Werewolf by Night-The Beginning-Chapter 1
Scott Speedman as Jack Russell
It was so serene here. The sun hung low, bathing the sky in a warm orange glow that really made me crave a creamsicle. Here I was, just laying out on a blanket staring up at the clouds. They were thin and wispy, adding texture to the amber heavens above. Laying against me was Satilia. My arm wrapped around her shoulder as we just laid there and existed. We didn’t need to talk. My mother always told me that’s how she knew she was in love with my father. They could just sit there in silence and be content in each other’s presence.
I leaned down to plant a soft kiss upon Tilly’s lips. But when I got to where I thought they would be I felt nothing. I opened my eyes to find that I was alone. The serene beauty had been replaced whilst my eyes were closed. The orange glow was now the pale light of the full moon. Not that I could see much of it through the trees which had swallowed up the sky. Long and jagged, like horrible arms reaching out to blot out the light. In futility I patted the ground where Tilly once lay. Where could she have gone? She was just here? Or had she? She was back in the field. And this was no longer the field. I tried to call out to her, but my voice was caught in my throat.
I shakily rose to my feet, my eyes scanning this unfamiliar place. That was the moment I heard something that chilled my blood. It was a howl. But it was not the howl of some natural animal. Those sounds I was all too familiar with. No. This was the howl of something else. Something unnatural. And something hungry.
I took off in the direction opposite of where I thought the howl had come from. And from behind me I could hear the gallop of feet behind me. Those coupled with the panting growls told me everything I needed to know. I could not let this thing get me or I was dead.
My feet felt heavy, as if I was running in water. The further along I got, the harder the struggle began and the closer the beast at my back seemed to get. It was almost on me now. I could feel the hot wet breath on the back of my neck, the stench of death burning my nose and eyes. I shut them, trying to get the tears out of them but it was no use.
I felt myself trip, and as I did, I felt the terrible jaws wrap around my neck.
And that was when I woke up. I shot up in my bed, breathing hard and covered in sweat. The room was still dark, and the memory of the nightmare still fresh making everything disorienting. I put my hands to my face and pressed them as I tried to control my breathing. It happened again. That same reoccurring dream I’d had since I was young. The dream could start out as anything. Whether it be mundane or fantastical it would always end with me in that forest being chased by that howling beast.
My therapist told me that it was my brain’s way of coping with what happened to me when I was younger. The man who hurt me. But I always argued with him. I insisted that I’d had that dream even before the…incident. He assured me I was just misremembering. The memory of childhood being a malleable thing.
It didn’t matter now of course. After some minutes of heavy breathing in the silence of my bedroom I had managed to at the very least calm down. I still felt the tremors of terror within myself. Like a kid watching a horror movie and being too afraid to leave his room afterwards. Slowly, I brought my feet around the side of my bed and planted them onto the carpeted floor. With a final heavy sigh, I raised myself on shaky legs and I stood.
I laughed to myself as I made my way to the connected bathroom. Here I was, a week from turning 18 and I’m having night terrors like some kid. I do my morning business and then wash my hands and my face in the sink. I study myself in the mirror while my face is still wet. I turn my head from side to side slowly, making a couple of goofy faces as I do. I still had a baby face. I didn’t look like I was about to become a man, and I certainly didn’t feel it either. The thought made me frown. I only know because I saw it happen in the mirror. I wiped my face and then shook off the thought.
As I came back into the room, I stretched my arms and legs. Looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside my bed I still had some time to kill before I had to get up for school. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option and so I opted to play on my phone until the time came.
First, I tried in vain to text Tilly. She was a girl who very much enjoyed her sleep. She always waited until the last possible moment that she could until she needed to wake up. It was always a wonder how she even managed to make it to school on time.
Next, I tried texting my best friend, Jason. We’d been buddies since the 5th grade, and though we didn’t always see eye to eye he was important to me. He however, liked sleep even more than Tilly did. And unlike Tilly, he had a habit of showing up late to school or just not showing up at all. I was zero for two so far. I sighed and laid my phone back down on my nightstand, opting to just stare up at the ceiling until the time came for me to properly get up.
I played back the good moments of my dream in my head. The warm light, Tilly in my arms, the sweet silence. It was interesting to me that my brain brought up what my mother had told me about sweet silence. It had been one of the very few times my mother would talk about my real dad. Her new husband didn’t like those talks and so the information I got about him was sparing to put it generously. As much as I hated my stepdad, he couldn’t be all bad. Only because he gave my mother the daughter she always wanted. And as much as she is a pain in my ass, my sister Lissa means the world to me.
