A 30 Days Challenge About The Wayward Guide!

This is a 30 days art challenge about Tin Can Bros' new web series "The Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye" and it's going to start on November 13th. It was made by the Booster Club in the Tin Can Bros Discord server to increase this amazing show's popularity! Use the hashtag #30daysofwayward on your posts and tag this blog! Credits: - The idea: @miacheezytoon (on Tumblr), @cheezytoon (on IG) - The prompt list: @scpernovas (on Tumblr), @mckenzierose_1 (on IG) - The hashtag: @awkwardjas (on IG) - The graphic design for the list and the rules: @caeruleanlight (on Tumblr) - Blog owned by: @theinsanelylogical (on Tumblr)

[30daysofwayward]

A New Challenge!

Hello everyone! This is a 30 days art challenge dedicated to the Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye by the Tin Can Brothers. This is the prompt list and the rules (please read them carefully)! More info and the credits on the blog description.

Prompt List:

Rules:

(Graphic designs made by @caeruleanlight​.)

[jackjots]

#30 Werewolves

  Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10 and references the Podcast Epilogue)

Day #30 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

After another long week hiding in my house and plugging away, I went down to the Dead Canary to celebrate finishing the first draft of my book. As I was way ahead of schedule, I had time to breathe before going back into it and probably picking at plot lines like detangling chains in a jewelry box. It was around dinner time, so I was surprised to see a closed sign on the door. I realized every store in town was closed. I walked over to GPS and Wallis and inquired if they knew where everyone was.

“Town hall.” Wallis announced after consulting with GPS. “Which is that way!” His smile took up half his face and I found it both disquieting and charming. I thanked them.

Even though going to the one place the whole town was scared me, I was too curious not to. I had to know what was going on. And I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what. 

I didn’t even have to go inside to hear what was happening.

They were doing it, they were coming out. 

The fact that I was unincluded did not upset me. If anything, I felt safer not being in that room. As I peeked through the window, feeling a wave of deja vu from the last time I did this, I noticed not all the werewolves were on the stage discussing with the town that werewolves did, in fact, exist and some of them weren’t so bad. I was surprised to see Desmond was the one telling everyone. And that he looked comfortable there on stage. Helen and Olivia stood on the stage with him, and I could see the back of Sybilus’ head next to Rita sitting near the front. Vern was off to the side, as if waiting to see how everyone would react. The Sheriff was next to him, looking on edge, but also confident. 

Desmond was speaking: “We are still the people you’ve known, the people you have been friends with for ages. We are werewolves, but we are not that unlike you.” 

Someone rose a hand. I realized it was Ags. “Why did you lie about it?” 

“We were afraid that you would kill us.” 

“You were afraid of us?” Someone I couldn’t quite make out said, sounding surprised. 

“Yes.” He took a moment to look around the room. “I want to say this: Connor Creek is our town. All of us. Together. We hope that you come together with us and help us protect this secret of our town. Together.” 

Someone stood up and I recognized Aubrey’s voice as he spoke. “I will protect you.”

Riley stood up next. “I will protect you.” Olivia looked obviously touched.

The whole town rose to their feet. 

I could feel the tears filling my eyes. 

I walked away then, and I was sitting outside of the Dead Canary when Desmond came back. “Shelby, you didn’t come to the town hall.” 

I remembered the meeting flyer then, that had been sitting in my mailbox that I’d kept avoiding. “I didn’t realize what it was about.” “You were listening from here?”

“No, I was observing, again.”

“Spying you mean. You could’ve come inside.”

“Wasn’t my place.”

“Shelby, when you gunna learn you belong here.” 

“I heard you. You sounded good up there.” 

“You think?”

“Yeah. You’re a natural public speaker.” I got up off the ground. “I do feel like I belong here. Especially now.” 

“You don’t have to tell everyone what you are. But if you do, I think they’ll welcome it. Everyone else has, at the end there, I think you missed that part.” 

“I did. I’m glad.” I sighed. “You going to open?” 

“Yeah, Quinn will be back shortly.”

“I need a drink. To celebrate. I finished my book. Or, well, the first draft. Or maybe that’s not what we should be celebrating.”

“We can celebrate both. I have a feeling a lot more people are going to be in tonight than usual. Think you can handle that?”

I nodded. When Desmond opened the door, I went straight to the middle barstool and sat down. I sighed contentedly as he slid me a beer. I could hear the chatter of the town as they filtered down the hill on their way to the bar. 

“Thanks Desmond.” I said quietly, before I wouldn’t be able to.

“For what?” “For everything.” 

Aubrey came up to me as a handful of people spilled into the bar. “Desmond, I have a couple of questions.” His eyes were glowing with excitement. 

“I figured you would.” 

“Oh, good you’re here Shelby.” Aubrey noticed me late. “As my first question was indeed if we could work on that book, for the town’s sake.” 

Desmond tilted his head. “I’ll discuss it with them, but I imagine it’ll be alright.” 

Aubrey grabbed my shoulder. “Hear that?” He frantically looked between us. 

“Just wait ‘til I check with them. What else did you want to ask Aubrey?”

“Desmond, have you considered running for town council?” 

Here you go, Aubrey. Let me know if this is enough. - Shelby St. Ranger 

[jackjots]

#29 Fear

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #29 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

I didn’t go to town very often for the next couple of weeks. Even though I had no reason to rush the writing of my book, I felt the urge to do so; to shove forward with my arms outstretched and push the book into existence by sheer force of will. By the night of the full moon, I had only a few more things to write into the book before the first draft was done. My publisher was thrilled at the progress. I felt good about it, too, as writing gave me a chance to escape all of the fear I was feeling about turning into a half-wolf. I’d developed a healthy bit of body hair that I tried to accept as part of me. I’d never been a very hairy person before that, and this was a different sort of hair. Wolf-life, you might say. 

Because of the seclusion I’d put myself into, I was looking forward to seeing a friendly face. There was more than one friendly face when I got there. 

“Gotta stay open a little longer than I thought.” Desmond said quietly. 

“It’s alright. I’ll have a beer while I wait.”

He poured me a glass of water. “Why don’t you stick with this for now.” “Oh, is that going to be better for…for later?”

He nodded and then was called over down the bar. I was sitting at the bar drinking the water, and right as I realized I was sitting near other people and hadn’t thought to hide yet, Ags was sitting next to me. “Shelby!” She crashed her beer glass with mine. “How are ya?”

“Hello, I’m fine, how are you?” The words fluttered from my lips.

“Fine, fine.” She tapped the bartop. “But not really. I tried LSD last night.”

“Did you?” “Yeah…and I gotta tell you, it was a trip.” She got close to me. “One I have certainly never taken before.”

My eyes got big. “Oh.” 

“Exactly.” She took a swig of beer. “That must’ve been a lie. But I don’t know why they’d say that if it wasn’t true. Unless they were hiding something.” Her voice was getting excited.

“I- I don’t think so.” I tried to start.

“Now Shelby, I know this town better than you do, and I know the people here. But some of those people, they gone and died. And if the water didn’t have LSD in it, why’d we think there were werewolves? Because, there were werewolves.” 

