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Adventures In Living With The Mythical |
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A military veteran is adopted by a werewolf and brought into his pack. Insanity ensues. About "Life With A Werewolf" Life with a werewolf is a dramatic blog. As such the characters in this blog are not real but maybe loosely based on real people. The situations represented are not real but maybe loosely based on real things that have happened in my life. There are a multitude of ways to view life, this is simply one of the ways I have chosen to view mine. Updated Every Friday unless I can't or don't want to. If this is your first time reading this...start here: https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1040400-Welcome-To-The-Pack The first year is available as a compilation on Amazon Kindle: https://a.co/d/gBLLL7E Audio and print versions will be available in the future. My book, "Dreamers of The Sea" is available now on Amazon: https://a.co/d/0uz7xa3 |
| The three individuals who picked us up began to "chat" as soon as we got in the SUV. It was the kind of conversation you prayed for long awkward pauses. One where it seemed to meander as much as their driving, but always managed to find it's way into a threat or a dark promise. They made sure not to tell us any names, so I came up with my own. The driver I named Damon cause he kind of looked like Matt Damon. If Matt Damon gained weight, went to the gym a lot, and grew a goatee that was sad in it's own "I wish the 90s were still cool" desperate sort of way. Behind him was a woman I called Hilton, cause she kind of reminded me of a buff version of Paris Hilton. And next to her was Rob. He was thinner than the other two, had a clear enjoyment of electronics, but had absolutely no people skills. The kind of person who would let people call him "Rob" without arguing. The kind of person who didn't understand the purpose of nicknames. Damon did much of the driving, Hilton, much of the threatening. That's what it was. Each story they told, of how the Nobility attempted a raid and they ended up shipping the heads of their soldiers back in boxes to their main headquarters in...well some small town in Europe. I remembered I couldn't pronounce it, didn't want to try, and the conversation kept rolling into their next veiled threat so there wasn't time to catch it. As we got to a picturesque view of their side of the Appalachian mountains, we also got the gruesome details of how they maintained the truce in their town. They drove up one side of the road, and then pulled over to scenic overview, the sort that would make you want to get your camera out. The mountain seemed to open up into a valley, with waves of trees rolling towards the horizon, and a sheer drop off at the cliffs edge. "You see that drop? Not even a werewolf can survive that if you throw them hard enough. We know, we've experimented more than a few times. Took us more than four times to get the drop just right, you believe that? But we now know just how to drop a werewolf right off this ridge right now, and have them both regret their decisions and bleed to death in the valley below before even our rapid healing can save them." Hilton laughed as we pulled away. "You should see the looks on their faces as their body begins to give out. Most of them praying for a quicker death, some of them praying for us to just shoot them." "Yeah," Damon jumped in. "When you're forced to keep the peace and keep trouble makers out, you find fun ways of doing it. We're not the only patrol either, we're just the ones who decided to talk to you." They drove down a highway that looped back around dumped back into the small town. "You see, Jason and Elouise. We have been watching you. We've been watching Crash. We know all about his little meet up. Keith, he's under our protection. The final standing order of Grandma. So, you do whatever you have to do. Convince him, knock him out and drag him. Whatever. Cause if Crash attempts to harm Keith, we'll find how fast a rougarou dies at our cliff on top of her werewolf wannabe boyfriend. And how high a human can bounce." At about this time, the motel rose into our sight. It would have been smarter to listen to their threat. But of course, it's me. I'm not that intelligent. "Eighteen inches," is what I said as they pulled into the parking lot. "Eighteen inches," Damon asked. "Yes," I said. "That's how far the blood splatter travels from the back of a werewolf's head after I've shot them with silver. It's my personal record, I'm proud of it. I'd like to try for nineteen. Any volunteers?" Rob spoke up for the first time. "Crash is standing around the rear of the motel. I think he's gazing into the woods again." Rob continued to play with his phone. "He's not very active right now, I bet he's thinking, worried about you two. He tried to look for you both, you know, after we picked you up. Sad to see a werewolf lose his pack." I did almost pull at that point, but Elouise gave me a look that made me pause. The SUV made a slow trip towards the back of the Motel, where a sad attempt had been made at a pool, one they clearly failed with. It was empty