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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1277690-I-Met-a-Werewolf
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Fantasy · #1277690
My entry for A Contest For The Imaginative #2
Grrrr. A low animal growl rumbled out of the gloom to our left. A shiver crawled up my spine and what few hairs I had rose on the back of my head.

“What was that!” My companion clutched my arm. We stood together at the railing of the ship bearing us away from Guadalcanal on the next leg of our round-the-world cruise.

We both peered into the shadow of the stairway – companionway? – leading to the lower depths. A dark shape, low to the deck of the ship, cowered and emitted another growl.

I looked at Cynthia. “You don’t suppose…”

She straightened immediately and glared at me. “Don’t be absurd! Carlton is the only one who believes he really turns into a wolf.”

I looked back at the pool of darkness and shook my head. “I don’t know. Gabrielle…”

Cynthia looked around for witnesses. “Forgive my unprofessional attitude but Gabrielle is just as crazy, thinking she’s an angel sent from God.”

As I watched the inky entrance to the companionway, the tip of a black snout poked into the silvery light of the full Moon. A whine curled out and the black form turned and disappeared.

My companion put a hand over her heart and gulped for breath. “That was weird!”

All I could do was rejoice that she had sought comfort from me. I wished I could get more from her.



I had met Dr. Cynthia Enders in a place for drinking fermented beverages – a “watering hole”, I’d heard it called - in the city of Alamogordo, New Mexico, on the North American continent. I had gone there to observe the natives and further fine-tune my disguise. She had come in with friends; at least she laughed with them a lot as she entered and as she talked with them.

The slender woman followed another female back to one of the rooms where people eliminate digestive wastes. As they returned, I put out a hand to stop her.

“Pardon me, could I ask you a question?”

She looked at me rather coolly then at her companion who shrugged. Finally she nodded. I understood her silence as a sign she would not necessarily answer.

“May I ask what you and your friends were laughing about?”

She shrugged and grinned. “We were just sharing some of the crazy stories we’ve heard of flying saucers landing out in the desert and aliens walking among us.”

I frowned, concerned about my cover.

She put out a hand, no longer smiling. “I’m sorry. I hope you’re not one of those people who believe that.”

I shrugged and looked away. It wouldn’t do to give away information.

I looked at her again. “Thanks,” I said and turned to make a surreptitious note.

Later that night, I noticed the woman watching me. When her people left, she stayed behind and approached my table, drink in hand. “Hi. May I speak with you a moment?”

I motioned to the seat across from me and she sat with her hands folded around her drink.

“My name is Cynthia Enders. I am a psychologist with the Alamogordo Psychological Services. I’ve been watching you, sitting here and observing people’s interactions, and I think somehow recording notes. May I ask what you’re up to?” She smiled and I didn’t feel as though she was confronting me.

I moved my arm under the table to hide my recording unit. “Yes, I am observing how people interact here.” I paused. “What is a psychologist?”

She blinked as though she’d never heard such a question. “Er…people talk to me about their problems and I try to understand their deeper thoughts, emotions, and motivations. Then I can help them understand themselves and deal with the reality of their lives.” She looked at me strangely.

I sat up straight. “You gather data on how people think and what motivates them? Maybe you can help me. I wish to understand people, too.”

The plain-looking face framed by short, dark hair screwed together in confusion.

“Oh? And what do you do?”

I hesitated. I had not yet found a label for what I was doing. I spoke slowly, “I watch what people do and report on their actions.”

“So, you’re a reporter.”

“Er…yes. I report what people do.”

“So, how can I help you understand people?”

I shrugged. “Could I look over the data you have on people and ask you to explain them to me?”

She shook her head. “That I cannot do. Confidentiality issues.”

I’m sure my face fell. She patted my hand, which gave me a thrill.

“What I can do is give you books to study and answer questions of a general nature.”

I nodded eagerly but she held up one finger vertically.

“On one condition. I want you to come meet some people I work with. They meet every Thursday afternoon to talk about their lives and how they deal with problems.”

I nodded eagerly again. That would be just the situation for gathering more data – first hand.