“Going to close early Ags.” Desmond was suddenly there. 

“Alright, alright. Should go home anywho.” Ags drained her drink and followed the rest of the crowd as they trickled out. No one seemed to notice that I stayed exactly where I was.

“Did you hear that?” I asked when he gestured me back to a booth. 

He waved it away. “Not now. How are you feelin’ today?”

“Got a lot of energy today.”

“That makes sense.”

“A bit more confident I think.”

“I could tell that.” He gestured to the bar. “You don’t sit there often.”

“You noticed?”

“Of course. I’m a bartender. I see all.”

“Do you always want to be a bartender?”

He waved at me again. “That’s not what we’re here to do.” 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Transform.” “Right now? How?”

“Just find that trigger. Close your eyes.” I did so. “If anything has really bothered you recently, scared you even, think about that.” 

Suddenly, Desmond pointing a gun at me filled my mind. I felt my chest tighten. “Okay.” I said through my teeth.

“Okay, good job Shelby.”

“What?”

“You’re glowing.”

I opened my eyes and just caught the red glow before it faded away. “Damn.”

“That was good. Try again.” 

It was hard to willingly pull it up again, but I did. I could feel myself change this time. I tried to hold on to that feeling and opened my eyes. Desmond was smiling at me. I looked at my hands. They were glowing. I ran my tongue over my sharp teeth and winced. “Ouch.”

“Careful now.” He chuckled. “Now just keep practising, and it’ll be second nature. You might even like it.” 

I didn’t tell him, but I already liked it. I wanted to run, I wanted to hunt, I wanted to climb trees. I had so much energy burning under my skin. But then I remembered the fear it came from, and it was like deflating a balloon. The glow faded and I felt the power fade with it. “I’ll keep trying.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll keep trying. I wanted to…hunt? Is that normal?”

“It is. You might not want to go running out and killing animals though. Maybe try long distance running and a lot of meet from Vern.” 

“Desmond?”

“Yeah?”

“The town is starting to realize what happened, isn’t it?”

He sighed. “To be honest, I think we’re coming to a crossroads.” “We should be honest.” I said suddenly.

“What?”

“You said to be honest and I realized that’s what we need to do. These are our- these are your friends. We- you guys should talk to them and I think they’ll understand.” 

“I don’t know about that Shelby.” 

“If you don’t, they will still figure it out, but with the thought that you kept it from them.” He nodded, “I suppose you’re right. But there’s one thing you’re wrong about.”

“What?”

“You have friends here, too.” 

[jackjots]

#28 Transform

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #28 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Alcohol

By the time we had a wild eyed Aubrey sitting in the bar, there were a number of people standing outside. Desmond had locked the door, which was the only reason they weren’t inside. Helen and Olivia were inside with us. 

“Aubrey.” Desmond said with his arms crossed. “What were you yelling about out there?”

“As if you don’t know.” Aubrey snapped. 

“Is this all because we wouldn’t let you write about us?” Helen asked, in a tone that suggested she already believed that herself.

“No.” He said running his hands through his hair. “Though I do believe that set off this little rampage I have just gone on. I am sorry for declaring that werewolves were real, but I couldn’t watch it fade away again.”

“Did you tell anyone like who they are?” Olivia said nervously.

“Of course not. I just…I just said they exist. That the LSD story was just that, a story.” 

Aubrey calmed down and Helen walked him back through the now dwindling crowd back to his house. The town seemed to tuck itself back away. 

As soon as they were gone, Desmond shut the door and locked it again. “Damnit, Aubrey.” He came back to the bar and placed his hands on the bartop. “We were so close to this bein’ over.” 

“We weren’t though.” Olivia said. “I’ve gotten a lot more silver bullet orders than I’ve ever had before. I tried to make excuses not stock them, but I’m running out of good reasons.” 

“That could just be coincidence.” Desmond said.

“Some coincidence. Anyway, I must get back to Riley. Goodnight.” 

Desmond went and locked up behind her again. While he was at the door he asked, “Do you want to leave now?”

“Do you want me to go?”

He smiled and came back to the bar. “You can stay, Shelby.”

“You didn’t tell them?”

He shrugged. “You can tell them some other time.”

I continued to drink my beer which had only lost some of its chill. “Do you think they’ll believe Aubrey?”

“With his family history, I don’t think they will.” He cleaned a glass with his towel. “But I’m afraid he might just get the doubt started.”

“At least he didn’t name names.”

“He’s still a good person, just had a rough go of it is all.” 

“I shouldn’t have agreed to the book in the first place.”

“Oh that wouldn’t have stopped him, Shelby. And I think you’d write a fine book, with or without him.”

“You want me to write the book?”

“Of course it would be dangerous, but I’d be curious to see how you’d write all out.”

I sighed. Me too, I thought. “It would’ve been nice.” 

“You think more about those experiences you were tellin’ me about before?” 

I looked up at him, surprised. “I’d almost forgotten. With everything,” I waved at my body, “Happening.”

He grimaced and nodded. “Might be good to think on it a little. Seems to me, you already had some power before you got scratched. Might mix together. Might wanna be careful with it.” 

“Do you know about this kind of thing happening before?”

“It’s less a matter of what happened before and more like just figuring.”

“I see.” I finished my beer. “Another.”

He refilled my glass. “Seein’ as we’re closed now, mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” 

We moved to a booth and Desmond broke the silence as I kept circling around what he’d said in my mind. “I’m glad you told me.” 

“Hm? Oh yeah.” I nodded. “Me too. I didn’t like lying.”

“You’re not that great at it either.” 

“I thought I did okay.” 

He smirked. “Alright.” 

“I did!” We both took sips of our beers. “Honestly, I didn’t think anything would happen to me when she scratched me.”

“Then why did you lie about it at all?”

“Not sure. It just kind of happened.” 

“Fear makes us do strange things.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I gestured behind me, to the front door. “With the town.”

“Me too.” 

“And that worries me more.” 

“I just hope we’re wrong.” He drank some more and then sat back into the booth. “Why’d you move to Connor Creek, Shelby?”

Surprised by the change in topic, and doubly so that it was a personal one, I drank a large sip to give me a chance to think about what to say. “Well,” I began, “I wanted to write.”

“I know that. But why did you really?”

“I liked it here. Something about this place, felt right.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Does it?” “The people drawn here aren’t just everyday people. You think every town is like this?” 

“I know they’re not. But I mean every place has their eccentrics.”

“But almost every person?” 

“Almost? Who isn’t eccentric here?”

“Me.” He said this like it was obvious. 

I couldn’t hold in the laugh. “You’re a werewolf, Desmond.” 

He looked around with a shine of panic and remembering we were alone, relaxed into his own chuckle. “I guess that gives me a little.” 

“A little?” 

“Still, with or without me, that’s a lot of special people out here drawn together. And we were drawn here, the Connors.” 

“Wait, were you with the original Connors?” I asked, suddenly posed with the possibility of sitting across from an ancient being.

Desmond just laughed. “Now Shelby, you really think we live that long?”

