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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Dark · #1459773
Written for a contest. The beginning of the werewolf
On the snow laden plains of a land with a name that is now forgotten, a tale unfolded: the scars of which will live on, unforgotten. As ever with man then too existed tyrants and innocents; one fed on the other. The lords with blades of steel rode on their sturdy steeds accompanied by minions to do their biding. The Strong had it all in their vicious grasp, and mercy was beyond their stoic hearts. To till and toil were the emaciated peasants who were too weak to have any rebellious thought. So it was that the social order was established and looked set to last an eternity.

“Son, my time is up,” gasped an old man amidst a tearful gathering. “Now, now, there is no need to cry. I am of to lead a life more comfortable than my current one. Don’t be sad child,” said he, addressing the last to his grand daughter. She was crying uncontrollably.

The old man was stricken with diseases unknown. He was drawing his last breath. He closed his eyes and inhaled with some effort. His family around him appeared to be in utter distress; they were being handed naught but misery: and there was only so much that a man’s spirit could bear.

They all looked over the man who had once been strong and nurtured them to adult hood. But now he lay hapless; a babe about to be incapacitated by nature. How could they not feel the pangs of grief? One more breathe a heave and a ghost of a smile on the lips of the deceased; thus ended the old man’s life.

Death had become a permanent resident of the village and come everyday to stake his claim. Yet life must go on.

In morbid despondence they continued their daily duties with only a prayer on their lips as a source of solace. “When will there be a reprieve?” they cried. But it was answered only by a gust of winter snow that only caused more grief.

In one such hamlet of this village a small family lived: a father, a mother and a son: a tight unit thrust together in their quest for survival. In such misery is the bond of love tested and strengthened and it showed in this little family. They sowed their crops with love on their minds; prayed for rains with ceaseless penance; harvested what little survived with absolute gratification because there was something they could offer their loved ones. The man of the house worked with the heart of an ox: there was no task too hard and no task too demeaning because all was well when his dears were well. He paid his taxes dutifully and showed no passion that would endanger his family. This was the only sparkling gem in the ruins that were this village.

Of the woman of the house a lot was said because she was a peerless beauty who in another life might have been a princess. But as it stood she was married to the poor farmer and she discharged her farmyard chores with pleasure, because she loved that poor farmer. It was rare indeed, when a man passed her without a flutter in his heart. It wasn’t his fault; she was radiant, a goddess in rags.

Then there was the boy. He was a shy little thing who clung on to his mother all the time. People told the farmer that he was a treasure, but in private they felt that he showed no promise. The boy was no infant, but an adolescent on the verge of manhood; yet he was attached to the mother and refused to leave her protective shadow. How would he ever turn out a strong man? Such whispers fell on the dear couples ears but they lavished their child with affection. How could they not with such strong bonds that united them?

But evil was rampant in those lands and such good could not last long. The lord of the land came on his golden steed. He himself was attired in warrior’s metal. His blade, though sheathed, showed the prominent hilt which when grasped caused someone’s demise. His entourage, though not so grand, were dressed in similar fashion.

He had come along because of ennui. His palace with all its grandeur offered him no entertainment and so he came to this shire to seek some leisurely activity to pass his time. Absolute silence gripped the village as he rode in.

He looked at those helpless being and felt repulsed by their existence. “Their emasculated existence is denigrating to life itself,” he thought. He would have most certainly respected them had they shown more gall and defied him. Of course he would have torn them to shreds, but he would have respected them when they were buried. Fighting spirits, he felt, were his kin.

He was a beast in all aspects but even the worst of beasts get ensnared by beauty at times. And when such exquisite features were on offer, he had no choice but to succumb to her. The lord of the land laid his eyes on the farmer’s beautiful wife and admired. For the first time he deemed it worthy to get down from his steed and walk the land of the peasants- all for the beautiful one. He got down and walked to her. The peasants scurried out of his way to a safer place. He walked up to her and gazed. The beast had never known words to praise with or felt the warmth of love. No! He knew only of lust. Only for a minute had he felt that rush of love and quickly he covered it with the mask of lust. He smiled and touched her face. So soft!

