40.
He did not understand why the matron had led him across the wide grassy grounds, which lay around the castle that they had left. He did not understand why she led him to the base of a particularly vicious tree, he did not understand why she had made it stop moving as they approached, and he most certainly did not understand why she had taken him to a room and then locked him in there. He had seen her mouth move, yet he had been unable to hear what she said. He had been left alone in the growing darkness of the strange and broken down shack.
The boy had wandered aimlessly around the shack, studying the gouges in the walls and floor. He skirted around the many stains, which he somehow knew were dried blood. He could feel fear starting to envelope him. He was afraid. Afraid of whatever had made the deep gouges in the wood. Afraid of what had created the numerous and large pools of dried blood upon the floor. Terror gripped him when he saw the smashed and gnawed remains of a wooden chair. What had he done that they would send him to a place where a great beast dwelt? He knew that the beast would arrive once night had fallen, knew that it would come out of hiding and devour him. There was no way out of this place, that woman from the hospital had brought him here to die.
The boy sat huddled in a corner of the shack, his body shaking with terror as the sky darkened and the full moon rose once more into the sky. The moonlight spread, like water over glass, across the landscape. The light from the moon poured into the shack through the cracks in the walls, the small streams of light illuminated patches of the blood-stained floor. He knew that any moment now, the beast would arrive, and then it would devour him. He backed further into the corner, knowing it was useless, yet trying to make himself vanish into the shadowy darkness of the corner. It was at that moment—the moment when he was nearly overcome with terror—that pain shot up his spine. Pain the likes of which he had never before felt.
It felt as though his entire spine was being shattered one vertebra at a time. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream of agony. His hands scrabbled at his back, trying to feel to see if bone was protruding from it. The bones in his hands snapped and twisted, forming large paws. The boy fell forward onto his face, his ribs breaking and stretching to form a larger ribcage. His arms rotated backwards—snapping his shoulder blade in the process—fur sprouting from every pour on his body. The boy's knees turned backwards, the bones in his legs shrinking then growing again in a different position. Agony shot from the base of his regrown spine, and up into the base of his skull. A long tail pushed out from the base of his spine, tearing through the skin and muscle to emerge fully formed, into the night. Blood poured from his mouth as fangs pushed their way through his gums. His jaw and nose shattered and reformed into the muzzle of a wolf. His ears grew longer and moved onto the top of his head. Howls of agony echoed through the night.
The wolf lay on the hard wooden floor of the shack, its sides heaving as it fought to breathe normally. Slowly, the wolf got to its feet. It walked slowly forward until it stood in the largest beam of moonlight. The wolf looked up through the crack in the wall to see the large face of the moon; the wolf stared at the moon with longing in its eyes. It whined and pawed at the wall which blocked its view of the moon. The wolf howled its frustration and began to slam itself into the wall, but to no avail. The wall would not budge, no matter how hard the wolf through itself at it. The wolf eventually gave up and began to bite itself. It did not know why it had to be trapped here when it could smell its prey. Prey so close that it was near torturous that the wolf could not reach them. And so the wolf tore into itself with reckless abandon, not caring that it was causing itself more pain. Only wanting to bite and tear into something living.
The moon watched as the wolf tore into itself. Watched as it tore its leg to shreds. The moon did not care about the pain it inflicted upon those who were cursed to be werewolves. The moon did not care about anything. It only watched with a coldness that was unmatched by any who walked the earth.
Alright so apparently my chapters are too depressing. I apologize for that, as I had not realized that they were. I will attempt to make them less depressing, however I would like to say that this was never going to be a "happy" story. Regardless of that, I shall still work on it to make it more enjoyable.
Thank you for reading, this latest chapter. Please review, and I hope that this story will continue to be at least interesting. Thanks again and you are all awesome!