I tilted my head as his eyes sparkled at me. I couldn’t tell if he was just avoiding the question or if the question was just that ridiculous to him. “Will I live a little longer now?”

He shrugged. “Might do.” He took another sip. “Have you transformed yet?”

“Not yet.” I thought of my experience in the bathroom. “Almost. How much am I supposed to change?”

“Remember me the other night?”

I nodded.

“Like that, but less hair.”

“What can trigger it?”

“Anger, sadness - any real strong emotion, ‘sides happy ones I guess. It’ll be easier on the full moon, I imagine. But once you get the hang of it, especially living where you do, should be easy enough to control.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

“You should stop by next full moon. I can close early, help you learn how to do it.” 

I was touched by the thought. “Thank you, Desmond.” 

“Of course. You’re one of us now Shelby.” 

[jackjots]

#27 Nightmare

 Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #27 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Alcohol, Blood

I walked home having only had one beer. I didn’t really feel as upset as I thought I would be by the firm no I had received from the werewolves about writing a book with Aubrey, and therefore did not need as much alcohol as I had assumed I’d need. I was also distracted by my own body, and my buzzing brain. It had been a slow inching change that I only noticed if I was doing nothing else, but now it was becoming distracting in itself. 

I got home and the emptiness of my house suddenly pulled at my heart. I was going through something, and I was doing it alone, because of my stubbornness and my fear. 

I observed myself in the mirror and found sprouts of hair starting to protrude from my shoulders. I tried to shave it, but the hair was stubborn and would not be removed. As I examined my body I found more small patches sprouting. I was a MacMahon wolf, I realized as I stared at myself. I huffed and a slight glow erupted around me and vanished as fast, which startled me and I backed up hard into my towel rack. There was a quick ache, and then it was gone. I was a MacMahon wolf, even if just a half one, and that was why I was terrified of telling the Connor Creek wolves. Would they accept me? Paul had left, and I never heard how they felt about him being one. 

I had the thought of contacting Paul, but then I thought better of it. I wanted to focus on who was here, and I didn’t feel very comfortable with him anyway. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him, I just got the general sense that our natures were very different and it would be difficult to find a common ground. And I needed someone who I shared a lot of common ground with. 

Desmond.

I thought of him as a potential good friend; someone who made sense to me and had an aura of trustworthy steadiness about him. He was the closest thing I had to a good friend in town, and certainly the only friend I would begin to know how to explain this to. 

I’d have to go tell him as soon as possible. I decided if I got a lot of writing done the next day, I would go into town, let Aubrey know the book was a bust, and then go tell Desmond everything. 

My sleep was a stretch of darkness, until a dream surrounded me. I was in the Dead Canary, sitting at the bar, feeling unusually comfortable out in the middle of things. There was a warm amber glow around the room. I felt safe, and content. I called out to Desmond, ready to tell him everything, to get the weight off my chest. But I felt a hand on my shoulder as soon as his name left my lips and I turned to see Truman. She glowed and bared her teeth at me. I heard a click and I looked directly into the barrel of a gun, held by Desmond. He shot right past me and hit Truman. The gun sounded far away and distorted; as if I was underwater. When I looked at Truman, the blood had already surrounded her like a perfect aura. When I was about to thank Desmond, he shot me and my eyes flew open before I hit the ground in my dream.

I stood in my kitchen at 2am with a glass of water in one hand and a barely cooked piece of liver in the other hand. I was holding it over the sink to avoid doing any dishes or making a big mess. But my mind wasn’t there with me, I was back in the dream, trying to examine what it meant. Besides reiterating my fears to me, I had also sensed some guilt with Truman’s death. Even if I hadn’t directly contributed to it, and even though she had been “the bad guy”, I felt the loss of her life regardless. Somehow, realizing that guilt had been mixed with the fear in my belly helped relieve it somewhat. 

The next day, I found it harder to write than usual. I hadn’t gotten much sleep after my nightmare, so I drank three cups of coffee and felt like I was violently tugging the words out of my head instead of the usual automatic flow as I imagined myself in the mountains among vikings. 

It took me so long to write out the pages I needed to get done that it was already dark by the time I walked into town. I was a little worried that it was too late to talk to Aubrey, but his lights were still on as I approached his house. When I knocked I could tell I had disrupted him from something, but he was excited to see me. As I walked into his house, I noticed he had papers strewn across his desk, I saw as he let me in.

He saw me looking and gestured to it. “Desmond returned these pages that he removed from my great-grandfathers book. It’s about werewolves.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.” I said, trying hard not to refer to my own pages as I didn’t want Aubrey to see the note that was on it about half-wolves.

“Yes. Now, have you spoken to the…the werewolves?” He looked so hopeful. 

I sighed. “I’m sorry Aubrey. They decided against it.” 

The light left his face. “Ah, alright.”

“I feel like it’s pretty understandable.” I said, trying to fill the silence as he seemed to be looking inward. “They don’t want to be exposed.” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Should I- would you like me to leave?”

“Yes.” He turned his back on me and looked back at the pages. I left and walked to the Dead Canary. 

Without thinking about it, as my mind was still on Aubrey, I sat right at the bar. I called for Desmond, and then my voice got stuck in my throat. It was just like my dream. 

But instead of a hand on my shoulder, Desmond popped up from under the counter, which still made me jump. He didn’t acknowledge my reaction, he just nodded. “Hello Shelby.” 

“Hey.”

“A beer?”

“You know what? Yes.” I rubbed my face. “I just spoke to Aubrey.”

He slid the beer to me. “That bad?”

“He was disappointed.”

“What about you?”

“Me? I see both sides of it, really.” I was actually more relieved than I thought I would be, but maybe I was just stressed out about being part wolf and not worrying about telling Aubrey felt like a break somehow. 

“You see both sides?” He raised his eyebrows.

I took a long sip. The place was empty. I could tell him now. I should tell him now. But the dream. He still hadn’t spoken, and suddenly I realized he was giving me perhaps my last chance. “I should tell you, Truman scratched me.”

He nodded. “Mhm.” 

“And weird stuff is happening.”

“Ahuh.”

“And I’m sorry I lied before.”

“But you were scared.”

“Yes.”

“Of bein’ a werewolf?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you aren’t going to be a full werewolf.”

“I know. The pages you gave back to me had some notes on them.”

“Did they now?” He smiled for a moment and then looked me in the eye again. “You’ll be fine. It’ll settle after a while.” “Will it?” “Or you’ll just get used to it.” He threw his rag over his shoulder. “But you aren’t alone Shelby. We’re-”

But before Desmond could finish the sentence, Olivia came running in. “Aubrey’s telling people about werewolves.” 

“What?” Desmond and I almost said it in unison. 

“He’s lost his gourd.” Olivia called running back out. 

As soon as she opened the door again I could hear him, hear him yelling and hammering on doors. 

I took another big chug of my beer and ran out into the night. 

[jackjots]

#26 Whisper

 Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #26 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Alcohol 

At home for a few hours before I was to meet Helen, and perhaps other werewolves, at the Dead Canary, I focused hard on my writing. I had quickly singed some meat to have while I worked. I tried to eat until I left so I wouldn’t buy another suspiciously meaty meal from Quinn, but as soon as I entered the Dead Canary that went out the window because I could smell someone else’s steak dinner and my stomach woke up like a bear after winter.