Cynthia opened her hand in a gesture I’d learned meant to cease one’s action. “You understand I will want you to share about yourself as well.”

That brought me up short. I was required to keep my mission secret. However, I did want to mine this lode of information. Reluctantly, I agreed. I would have to be careful.

Cynthia reached into the bag she carried and withdrew a small rectangle of stiff paper. She wrote with a pen on the blank side and handed me the card. She held up the card so I saw printing in black ink. “My office is here.” She turned it and showed me what she had written. “The group meets Thursdays at 2:00. Come prepared to talk about yourself.”

With that she stood and reached toward me. I understood the gesture as a farewell and clasped her hand, palm to palm and fingers curled around all of hers. It felt good to hold her soft hand and she had to pull to make me let go. Stranger that she was, I was reluctant. It had been a while since my last mating dance.



At the Thursday gathering, I met the other three people in the group. Carlton Webber was a small, young man with dark, shaggy hair, a large nose, and black clothing. He sat turned to one side in a chair instead of facing the rest of us seated on comfortable furniture. He kept his face down and to one side and looked at us from under dark, thin eyebrows. His shoulders slumped and he fiddled with his fingers. A native once called the expression “hang-dog”.

“My…um…problem is I’m afraid of moonlight.”

We waited.

“…and at full Moon I become a wolf and run with a pack.”

The man next to him at the end of the sofa sat upright and edged away. The woman at the other end of the sofa put her fingers over her mouth.

Cynthia, sitting in an office chair, widened her eyes and gripped her pen. She drew in a breath. “OK, we’re not here to criticize what each person says. We’re here to listen and to encourage.”

Everyone settled back and I tried to figure out what had startled them.

The man next to Carlton returned to lounging with his arms spread open on the armrest and the back of the sofa. One ankle rested on the opposite knee. The clothing over his large frame was rugged, like something made for outdoor activities. He had tossed a wide-brimmed, floppy hat onto a pole for outer clothes when he sauntered in. Grey hairs blended with the cream-colored ones on his face.

Waving his arms about exuberantly, he began to speak a bit loudly. “My name is Robert Locksley. You can call me Rob or Robin. My problem is I’m from another century. In the year of our Lord 1094, I defeated the shire-reeve of Nottingham in battle. The next thing I know, I’m in…whatever year this is. I’ve had to get used to using the infernal machines everybody has these days. I long for the open woods where I can breathe free… and hunt wolves.” He eyed the young man who curled his lips and edged away.

Gabrielle Ramsey sat up straight at her end of the sofa. Long, light-brown hair was gathered into a knot at the top of her head and bulged loosely in a torus over her plain face. She wore a simple, yellow dress over a chubby body and no jewelry. She kept her hands folded in her lap, her knees and feet together. She said, “My problem is I was sent by God to help people here on Earth.” She sighed disconsolately. “Most of the time I end up requiring their help instead.”

When it came my turn to share, I had to think. I was under orders to not reveal my mission or anything about my origins. Fully assured by Dr. Enders that everything said at those meetings was completely secret, I said that I’d been sent from a distant planet to study Humanity, to understand its thoughts and motivations, and to report back. I said I wished to study the thinking of each one of them to include in my report. I promised strict secrecy as we’d already agreed.

Cynthia sat with her notepad on her crossed legs. Her suit of dark pants and jacket over a white blouse struck me as too serious. She watched each of us as we talked, making occasional notes on her pad. When we were finished, she shook her head. “You realize, of course, you’re all crazy.” She smiled as if at a joke. None of us laughed.



We got to know each other fairly well. Over several sessions, we talked about problems we were having and tried to encourage one another through them. Locksley was the most talkative of the group. He would wave his hands about and proclaim loudly about the evils of government. He amused us with stories of leading government men on merry chases through the streets and the buildings of the poorer parts of the city.

Gabrielle always sat upright, speaking softly about her attempts to help others. Her stories amused us as well but we tried hard to not laugh at her failings.

Carl actually beamed at our chuckles over his bumblings. I think he slanted his later stories for our amusement.

