Twilight

A Howl of Pain and Vengeance

Chapter Two

Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and character names.

At last I have found what you were looking for. It doesn't understand. A perfect specimen for examination and maybe more. I hope this news pleases you, and if so, that you grant me your most precious of gifts.

-/-

I'm running through a forest. Running so quickly that the trees are flying past me in a blur. Yet I find I am able to weave between the trees easily and without mishap. I burst through the tree line into a clearing. The clearing is small and has a rough circular shape. I finally take in that the trees around me are unfamiliar to me. A small pool at the far edge of the clearing sparkles in the moon light.

I find my face drawn upward towards the sky, and the bright moon. A full moon. I hear a howl sound close by, and fear makes me move onwards. Yet as I pass the pool I slide to a halt. I caught sight of something. Something strange out of the corner of my eye. Looking around the clearing again, I see nothing at all.

I glance at the pool by my feet, and stumble backward. A growl of fear escape my lips, before realisation sinks in. I step back towards the pool and stare down at my reflection. Staring back at me is a beast from nightmares. A giant wolf glares at me with amber eyes. I fall to my knees, as I try to fight the truth of what I see. I am the giant wolf!

I raise my muzzle to the full moon and howl out my pain.

-/-

I awake with a start as the wheels of the plane I'm on touch tarmac. The plane bounces once before settling firmly on the ground. I can feel the place decelerate beneath me. I wipe the sweat from my brow, and notice my neighbour staring at me.

"Bad dream," I mutter with a shake of my head. I sigh thinking about how I wasn't almost able to pass security back in Norway.

I look ten years younger than I do in my passport, but they couldn't prove it wasn't me, and my English accent allowed me off with a scowl, and slight shake off the head. After all, how can I be 42 and look like I'm thrity? I stare at my feeble reflection in the small window to my left. I once again trace the solid line of muscle that is my jaw, and wonder at the lack of wrinkles upon my brow.

I no longer even have my cute laughter wrinkles at the corners of my eyes. I feel perfect and strong. I don't know how to explain what has happened to me, or how to explain to my wife, son or best friends either. The only lie I can think off, is saying that I've had plastic surgery. Yet as I drop my finger from my jaw, I wonder if there is a plastic surgeon on this planet with the skill to work a face into perfection like mine.

Also women are flirting openly with me, and I've even caught a few guys checking me out. It's embarrassing and flattering at the same time. Still I'm back in England. If only I knew where I was going from here. My escape from Norway was instinctual, and now that I'm back, I'm worrying about what people with say. I'm afraid my wife wont believe me. That my son wont except me.

I can't go home. Not right away anyway. I need somewhere to lay low and think things through. With a sigh, and bring myself back to the present and wait for the plane to stop moving so I can disembark. I look down the plane, as a young female air stewardess looks in my direction, and smiles warmly at me. I feel my cheeks heat up as I look away. This is going to take some getting used too.

-/-

So here I am, sat in an internet cafe in Carlisle. I actually live in the village of Port Carlisle near the Hadrian's Wall. So close to home, but I need to do research first. I need to be able to explain why I look about ten years younger. My flicks back to the idea of plastic surgery, but I don't want to tell people such a vain excuse. I focus my gaze on the monitor, the search engine google, ready and waiting for me to use it.

I type in 'illnesses to reduce age', hoping that there is something out there that I could use as an excuse. Yet a quick glace through the first two pages, destroys any hope right off the bat. I got loads of sites about preventing age related illnesses and how to maintain a young healthy lifestyle. I grit my teeth together as I ponder my next search.

I type in 'getting younger', and google offers me some possible search choices on what I've typed. My eyes immediately focus onto 'getting younger every day'. I promising search choice, and one I click one, a feeling of satisfaction filling me up. I start scanning through the different sites, yet it seems to me that after each one I've been through, that the methods used to provide reversed aging are either far fetched or worse.

I can see my wife asking to try the method I tell her I used. I can see the disappointment in her face it becomes clear that I lied to her. Oh god, I can't do that! I scroll back up to the top of the google search page. I take one last stab at finding an excuse for my youth that will be accepted and left alone by my wife. My fingers hover over the keyboard and I realised that there perfectly still.

My breath catches in my throat, as I stare down at my perfect still and balanced hands. The wrinkles are gone, yet the blue veins are still noticeable. Except now the veins stand out strong and healthy. I recall from my past, whenever I tried to hold my hands steady, how after a few seconds, they would start to shake slightly. My hands were steady enough to carry trays one handed, yet never steady enough to remain completely motionless.

I drop a finger to the letter I on the keyboard when I freeze. For google to offer up a solution for getting younger, there must be a lot of people out there searching for the secret of eternal youth. Or other people who found themselves in my position. It was strangely comforting as well as scary to thing that there maybe other people like me out there. No, not them like me. Me like them.

With a slight shake of my head I type in 'improving facial features', and hit search. The first few sites seem to be about applying makeup to achieve a younger look. Yet I find my eyes resting on the link for facial plastic surgery. I go to scroll down, when I realise that providing a vain excuse wouldn't be completely bad. At least no-one would question why it worked so well, I hoped.

