On a narrow street in a small Massachusetts town, light from the full moon rained down through the leaves of the trees mixing together with the stifled light from the lamp posts that lined one side of the street. Three young boys ran down the street, laughing and joking as they danced through the lights along the tightly packed road.
As they moved through the narrow road they grew silent because of the late hour, none of the boys wanted to get caught for being out so late. Even in the heat of the summer these young twelve year old boys had curfews, just like their old friend at the end of the street. Their friend had been away at a private school for the past year and they had only seen him a few times this summer. The trio of boys crept up slowly on the cramped house at the end of the narrow road.
The house was small, seemingly crammed onto the lot at the end of the street, made to appear even smaller with the two massive trees that loomed over the second floor windows that popped out of the roof. The light blue paint had begun to peel after seeing many harsh New England seasons without much in the way of care. There was not a single light on in the house at this hour, but this did not deter the three young boys.
Slowly they hopped up over the top of the old wooden fence that lined the yard, each falling with a near inaudible 'plop' with a tight exertion of air as they landed. The three boys neatly crept, each step a measured effort, to a small garden where they gathered up some small rocks, each taking a few in hand as they went past it with barely a sound.
Wind roared down the street, creating a wicked howling noise as the boys came beneath the second window from the left. One of the boys stepped forward, tossing the rock up and out of his palm, getting a feel for its weight before pausing to take aim. With a perfect practiced toss the rock flew expertly from his hand and hit the window pane with a sharp knock. After a brief pause, the boys flung up a few rocks in quick succession causing a staccato rapping across the window. They waited, backing up and gazing to the window where they expected their friend to appear.
After a few more moments instead of their friend's voice through the window they heard a deep and powerful baying. It sounded like the howling wind from just a few moments before. Each of the boys froze as they heard that strong howl once more, slowly realizing that the air was dead and muggy, there had not been any breeze. There was a deep growl that emanated up from their friend's old room, as if from a dog bigger than any they had ever imagined. Millennia of evolution dictated the next action of the trio when they saw the massive hairy creature that rammed into the window. The window did not buckle as the beast clawed and howled like mad, its muddy brown eyes locked down on the three children that were beneath its prison.
As one the trio of boys turned and ran screaming, they truly had no idea what they had seen all they knew is that they didn't want to find out if it could follow. They leaped over the short back chain link fence in one fluid motion, running through the moonlit alleyways of the small Massachusetts town being chased by the eerie howl from the second floor of the cramped blue house.
The three boys ran directly into a stiff wall of air as they were about to turn onto a main street. They fell down on to their bottoms and slowly backed away from the hard air before them. Suddenly where there once was nothing there was suddenly a middle aged man holding a long and oddly shimmering piece of cloth. The man wore a set of neatly cut robes in a deep shade of navy blue with a tight cap that looked at least a century out of date. On his left breast was a shining symbol of a crescent moon and a wolf howling up at it. The man lifted a small stick and calmly said, "Obliviate."
Suddenly the three boys stopped trembling in fear and slowly got up and dusted themselves off. The middle aged man disappeared beneath his cloak and stepped aside as the three boys walked away talking about how their friend must have been dead asleep for them not to be able to wake him. They turned onto a main avenue as if nothing had happened, for to them, nothing had happened.
The next morning, as a thin and somewhat tall twelve year old boy clambered down into the kitchen scratching fresh scars came to the breakfast table as if he were hungover, a middle aged woman with graying brown hair turned to him as she set his plate down, "Your friends tried to visit you last night..." She said quietly.
The boy merely nodded as he stared down into his waffles, "I know Mom, I know." Nicholas Hawthorne slowly picked up a knife and fork and began to eat his breakfast, though as he had slowly gotten used to after the full moon, chewing always felt somewhat weird the next day.