Cynthia listened to each of us and gave us encouragement. I liked her more and more after each session. I told her once and she said professional ethics prevented her returning my affection. Yet, she often explained to me behaviors I’d observed. I felt she enjoyed my company more than was usual.

One day, Cynthia said the National Institute of Mental Health had agreed to sponsor an experiment for her. They would pay for all of us to take a cruise around the world to get us away from the negative influences of our lives. Starting in San Diego, we would sail to Honolulu, Hawaii; Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands; Darwin, Australia; Johannesburg, South Africa; Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; the Panama Canal; and return to San Diego.

Carl was unhappy about that. “You said this is a thirty-day cruise?”

When Cynthia nodded, he shrugged with dismay. “There will be at least one full Moon during that time. What will I do if we’re not on land where I can run free and hunt?”

“What do you do now, given that you avoid going out into moonlight?”

He bit his lower lip. “I hunt as much as I can in deep woods. I long ago gave up crossing open fields with the pack. I sometimes run down small prey unless it goes out into the open. I often go hungry.” He clenched his fist in one of his few signs of anger.

Rob Locksley sat at the far end of the sofa from Carl. He’d never given up his distress at the young man’s claim to be a wolf. “Why not stay in your cabin when the Change comes?”

Carl’s eyes widened in horror. “When I Change, I need to run. I need to hunt.”

Gabrielle looked at the therapist. “Is there anyplace onboard ship Carl could run freely?”

Cynthia shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see. Anything else?”

This last was directed at the rest of us. Rob raised his hand.

“Will there be provision made for going to Mass?”

Cynthia scowled. “You want to go to church?”

The hunter shrugged. “In my day, the Church was very important to us. It still is for me.”

I shook my head. I was again amazed at the people of this planet. Many of them set aside one day a week to go to a special building - “to worship God”, as I had been told. They also followed many rules about how to live. How unlike me and my people who lived freely in the presence of Maleldil.

Cynthia assured Rob that there would be services for different faiths aboard the ship.



We all boarded the ship the second full seven-day period of what the North American natives call June. Right behind me strode a good-looking, young woman with yellow hair and a slightly older man with dark, curly hair all around his head. He carried a large camera such as I’d seen used by television cameramen.

We spent a delightful day at Pearl Harbor, where military warships stayed when not at sea and where we visited an old sunken ship called Arizona. We were told that many years before, brave young men lost their lives and many others fought back against a bombing raid. The incident provoked the country to enter the second war that spanned the whole globe.

At Guadalcanal, we saw a tiny airstrip where brave men fought to keep machines flying against the same people who bombed Pearl Harbor. The tour guides at both places said a lot about overcoming adversity and terrible conditions and holding on at all costs. Locksley nodded his head a lot. In both places, he moved his hand up and down then back and forth across his chest.

I also noticed the cameraman pointing the recording device toward us. The young woman with him spoke into the end of a black cylinder in her hand. I nudged Cynthia and gestured toward them. She hissed and strode away to talk to them, her face angry.

On the ship, we met with Dr. Enders as a group and individually in a small conference room set aside for the therapist’s use. During one meeting, Gabrielle complained that the cameraman had been making improper suggestions to her. Both Locksley and Carlton bristled at that. Cynthia said she would talk with him and the reporter.



Three days later, Cynthia and I were walking along the railing on the cruise ship’s top deck in the light of the full Moon. We’d all offered to stay with Carlton for support but he insisted he wanted to be alone. As we walked, I caught up her hand, wishing for even a moment of the thrill I had felt before. To my surprise, she didn’t pull away. My companion was beginning to tell me about some of her problems and I was deciding whether to put my arm around her shoulder. It had been a long time since my last mating dance. Then we heard the growl.

When the shape disappeared, we followed in the direction of Carlton’s cabin. The door wouldn’t budge and we got no response to our knocks and calls. At a gasp of surprise down the hall, we turned to the approach of Gabrielle, carrying a large bowl of raw meat.

She blushed and tried to put the bowl behind her back. “Have…um…have either of you seen Carl?”

“No,” Cynthia spoke soothingly, “but you seem to be thinking how to help him. That’s good.”

