human // teen wolf

47. memories

Riley worked quickly to find the box before she came home; she really just wanted to know what was inside. Why did it have to be a secret? Why couldn't she just tell Riley what was in there so she wouldn't be so curious about it? But that didn't matter, the damage was done and Riley did not want to rest until she found out what was inside.

While her dad spent some time watching TV downstairs, Riley searched every room upstairs and was so excited when she finally found the box in the linen closet at the end of hall underneath all of the sheets on the top shelf.

She ran back to her room, prayed that it was the right key and lock (to be honest, what else would that key unlock?) and sat on her bed. The moment of truth was there and she couldn't wait. She jammed the key inside the lock, turned it one way and then the other until it went all around. Riley heard the click and squealed in excitement as she took the key out. She slowly opened up the box and was met with pieces of old paper and old photographs that were a little burned on the sides. At the bottom of all the pictures, there was a very old, small leather-bound journal that was filled to the brim with pages full of writing. She took out the photographs, which were faced down, and turned them over, immediately having a feeling of nostalgia and recognition overwhelm her as she spotted a little girl sitting with what looked like her grandfather in a family portrait. She wore a long light fluffy dress with ruffles on the skirt and neck with leather boots on her feet. She wore a large bonnet on her head and her hair was styled in perfect little curls. The grandfather had a suit and hat on, with his moustache combed and the ends curled up.

Riley had a sudden flashback and she saw a little girl running in the woods with the sound of werewolf howls in the background. She recognised the girl as the same one in the photo. She was running not in fear, but in playfulness. She was not scared of the sounds of the wolf. The memory was broken up and faded, so Riley could not see much. The girl ran into a man that was younger than the grandfather; probably her father. He picked her up and started to run in the same direction that she was running in. She was protesting and wanted to keep playing with the dog, but he was not listening. A second man appeared with a bow and arrow behind them as the little girl watched him shoot the wolf that was coming towards him. Riley felt a pang of sadness in her heart, but it soon dissolved as she was brought back to reality. She looked at the picture again, feeling a sad emotion towards it. That was weird.

She picked up a folded piece of paper, careful not to rip the delicate material, and squinted at the slanted, unkempt writing that looked like it was written by a child.

'18th June, 1864

daddy got rid of my dog and said i could no longer play with him. i am upset now because he said that he was a bad dog. i do not believe that he was.'

i need to go now. goodbye!

- Emma Beacon.'

Riley assumed that it was tied to the memory she saw in the photograph, and paired them together. She picked up another photo, which showcased a much older woman standing next to a seated man. He held an infant with dress clothes on and two boys were standing in front of the woman, both dressed smartly.

Riley was washed over with another memory, a much stronger one than the last. She felt like she was almost there with them. The woman was outside in the dark, in front of a fire that was surrounded by a series of small cabins. They seemed to be out in the woods. Riley was standing behind her, so she could not see what was happening. When Riley looked around, she saw that some of her surroundings were completely blank; like holes in a painting. She walked around the woman who was crouching over something. She heard her weeping. She saw what was in her hands and widened her eyes as she realized it was a child. It looked like one of the little boys in the photograph. Others sounds around her were muffled, and Riley could hear distant voices shouting and heavy footsteps. The woman was crying over her little boy, who looked dead. He had blood staining his white shirt that looked like it was almost ripped from his body. One of his polished shoes were taken off and his toes were a little blue from the cold and was dirty and bloody. His face was also dirty and had some dried blood on it as well. The woman calmed down a little bit and stared into the fire, before slowly looking up at Riley. She stared back, wondering if she could actually see her. She was about to say something until a man that came walking from behind her, walked right through her. It was as if Riley was not there. Well, obviously, she realized, since she was in a memory. They exchanged words, but it was hard to hear. The woman was not paying attention to the man as much as she was to her little boy. They suddenly started to yell at each other and the woman got up, carefully picking up her child as she did. The words of what she was saying had become more clear as she focused her energy on the man in front of her.

"... Your fault! Yours! You did this, you told the boys not to worry! Now my baby is dead and it is because of you!" She screamed, and the man stood there emotionless. Riley walked over to them so she could see his face, but before she could, everything went dark and she felt a burst of air push her over as she fell onto the ground. She suddenly bolted up from her bed and gasped for breath, feeling like she hadn't breathed in quite a long time. That was a scary memory.

She put the image aside before looking at it again, and wondered what happened to the other children. She moved onto the journal and opened it at the last page.

'1st January, 1893

we hunt with no mercy for the tainted blood.'

A series of flashbacks bolted across her vision. She saw blood spill, arrows going into fur and people with glowing eyes and a flash of a woman's face painted with war colours and holding knives in her hands came across Riley's observation and she looked angry and determined. Blood was spattered across her face and her eyes were alive with such power and ruthlessness. She had no mercy for the werewolves she and her group of hunters were killing.