---    Curse of the Werewolf.


Through the underbrush he ran, desperate to reach the clearing in time.  After decades of living with the curse, he had learned several tricks to maintaining his secret.  One of the most important was to be naked when the change occurred.  To have a safe place to stash his clothes where they would not be stolen and he could find them again.  Shredded or missing clothing was never easy to explain and became costly to replace every month.

He had used a hollow tree near the clearing several times over the last year, and it had always proved to be a safe place, out of the range of prying eyes and curious ears.  His friends would never understand, and would most likely respond with fear or worse, if they caught sight of him now.  His own family had attacked him the first time the change took him.  Unaware of who he was, they had tried to kill him, forcing him to run for his life.

He still returned to them each cycle, when it was safe, and they still recognized him, accepting him as one of the family, but somehow they knew something was different.  He could tell by their body language when he was around, and by the way they stared at him while he ate.

Only moments ago he had been making love to his girlfriend when he realized the time and had to make a hasty exit.  He hoped she would forgive him.  She had always known there was something different about him, and perhaps it was that curiosity that had kept them together over the last year.  He swore to himself that one day he would have to trust her.  To finally show her who and what he was, to prove to her and himself that he could never hurt her.  He could only hope that she would understand, and not run away when she learned his secret.

The first to change was usually his eyes, often hours before the main event.  He had been born colorblind, so he never noticed a visual difference as his eyes shifted.  He would usually catch his reflection, and see the monster staring back at him, and realize the time was at hand.

As he burst into the clearing he glanced at the hair on his forearms, and saw the change was already starting.  Then he groaned as a sudden pain shot through his head, feeling as though he had been struck in the face.  The pain always started there.  The skin growing taught, stretching till he thought it would tear, as muscle and bone began to shift.  

Teeth too large for his mouth began to jut out from between his lips, as his jaw struggled to keep up with the rapid change.  His teeth were one of the few positive side effects of his condition.  No matter what dental work he had done, or what damage he took in the forest, he would be blessed again with perfect teeth after every change.

As his skull began to warp, the cartilage of his ears began twisting and folding as though someone were pulling and wrenching at them.  The sound of the crunching inside his own head made him feel ill.  Almost as sick, as the churning of his own guts as they worked to rearrange themselves.

Most of the pain then shifted to his arms and legs, as the long bones twisted and bent.  Fingers and toes crackling as they rearranged themselves, especially his thumbs.  Always the thumbs as they made their slow migration along his wrists to their new location.  He let out an inhuman, unwolfish moan as his knees buckled and ankles twisted into their cursed form.  

Then he gasped as a great spasm wracked his body, his back arching unnaturally, as his spine cracked and reformed along his flexing rib cage.  But all of this was nothing compared to the tearing and rearranging of his nethers.

The entire transformation took less than a minute, but it always left him utterly exhausted.  Panting and disoriented, he crouched on all fours in the center of the clearing, listening carefully for any sign that the ruckus had alerted anyone to his hiding place.

Eventually, he regained his feet and was able to examine himself.  Seeing himself once again in his cursed form nearly made him weep.  Somewhere in the distance, deep in the forest, he heard a mournful howl followed by a chorus of similar voices, all raised in moon song.  The sound tore at his soul.  He wanted to respond, though he dared not raise his voice now.

As he finished dressing, he heard one lonesome voice in the distance.  It would be another month before his curse would be lifted again.  He hoped she would wait for him.