then, save for a small puddle of rainwater at the deep end that was filled with more moss and leaves than water. As we drove up, Crash snarled at the sight of the vehicle. Giving everyone a curt nod, we got out of the car followed by the terrible trio. "Crash, your friend may get everyone killed before you do," Damon said. I pulled my pistol in my typical fashion. All three of their eyes lit up in surprise. "I'm a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy. Questions like, how long can a werewolf live with silver in their chest. Shall we find out?" Crash did try to step in front of my gun, but Elouise got there first. "Let's not do something fucking stupid." She turned to the three werewolves. "We get the message. Don't kill Keith." She turned to Crash. "You get that message?" Our friend gritted his teeth. You could tell he was warring with himself then. A war that he rarely let us in on. It was a war that Crash always held at bay with bad jokes, worse puns, and pranks. A war that looked as if it had been winning this entire trip. "I get the message. Leave my friends alone. They have nothing to do with this." "Neither do you," Hilton said. "Your own grandmother settled this years ago. Keith is under orders to not be killed. Ever. You harm him, you'll face our wrath, werewolf. You and your pack." As they began climbing into their vehicle, I lowered my weapon, slipping it back into my holster. "Yeah, bye. Please forget to write. Be a stranger. Don't come back now, ya hear?" None of them answered me as they got into their SUV and left. Elouise wanted to tear into me, but I rounded on Crash first. "Could you talk to me, instead of just shutting us both out of this private war of yours?! Since I'm now threatening strangers and being told my life will end if you act?!" Crash ran a hand through his hair, as he looked back into the woods. "I told Keith already. We've moved up the time table. It's happening tonight. You and Elouise get in the Cadillac and leave." I'd never pulled my weapon on Crash before. It was out of my holster before I knew what I was doing. "I'll fucking shoot you myself," I swore. The tear traveling down my face went almost unnoticed by me. "You're not ending yourself over a fucking vendetta! I swear to God, I'll shoot you in the leg, have Elouise bite it off, and we'll drag your crippled ass back home in the backseat!" Crash stepped to me and smiled. It was a smile weighted down with the pain he bore. "You are incredibly fast with that." He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You'll do what you have to. You don't understand. Every where I see, I have memories. Every one of those memories are tainted with the his death. I watched him die in front of me, that's not something you just walk away from." He turned to the woods, his lip quivering, his chest heaving in pain and anguish. "You know what it's like?! Everywhere you look, you have a memory of him. You start asking yourself, 'did he some how know? Is that why he said what he said, and did what he did? Was something in his brain telling him of his fate?' And every fucking time I close my eyes, every time I look out into these woods, I see his face. His favorite beer in his hand. Then I see that bastard taking his head off for the crime of merely existing. There is no more of his family. No children. No relatives or cousins. Damian's entire bloodline is dead. And he gets to live with children. With a wife!" Crash turned on me. "That should be Damian's wife. That should be HIS KIDS! HE SHOULD HAVE PUPS OF HIS OWN! RAISING THEM RIGHT NOW IN PEACE INSTEAD OF RESTING IN IT!" My pistol faltered, then lowered. I took a breath as I holstered it, steadying myself. "Crash, do yourself a favor. Ask yourself this. Would Damian want you carrying around this pain? Or would he want you to let go of it? To live in the peace that he always wanted?" Crash didn't answer. Elouise stuck her own two cents in after. "You know, it's been my experience that retribution is just vengeance wearing church clothes." He looked at the ground for a moment then back into the woods. "I am sorry about how everything is going. Please, forgive me, Jason." "I'll forgive you for trying to get us killed," I said. "But I won't forgive you for us losing that barbecue! It smelled pretty good and those bastards have it in their SUV right now." Crash looked at me for a moment. Then he cracked a smile. "You forgot the barbecue?! How dare you?!" Then he laughed. "Let's go to the diner instead. We'll have a meal there. And then, we'll talk about what we're doing next." "Some vacation," I said. Elouise nodded. "Yeah, some vacation." Crash smiled. "Hey, could be worse. We could be fighting The Nobility." He got smacked in the back of the head for that one by me and Elouise. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that Crash was planning something. His attitude change came on too sudden. As if he had finally decided to do something. His actions seemed to be that of a man wanting his friends to have one last good memory before he did something terrible. Or maybe the actions of a condemned man sharing one last meal. |
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