It is all true
The storm and I were fighting, locked in an epic struggle, and I was winning. The rain came down in bucket loads but I was kept dry by my thick overcoat. The storm's windy fingers grasped my hat trying to wrench it off my head but it stayed tied on by some string I had found in the office. It added tiny pieces of sleet into the storm but I kept my head bowed and it all bounced off my hat. I was beating the storm 3-1; the only casualty so far was my umbrella, which by now was probably being blown over the roof tops.
The storm was having a wonderful time, it had found someone to play with, that didn't seem to be affected by the rain, and it was trying its hardest to get him. The man had even been so kind as to give him an umbrella to play with, which was now happily bobbing in a thermal.
To prevent our match from going into overtime I took a short cut through the park; through the sheets of lashing rain I saw two men and a young girl, and over the roaring wind I heard the words:
"Leave me alone!"
I cried out to the men but the storm stole my words and took the opportunity to fill my mouth with icy water; I gave it an extra point for that. Then one of the men gave the girl a shove. She fell to the floor landing with her wrist twisted under her, and she let lose a scream of pain, which deepened into a scream of rage and finally into deep howl. Then she started changing, turning into a creature of legend, a werewolf. It stood tall and proud with a wolf's head, wicked claws and jet black fur; it was beautiful and terrible to behold.
It charged at the first man sinking its six inch claws deep into the man's gut, then lifted him off the ground and flung him over its shoulder in the same way you would discard a sweet wrapper. He flew into a tree and there was a sickening crack audible over the raging wind. The werewolf then turned on the second man, fixing its midnight black eyes on him.He didn't flinch, it howled and then charged. The man took out a gun, and shot it, at point blank; right between the eyes.
I ran, more afraid of the monster that had just shot the werewolf than the beautiful beast that lay convulsing on the floor. I ran, blundering through the trees and out onto the road and didn't stop until I got to my house. Calmer now, I bolted the door and went to my study and pulled out a brown book which was covered in dust. I gave it a wipe and put it on my desk, scribbling a short note: 'It is all true'. I went to bed and slept, and dreamt of the werewolf and the monster that was the man.
The storm was bored. The nice man that had played with him had gone inside a house and hadn't come out. It drifted off in search of a new playmate, but just before it left, it dropped the umbrella outside the house.
And through the dissipating clouds the moon crept out. A half-moon that filled the office with silvery light, and illuminated the letters on the book:
'Werewolf: the Forsaken'