When the night falls into silence and the darkness swallows up the light, when the dark clouds covers the wild blue yonder and the twinkling stars freckles the night sky, when the sun falls down on the West and the moon rises up on the East; that’s when I cry her name beneath the shadows of the silver moon and on top of the hills.
The moon is a silvery-white orb hanging on the night sky. Its light shines upon the darkest of places whenever the sun falls down. I gasp. It’s night again. And it’s full moon.
I close the window of my room after contemplating the beauty of the night. Taking off my boxer shorts, the only clothes I’m wearing, I face the unpolished mirror attached at the back of my bedroom door. I watch myself as my face begins to form a shape like that of a dog. Hairs are growing all over my body. Furs. More like furs. I can feel my brittle bones breaking as I see my knees and arms twist in different directions. I feel no pain anymore. I’ve been experiencing this for years, every night, whenever it’s full moon.
Physical pains I don’t bother to feel. What bothers me most is the pang I feel inside my chest whenever I see myself transforming into some kind of monster.
I stare at myself in the mirror. Pointed ears, red eyes with piercing stares, sharp pointed teeth, fangs, plain white furs, and four legs with big paws—a werewolf.
Whenever I’m in this form, all my senses are heightened. I can hear, feel, and smell ten times as much as I can when I’m in human form. So are my emotions.
Whenever I’m in this form, I can’t feel anything besides hunger for meat. But right now, I feel so enraged seeing the monster in the mirror. It’s not me. It is far from the man that I am.
Furious, I run across the room and break out of the window. I hear the sound of the breaking glass but I am not in pain for hitting it with my head. I run to the dark forest not so far behind my house and slow down when I see a silhouette of a man sitting under one of the big trees.
What is he doing there in the middle of the night? I ask myself.
I hear him weep, so, I come closer without him noticing me. My eyes widen as I see him staring madly at the gun he’s holding. I freak out. It’s not just a gun. It’s a gun designed for silver bullets—for killing a werewolf.
I see his eyes gleam as the moonlight strikes his face. He really is weeping.
I don’t know why this man caught my attention. Normally, whenever I see a man alone in the middle of the forest when I’m in this form, all I do is bite him on his leg and feast at his meat. It’s in our nature. We do it not because we want it but because we need it as vampires need blood. The feeling of urgency to hunt, kill, and feed on human meat is beyond our control. And that’s why I really don’t understand why I am not having this urge to attack the weeping man.
“Mandy,” the man mutters, his voice is shaking.
Mandy?
And right at that very moment, after hearing that name, my heart stomps and a flashback of happy memories happen.
***
It was one full moon in December at dawn. I was done feeding myself, so I shifted again into human form. I was running across the field to get into my town when I suddenly bumped into something. The impact was strong, so I fell off the snowy field. I looked up to see what it was that dared to bump me. But I was dumbfounded at the sight of it. It was a girl. Waist-length red hair, tantalizing eyes, pointed chin, pale-skinned. Our eyes met for a while. Then she was the one who cut the stare.
“Sorry,” she said in a raspy voice. Her eyes wandered awkwardly down my body and that was when I realized that I was wearing nothing.
“Oh!” I exclaimed. I stood up from lying down the snowy field and tried to cover my body with my hands.
