Spark

Shadowing of the Moon

A tall and thin figure stood dark and hidden over by the great wooden doors outside the

pigeon- gray castle. Heaving his weight against the heavyset doors, he narrowly stepped into the

cavernous hall. He walked up the extravagant wooden staircase, his footsteps echoing with a

hollow thrum. Going to a hidden room to the left of the staircase filled with thick black candles,

he locked the door and threw the key into a small crevice before he chained himself to

cumbersome iron chains located on the thick gray stone wall. The chains were located there due

to the fact that he broke the last ones. They had been broken on a similar twilight, with a blue

moon on the horizon, which was currently streaked in vibrant shades of flaming red, orange ad a

deep morose violet. "Please," he murmured, "Let no blood spill on this night."

Slowly, as the luminescent blue moon arose into the sky, his form started to shimmer. He

threw his head back and growled his eyes wide and shining gold, his back arched in extreme

pain, and his mouth wide and gasping from the transformation. Then through the shimmer you

could see his form start to shift and deform becoming strong and hulking instead of his usual

lithe and thin form. His form was furry and resembled a creature of mythical legends. But, this

creature was no myth, for tonight he would escape this self- induced imprisonment and he would

force his anger on the town that shuddered in fear as an ear- piercing howl ripped through the

mountainside.

Wrenching his arms against the chains he snapped them and stood in the moonlight. His

fur blue- black, but this moonlight was different and unreal because of ancient incantations

placed under the cover of night by the creator of this enigmatic werewolf, so the moonlight

streaked his pelt with silver. His golden eyes shone with a ferocious intensity only outdone by

the sun.

With practiced ease, he jumped out of the castle window, landing on the roof nearby.

However, as he landed, he slipped and fell, howling as he went down. He landed with a crash

and slowly slipped into unconsciousness. At this point, the villagers were all in their homes

praying that whatever unknown danger the sensed would go away.

As they did this, there was a girl of sixteen hiding in a tree staring at the village with

unmatched hatred. They had abandoned her after they discovered her with two bite marks on the

crook of her neck. Hearing the skin- crawling howl, she stalked like a shadow through the trees

to the source of the cry. Staring through the shadows, she saw a form lying on the ground.

Sprinting across the grass, she examined the furry werewolf. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, she

prodded him with her foot. Her eyes snapped open and he jumped up, his mouth at her throat.

Whispering softly to him, she said, "Who are you?"