The farmer, who until then had led a dormant life, had been suddenly drowsed by icy cold water into action. A rush of blood clouded his reasoning and he threw himself on the great lord. He didn’t achieve much as the soldiers were at hand to grab him. The lord of the land knew not what to feel. He had never experienced this before. Nobody had ever laid hands on him. “Why?” was the only syllable he could mouth.

“Far too long have you plagued this land, far too long have we been your slaves. Now you have crossed the line O king,” blustered the enraged farmer.

The act was still beyond the lord’s comprehension. Only then did one of his soldiers mention to him that that was the husband of the woman.

“Oh!” another syllable he uttered. “Entertainment for the evening,” he thought.
“Well, slave, you wish to defend your wife’s honor. What a noble act!”

The lord thought for a second. “Give this man a sword,” he ordered. A sword was given to the farmer without any question.

“Now you will fight me, slave. And know this: after I kill you I will castrate you and feed your manhood to my dogs. Then I will take your wife and love her till she breaks and then I will throw her to my soldiers. These should be your last thoughts when you die. Now fight!”

The lord unsheathed his grand weapon and lunged at the farmer who parried instinctively. But those who were enthused by these preliminaries were fooled because the fight did not last long. The farmer fought bravely, and, had he been trained he might have done better. Alas! He feel. And as was promised, the lord cut off the poor farmer’s manhood. The fool who dared to love that beautiful maiden now lay in undignified repose.

While this was happening, the wife cried hysterically. She had to be restrained by soldiers to keep her off the lord. Now she knelt before her fallen lover who lay lifeless. All was lost for her.

The great lord watched his prize with great affection. He gently touched her. Upon finding restraint, he used more force and grabbed her.

The boy who was to be a man saw it in wretched silence. He was too cowardly to rush forward. So he ran away. The last he saw of his beloved mother was the ignominy of having her clothes torn apart. The rest was blurred by tears.

He ran till he lost track of time and place and emotion. He ran till his legs gave way and he collapsed. When consciousness returned he found himself alone in the dark. He did not feel scared. Only a strong sense of guilt choked him. The abandoning of his father and mother when their worst haunted him. Oh, how he hoped he was braver? “Coward, coward!” the wind seemed to call him. The night seemed to be watching him with bright sparkling eyes. He felt morbid and possessed. The bitter cold was biting into his skin. He could only see the outline of rocks; so he headed towards it. Upon reaching the rocks he noticed a darker recess in the solid wall. He sought it to escape the bitter cold. He was drained of all but his soul. He reached inside the recess and felt his way through until he stumbled over something and fell.

He had no conviction to stand up again. The only emotion that he felt was the guilt: a crown of thorns that sat on his heart. What could the young adolescent do but pray for redemption? Redemption, retribution, and blood- he prayed to gods who could grant him the chance to rid himself of this guilt because it was heavy and painful and unbearable.

He felt softness move beside him. Now it was next to him and it stayed there. What this softness was he could not tell. But it was comforting. “Have you heard my prayers O great gods?” he said. He felt the panting of a quickened heart beat approach him; a heart beat unlike a human. “Do what you would of me. I don’t care. I only seek redemption.”

He felt warm breath on his neck and face. He could breath easy now. The cold seemed diminished. “Take me,” he said and he felt the breath warmer and faster on his face. A warm flowing entity passed into his mouth and trickled down his throat. He felt peaceful. His heart beat slackened. He felt sedate and withdrawn. His heart beat slowed down even further. Now he could feel the clouds of warm breath surround him, as if he was enveloped in warm breath. It all felt good. His heart beat went down further and did not stop decelerating. He felt his slow heart which beat slower and lighter; and then he could feel no more. All was black.

The moon was out in all her splendor that night and she looked down upon the lands with her soft rays. Her rays covered more and more land until it came upon the cave. It drained the cave of the absolute darkness and lit it almost to twilight.

Bright eyes lit up in all their glory and a body took shape in the darkness. The majestic, dark silhouettes bared their teeth and let out a deafening, frightful howl that pierced the night’s stillness. Voracious, villainous wolves! The nocturnal masters paid tribute to their beautiful mother shining up high. “Thank you,” they seemed to say.