“Oh! Um…I just thought…” She faltered.

“Yes, you did!” The therapist emphasized the point. “How thoughtful!”

I suggested we look in the Gymnasium with its large oval for running. We headed for the large room below decks. Halfway there, I realized I couldn’t smell the meat. I looked back to see Gabrielle was gone.

In the gym, we saw no sign of wolf or angel with meat. My companion and I talked about it and decided there was nothing we could do so we returned to the railing on deck. Once there, we spotted Gabrielle in her white dress on the level below ours.

She squatted in the moonlight at the edge of a space shadowed by a lifeboat. The bowl lay on the deck and she seemed to be holding out a large hunk of meat.

In the shadowed space, a low, dark shape stalked back and forth. It would growl and lunge toward the meat then whine and draw back. At last, Gabrielle tossed down the hunk and the shape leaped to grab it.

Cynthia and I turned to the companionway to the lower level. When we got to the lower deck, we discovered the wolf had disappeared. Gabrielle sat on the floor, weeping. Cynthia placed an arm around her shoulders.

“Are you OK?”

The angel nodded her head slowly. “Oh, God, I’m such a failure!”

“Hey,” Cynthia soothed her. “You tried to feed that wolf! You don’t seem to realize how dangerous that was!”

The angel looked up. “Carlton wouldn’t hurt me!” She wiped her eyes and stood then picked up the bowl.

Just then the television reporter and her cameraman hurried up. The yellow-haired woman talked into her speaking cylinder then held it out. She asked, “Did we just see a wolf here?”

Cynthia stepped forward. “Wolf? On board this ship? What are you talking about!”

The reporter shifted her speaking device back and forth. “Dr. Enders, we know you’re treating these people for various delusions. Is one of them a werewolf?”

The therapist stiffened. “A werewolf! That’s crazy!”

“Doctor, where’s Carlton Webber?”

“I will not speak to anyone about my clients – certainly not to you and for sure not in front of that thing!” She jabbed a finger at the camera. With that she whirled and strode toward the companionway. She grabbed my arm and Gabrielle’s and towed us away.



At our next group meeting, Gabrielle shared with Locksley about trying to feed the wolf. He grimaced at the thought. He then said, “There’s some things I’ve been pondering for a while and I’d like to take the opportunity to share them.”

Dr. Enders gave her consent and the hunter stood and began to pace nervously about.

“I have been thinking a lot about our individual troubles. I was reminded of some things Friar Tuck would say to me when I worried about my men and the situations we faced.”

He stopped pacing and faced us. “Now, I’m not a priest or monk, so you can’t take what I say as Gospel. However, when Tuck said these things to me, I always came away feeling better about things.”

He pulled out his chair and sat again.

“Scripture tells us that we were made by a loving God. We believe He is the Sovereign Lord and holds all things in His hands. If that’s true, then everything that happens does so for His reasons. We need to thank Him for helping us to survive and ask Him to help us fulfill His purposes. We can trust Him to bring us through in triumph.”

We glanced at each other, recognizing the truth in Rob’s words.

He went on. “Carl, because of your fear of moonlight, you are unable to be the free-running wolf the Creator has made you to be. I believe He would say to you, ‘Fear not for I am with you. I will help you.’ ”

The young man’s eyes brightened and his chest expanded as a look of determination crossed his face.

“Gabrielle, you seem to be stumbling from failure to failure. But God is with you, too. Has He ever reproved you for your failures? I thought not. He just wants you to be faithful; He will bring about success as He wills.”

The angel smiled with relief at these words.

Then Rob turned to me. I sat up in anticipation. I had always relished hearing from Maleldil through other people.

“Tobias, I don’t know what to say to encourage you. The only think I can think of is: Remember your mission.”

I hissed in surprise at the rebuke. I glanced at Cynthia. Yes, she had become a distraction. I must stop the mating dance with her and continue my work. There was one at home who deserved my loyalty.

Locksley turned to our therapist. “Cynthia, I recently read something I would speak to you. ‘There are more things in Heaven and on Earth than are dreamt of in you philosophy.’ God wants you to rely on Him to help your clients. He is the Source of healing for all of them…and for you.”