I was a little early, as I’d walked and I liked to give myself plenty of time to do so. I ordered food and decided to sit at the bar while I waited for Helen, even though doing so made me uncomfortable. I noticed Vern was there, in a booth with someone else. I nodded to him, and he smiled and waved. 

My food hadn’t arrived when Helen came in. She made eye contact with me and, to my surprise, gestured me over to the table Vern was at. Behind her were Sybilus and Rita. When I went to the booth, I saw Olivia was there. I grabbed a chair and joined the booth awkwardly next to Sybilus who was also in a chair. It did not take me long to put together that Vern was a werewolf, but I decided not to say anything. They seemed to assume I knew already, and I wasn’t going to start inquiring about who was a werewolf when we were already a suspiciously large group. Luckily no one else was there. 

“You want to write about us?” Helen started in immediately, with her arms crossed. 

“Well.” I started, but a voice next to me surprised me.

“Now, Helen, I’m cer- sur- positive that Shelby here has the best intentions, so let’s not sha- assu- judge them too harshly.” 

I thanked Sybilus with a nod and he returned a small smile. “Aubrey approached me to write about what happened. I insisted that we ask permission, of course. We haven’t even discussed whether we would necessarily publish it. It could be kept within the town. We could write it and then have it published in the future, when this is all a faded memory, and it could be assumed fiction.” I could smell my dinner and I could hear the plate slide under the heat lamps in the kitchen. My words got faster. “After all, it is wild enough to not be assumed as fact. We just need to distance ourselves between what really happened.” 

Helen still had her arms crossed. “I don’t think any amount of time will change that it’s a bad idea.”

“N-now Helen.” Sybilus started.

“I don’t like it.” Olivia said. “It’s too risky. And what exactly would you write about? Would you name us?”

“Of course not.” I rubbed my face, trying to ignore the smell radiating from my food. I could hear Desmond telling Quinn to wait a minute on bringing it out. “I mean, I don’t know exactly how it would come about, if we’d talk about what happened with Truman,” They all tensed at the name, “or if we’d just talk about the history of the town. Whatever we do, we would consult all of you first.” 

“Go sit over there.” Helen said, pointing to my usual spot. “We’ll tell you our decision.” 

When I got there, Quinn met me with my plate. He slid it across the table and turned around in a huff. I didn’t know what he was upset about, and I didn’t care. I ate half of it before I heard Desmond join the table behind me. They didn’t seem to have to fill him in too much, because of course he heard the whole thing. For a similar reason I now could hear everything, even though they were whispering. I sighed and ate some more as I heard Rita worry about exposure. Vern made a pun and everyone groaned except for a small chuckle that I thought might be Sybilus. I heard Desmond talk about how I was coming from a good place, and he hinted there were reasons to trust me. I stared at the fries that I had forgotten to ask not to have, as they sat alone on my plate now. Was I coming from a good place? I just had to tell this story. I had to get it out of my head. 

When I had said I didn’t know what we would exactly be writing about, I had lied. Because I wanted to write about what happened with Truman. I wanted to write about Desmond and the others. I wanted to write about my heart beating out of my chest and my intense meat cravings. I just wanted it to be recorded. I didn’t care who read it. 

I heard the scraping of chairs. I’d missed the conclusion, but I heard footsteps and knew I was about to be informed. I expected Helen, but Sybilus slid into my booth.

From his face, I guessed the outcome. “It’s a no, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “I’m sor- sa- afraid so. But we do appreciate that you asked us at all.” 

“I’ll tell Aubrey. It’ll be for the best.” I did not feel that way and I think my face revealed that because Sybilus had a clear look of sympathy on his face.

“I understand it is har- diffi- challenging to keep a secret like this.” 

“I think writing is just part of how I process things.” I said, and realized how true it was as the words left my lips. 

Sybilus patted the table. “I am sorry Sh-Shelby.” He got up and left. When I went to the bar I saw everyone had gone. 

Desmond had a beer ready for me. “You alright?”

I couldn’t hide the disappointment from my face. I shrugged. “Just not looking forward to telling Aubrey.” That wasn’t it, but I was also not looking forward to that. 

“He’ll understand. He’ll be disappointed, but he’ll understand. You’re both good people.”

I drank some beer standing there at the bar. “Desmond, do you think the town really buys the LSD story?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think it matters. I think it’s enough they’ve calmed down and eventually it will fade from their minds.” 

I nodded, but as I sat there, I wondered if that was really true.

Would they really forget? 

[jackjots]

#25 Divide

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #25 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

Even though I hadn’t asked permission of the werewolves themselves about writing a book concerning the Connor Creek werewolves, I was excited enough at even the glimmer of possibility that I began to hammer out my novel in progress the very evening Aubrey had stopped by to inquire about doing so. Only occasionally stopping to stuff my face with chunks of cheese and some unsatisfying crackers, I wrote into the night. I finally ripped myself away from the computer before dawn could come and remind me in loud stripes across the sky that I had been awake far too long. If my eyes closed while it was still dark out, it didn’t count, or at least that’s what I told myself. 

I slept for only a few hours before my brain woke me up. I had to write. I drank coffee and hardly touched the oatmeal I had made out of habit. The hunger had completely emptied my fridge of anything protein packed. After a few hours of fighting the growling in my stomach, I decided a trip into town was necessary. I was too hungry and impatient to walk, so I drove into town.

I almost went straight to the butcher, but I was feeling light headed and decided it would be good to hit two birds with one stone and both get dinner and pay off my bill at the Dead Canary. 

Desmond greeted me with a nod. “What can I do you for, Shelby?”

“I’d like to both pay my bill and also get a rare burger if possible.” I paused, considered how weird this was about to sound, ignored that fear and pressed on. “Instead of fries, could I get a hot dog?” 

“Sure thing.” He didn’t seem surprised. This bothered me more than I thought it would. “I’ll just total that all up for you now. Anything to drink?”

“Iced tea, I’m driving. Do you know if the butcher is open today?”

“Vern? Most likely.” Again, no questions, no surprise. 

He handed me the bill, which was handwritten. I looked over it and frowned. “This can’t be right. This isn’t enough. Desmond-”

“It’s correct.” He waved me away. “That’s that.”

“But, this can’t be-”

“It’s correct.” He said it pointedly with intense eye contact and I paid it without another word. 

Quinn was not happy with my order. I heard him before I saw him come out of the kitchen holding the ticket with my order on it. I was stuffing change back into my pocket when he came out and pointed at me. “Shelby, what is this?”

“I know Quinn, I’m sorry. I’ll take an aioli for the hot dog, and bleu cheese on the burger? If that helps?” 

“I am going to pretend that these are two different dishes, for two different people, and can I please make you a salad with beets and goat cheese, with a raspberry vinaigrette?” His words were so impassioned you would have thought he was berating an unfaithful lover.

