Howling at the Moon - [A Werewolf Adventure]

From Birthday Party to Funeral (Auron)

A thunderous boom trembled the ground, rumbling the solid earth below. The crowd never expected a firework to leave such a great impression on the sky. Igniting and popping in the air, more fireworks expanded lights of varying color in different directions. Occasionally the crowd would "Oooh," and every so often they would "Ahhh." Every here and there they would applaud and yell to the navy burned sky. Whatever clouds that were out looked like gray scars torn in the heavens.

The party was taking place in a wide field with low cut grass. Because of that, some of the construction workers in the town had built a two foot stage with metal beams towering over it and studio lights hung from the top and flashed down. Tables with cloth were spread widely in an "O" formation with four or five chairs to each of them and a candle table top. In the middle of the tables was a dance floor created by tiles put together from the appliance store in town.

A lady moved out of the crowd and found herself climbing up the stairs and to the front of the stage. "An awesome display of fireworks right? Wooooo!" She had a microphone in her right hand a small, plastic cup of clear liquid in the other. Six bucks says it wasn't water.

I sniffed the air in the direction of the silver haired lady. My nose hair felt as if they were about ready to combust. Everclear-- Ninety-five percent of the devil's faucet water. Sometimes, having this strong of a nose meant you got to smell the strong liquor from several meters as if your face was only inches away.

The woman continued her speech. "We are all gathered here under the graceful stars of the night to celebrate the boy whom we all know and love. At times he can be a handful," and when she said that, someone had the audacity to chime in and say, "Hell yeah, he can!"

The lady went on about her business. Her straight silver hair, soft face, and calm eyes were the highlights of her entire body. She didn't lack in anything else but everyone in town truly admired her facial features. "But all in all, he's a great kid and an even better son. Auron, get up here and show that beautiful face your father and I created." The crowd wolf whistled and howled. I found that highly ironic giving our, uh, phyisical abilities.

I climbed on top of the stage, my face looking as if someone faintly spray painted it pink. I grinned a cheesy and toothy smile. These teeth could snap an ulna and radius like a pair of Pringle's chips.

As I made my way toward the front of the stage, more fireworks erupted from behind the stage.The crowd applauded once again as I made the area behind my mother my destination. I wasn't big on people, let alone crowds. I tend to stay inside if there is no need for me to be elsewhere unless I'm with the other three.

"Auron here has officially turned seventeen years of age on  this night and we have thrown this shin-dig in celebration of his nearly-becoming-of-age." She looked up and smiled at me. My mom, or Lenora as the town knew her, put her petite hands on my head and blinked a couple times, holding back tears.

"My baby boy is getting to be so big now. How long ago was it that your beloved father and I were holding you and blowing mouth farts on your stomach and tickling your tiny toes?" I found  the wood we were standing on suddenly entertaining and she sniffed. It sounded repulsive through the mic.

If that didn't break the mood, my mom was just about to continue when the same guy who called me a handful yelled out. "Wait! This is important." Everyone craned their heads to the back, searching for the ignorant idiot who kept interrupting. It was almost like you were in a movie theatre and someone whipped out their phone with the brightness at maximum, seemingly rivaling the sun in brightness in the darkness and everyone glaring at that individual.

Fred was his name I believe. Fred dotted his eyes around to see everyone impatiently staring at his ginger bearded face. No one should've really been surprised. I mean, he does this at every social gathering among our small town. At weddings, he feels the need to inform the groom that his wife is looking "banging in that outfit, bro." A couple months ago at a funeral when Fred went up to pay his respects, he mumbled "I should've asked you if I could date your sister," and the lady behind us gasped and whispered, "I'm gonna gut him. I'm gonna gut him with a butterknife."