Cynthia’s face went rigid and pale. Finally, she lowered her eyes and nodded.

At that, Rob clapped his hands together and smiled. “I don’t know why I was brought to this time and place. But I feel as though I have just completed an important mission. I think it’s time to celebrate.” He rose and beckoned to us. “Come on, let’s go find something to drink.”



We docked the next day in Darwin, Australia, and disembarked for a two-day return to land. We registered at a hotel then walked about the city as a group, stretching our legs. We had a pleasant supper of Australian beef and native vegetables. Then we separated to seek individual pursuits.

Cynthia and I accompanied Locksley to a popular watering-hole so we could observe the native populace. Rob got on well with the buckaroos and sheilas, talking and laughing, throwing darts, even arm-wrestling. He told me later he learned more of the history he missed of his native land.

Dr. Enders and I left for the park about 10:00. We walked around and around the promenade, talking about Rob’s speech to each of us.

I said, “He reminded me I mustn’t get involved personally with you Earthlings. I would have enjoyed doing the mating dance with you. But I cannot.”

She sighed. “And I cannot ethically get intimate with you since you are a client.”

She went on to share her struggles with the things Locksley had said to her. “The idea of werewolves, angels, and aliens from outer space is considered superstitious. The three of you making those claims seem delusional – something I’m trained to cure. Then Robin tells me to believe in fantastic things and that God wants me to be an instrument of His healing.” She threw up her hands. “Now, I don’t know what to think.”

I opened my mouth to speak of living in Maleldil’s presence when a woman’s scream came from across the park. We turned toward the sound and saw two figures struggling in the moonlight. As we ran that way, I could make out the news cameraman clutching Gabrielle and pressing his hairy face against hers in a perversion of the mating dance.

Before we got to them, a snarl from our left heralded a black shape hurtling across the open, moonlit space. A large wolf sprang upon the cameraman and sank its teeth into his shoulder. The man whirled to dislodge and face his attacker. The red eyes and white teeth in the snout of the crouching animal caused him to turn and flee.

Cynthia and I cautiously walked up as Gabrielle held out her hand for the beast to sniff. When it licked her knuckles, she threw her arms about its neck and wept.

After a moment, the wolf pulled away and looked around at us and at the bright surroundings. It sat on its haunches and lifted its muzzle to howl. It sounded oddly triumphant. Then the beast streaked away for the nearest shadow.

Moments later, the woman reporter ran up, yelling, “Did you see a wolf just now?”

We all turned to stare at her. We almost didn’t recognize her, dressed as she was in casual clothing and without her speaking cylinder.

She continued, panting, “I was walking with Carlton Webber, trying to get information out of him. We heard a scream from this direction and he just turned into a wolf and ran this way. What did you see?”

“See?” Dr. Enders echoed. “We didn’t see anything. You say you saw him turn into a wolf? Did you get a recording of that? It sounds to me as though you’re delusional. Maybe you should see a psychologist.”

The reporter looked at her and swore. She whirled and stalked away.

Meanwhile, we turned to Gabrielle who was recovering her breath. “What happened?”

“I was visiting a local home for Aboriginal unwed mothers and they cheered me with the things they’re doing for each other. I was walking back through the park here when that cameraman tried to pull me into the trees. I screamed and I suppose you saw the rest.”

Returning to the hotel, we decided to not call in the police. We’d have to explain Carlton’s part. We figured the cameraman could try to explain about his injury.

The next morning, we gathered for a late breakfast. Both Robin and Carlton were bleary-eyed and untalkative. Gabrielle told the hunter about the rescue.

Rob said to Carlton, “It would appear you overcame your fear in order to help a
friend.”

The young man merely nodded confirmation and sat straighter in his chair.

The next day we reboarded the ship and sailed to the other stops around the world. There were more incidents with lessons about courage and facing one’s difficulties. By the time the cruise ended, I had a data device full of information. Now that we’re back in Alamogordo I can sign off and send this report.
© Copyright 2007 John-Paul (johnpaul156 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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