I nodded, a bit too stunned to fight off the salad, knowing full well I wouldn’t eat it. 

“Thank you.” He flourished the ticket around and went back.

“Do I owe you for the salad?” I asked Desmond awkwardly.

He shrugged. “You gunna eat it?”

“Probably not.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He handed me my iced tea and turned right back around to wiping glasses with the towel on his shoulder. 

I left a big enough tip that would cover the salad regardless, after considering how much money he’d just saved me, and slid into the booth with the iced tea in my hand and tried to not think about how hungry I was.

It wasn’t until I had eaten the entire hotdog and half of the hamburger I realized the bar was empty and I could talk to Desmond about holding a meeting with the other werewolves, to inquire about writing a book with Aubrey. I finished the burger and Desmond came up as the last bite disappeared with a small bag. He put a finger up to his lips before I could ask what he was doing as he chucked the salad into the bag and swiftly threw the bag away before taking my dishes. I realized he was both covering for me so Quinn would be neither upset with me, nor suspicious of me from any lingering werewolf idea, and also it probably would make Quinn happy that I had eaten everything. Not that he would ever say, of course. 

I followed him up to the bar and sat down. 

It was enough to get his attention when he came back from the kitchen. He put both hands on the bar. “Something on your mind?” 

“Yes, actually.” I looked around. Quinn was out of ear shot, as far as I could tell. “I had a question.”

“Shoot.”

“I was wondering if I could ask permission of all of you, to work on a book, with Aubrey.” 

“Aubrey.” Desmond tilted his head. “A book? About…”

“Connor Creek. Specifically, you know.”

Desmond got it; his eyes widened and then he nodded. “I’ll talk to them. But I can’t imagine it will be a popular idea.” 

I scratched my head. “I know. What about Artemis and Paul? Their podcast?”

“That LSD story.” 

The LSD story that had saved the town from a murderous divide I thought. “Ah.” I tapped the counter as I thought. “Maybe we could make it seem fictional? I’m not sure if Aubrey would like that idea though.”

“His family believed for a real long time.” Desmond nodded. “I know it means a lot to him to know the truth.” Desmond held eye contact with me. “The truth can be real nice.” 

I broke the eye contact as I got off the barstool. “Alright, well if you could mention it to them?”

“I’ll ask.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Shelby.” 

As soon as I stepped out of the Dead Canary I knew I had made a mistake. He had thought I was going to ‘come out’ as it were, as a werewolf. Or half wolf? Whatever it was. But instead, I had asked to publicize the existence of werewolves. Or maybe he still didn’t know, and I was just feeling guilty and projecting that onto Desmond’s simple and clear mannerisms. 

I got meat from Vern, who was preoccupied talking to Olivia who had stopped in for what they called “a tasting”. I wasn’t sure exactly what that entailed, but there were empty wine glasses filled with the distinct scent of meat. If I hadn’t been full, I might have inquired further. But as it was, I got a good amount of cuts and went to the market for eggs, cheese, and some milk. 

As I was going to my car, I saw a ticket under the windshield wiper. I looked around, confused. I’d parked in a perfectly fine place. I put the groceries in the back and grabbed the ticket- it was a note. It said “We need to talk.” On the other side it was a parking ticket form, that just said VOID in big letters across it. I knew it from Helen. It said 7pm. I turned on my car to see what time it was. I really needed a watch now that I didn’t have my phone on me all the time. I had a few hours, so I decided I’d go home, make a meat snack, write a few pages, and then come back.

 I decided I would walk, because I had a feeling after this particular meeting, I’d need a drink. 

[jackjots]

#24 Storytelling

 Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #24 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

I smoothed the pages out with my shaking hands as I tried to makeout the scribbles. Under the words “it is said that a bite from a werewolf can cause the ability to become a werewolf” there was a line that led to the margin that said: “a scratch makes half a wolf”. This left me with more questions than answers as I started to search through the pages for more information about “half wolves”, but I couldn’t find anything. Half a wolf. What did the even mean?

The knock on my door made me look up so fast my neck ached in protest. It was a hesitant and quaint knock, but I was so unaccustomed to it that I took a moment before answering the door. I smoothed my hair to my skull and adjusted my stained, but very comfy, t-shirt and slowly opened the door to reveal Aubrey, already looking mid-apology before his mouth even opened.

“Shelby! Our local author. I was wondering if I may have a word?” 

“Of course.” I waved him in and realized the pages about werewolves were right on the couch.

He turned to face me before getting that far as I shut the door. “Forgive the intrusion. I stopped in at the local drinking establishment.”

“The Dead Canary?”

“Yes, and I was informed by some inebriated patrons that you are familiar with what’s really going on in this town?” He leaned on my couch and raised his eyebrows in a dramatic sort of way.

“If they said I am, I probably am.” I crossed my arms over my chest. 

He took a deep breath; shifting his eyes around as if anyone else would be around to hear us. “Werewolves?”

All I could do was nod. 

His face seemed to exchange itself from one of insecurity to one full of energy and glee “Precisely, werewolves! No one will reveal more to me than what I already happen to know. They refuse to tell me as I’m not a werewolf myself.” He said this with some regret. “But that is not why I came here tonight.”

“No?” I still felt uncomfortable with where this was going. Maybe it was because he had started the conversation by calling me “our local author”. It was not the first time I had been pitched a book idea by a random acquaintance. 

“I was wondering if you would like to write a book with me. About werewolves.” 

Even though I had been completely correct about my worry that all he wanted was to pitch me a book idea, I was surprised that I actually thought it was an interesting offer.

“About Connor Creek?”

“Yes. I’d like to combine the knowledge of my great-grandfather, and the knowledge we have learned here, and make a novel that would be worthy of him. To honor him. As no one believed him.” 

I noticed how he emphasized ‘we’, as he seemed to know that I knew more about what had happened than he did. “We should ask them.” 

“The werewolves? Yes. Yes I suppose we should. Could you do that?”

“You want me to ask them? I’m new in town, I don’t really know if they’ll trust me.” I lied to them about being a half-wolf, I continued in my head. 

“Come now Shelby. You’re one of us now. So, are you interested then?” 

I released my arms. “I am interested, Aubrey, but only if they agree to it. And only once the first draft of my book is done.”

“How long do you think that will be?”

“Six weeks at most.” His face fell. “But I can try to get it out in three. No promises.” 

“Do what you need to do, Shelby. Thank you for even considering helping me in this storytelling. I feel it would be the best way to honor those who lost their lives.”

“Thanks for thinking of me.” I said as I moved to let him leave.

“Of course. I do want to apologize for not telling you more when you came seeking answers before.” 

“It was understandable, Aubrey. I only wish your great-grandfather could know, could really know that he was right.”

“I think he did. I think the knowledge faded once he did. And that’s why I want to write this book. I don’t want it to fade.”

I watched him leave my house and thought about the fact that the werewolves wanted it to fade, and how they might not take kindly to Aubrey and I making a record of it. 

I shut the door and looked at the pages on the couch. Of course if I was one of them, I thought to myself, that would probably change things. 

Whether that was in my favor or not, I didn’t know. 

