Flame

A woman cries over her son, that's become a werewolf

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Prelude

It was the late autumn winds that gave a chill in late September. I remember clearly hearing the barn door making a groan and then aloud, bang, bang, bang, sound as the wind blows up against it.

The wind had a bit of a scream to it, a dreadful sound morbid tone that aroused myself out of bed forcing me from a deep sleep. My eyes caught a glimpse of the moonlight from my window as the curtain wasn't properly closed for the night. It was then I knew that the time had indeed come. I quickly took the oil lantern by its handle by the old wooden nightstand that my father made when I was a little girl, and carefully picking it up, as not to waken my husband that's been sound asleep for hours. I wouldn't dare disturb him. The poor dear needs his rest, I thought, checking the oil levels in the lamp. Normally I would awaken him from sleep, if there was a thought of a prowler loose in the barn. No, it's painfully obvious of whom it is in the barn; it's my son.

"It's time to tell him, " reminding myself of what needs to be done; but what if I'm too late? With one strike of the wooden match, carefully I kept the lantern's light dim.

The shutters rattled violently against the windows nearly causing me to lose my grip on the lantern's handle. I regained my composure and gathered my courage. I placed my hand on the knob of the door. "My husband must not know of this, " I mumbled. The door moaned and squeaked as I journeyed over to the barn, hearing the sad sound of the lonely wind howling. I kept the lantern still marching forward with the haziness of the light. The barn looked further away. Swallowing my fear I kept walking towards the barn seeing the reasons why the door keeps banging up against the threshold of the barn. It appears the door blew open and lodged itself in the muddy soil. I moved my lantern to the open barn moving slowly, casting its glow to the ground seeing footprints freshly made. I kept moving forward unsure what my eyes would see. The barn is dark without life to it.

“Trae!” I shouted hoping to see him. But there wasn't any answer. Off from the corner of the barn I heard stirrings.

"Trae! is that you?”

I moved quickly swaying the light to and fro, hoping to see him...Hoping to see my baby boy, for whom I love so very much.

Over at the right side of the corner I heard the most grotesque sounds that my ears weren't able to comprehend. There are sounds of heaven and sounds from the pits that no mortal ears should hear.

There was no mistake! My son Trae is here.

“Forgive me my son!” I said begging with the lantern light shaking in my hand. I swear to a thousand Bibles that I couldn't have done anything in my power to comfort him. The only thing I could do is but listen to the sound of his bones crack and break, of what sounded like a million pieces! Hearing his cries trailing over from human to animal!

I tell you the truth as a mother. I couldn't bear hearing the vicious sounds! I kept my lantern over at the direction of where the sounds were heard. And as I said before it was very dark indeed.

It seemed all at once that the horrible sounds ceased. Did my baby boy die? I wondered. As I pondered on this I stood in awe with my hand covering my mouth. That's when I gazed upon it with gory fascination. It's the beast!

I cried out to it, with my outstretched arms inviting it to draw itself near.

“My son! Is that you? Oh, my dear little boy! I'm so, so sorry.”

It stood over towering me. But still it wasn't finished in it's transformation. It's teeth dripped with saliva with small amounts of blood intermingling. The beast's eyes glowed like that of a thousand suns beating down on me.

The transformation is now complete! The beast lowers its head to me. My hand shook as I stroke the softness of his fur. My hand laid on the side of his face caressing him. He sniffed me like how a dog sniffs his owner.

“I will always love you my dear baby boy.”

The beast took his head away then howled painfully in the cold night. I waved to him, still holding the handle to the lantern.

“May God forgive me. And may the Lord forgive my son!”

I lowered my lantern, seeing the giant gash that my son had made. He's no longer my little boy, he's become the one that walks in the darkness, when the moon is full.

I fell to the ground. That was the night that I mourned over my son. He's only thirteen years old and forever cursed!

By Donte-highwater

From: United States