The Last Werewolf.

Chapter One: Death.

(Based on the album by The Real Tuesday Weld)

"You killed her. Didn't you?"
"...Yes." Replied the man hesitantly.
"Because you loved her." The woman scoffed.
"Yes"
"It was good."
"..."
Silence fell over them for a while before the mans reply came. "Yes." He replied quietly. Shamefully.
"Maybe you'll kill me.." The man shot his head up, staring at the woman in confusion as she sighed exasperatedly. Her head fell into her hands as she laughed bitterly before looking up to look the man dead in the eyes. "Maybe..." Hesitation. "Maybe... That's what I was hoping for."
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"I killed my first victim on the 14th oh August, 1842. I was 34 years old. Her name was Charlotte, and I was hopelessly in love with her.
I always had... issues... as a child. I was fascinated by death.
Coming from a long ancestral line of werewolves naturally my primal instincts were hunt and feed. However the last werewolf in my family was from around three generations before mine, so my parents found the situation intriguing and odd when I would kill and feed on wild animals.
"I loved to see the struggle, and to watch the life drain from their beady eyes. I was enthralled with the chase, the hunt, and the pleasure it gave my simple mind to catch my prey.
"However as the years ran on, I grew out of the habit, but no other hobby ever gave me the same amount of... Satisfaction."
The man paused, looking over to the woman who was sat on the armchair opposite to him.
He noted her delicate hands, placed neatly on her lap, her fingers occasionally fiddling with the silky fabric of her red coloured night gown.
Her eyebrows were knitted together as she frowned, nibbling on her lip nervously.
The man sighed and continued his story.
"As I grew older I met Charlotte. Oh she was a dear, sweet girl. We met at a dance that a close family friend, a vampire, was holding in Oxford.
"She was gorgeous. Long, golden locks, fair skin, stunning in red..." The man trailed off as he reminisced, licking his slightly chapped lips. A cough from the unimpressed woman in red in front of him soon brought him back to reality.
"Ah um yes... sorry... Naturally I asked her to dance as soon as possible, although she seemed uninterested she agreed to do so and I couldn't have been happier. We danced to a beautiful piano number called 'The Lupine Waltz'...."
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Hello all~
Sorry that this is short/bad but this is only the beginning~
This story is based extremely heavily on one of my favourite albums, 'The Last Werewolf' by The Real Tuesday Weld, however you don't need to have listened to it to understand the story. I will be using lotsa quotes m'kay
OK SO I DO NOT OWN THE REAL TUESDAY WELD IN ANYWAY NOR AM I PERSONALLY AFFILIATED WITH THEM
I do own my writing though so yeah ;3;
Please comment feedback as it will be greatly appreciated.

💗🌜Crystal🌛💗