I Am A Werewolf, But I'm Different

I am a werewolf, but I'm different.

I am neither beast nor man but somewhere in between. An anomaly to everything that I am supposed to be.

It's not quiet in the Highlands, not if you listen closely enough. Whispers are carried in the wind and we hear everything. We sense everything around us, even in the total pitch blackness. This is the time we hunt. 

My siblings in the pack all revel in the humans. I, however, shrink from it. They feast without shame, without remorse or any regret, between them. But I am different. I keep to the shadows, my sense of humanity still runs through my veins. I long to return to my days as a human. Every day though I become more feral, just like the others.

I am a werewolf, but I'm different.

In the early days after the change, I made fumbling attempts to fit in, to join in their hunts. I acted as though the kill fulfilled me. The first time my teeth sank into a throat my body vibrated with an animal's thrill, my mind, however, drew back in abhorrence. I lied then, I told myself it was only survival. Survival is not enough though, not for me, I need redemption.

I hunt alone now, only killing deer or other animals in the forest. I prowl the edges of humanity standing at the edge of small villages and watching from the treeline. The lights in small houses blink off one by one. I recall nights that I would drift off to sleep with my family nearby. The memories cut through me as a constant reminder of what I have become.

One of my favourite places to hide and watch is a small clearing in the trees where there are half a dozen luxury lodges, with hot tubs. They don’t even know that I’m there, moving silently through the trees and watching them. I was compelled once to get as close as I could to a couple having a laugh and a drink in one of them. The urge to kill them was there, however, I hadn't sunk that low yet. My humanity still revealed that thought. Instead, I crept stealthily towards them until I was within touching distance. My human traits craved the feel of love, laughter and intimacy that I once had. I lightly touched the shoulder of the young man. He screamed so high-pitched that I ran into the trees as fast as I could. I was sure he hadn't seen me but I had to get away from there.

Each night, I tell myself it is going to hurt less and I'll get used to the loneliness. The ache I feel will fade but each night the emptiness I feel bites deeper. A strange depression grows inside me as my human memories fade day by day. I fear they will be gone in the coming days and weeks.

I am a werewolf, but I'm different.

When the loneliness becomes so unbearable, my mood darkens and the depression takes over. I once hid by the roadside, waiting for one of the many lumber trucks to go hurtling by. I flung myself under the wheels, hoping I would be crushed and that would end my life. My body had other ideas and gradually regenerated itself, mocking my attempts at mortality.

My last attempt was to break into an isolated croft where I had seen a collection of silver candlesticks. In these parts, people are friendly and don't always lock their doors, so I just walked in, with care, my hands shaking as I stole the biggest silver candlestick on display. I went back into the darkness away from everything and everybody. My heart was pounding with desperate hope as I drove the sharp edge of the candlestick into my chest. All to no avail, the wound healed quickly and just formed a scar. 

It was not real silver, and to me, the gods were having a laugh at my mental torture.

I returned to the hills, bloodless and deep in depression. Hope was becoming a cruel joke and I hate being stuck in this limbo. I am my kinfolk and what I am about to become.

I am a werewolf, but I'm different.

The pack senses my difference. They can smell it emanating through my pores and see it in my eyes. They ridicule me because they see something in my eyes that they cannot understand. They are repulsed by my restraint for human flesh and see my desire for humanity as my weakness. I'm a stain on the pack and something to be erased.

And humans? They are terrified and they should be. I am still a predator, a nightmare prowling in the darkness. Even though the taste of humans revives me, there will come a day I embrace it. Their fear might once have hurt me, but now it is only one more reminder of what I used to have and cannot now have.

So now I find myself standing on the cliff above the loch. The water below looks deep enough, a perfect way to end my torment. I can't swim, but can I die by drowning? Will my regenerative powers still work when nothing is broken? Maybe water can break the curse where both silver and crushed bones did not. I do not know, but I must try.

While I still remember all of my human side I must end it. With my eyes closed, I remember my past life and a world that has moved on without me. I hesitate, clinging onto those memories for a second longer. Then I leap, the tears roll down my cheeks as the warm welcome of the water embraces me.

I feel the water rush into my open mouth and panic. This is not how I thought it would be. I try to swim to the surface but I can't. I splash around grasping for imaginary objects to cling to. I see a bright light and I sink towards it. I feel the life force ebb from my body. I see my family reaching out and embracing me and revelling in the warmth and comfort it gives me.

I was a werewolf and I was different.