The Werewolf Chronicles

Chapter One: Little Shop Of Wonders.

Ariana placed the carton of eggs at the top of the overflowing plastic bag and handed it to the elderly customer, receiving a twenty-dollar bill from a shaking wrinkled hand.

"Let me just get you your change," Ariana mumbled opening the cash register exchanging the note for ten cent. The customer held up a hand and pursed their lips.

"I don't need little coins jingling in my purse, keep the change, dear, think of it as a bonus." The old woman retorted looping her hand between the plastic handles. She smoothened down her lavender cardigan and pushed up her rimmed glasses which squashed up against her beady eyes. Ariana stifled her laugh and watched as the old woman shuffled out of the shop's automatic door, muttering something so quiet she could not quite catch. Glancing around the store to see if there were any other customers in sight, Ariana debated her life decisions for applying for a cashier job. Of course it wasn't her career for life, she was still in high school, but someone had to pay for her college tuition. She was not going to rely on her family's money for everything, independence was Ariana's strong suit. The store was nice, anyway, she liked her co-workers and her boss, and didn't mind scanning chocolate bars for three hours each night. The store was small enough too, with only seven aisles for consumers to browse upon. It was money either way, like it or not.

Ariana and her co-worker Michael were the only ones on shift and as she looked up from her till she caught sight of him rearranging the cereal display.

"You know they're going to be moved again tomorrow morning when Patricia comes in," Ariana remarked tapping her fingers against the register. Michael looked up at her and smiled showing his set of white teeth.

"Thought that counts," He chuckled before resuming back to his work.

Michael was a curiosity to Ariana. He wasn't much older than Ariana, yet he had the face of a wise old man. His skin was sallow and his hands were those of someone who worked hard, creases lining up and down each palm. His hair was almost gone, only stringy cords of black remained and they were carelessly flaunting about his head. She pondered whether to ask how old he was, but her co-worker, Patricia, advised her not to bark down that street and that he was in his twenties. It was hard to believe but Ariana relied on the fact that some people did not age well, and perhaps Michael was in that category.

"Ariana do you mind sweeping up aisle four?" Michael asked rubbing his head while holding a box of Raisin Bran in his other hand.

Rolling her eyes, Ariana unwillingly obliged.

Ariana squirmed out of her chair and walked slowly to the backroom where all of the cleaning supplies were upheld. Of course Ariana had to clean up, it was never Michael. It was so quiet in the shop, that from her distance she could still hear Michael whispering to himself and the boxes of cereal thumping against each other. She continued her short trek through aisle four where she soon noticed the problem. Washing up liquid was swirling on the ground spreading like a forest fire.

"Shit." Ariana moaned realising she would, actually, have to clean it up. Why would someone be such a nuisance and make Ariana's life much more difficult. It was probably some idiotic punk who was dared to come in here and mess up the place. Or else it was the old woman but she didn't seem like the type. Plus Ariana would have heard her, and the pool of Fairy liquid seemed to have been there a while. Ariana carefully hopped over it and made her way to the storage room dry. She was glad the shop was empty, except for Michael, she hated cleaning up a mess whilst customers glared at her thinking 'Oh my, what a disgraceful store.'

Little did Ariana know while she was searching for a mop, the automatic doors groaned open and a tall dark figure glided in.

The figure walked noisily, catching the attention of Michael who was wiping sweat from his beetroot coloured face.