Day 1

Today is the day after the horrible events that hit our town. The media didn’t take long before it got to the scene, and the police department couldn’t hold all of them back. Because we live in a small town, the news really comes and goes, very quickly. But this was the biggest story of the month. Last month, something similar just flew by, like we didn’t care that someone was murdered.

This time, it was a couple who, for what the police department knew, had no enemies and nothing bad to be said about them.

There is only something really wrong with everything. Some of the evidence that I’ve been going over myself, apart from my dad--the Sheriff. The marks all over their bodies, the claw marks, bite marks. There was no doubt it was an animal. Like a dog with rabies or something.

One other detail confuses me, worries me to the point where all I want to do is break down and cry.

I think I did it.

Day 2

Yesterday was rough. Rougher than most days. The town is still in over their heads with finding this animal who killed the couple, and I don’t think they’ll ever find it--or me. In my last entry, I told you, Journal, that I think I did it. I’m keeping you around for the fact of recording my own investigation and my own notes in order to figure out if it was really me.

So the high school I go to has changed dramatically over the two days. Such a short time and things have done a complete flip.

Students are making a club, like an after school one. They’re calling it the “Hunter’s Club”, and the first meeting is this afternoon. One of the leaders, Brian, invited me to join. That is the other thing that has flipped. A few weeks ago, I went on a camping trip with my uncle. Weird things happened in the woods, and I can’t really explain too much as to what it was. I think I blacked out. All I know is that when I came back to school, everyone saw me. They actually saw me!

I wasn’t a ghost. No one ever paid a bit of attention to me. Everyone bumped into me in the hallway, refusing to move, or made me the last pick in physical education. To them, I was just another nerd, a geek, a nobody.

But that all changed. Now, even a few girls try talking to me now and then. Maybe everyone caught this air-borne disease while I was away. But I’m not complaining.

Anyway, Journal, my dad--Sheriff--left some of the boxes for the case home, and went to retrieve more from the office. This one is big, and getting bigger. They have already tried digging into the victim’s pasts and present lives, as well as examining the grounds where they were killed.

A piece of paper on the top of the file is filled with words, but the two that stick out to me the most is “dog print”, “massive size”, “abnormally quick”.

They could tell all that from that one print?

Day 3

The school is in a bigger uproar then before. A few members of the Hunter’s Club proposed an idea that no one saw coming. Brian wants to blame it on the Sheriff--Dad--and say that he can’t protect us anymore.

That’s not true.

No one in the entire damn town knows who did those murders, or what did them. It is hard to tell whether it is fear or stupidity driving some of the local residents.

Word has hit some of the towns not to far out, and they all say the same thing. “We’ve never dealt with something as gruesome as that.” Which is pretty bad since the first murder happened a month ago, but on a smaller scale as this one that just happened.

Journal, I’m going to lose it with the kids in school.

Journal, I thought I saw my eyes glowing yellow this morning. I quickly shook my head, and when I looked back I saw the normal brown eyes I usually look at in the mirror. It was a little scary. It was probably just being so tired.

The meeting at the Hunter’s Club had been a few crazy students who were divided as to what to do next. A bunch of them wanted to go out in the woods to hunt for the animal, saying that groups of five should be safe. Another handful wanted to just set up rules at night, to protect the residents.

One girl, who tried to become a leader--but remains an overall pain in the ass to me--looked straight at me and asked what I would do, what “daddy” would do. The urge to go after her was strong, but I remained seated and waited for the entire thing to be over.

There is another meeting in two days.

They told me I should definitely attend.

Day 6

Last night was Hell.

The Hunter’s Club held their second meeting. All they wanted to was go on and attack me about how my father was useless. Of course, I fought back. We had this big yelling match, all of them versus me. No one stood up on my side. I stood alone.

Adrenaline also took over me, causing me to throw a punch at the newest person. My fist missed the girl that I kind of wanted to hit for what she was saying, but it landed on Brian’s cheek. He fell to the ground and grabbed his cheek. They held him back but I know I could take him. He wants to meet with me in the next couple days and gives me these mean--almost evil--looks in the hallway.

Maybe he is the murderer.

Nothing is really coming along at the police station. Dad is beyond puzzled, looking over the evidence every night. He says that the people who came in to examine the bodies told him that it had animal marks, but that it would be stronger than a normal dog or coyote or wolf. All the canines were nearly ruled out. The only one that remained was Mr. Tamburelli’s pitbull. A few of his neighbors knows he trains the dog and Rocky is build like his name, a rock. The pitbull is a bit intimidating at first, sure, but I know Rocky. I told Dad that the dog wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they were attacking Mr. Tamburelli. That is what he got him for, protection. The old man can’t really defend himself all that much.

