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On Halloween, things always go bump in the night in the lonely pages of Spookerella. Whilst the dead wander the earth, haunting those still among the living, Spookerella waits for a fool...
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Everything became still as my partner for the night – a newbie of night hunting – rose upon their bare feet, the claws upon them long and curled. His teeth were bared as his face morphed into a snout and a long, dark fur coat appeared upon them. He grew taller in size as his clothes for the night ripped to reveal one of the largest werewolves I had ever seen.
They were no longer human.
In those pale orange eyes was no look of a human, but animalistic. He could no longer differentiate between good or bad – for all I know. Instead, the animal would take over. How many people have died because of him? How many families suffered?
To think that he fooled our entire precinct. This wouldn't look good on the records. It wouldn't look good on the records if I let him go.
In many ways, I pitied the werewolf because they had little control over what they did or what happened. Goodness knows if they even remember it in the morning.
Yet, he knew. He had been skittish all night about it, turning his head and rubbing his arms. He had urged to go back home, that our work was done, but I pressed on. Of course, I knew he was hiding something. I just didn't know it would be this big!
Now, I was faced with a difficult decision. To kill or to let him roam free?
If I kill him, there will be questions. I could lie, but the boss knows when I'm lying. To kill him is possibly the best option since if I let him roam free then he may strike again and kill someone. Werewolves are known for being unpredictable. To kill him it is, then!
I make my way backwards, away from him, so that I can point my crossbow at his chest where the heart dwells, beating against the shell he is trapped in.
He doesn't notice my being there. Instead he is sniffing around, searching for something. Maybe food.
I let the trigger go on my crossbow, the arrow landing straight into the flesh of the creature. Enough to damage him, but not to kill.
As he howled into the night in pain, I raced with my long sword in hand towards him. I leaped into the air and cut down its stomach, blood gushing out as it screamed again. I didn't notice how much blood had come from it. I was just glad not a speck had gone on me as the beast crumpled to the ground in front of me.
I looked at it, ready to cut off its head, but those eyes held me in place. They were returning to the natural golden brown that he had before he turned into this. I thought for a moment about my choice, before – with a very heavy heart – I pressed my sword against its flesh, its breathing rapid.
