath touch the man's face, but he did not flinch. He waited.
Remus could not do it.
He turned around and fled, jumping over the writhing body of the young girl.
The townsfolk cursed at him as he ran, damning him back to hell, telling him to stay away. Remus could barely hear them. All he heard was the pathetic voice, telling him to stop, to back away. He was torn between hunger and mercy, and because he could not choose, he ran. He ran away from his decision, so he would not have to face the outcome of whatever he chose.
He disappeared into the forest, pounding through trees and grass, digging up dirt as he claws scraped against the earth. The village was left far behind him, and he was surrounded in nothing but black hatred.
He splintered branches as he ran, not caring what way he went or if he would even get anywhere. He never got tired; while he ran, his muscles stayed firm and energized, his tough, icy heart pumping red-hot blood through his inhuman body.
And so he ran. He ran past the werewolves who welcomed him from his first massacre. He ran past many sunrises and sunsets.
When the sun rose, the light barely peeled through the thick canopy of grim trees. It cast tiny slivers of sunshine onto Remus's path, and he dodged them, afraid of what would happen if the bright life of day shed on his unholy form.
Happy Halloween!
(1) Samhain: What the anciet Celtic called Halloween, a time where the line between their world and the demon world thinned.