“I am not actually thinking it is Rocky, son,” he told me, “But I have no other options other than taking the dog for now to have someone examine him.”

He had too. That’s what I told myself. It was all to make the community happy and make it look like he might have a suspect, an innocent dog. Tamburelli’s neighbors only said his dog because of the breed, those close-minded idiots.

Day 10

I’m sorry for not keeping you updated, Journal. A lot has happened in the last four days, and I guess it would be hard since I was locked up for a day and then kept in the house for another. Not to mention I blacked out last night.

The biggest news is that someone was attacked two days ago, right after my fight with Brian. Oh, yeah, let me rewind to that part. Remember the last entry where I said he wanted to talk to me? He took his sweet time setting up a place because he wanted to prepare himself for the fight. I didn’t know it was a fight, but when I showed up, he was with this kid named Dan. They jumped me in the parking lot, throwing me into a car, and hammering down on me with their fists. It hurt, of course. The entire time, I thought he just wanted to talk, maybe apologize about talking badly about my father and I would apologize for hitting him at the second Hunter’s Club. It just never turned out to be like that.

I began to fight back, by putting my strength into getting up off the car. This is where I started to black out. There is no doubt that the punches caused the weird blacking out this time. When I stood up, the two boys flew backwards and off of me. They started to yell and say that my eyes were glowing yellow, and asking me: “What the hell!?” Ignoring them, I charged them. Dan got away from me, but Brian wasn’t as lucky. He told me I was really quick, and strong. Pretty sure six of my punches landed, the last one knocking him out, and one stray one made a bad dent into the car next to us. It was Sarah’s car, the girl I didn’t like.

After that, I ran. For miles. There was no where to really go, but I headed for the woods. They were the last place anyone would look for me and I knew that I’d be left alone even if someone did see me.

Hours later, when I went home, Dad looked really disappointed. Brian had cuts and bruises all over him. His parents pressured into ratting out who did it, me, obviously.

“Son, what did you do?”

“I thought Brian wanted to talk, but him and this kid, Dan, jumped me. I fought back!”

“I have to have you stay in a cell overnight before we sort this out. You know my hands are tied.”

So, that is how I got locked up. I saw the report of an attack. The person lived, but she is in critical condition. The woman was jogging through the park and took a dirt path that reaches around the woods to get home quicker. Her bravery was inspiring--especially after the attack--but she got torn up, badly.

Strangely, she was only two minutes from where I was curled up. I never heard her yelling for help.

Day 12

The woman who was attacked the other day was released from the hospital. She claimed to have felt better, but doctors were worried about her condition. All my dad was able to get out of her was the words “big” and “animal”.

He also found some hair in the woods, and because they don’t want to overlook anything, he sent it in to the lab to be examined.

Brian and I both returned to school at the same time. My dad, being the Sheriff, was able to talk to the principal and make a deal with having me come back much sooner than I was supposed too. Trust me, I told him, I don’t really want to go back. But there was no way that my suspension slash break would continue.

“If he doesn’t get into any fights or go after the other kid, sure, he can return,” the principal said. While my dad nodded, I looked out the window behind the older man’s head. Brian and Dan jumped me, why should I have to promise not to go after them again?

Journal, what do you think? Not that you can tell me, but I bet you’d think the same thing as me.

There isn’t much more to say. Not until more evidence pops up, but I thought I’d explain the hair and the end of my mini-vacation from school.

Day 22

I have no clue what is going on. The town is in a total riot, shouting outside our house saying that my father needs to step down from his position as Sheriff. People are throwing rocks, some coming through the window, and my dad is resisting the urge to grab one of his various guns to start retaliating. His level of patients and calm is disturbing to me. The entire situation, sounds and lights, rocks and all, is getting to me.

I looked in the mirror and had to take a few steps back. My eyes were yellow, glowing bright. There were sharper fingernails extending from my fingertips, sharper teeth in the front of my mouth. The image is more than frightening. It’s terrible, absolutely horrifying.

“What is happening to me, dad?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he told me.

I screamed back. “What do you mean!? Dad, it is out of the ordinary to have eyes this bright, claws, and oversized canine teeth.”

“Not for us,” I remember him saying. The way he said it was weird, unsettling. Every drop of liquid in my stomach flipped and danced about. Vomiting didn’t sound so bad. That is when he put a hand on my shoulder, when I curled up and nearly ruined the carpet. His eyes were different, too. They were a darker yellow, but all the same glowing on his face. “You know what we are.”