The moonlight now passed on to the boy and the wolves feel silent. The heart beat no more and the eyes were devoid of expression. In the light of moon they launched into another penetrating howl: a plea to their mother for help. The stillness of the body was undisturbed until suddenly and painfully the heart pounded quick and hard: unlike any human heart. The boy clutched his heart; it felt ready to explode out of his body and kill him for good. The pain seared from his heart to every sinew of his body. His body convoluted and rippled with excruciating pain. The pain reached a climax as all the muscles in his body seemed exaggerated in mass and size.

He closed his eyes to collect his thoughts. He forced much needed silence onto his disarrayed mind. Confusion as to what was happening to him and where he lay were the topmost thoughts; but he put them aside for the time being. “Quiet,” he yelled. All went silent outside and inside his mind; all except a small voice, like the growling of a beast. He concentrated hard, but the voice would not go away. After a lot of effort he gave up and let the voice go on. The growl was deep, haunting and enticing. He was seduced by it though he was scared. But eventually he felt led by the voice. He let it guide him. He saw snow and scattered trees; the moonlit horizon; a pond nearby to which he went. He walked on all four limbs as if he were a beast. He approached the pond and looked into the still water. Surprisingly, he did not see his reflection. He did not see anything except the clear blue of the water. Then the water became murky. He stared hard to see through the water. He saw through the haze and noticed a throng. On further scrutiny he noticed one man standing tall and others slinking away from him. The man looked all powerful. He looked at the frightened people. Some of them were sobbing. What had happened? He looked on and he saw a woman cowering beside the powerful man. She was naked…..

He let out a thunderous yell in anguish; but he did not yell, he had howled. He felt insurmountable anger grip him. He let out another loud yell and he noticed the moon for the first time. He felt empowered and paramount. He looked in the water once more and this time he saw the reflection. He did not see a human face; he did not expect to. He saw the answer to his prayers; he saw absolute power: for a mighty vulpine looked back at him.

In a blast of fury he awoke from the trance and leapt out of the cave. All the other wolves shrunk away in fear. He felt power surging through his body and retribution painted his mind red. Another loud howl and he set of.

He ran faster than any horse and ripped past the blurry scenery till he reached his destination. A grand palace towered over him. He noticed an entire troop guarding the entrance. With a tumultuous growl he burst forward and lunged at the dispersing guards. Even as they fled, he slew one with a flash of his mighty claw and grabbed another by the throat and ripped it out, almost decapitating the guard.

He ascended the ostentatious stairs and leapt into the palace. The time of the visit rendered the palace inactive, so there was nobody hindering him. He looked and scoured the place for the tyrant. He ascended another storey, and yet another until he finally reached the highest tower. And there he was unperturbed, the mighty emperor.

He let out another chilling howl and the emperor awoke in terror. He awoke to the sight of a mighty wolf; larger than any he had ever seen and he shook in fear. As the beast approached him his bowels loosened and couldn’t contain his bladder. Never had he known fear as he did now. He looked at those large angry eyes and felt his ties with the living world being slowly dislodged.

The beast looked at his victim for what seemed an eternity- for revenge was a delightful affair- and then with vicious barred teeth, it attacked. The emperor wasn't strong enough to last long. The rabid beast dismembered and mutated the remains of the tyrant. Blood and guts besmirched the regal room.

"Revenge! Retribution! Mother I have redeemed your honor." The ravenous werewolf felt peace at last. 

The sun came up and gently awoke him from his lumber. The coy boy got up and found himself in a cave. “What a dream that was?” he thought. He looked about him and nothing was changed. He felt his heart and it beat like any human heart. But the grief that he had felt before was gone- completely erased. He woke up anew to a new adventure.

But what the conscious mind refused to accept the moonlight clearly showed. A mighty wolf raged through the palace, and in time through the entire world. A new power had been brought to the lands. This power knew no good or bad but only unadulterated rage. The tales of the werewolf had begun.


2745 words.
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