The Werewolf Chronicles
You run as fast as your legs can carry you down the trail back towards the village. You cut your face and hands as the sharp end of black branches dig into you skin. You hear a heavy breath behind you now and a growl, the heavy footsteps on the stony trail are getting nearer. As you turn from the trail onto the village road, something hits you in the back and you fall face down onto the hard mud with a thump and roll across the road.
'Oh God, somebody please help me!' you scream out to the darkness. You cry and crawl on further. You see a large heavy stick in front of you, grab it and swing it into the belly of the werewolf and then across its head which breaks it in half. You get up and run again without looking back. You reach the village and cry out again. With a quick glace behind you, you realise that the werewolf has vanished.
You feel your tattered clothes; the back of your jacket is shredded. You pull you hand away as you feel something warm. Blood How? The cool night air stings your wound where teeth opened up your flesh. You find a bucket full of water and you clean your back. Then you wrap around an old t-shirt from your bag, which soon stops the blood flow. Your hands are still shaking. Now you just want to get the fuck out of here as fast as you can.
A light switches on in an old wooden building and a man comes out holding a shotgun. Another younger man, also with a shotgun, follows him.
They walk out past you with their guns and look around for something. Maybe they know about that monstrous thing that almost killed you. As you put on a jacket the first man asks you,
"What are you doing out here at this time of night? Do you know what direction did the werewolf went?" he says giving a glance over your shoulder.
The other man just looks at you and doesn't say anything.
"No, no I don't, it just vanished I think," you say in a trembling voice.
"Are you ok? Who are you man?" the man asks.
You introduce yourself as well and you say you're an editor for a small newspaper in London.
"My name's Zhun and this is my younger brother Filip. He doesn't speak any English," the first man continues. "Listen, we're going into the forest to get this thing and we need your help."
'Oh God, somebody please help me!' you scream out to the darkness. You cry and crawl on further. You see a large heavy stick in front of you, grab it and swing it into the belly of the werewolf and then across its head which breaks it in half. You get up and run again without looking back. You reach the village and cry out again. With a quick glace behind you, you realise that the werewolf has vanished.
You feel your tattered clothes; the back of your jacket is shredded. You pull you hand away as you feel something warm. Blood How? The cool night air stings your wound where teeth opened up your flesh. You find a bucket full of water and you clean your back. Then you wrap around an old t-shirt from your bag, which soon stops the blood flow. Your hands are still shaking. Now you just want to get the fuck out of here as fast as you can.
A light switches on in an old wooden building and a man comes out holding a shotgun. Another younger man, also with a shotgun, follows him.
They walk out past you with their guns and look around for something. Maybe they know about that monstrous thing that almost killed you. As you put on a jacket the first man asks you,
"What are you doing out here at this time of night? Do you know what direction did the werewolf went?" he says giving a glance over your shoulder.
The other man just looks at you and doesn't say anything.
"No, no I don't, it just vanished I think," you say in a trembling voice.
"Are you ok? Who are you man?" the man asks.
You introduce yourself as well and you say you're an editor for a small newspaper in London.
"My name's Zhun and this is my younger brother Filip. He doesn't speak any English," the first man continues. "Listen, we're going into the forest to get this thing and we need your help."