I click on the link, and browse through it quickly, gleaming information on the various procedures used to enhance youth and dismiss age. The brow lift, cheek augmentation, cosmetic chin surgery, ear surgery, eyelid surgery, face lift, lip augmentation, rhinoplasty. What a strange name for a nose job. I think over the options, and decided to use the face lift excuse.

One option is more believable than many, especially as I wasn't gone all that long. Still I have to first swallow my pride. Not an easy thing to do for an old man. I laugh to myself, as I logoff the computer. I notice quite a few faces staring at me, now that my eyes aren't glued to the monitor, and feel the blush reach my cheeks once again. I stand up, grab my jacket and leave as quickly as I can without actually running.

I stop to breath in the cool spring air, before heading down the street. It quickly became apparent to me, shortly after returning to England that I was no longer bothered by the cold. I still felt it to a mild degree, but I remained pleasantly warm. Because of this, I no longer wore my jumpers. It seemed pointless to do so. So with my jacket handing over my left shoulder, cuff held in my raised left hand, I headed to my hotel to solidify my vain excuse.

-/-

I'm running for my life. I know this, as I know that I'm alive. What I don't know is why I'm running for my life. What could be so scary to me, that fear has a vice like grip on my heart. I should slow down, take in my bearings, but my legs refuse to slow down. I must survive, I must run! I want to scream in frustration, when a crash behind me, finally brings me to a halt.

The first thing my eyes settle on is a young and very handsome man. He has wavy ash blonde hair, and is slim of build. Yet I can somehow detect that while slim, he possesses immense strength. My eyes quickly fly across his dark clothing, before settling on something so terrible that I scream aloud.

-/-

I wake up screaming and drenched in my own sweat. A cold sweat. A sweat reserved for man's deepest fears. I sit there breathing deeply and heavily while I let my mind banish the nightmare into the back of my mind with all the others. Once I feel a little better, I slowly get out of the hotel bed, and make my way into the on suite. I turn the shower on, before glancing into the mirror. I wonder if I'll ever get accustomed to looking young. Again.

A hot shower later, and I feel ready to face the day. God give me strength, I say in silent pray. For today I leave Carlisle and head home. To a wife and son. A family I hope will still except me, and forgive me for the lies I must tell them. The lies they must believe to be true. I can picture them both in my head. My wife Wilma with her long red hair, waving gently in the wind. Her love for me strong and clear in her blue eyes.

My son Jack, with his short light brown hair, that is usually a tangled mess. I smile to myself at the image, knowing that Jack believes it makes him look cool and wild. He too has blues eyes, and while I can see his love for me in them, I also see his mischievous side. To be young again. I realised how stupid that thought is, considering my returned youth.

Once I've checked out, I climb into my car. A silver Vauxhall Vectra. It's a nice car, and it gets me and the family where we need to go. It doesn't look to shabby either. I feel it tells people that I'm a business man. At least I hope that's what it tells people about me. Sat behind the wheel, knowing that I'm finally going home, I feel panic and fear set in.

"Why me?" I say in a whisper, resting my head briefly onto the top of the steering wheel. I take a deep breath, running through my excuses, again, before raising my head, and putting the key into the ignition. Turning the key slightly ignites the engine, and my car purrs to life. What can I say, I'm a cat person, not a dog person. I check my mirrors before reversing out of the parking space.

How different driving feels now. The most important difference is that it feels like I'm crawling along. Because I feel like I'm going so slowly, I am able to keep the car perfectly under control. I can feel the vibrations of the car distinctly where before driving in my car felt smooth and relaxing. I find I have the urge to push my foot down on the accelerator pedal, but I don't want to get home that quickly.

I think back through my life, wondering if I've ever felt this afraid, just to go home before. I feel like a naughty school boy, who knows that his mum will know what he's done as soon as she looks at him. I Shouldn't feel guilty about something I had no control over. Yet apart of me, feels that it is my fault. I should of taken someone with me. Would it of made a difference? I think back to my nightmares.

No, I realise. Against that nightmarish creature, having someone with me may of actually made things worse. Okay, so I should of spent the day relaxing at the hotel instead. That would of certainly made a difference. At least that night anyway. Would it of still be hunting the next few nights? I couldn't say. I was so lost in my thoughts it took me a second to realised that I was coming upon my house.

I pull up outside of it, and notice a curtain twitch from the living room window. Wilma always keep an eye out for me, forever worrying about me. If only her worries weren't about to be justified. I got out of the car, as the front door opened. I kept my back to my house as I made my way round to the boot. As I popped the boot open, I heard the soft footfalls of Wilma's slippers on our stone pathway.

"Harry hunny, are you okay?" I heard Wilma ask. I can detect the hint of worry in her voice. I'm a day early. I pull both suitcases out and put them on the ground.

"I'm fine Love." I say with a sigh and turn to look at her. "But I must ask your forgiveness." I say, watching the shock spread across her face, as she steps back from me.