It Was A Reality

     She had sent the servants to bed, and now, all she could wonder about was whether or not her son would come home in one piece. He had journeyed to make a call in at the tailor's, just before sundown. A trip that should have taken only about fifteen minutes.

     It had been four hours.

     Outside the house, all she could hear now were low moans of the unlucky, and the occasional scratch on the door. She was terrified. But not of them. For her son.

     She had had enough. Grabbing a sword from above the fire in the dining room, she headed straight out into Neovia after dark, armed only with an ornamental sword, in which she had no idea how to use. It was not sharpened, nor was it even dangerous.

     Her hat was firmly now on her head, but it did nothing for the biting cold, and heavy fog. It was pitch black, and she could barely see anything. Wishing she’d brought a light (and then deciding perhaps it was for the best, as she drew less attention to herself) she made her cautious progress to Prigpants and Swolthy, banging on the door. The door was slowly opened, and there she found that he had left with an envoy to Meridell. The message obviously had not reached her, and he had obviously planned this for months.

     No wonder he hadn’t told her. He knew she’d never have agreed. He was much too young. But the sting of being shunned by her own son still stung.

     Slightly more relieved, though more upset than ever, Mieuxi headed home. As she entered the mansion again, locking the door, she didn't realize that the real danger was inside the house.

     She headed back upstairs, where her she should have been asleep. She entered the room, quietly clicking the door closed. The lamp burned down slowly, sending a small amount of warm light flickering across the ornate room. A low growl emanated from within the room, and she turned on her heel, face to face with a monster resembling her eldest son. Her vocal chords unable to work, and herself unable to move, she couldn't escape her lycanthrope son. He bit her arm, and she then let out a short shriek. Something within his face stirred, and he must have realized this was his mother.

     He whimpered, sitting in the corner of the room. But it was too late, the damage had been done. Slowly, Mieuxi found herself trembling, but not of her own accord; then she began to shudder so violently, her head spinning so much that she couldn’t tell which way was up.

     Her limps grew hairier and hairier, elongating and becoming more wiry, and she grew larger, ripping her dress. Her nails grew out of control, and she lost all self-control, grasping her head with her overly large paws. She felt stronger than she had ever felt before. Yet she felt like she could not control her own body, and this terrified her.

     The entire night passed as a blur. Where she went, and what she did, she couldn’t have said. But the scary reality was, this was no dream. It was reality. And one of the only things she could remember was an eerie, penetrating howl. It resonated throughout her mind, ringing and echoing through the dark confines.

     Green eyes. Lots of green eyes, piercing the dark night, floating as if of their own accord. These too she could remember, and she tried to pull her own body back to reality. But it wasn’t listening to the refined Lady Mieuxi; no, it was responding only to the dark truth of what she now was. A monster. A Werelupe.

     There was the piercing howl again; then a feeling of rushed elation as she sped through the woods. Where was she? Her senses were acute, but they were not her own. But who was controlling her now? Was there a second entity, another being within herself now?

     That morning, she awoke on her bed. Her clothes were ruined, and the curtains around the bed, as well as the wallpaper, were ripped up. Her son was nowhere to be found, and her perfectly manicured nails were ruined beyond recognition. Her recently cut hair was now shaggy, and her teeth felt sharper, though only by a margin.

     Foggy memories collided with her mind; of green, and wind, and echoed sound. But she couldn’t pinpoint last night’s actions. She remembered searching for her son, and then returning home. But everything after that...

     No, no. Wait. There was more.

     She had been bitten. Was she lycanthropic?

     Observing the damage done, she uttered a small cry of terror. Surely... Surely, not her. But if it was...?

     Or perhaps it hadn’t been her. If she told no one. If she got rid of all evidence. If she hid everything. Perhaps it had just been a bad dream.

     Her ripped clothes and curtains were removed; as for the wallpaper, she explained that she had hated it anyway. The servants chortled, and she grinned a weak, toothy grin. Perhaps this could be set into motion. Perhaps no one needed to know.

     But the next full moon came, and the sound of ripping fabric filled her ears. Servants dropped plates in horror, and Mieuxi screamed a shrill scream, which turned into a deep snarl. Her nails were long again, and she dropped to all fours. A Kacheek sped from the room, screaming with terror as Mieuxi shattered through a window.

     She landed in the street, and her neighbours peered through curtains. Upon observing her appearance, they quickly shut the curtains, and the metallic thunk of locks could be heard for a large radius.

     But nothing could stop her, and she reveled in the feeling of no restrictions. She felt cobbled stone beneath her paws, which then became loam as she found the forest. A monster? No, she’d left Neovia now. She wasn’t a monster.

     She was free. She was running as fast as possible in her heightened physical state; the cries and calls of her brethren echoed throughout the woods. She responded happily, throwing her furry head back as she let loose a guttural bark.

     This felt so much more natural, and Mieuxi realized she wasn’t disembodied; everything about this being was one. She was the Werelupe, and the Werelupe was her. It was a wonderful feeling, one so natural and right.

     She never returned to Neovia after that night. She awoke the next morning, surrounded by a multitude of Lupes. But she realized none had changed back to their regular forms. And neither had she.

     It had been her acceptance of who she was that had changed her, but not necessarily for the bad.

The End