My stupid brain had a habit of going from one thing to another to another without any rhyme or reason to it. Like Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon but even more random. I had a learning disability when I was younger. Probably still do to be honest. I had in school therapy to help me out with that, but I never actually bothered to ask what I have. If I was ever diagnosed when I was younger, I’ve forgotten by this point. Like my actual therapist said, malleable.
I was drifting in thought when the sound of my alarm finally started chiming and grounded me squarely back into reality and out of my head. I yawned and again stretched, having gotten comfortable as I was. I put on deodorant, got changed, and headed out my bedroom door only to be met with the toothy grin of my little sister. Twelve years old, freckles, blonde hair in pigtails, and a smile with a missing tooth. The missing tooth was the reason she was in front of my right now gloating about how the Tooth Fairy had taken her tooth and given her a crisp five-dollar bill.
“Hey, when I was your age, the Fairy only gave you ones.” I said to her, trying to hide my amusement.
“She likes me better that you.” Lissa said, sticking out her tongue at me.
“Most people do.” I pointed out. I then ruffled her hair, knowing she hates that. She tried to kick my shin, but I moved around her and laughed. “Come on squirt. Smells like breakfast is ready.” The two of us headed downstairs where indeed I was correct. On the table was quite the spread. But it was always done big here. Phillip Russell, my stepdad and Lissa’s biological was a big-time movie producer. We lived here in his Hollywood mansion with him, my mother, a few maids, and his personal muscle Grant who lived in the pool house.
It was a pretty cozy life most of the time. Especially when Phil and Grant weren’t around. Phil never really liked me due to me not being his kid. But I was a packaged deal with Mom and he had to deal. When in front of Mom, Phil was polite if not a little curt. But when she wasn’t around, he wasn’t shy about his distain. And his loyal lapdog Grant was the one who really let me have it. Since my 13th birthday, Grant was happy to start hitting me. I was warned that if I told my mother, that he’d start hitting her too. Being a kid, there wasn’t much I could do but take it. When my mother would ask me about my injuries, I’d just say I fell off my bike or I was being picked on in school.
Suffice to say, when I started driving, I was spending less and less time at home. I grabbed some food, kissed Mom good morning and then I headed out the door. Last thing I heard was Lissa excitedly telling Mom about the money she’d gotten.
I got to my car parked in the garage to find Grant there, leaning on the tailgate. He gave me a cruel smirk as he lowered his sunglasses to look at me. “Mornin’ Rich Boy.” He said, his favorite nickname for me. He was a tall, muscular guy who favored wearing wife-beaters, jeans, and cowboy boots. On his head he wore a cap with his favorite team’s logo on it. He spat at my feet and laughed at his action.
“Get off my car Grant.” I said in a bored tone.
“Oh, you want me off your car Rich Boy? How’s about you make me?”
“Is your life really so shitty that you need to harass a goddamn highschooler for kicks?” I could tell Grant didn’t like that. Like any bully, once his ego and authority are challenged, they start to see red.
“Oh, I get it. It's almost your birthday, and you’re feelin’ like a real man huh?” Grant said, kicking off the rear of the car and heading towards me with purpose. He cracked his knuckles, and I knew what was coming. I tried to move out of the way, but he grabbed onto the collar of my shirt and then threw his knee into my stomach. That took the air out of my lungs, and I fell onto the ground. Try as I may, I just wasn’t built to be a fighter. Grant was right. I was just a soft rich boy.
“Don’t think you can start mouthin’ off to me Rich Boy.” Grant growled as I tried to get up. “Your Dad owns your ass and pays me to make sure it stays in line.”
“Just like how he owns yours right? Does he at least lube up first before he~” And that earned me a kick to the ribs. I rolled onto my side coughing.
“What’d I just fucking say?” Grant said, kneeling to be close to eye level with me. “The only reason you continue to breathe is because your father allows it. Remember that.” He spat in my face and walked away.
After wiping both the blood and the spit from my face using the rag I keep in my car, I could finally drive away from this place. My front was all in pain. Those boots he wore had steel toes and getting kicked by them wasn’t something I’d recommend. Despite the pain, I was pleased to have gotten under his skin as well as I had. I may not be a fighter, but I’m a real smart ass.