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I wake as if it's an emergency, as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing. My heart beats fast and there is a buzzing in my brain and together they are as panic with jump-leads. Only now my brain is as a flat battery, the exertions of the night being a marathon of erratic problem-solving. However, the tropical pain that stings my head like a thousand bees isn't the only thing aching. I laid on the ground, my face closed in a grimace, and my skin pale and clammy. I could feel the pain but my body wouldn't move, I felt like I was being held down by an intense force. It doesn't help when I don't know where I am, it's dark and all I can hear is the little scratches of rats passing by—it was silent for a while. Every few minutes I would hear a scream, not like one of those guys in some Tarantino movie being tortured, but worse. It had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. Then it would go quiet, and all I could hear was panting across a closed door. My ears felt stuffed with screams and the little feet passing by, it was almost suffocating. I didn't know where I was or who took me here. Heck, I don't even know what time it was or how long I've been here. All I know is I'm tired of waiting on this broken bug covered floor.

I jolted my head up, my chest tightened. The old door crept open and three men walked in. I was flabbergasted for a moment when I saw their bodies. Their muscles were practically bulging out their shirts, it was frightening. A shiver ran down my spine, like a bolt of electricity. Thin lips curved into a sly smirk and equally thin eyes crinkled at the edges. The pupils of the three strange men constricted and widened to the extent that while sclera surrounded the brown irises that seemed to shine gold in the dark. My thought was interrupted only to see one of the wolf like men tilting his head back and cackling with brutal, malicious laughter -the laughter of a madman. My brain stutters for a moment and my eyes take in more light than I expected, every part of me goes on pause while my thoughts catch up. 

Holy shit.

These three men were not human, each had teeth aligned sharper than an edge of a broken piece of glass. Fur practically sprouted from their arms and their eyes seemed to become sharper the more I stare. What were they? My thoughts searched for an answer. Werewolves? It can't be, werewolves are not some kind of hybrid -they are different. I lock eyes with the middle one, his hair a slightly darker blonde. I speak with my voice at the back of my throat. "where am I?"

The blonde responded.

"The child looks deep inside the forest, she decides to walk in. She soon encounters two young boys -unfortunately she doesn't recognize either of them. The little one agonizes at the clueless stare the little girl gave him. Soon an old lady settles in with the talk, she decides to erase all of the precious boy's memories, including his dear innocent friends. What none of them know is the lumberjack is watching them...behind the lush bushes and trees, she watches them with her icy eyes. She watches the little red riding hood and the big bad wolf...The lumberjack grits her canine teeth and swears upon the zeros... she will obtain her big bad wolf"

➳The Wolf Hour ¦ jjk  #wattys2018Where stories live. Discover now