“I do?”

Only one word came to mind. It was something only possible in movies. There was no such thing as supernatural creatures like the word on my mind, but I spoke it slowly and took the entire thought in.

“Werewolf.”

The Sheriff only nodded.

It took forever--actually, only four more hours--before the crowd of people left. The results even came back to the police department during out standoff. The hair was fur, from a wolf. We didn’t have wolves around here. It only aided my dad in his explanation of our family history later on over a nice dinner meal of hamburgers, meat. They never tasted so good rare, almost not even cooked. Our eyes lit up as we had our feast.

I hope the beef was beef and not some human my dad had saved.

We were monsters, still, as far I was concerned. I never knew what was going to come out of his mouth next.

Day 30 -- Full Moon

Tonight is the full moon.

Words can’t--won’t--describe the fear--no, terror--I feel.

Dad says we’re going hunting, now that I have come of age and into my true nature. I’ve caught him with his eyes yellow, his claws extended, and his teeth baring as he walked around the house. Each time, he gave me a disapproving look as my eyes shot to the floor, anywhere but on him. He says this is a gift. For us to be something more than just human is a miracle, something we shouldn’t take lightly.

I still say we’re monsters.

Tonight is the night of ritual, he told me. Yesterday, he sat me down and explained everything. Every detail of the terrible things he has done in the past two months. The first murder of the “Full Moon Killer” was the first time he has killed in this town, but he confessed to killing tons more in other towns further away. “You don’t always hunt where you live. It gets dangerous.”

“How could you do it?”

“Easy. I transform, I allow the wolf to come out. The next step is stalking or preparing the kill, then strike.”

“You make it sound easy, almost normal.”

“It is normal,” he gave me one of those disappointed looks. Dad really expected me to be okay with this discovery, to adapt to the werewolf life, and accept things as they were. Nothing he said made it okay. My father punched the wall. “We’re going out tonight, and I’m not letting you get out of it.”

Time had gone by so quickly. I didn’t want to leave my house, but I didn’t want to stay in it either. The townspeople had set up a neighborhood watch, and with the recent absence from the Sheriff, they had whoever they wanted wherever they wanted. I only knew this because I could see most of the groups from my rooftop, as I spent the day sitting outside on the top of my house and soaking up the sunlight. There was fear of the moonlight now. The people were scattered, but mostly around our house. It was hard to tell if they were just there by coincidence or thinking that either I or my father were the killer. Which I knew now that it was him.

Later

My dad and I went out. The perfectly round orb called the Moon had stretched into the sky and overtook me. There was no way, with the urges I had, that could suppress the wolf inside. For the years that my father had been using his werewolf side, his abilities as he called it, there was no problem. The image of us transforming was disgusting, disturbing my stomach even more than it had regardless of how I felt.

Our muscles stretched out, bones cracked and sounded as if they were breaking, and for a few, long moments, I was pretty sure my spine and shoulder blades got wider, or broke. I couldn’t tell. Our legs bent in weird ways, then reformed. Our bodies didn’t change into a wolf’s body, it just got bigger and stronger, unnatural, very supernatural. We were stronger than anyone I know, quicker than any runner I knew, and our faces changed into that of a monster. No snout, or wet, black nose.

The groups of people who formed the neighborhood watch had no idea what was leaving our house, had no idea what was coming toward them, hunting them down like a cat and mouse. We stalked them for a few minutes, caught them by surprise. My father took the first kill, like an alpha, snapping one of our neighbor’s heads. I caught a glimpse of an officer that has always hated my dad, so I took him as my first victim of the night.

While the human part of me fought, and I still am disgusted with it, the wolf was way too powerful. It had the strength to overwhelm me in mental and physical methods. He was in complete control.

Journal, I am writing this with my pen as the Moon has clouded over with a thick cloud. When the moonlight comes peeking out, I will have the desire to transform and kill more. My father and I are hiding out in the police station.

The number dead just rang over our local radio station, the overnight guy sounds terrified. The death count is up in the teens, closer to twenty. Many of our neighbors are bitten, dead, or over killed. The town we live in has no clue who it is doing this, but they know it isn’t one person. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew it wasn’t human.

I’m Dylan Parker, and I’m a werewolf. I’ve joined my father, another werewolf, against my will and started killing people I knew through my father or just by people in my school. Now, the night of this Full Moon has become a massacre. We’re not done.

I’m Dylan Parker. And I cannot wait until this night is over, and this bad dream is done. I can’t wait until I am killed with a silver bullet.