Les Grands Chantiers (Wattys 2022)

11. Full Moon

In most parts of the world, the most hated day is usually the humble Monday. This is not so on the fair isle of New Carinthia, where this rather ignoble accolade was presently occupied by the full moon. It is a truth universally acknowledged among teachers, employers, and the upper management of virtually every sector of New Carinthian society that no work will ever be done on a full moon. Everybody will be at their desks, staring intently at their devices, but nothing of value will be achieved. Everyone's mind is already laser focused on the night ahead, the shifting, the things etc, etc, etc...

It was no different at the Corviston Intelligent Neighbourhood Co-Operative. It seemed that half of the workforce had already changed into athleisure, ready to head for the proverbial hills the moment the clock hit five o'clock. Nobody seemed even interested in the usual topics of discussion. They went through the motions, but not with much enthusiasm. 

As did Brendan, who was counting down the minutes as well, looking out the window. The anemic sun struggling to force its rays through the mid-afternoon haze only compounded the feeling of drowsiness. 

 He was not intending on joining in the after-work drinks, which would be held 10 floors underneath in a bar inside Briarleaf Plaza that overlooked the railway lines, but he didn't intend on being caught in the mad rush out of the city either. He had a bit of time to kill before he found Adrian and attended the damn thing. Maybe he would just walk around the old town soaking in the sights, of which there were always plenty of. He had done this many a time after school. Aimlessly wandering around with no plan in mind. For a time in his youth it had been the only thing he had wanted to do. That was also the time when things were at their most stressful. 

Brendan watched the minute hand of the clock slowly tick up towards the 12. He was thinking of the night ahead. It was getting close to the winter solstice, so it would literally be the longest full moon of the year. Brendan couldn't really remember the last full moon he had shifted, mainly because people rarely remembered what happened while they were in wolf form; the hours preceding were generally also hard to recall, mainly because they were usually drunk. The people who could were few and far between, and had been widely studied, but no conclusive reason had been given to why this was. Most people did have memories of the memories, and if they were vigilant they could pinpoint the exact moment when their memories of their time evaporated as they shifted back, as the tantalising feeling of lost memories flooded their conscious system.

 He had already shifted on the previous full moon, anyway. A rather boring romp in his own backyard, but it had fulfilled its purpose nonetheless. This one he could wait out. 

Once upon a time, werewolves had no safe way to prevent their urges, short of magic. The many who were suspicious of wizardry simply had no choice but to put everything down every full moon and heed nature's call, or risk life and limb downing a potentially deadly concoction of wolfsbane. The over-the-counter pill had only been patented and put on the market sixty years ago, but now there were patches, nasal sprays, enemas, vape pods and even gummy candies. 

Brendan, on the other hand, intended on used an easy spell, one of the first he had learnt at Carleton. That was still the most popular use of magic. Helping werewolves avoid the pesky ritual of reverting to wolf form for one night each month. Especially now that people wanted a 'natural' solution to the often rather inconvenient chemical sources of relief, the side effects of which were still coming out. Magic had its own drawbacks, but it was still appealing to the type of people who tied themselves into knots over the chemicals in their food. 

Then there were the many people chose not to for health reasons, or to take advantage of the lucrative penalty rates on full moon. While he had been at uni a lot of his classmates had forgone shifting for extended periods of time to pick up casual shifts. In his days as a chosen one Brendan had spent many full moons under a spell, working. Full moon was no time to stop. While the rest of his year level went on their camp, he would remain on the grounds, slaving away. He thought about the times he had lied to his parents about his experiences at camp. Thankfully they were more interested in how his grades were going.