[jackjots]

#23 Direction

 Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #23 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Alcohol.

I stared at my full beer glass. The fact that I could hear all the way across the bar, through other conversations, worried me a little. The fact that I had smelled my meal in such excruciating detail, worried me still. And that my skin itched, my head was buzzing, and I had healed remarkably fast…I was just plain worried. Worried I was a werewolf. Worried I had lied to the other werewolves about being scratched. That wasn’t a way to start off any sort of…what did werewolves have? Packs? 

Crumpled under my plate in my haste was the pages from the book that Desmond had given back to me. I suddenly noticed them poking out and was overwhelmed with an urge to get rid of them; anything related to werewolves. Hurriedly, I shoved them in my pocket. Right after I did so, Desmond called my name. I was already out of the booth when I realized he’d done so very quietly. Sneaky. I paused, trying to decide if I should keep going or fake that I just meant to go pee. He saved me from that decision by repeating my name at a level that would be normal to hear. He had the phone for me and handed it to me wordlessly. It was about my car; it was ready to go. 

Relief filled me. At least that knocked some worry off of my inner plate full of worries.I thanked them profusely and hung up. 

“Cars all fixed up?” Desmond asked. 

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go back home now. Thanks again for setting me up. What do I owe you?”

He shrugged. “I’ll get you a bill next time.” 

There were people on either side of me and I started to feel their eyes wander my way. The attention made my already itchy skin feel hotter. Even though I’d usually insist, I nodded and said thanks again before retreating to get my stuff from the room. I passed my full beer glass at the table and decided it was best to leave it as I was about to drive. 

I got my car with no issue. I tried to ignore the fact that I could smell that someone else had been in my car; their aftershave lingered in the air like tendrils that tickled my nose. The book was there as I’d left it. As I started in the direction of home, I turned immediately back around. For some reason, I decided to just drive straight to the library. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to be alone to think. 

I returned the book and explained that it had been damaged against my wishes. That didn’t matter, of course, and I wound up paying for the book itself. I threw it back in the car and sat down. I felt the pages bulging in my pocket and took them out. I started to read about the werewolves from Connor Creek and only got to the second sentence before I crumpled the pages up again and threw them on the seat with the book. 

Once I got home, I put the book and the pages on my kitchen counter. My stomach was already growling. I found some hotdogs in my freezer and ate four of them standing in my kitchen with nothing on them. 

I took a long hot shower and put on my comfiest clothes. Something silver caught my eye on my bedroom floor and I realized the necklace had fallen from my bag. I reached to pick it up, but decided against it. 

I was tired, but it wasn’t even evening yet, so I decided to get back to work on my book. At first it was hard to focus, but eventually I got back in the groove of my characters and my stomach was the only thing that stopped me from writing deep into the night. Just as well, I decided, as my eyes ached from staring at the screen after so long not doing it. 

I finished the package of hotdogs and raided my cabinets for beans and jerky. I really didn’t have a lot of protein sources laying around my house. The idea of just eating a bowl of oatmeal, with half a banana, was now a revolting idea. I thought of Vern and decided I’d go get fresh meat from him the next day. For now, I stuck a spoon in a jar of peanut butter for dessert, and sat on my couch. My eyes wandered back to the kitchen and the book with the pages next to it on the counter. I got up and grabbed the pages and went back to the couch. 

Now that the pages were mixed up, I noticed some had writing on them. Whether it was new writing or old writing, I wasn’t sure. 

But I had a feeling it was new.

[jackjots]

#21 Impulse

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place around Episode 10)

Day #21 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Descriptions of a corpse, alcohol consumption. 

 Helen drove us to the house. Olivia talked about the silver bullet that was now nestled inside the body in the back of the truck. I wasn’t really listening, as I was too distracted about what was going to greet us when we got to Truman’s house; irrationally afraid of Truman herself. I just couldn’t get her eyes out of my mind.

When we got to the house, I breathed out. It didn’t look exactly as I’d remembered it, which was a strange comfort, but it looked enough that I was fairly certain now everything else I had envisioned was true as well. 

 Helen and Olivia directed me to do most of the lifting, which was fine except for the fact that I have noodle arms and they both gave up watching me after a while of amused stares at my attempts to struggle the larger river rocks over to the wall. The wall was hollow in between two stacks of river rocks, which had given me the idea to put the body in between. But Helen and Olivia took it a step further.

They decided to (have me) dig a thin but deep trench along the line of the wall. We placed Truman there on her side and filled it in. I was trying to focus on the fact that she was evil, and had killed countless people, but it was still difficult to throw the dirt over her body and not feel guilt, even if it hadn’t been my shot that killed her. While I was filling in the grave, Helen and Olivia were speaking quietly. Olivia went off into the woods and came back only a few minutes after I’d finished. She was holding a small animal. I didn’t look closely, but it could’ve been a raccoon. She placed it on top of the fresh dirt and its head lolled. They told me to cover it as well, which I did. 

When I was done with the grave, they let me take a small break as they started in on the wall. I laid back onto the grass and looked up. It was the exact image I’d had in my dream.

We finished the wall as best we could; not completely around the house but enough to make it look like an intentional wall, it’s original purpose unknown, but likely connected to her preparations for what was to come that would now never would be. The moon was now high in the sky; hanging over the wall made of river rocks; Truman’s body safely hidden away within it. They explained that if anyone investigated the smell, they’d find the animal and blame that, but it was unlikely anyone would notice. 

Helen wiped her hands on her uniform that I wondered if she ever didn’t wear and said, “Anyone want a beer?”

Helen drove us in her truck back to the Dead Canary. I kept looking back at the tarp in the bed of the truck that we’d used to carry the body. I shivered even though the heat was on me. The silence wasn’t all together uncomfortable, but I had to bite back words that wanted to fill the space. 

We met Desmond at the door as he was getting back from Aubrey’s. He looked tired, but he said we all deserved a drink after the night we’d had before we could even ask him.

Paul and Artemis had gone straight to their room according to Desmond, and I didn’t blame them. But even though I was tired and sore myself, I didn’t mind sitting with a pint for a moment. I didn’t really expect to do so with everyone else, though. 

I almost went back into my booth, but Helen patted the seat next to her as she said: “Where  do you think you are going?”

At first I felt included, but soon realized this was more of an interrogation with beer. I obliged regardless. What else was I going to do? Say no to werewolves offering me free beer?

We sat in silence until Desmond brought our drinks, including one for himself. He sat next to Olivia and across from me. He looked around at first as if he wasn’t used to sitting at the booth. 

His eyes settled on me. “How did you find out about us?” He asked. His face was back to its human self again.

The words fumbled themselves around as I tried to recall how it had really started. I decided not to include my little trips outside of my body, as I still wasn’t sure what that was or if it was important.  “A lot of little things. I didn’t really know exactly what was going on. The biggest tell was probably Truman looking like a wolf and…uh….knocking me into that tree.” 

He raised an eyebrow, but ignored my reiterating of my sad little lie. “So you were out, trying to figure things out like I told you not to?”

