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He scrambled to his feet just in time to see the bright light break from the side of the old farm house and a silhoutte appear in the doorway. As the light hit his eyes, pain filled his body. He let out a intense, loud scream that would normally be a howl. He burst into a full sprint toward the figure in the doorway, wanting to kill it, to destroy it, to feel his fangs rip the muscles from the bones, barelay noticing the man yelling for him to stop. He lept from the foot of the stairs at the silhoutte.
There was a loud bang, a flash of light, unbelievable pain, then nothing. The pellets ripped through his human flesh, tearing him to shreds. He could feel them cutting into his left lung and immediately lost his ability to breath. By the time his body crumpled to the stairs and rolled to the ground at the side of the steps he was already gone. The rabbit watched all of this from the small hole beneath the fence that he would call home for the rest of his tiny, rabbit, life. Asshat lost his life in human form after spending sixteen years destroying the reputation for all werewolves. Fucking asshole.
Then theres my story... I was born at 2:13 am January 28th 1982 at a small hospital in a subburb of Ontario, Canada. My mother was 32 and my father was 35. We were your typical Canadian family. I grew up just like every other kid. My parents taught me about the birds and the bees, finances, and what we were and how to handle my time of the month. They taught me how to humanely pick my targets from the age of 4. Aside from that one night a month, we were pretty normal, boring even. I was part of a pack of 12, we had monthly meals and bi-monthly meetings to keep in touch. Unlike normal wolf packs we had to live as far apart as possible otherwise our hunts would be to obvious.
Every month, one member of the pack would go hunting. They would bring back our meal and we would feast together. Its nothing like you see it in the movies, we research our meals, we make the kill fast and painless, and we eat as a family. I know its hard to belive how utterly normal and mundane all of this is after years of being mind melded into believing we are horrible creatures.
I went to school, and college in Canada. I lost both of my parents about three years ago just before I graduated. We dont have the greatest life expectancy, thats one place where you normal humans have an advantage. Most of us normally only live 45 to 50 years. Its one of the side effects of canine blood. After my parents passed, I wanted to get out of Canada. I stuck around until I graduated and started the job hunt.
I found an amazing opportunity here in Arizona, said goodbye to my pack, it was the hardest day of my life, including losing my parents. We had a beautiful going away party with a delicious middle aged french gentleman for dinner. It was so bittersweet. I will always be connected to that group, they will always be my family, but I had to leave. The next day, I was on my way to Arizona.
That brings us to today, I am sitting here at my desk writing this account to hopefully clear some things up. We have always been a secretive people, and really for no logical reason short of not wanting to be experimented on. Im not going to out us right now, my fellow wolves wouldnt take well to that. But I very seriously think we should come out to the world and make it clear that we are not what you think we are. Instead, I am writing this to help ease my own mind and maybe, if we do come out some day, I can send this on to a local news paper so humans can feel a little more at ease about us.
Earlier today I was sitting here scrolling through news articles on the internet and guess what I saw! An article that read "The Beast of Pheonix Strikes Again!". As soon as I saw that, I knew it, I could feel it in my heart. There was a sense of excitement because of the potential that there could be one of me here, and fear that this was just a bullshit serial killer pretending to be one of us. I clicked.
The article went on to describe in detail a fourth attack on a jogger in the area. All of the accounts had been the same, something in the woods/bushes/alley had growled as they ran by. When they stopped to peak, it lunged at them. It was covered in a dark brown fur, it growled and snarled. All four of them had been able to fight it off and get away.
As I read these acounts my heart sank, its a mooner, I though to myself. Mooner is what me and my friends called wolves like asshat when we were growing up. The more I read the more I was sure. Some how out here in Pheonix, where I had yet to find another wolf at all, one of the rarest creatures to ever exist was stalking the night. Im going to have to do something, I need to find this guy and try to get through to him before he besmudges our reputation any more. At this rate we are never going to get to come out of the closet. Im going Mooner hunting.
To be continued...
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