“I had to know what was going on. I was worried about Artemis, and- and everyone.” I sipped some of the dwindling foam off the surface of my beer. “I’m a writer, I’m naturally curious.” 

“But you weren’t asking people questions; I hardly saw you talk to anyone. I hardly ever had.” Helen said.

I nodded. “I’m a writer.” I repeated. “Not a journalist. I don’t ask questions, I observe.” 

“Like in a creepy way?” Olivia asked from behind her pint, leaning her head on her hand. 

Desmond frowned. “No, Shelby’s not creepy. I thought they were just shy, but they really were paying attention.” 

Helen set her glass down after a sip. “We have to be better at hiding if Shelby can figure it out, without really going anywhere.” 

“I mean I didn’t really know who was a werewolf.” I paused as I considered my next words carefully. “However, I was suspicious of Desmond.”

“You were?” He seemed disappointed. 

“Yes, as a werewolf, but not as a murderer. I couldn’t picture that at all.” 

He smiled slightly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Shouldn’t we be celebrating? Truman’s gone!” Olivia lifted her beer as if to cheers.

Desmond gently lowered her arm. “I don’t think there’s much to celebrate.”

“The town will still want answers.” Helen said grimly. 

“I’m hoping whatever the Sheriff comes up with will answer it enough, and this will all fade into history.” Desmond took a sip. “But too many people died to celebrate anything.” 

We all fell into a somber silence as we drank. 

Helen and Olivia departed soon after finishing their beers. I was slower on mine and Desmond was just staring at his empty cup when he looked at me. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

It didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like a plea. “Of course not.”

“You won’t. I know you won’t.” He turned the glass between his hands. “You’re leaving something out, though.”

“Am I?” The nerves touched my voice. 

“How did you know about Truman’s house? That that’s where those rocks were? You haven’t had a car in days.” 

I took a deep breath. That wasn’t what I was expecting him to ask. “Would you believe me if I told you I saw it in a dream?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure. Is that what you’re telling me Shelby?”

Impulsively, it started to fall out of my mouth. “I went to the river, because of that article in the paper about the river rocks going missing. All I found out was they were not there, but on my way back I had a vision of where they were, which was at Truman’s house.”

“A vision?”

“I really don’t know.” 

“You know what, since I am what I am, I will just give you the benefit of the doubt on this one.” 

On this one? Did he suspect anything else? “Thanks Desmond.” I drained my beer and got up. “I think it’s time for bed.”

He nodded and got up before turning toward me. “You know, your, uh, tree scratch there is fadin’ fast Shelby. Mighty strange.” 

I put my hand to my face and then made my way back to the room without looking back at Desmond.

[jackjots]

#20 Vote

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place around Episode 9)

Day #20 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Violence/Descriptions of blood. 

The shot rang in my ears and I let go of the breath that had been trapped in my lungs. 

Truman had been shot. I got on my tiptoes to just make out her body, which was lying still. My shoes made a small squeak against the trim on the outside of the building as I tried to use it to lift myself up a bit. I wondered if it was a silver bullet, as I wasn’t sure if a regular bullet would take down a werewolf, but as I was wondering I missed Paul looking around as if he’d heard something and then his eyes locking onto me until Desmond was already outside grabbing my arm. 

When he pulled me into the light, I saw the recognition hit his much wolfier face. His claws loosened around my arm. I wasn’t as frightened as I thought I would be, because I could see it was Desmond, and I couldn’t help but trust him, even now. 

Desmond brought me with him as he was whisper-yelling at me: “Shelby, I told you to keep your head down.” To the others he announced: “This is Shelby.”

I felt the blood rush to my face as I became the center of attention. “Hi.” I managed. 

“What were you doing out there?” Artemis asked pointedly. Sheriff Madison nodded vigorously. 

“I- I was listening in.” I admitted. 

“Do- Did you work for Truman?” Paul’s voice was excited. “Were you her actual minion?” 

I shook my head. “I didn’t even vote for her.” The words were high pitched from my throat and I winced. “She gave me this.” I gestured to my face.

“She scratched you! Are you under her influence like I just pretended to be?” Paul clapped his hands.

“I don’t think that’s really a thing.” Desmond said, still holding my arm. 

“Uh, she pushed me into a tree.” Suddenly not wanting to be a suspect more than anything, I heard the words come before I realized it. Lying was not usually something that just happened out of my mouth, but also being shoved into the center of attention was also unusual so it made sense my reaction would be unique to this situation. 

Desmond looked suspicious, but Artemis brushed me off. “Fine. Are you on our side?”

I nodded. I felt Desmond’s claws release from my arm, but his eyes were still on me.

“Good. We don’t have time to not trust people. We need answers, we need to talk about this.” She looked at Desmond pointedly.

“I agree. Let’s go back to Aubrey’s.” Sheriff Madison gestured towards his place. “I need to call in the Irons’ anyway.” 

My stomach dropped as I saw the pained expressions on everyone’s faces, but I chose not to ask. The question alone felt like it would make it too real. 

“What about Truman?” Desmond asked.

Sheriff Madison looked at me. “You busy?” 

“You want me to move a corpse?” 

“That’s a fast way to prove yourself.” Desmond said. “Not alone, we can get Helen and Olivia to help you.” And keep an eye on me, were words unsaid but I could almost hear them they were so plain on his face.

“But where would they move her?” Artemis asked.

“We’re going to hide her?” Sheriff Madison looked uncertain.

“We can’t risk anyone finding her, and discovering werewolves exist.” Desmond said apologetically. 

“I know where to hide her.” I heard the words and realized I’d said them. 

“You do? Where?” I think it was Artemis who asked, but I was too wrapped up in the thought I was having to notice exactly who it was. 

Doubt filled my belly. What if it had just been a dream? I pushed on past my self-doubt. “I’m not sure, it’s a white house, with a fence, with blue flowers and a big unfinished wall around it?”

Desmond angled his head as he thought about it. “That sounds like - well except for the wall, mind you, that sounds like Truman’s house.” 

“Where is it?”

“Helen and Olivia know. You got a plan?”

“Not a great one, but I think it will work.” 

[jackjots]

#19 Outsider

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place around Episode 9)

Day #19 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Violence/Descriptions of blood. 

I wriggled around in the bed that felt suddenly too cold and too hard, and then I wasn’t in bed anymore. I was lying in someone’s yard. It was a quaint but perfectly painted white house with a picture perfect fence. However, outside of that was the start of a large wall made of river rocks. There were piles and piles of river rocks carefully stacked and waiting to be walled. 

I felt a pull and I was suddenly slammed into something that I later realized was my own body. 

I woke up on the ground, in the dark, outside. 

I realized I’d dreamed of going back to bed, and wondered if dreams had gotten tangled in whatever out-of-body experience I was repeating or if the whole thing had been a dream. But what was sticking out in my mind was Truman. The look in her eyes. 

As if invoked, I saw Truman walking by - not walking, marching, head forward, eyes glowing, white fur poking from her jacket. Everything settled into my mind. She was a werewolf. More importantly, she was a murderer. 

I started to run toward her, trying to take my necklace off again as I did so, but the tiny lock was impossible to open delicately while running. 

She saw me coming and screamed: “Another outsider!” and growling swiped at me, hitting my cheek and another swipe at my throat. She hit my collarbone and my necklace which made a sizzling sound as she screamed and ran toward the town hall. I felt the blood spilling down my collar as my legs failed me and I crawled to the base of a tree. 

I lay back against the bark, draped in shadow breathing hard. It wasn’t long before I saw four figures run by me. They didn’t see me in their haste, but I saw them. Artemis (I was relieved she was alive), Paul, Sheriff Madison, and-  my jaw dropped. Desmond was there, but there was something real hairy about his appearance. I could just make out the fur, not white like Truman’s, poking from his flannel shirt as they went by and the shine from his wolfed out eyes.

 I heard words as they sped by; Paul was saying that he could pretend to be loyal to Truman, since she’d turned him. That’s all I caught as they went by. That was enough. Paul had been scratched by Truman, and it had turned him after all. I had been scratched by Truman. 

If this wasn’t my business before, it was becoming my business, and it was entirely my own fault for wandering in the woods at night here in werewolf land. But it was too late to worry about that. 

I carefully removed the necklace from my now sticky throat, wrapped the chain around my fist again; confident now that it would do damage. I felt the slashes on my cheek and the scratch on my neck that would have certainly been a deadly blow if it hadn’t been for my necklace. The blood was already clotting, and it only stung a little. I guessed it was adrenaline, or werewolf magic? I didn’t know. Whatever it was, I was grateful for it. 

After a few more breaths, I slowly made my way to the town hall. I wasn’t sure if I could be any help, but I knew I could at least do what I was good at: watch. Which sounded less creepy in my head in the moment.

 Still hidden from them as I approached, I saw Paul tie something around Desmond’s wrists and push him inside. Artemis and Sheriff Madison followed shortly after, but more sneakily. 

By the time I got to the window, Artemis was holding a silver object over her head with Truman’s back to her. Something stopped her from hitting Truman, who suddenly noticed she was there and whirled to strike. I couldn’t hear what Desmond was saying, but it got Truman to turn around and launch herself at him.

I felt helpless as I watched Truman and Desmond growl and bat at each other. I saw Paul dimly glow purple as he tried to transform. My mind wanted to wander toward what the sticky wound on my face would mean for me later as it took in Paul’s attempts, but I pushed it away. I clutched the silver in my hand; I could still hold this. For now. 

How could I help? I grabbed my notebook out of my bag and wrote what I was seeing as detailed as I could: I mentioned the glowing eyes, the struggle and Madison pulling her gun-

Oh no. I stopped writing. I’d seen Madison shooting on my way to town before. I knew exactly how good a shot she was. I almost called out, but the shot rang out before my voice could. 

A body dropped to the ground. 

[errorpedia]

Day 8 of The Wayward Guide 30 Days Challenge: Tourist

@30daysofwayward​

she,,,, >///<

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Commissions are open!! DM me!

[jackjots]

#18 Citizen

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place around Episode 8)

Day #18 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

Even though I didn’t hear any other sounds in the woods as I made my way back through, the silver still tightly wrapped around my fist, I didn’t slow down or wait to see if I’d hear anything else. For all I knew, the thundering of my feet or the hammering of my heart covered up a whole gaggle of murderous fiends coming after me. The fear I worked up by this thought helped me get back to town faster than I’d left it. I couldn’t feel my fingers by the time my feet hit the pavement. My logical brain kicked in and I finally unwound the silver from my hand and put it back around my neck. As soon as the latch clicked, I felt something push my body backward while I stayed upright.

I heard the sound of my skull hitting the dirt next to the road, but I couldn’t feel it, because I wasn’t in my body anymore. And the sound of that thud faded into an eerie silence. I was pulled back into the purple haze and I realized what was happening. Instead of fighting it or panicking, this time I knew exactly what I wanted to see.

Artemis.

Who I saw instead was Truman. And she was holding a heart. She spoke clear enough I could read her lips. “The names Truman MacMahon.” 

A MacMahon. Of course. 

My mind flashed to the Connor wolves, and I was in a fire lit living room. I saw Aubrey standing by the fire and I knew I must be in his house. Olivia and Helen spoke and everyone reacted like they’d just confessed to being werewolves, except for Agnes who wildly threw a phone about with the look of someone that was in their own world completely. I tried to hold on to the image just as Olivia held a silver bullet and let go of it in pain, and then she faded away. 

I tried to think of more wolves, to maybe discover whoever else might be one, but I got a quick flash of a set of paw prints leading from the Dead Canary, and a flash of blood on the floor of the Miner Mole office, before I felt forced back into a tight, dark space. 

My eyes opened and my head roared. 

By the time I got back to bed, I’d taken a pain killer from my bag. My legs hurt as well, so I hoped it would just take all of the pain in my body and whisk it away from me so I could get some rest. But even though the pain slowly faded, the images did not. They were clear in my mind. The heart that looked fresh from a chest, but which chest I did not know. The look in Truman’s eyes that scared me more than even the fact she was holding a human heart. The fact that, if I had read her lips correctly, she was a MacMahon? I was bewildered that she’d seemed to have done such a horrific thing while still looking like a human. For some reason, that scared me so much more than a werewolf because it felt more real. It was in the Miner Mole office, I knew, and it was difficult to hope it wasn’t Artemis that was murdered because even someone I didn’t like would still be a death, so all I could do was hope I was hallucinating and every citizen was safe. But my mind drifted back to that tarot card…

And Olivia was a werewolf? Or was it Riley I had seen? No, I had been certain when I’d seen her that it was Olivia. The name had popped into my head - my spirit head? Non-corporeal head? I guffawed at myself in the darkness. I remembered now Aubrey’s face, and there was a joy there that was bittersweet to remember. Because I knew with Truman being the murderer, and having both the symbolic heart of the town in her hands never mind literal ones, it was going to be hard to pry it from her fingers without any blood being spilt. 

Specifically, werewolf blood.

[errorpedia]

Day 11 of The Wayward Guide 30 Days Challenge: Drink

@30daysofwayward​

Decided to do some of my OCs for Drink. I have no  idea what day we’re at, and I’m honestly just trying to catch up and juggle other types of art i can’t shove into this challenge. But meet Mickaël (left) and Luk (right)! Enjoy the only time I’ll post about my OCs ever.

(click for better quality)

Commissions are open!! DM me!

[raetheorygal-deactivated2026051]

Day 9: Bones

Day 9: Bones Every day I thought I trust her, That person, that outsider, The person that grew our town, Until I found she betrayed us, She betrayed us all. Being a town council member, Thought she was able to make our town bigger, Than its ever been, That person with a different bones structu...

Hello. I know I have been busy with Uni. I decided to catch up on the poems I have missed. Here we go! Thanks to @tincanbros for creating Wayward Guide. It saved our 2020.  @30daysofwayward Hope you enjoy this poem!

[dylbobaggins168]

Day 1 of the 30 day Wayward Guide challenge - Podcast!! I have learnt that I cannot draw hands at all!! @tincanbros @30daysofwayward