I slowly walked up to the iron gate, and pushed it aside, it was loose anyway. Inside was a wild garden and unruly trees. Creatures lived within the tight shrubs, hidden from view. I crept along the broken path, and up three cracked marble steps leading up to a rotten porch. I noticed that the heavy oak door was open, and I pushed it.
Upstairs, that's where they were.
I could tell there was more than one. A mixture of smells hit me, and it was nasty. Tobacco, beer, marijuana, body odour, pizza, hair gel, socks, exhaust fumes. I climbed the stairs with much quiet, and if he heard any floorboards creaking, I didn't care. He would never escape now.
Then I reached the top of the creaking stairs, but there was music and laughing.
I found it came from one of the empty rooms. Voices now, three of them. A female, and two males. I was only interested in one of the males. The others were just friends.
Then I came to the door that was ajar. There was more laughing. It was one of the men. His own laughter. Idiot. I simply went inside the room and stood in the low candle light. At first the man was not aware of me, he'd had his back turned. Drunk, showing off again, and doing a silly dance to impress the others.
Halvard and Jenni saw me. They acknowledged me with eyes that glowed.
"She's here," said Halvard.
The idiot, Mark, turned to look at me. His drunk silly grin faded, and his eyes squinted.
"Huh?" Mark was unsure at first.
I could smell his blood now and I felt hungry.
"Hello Mark," I said smiling. "It's me, Charlotte."
Then his smile was gone. He was scared now. and came running to the door. I let him pass me, but he didn't make it very far. Being so drunk, he stumbled and fell over.
It was here that I killed him.
Yes, I spent months hunting this easy prey. At first I didn't know who he was. We, as in the small pack I'm in, take it in turns to hunt a random stranger. We pick a name out of a bag, names collected from a database, electroral roll, phonebook. Mine was going to be this man called Mark Smith, who works in an office, commutes to the city every day, lives alone in an apartment, doesn't have any close friends or relatives. No one would miss him. Once I found him, I needed to get him somewhere quiet. I almost killed him twice before but he was too clever. He kept avoiding me after that.
My two friends Jenni and Halvard decided to help. They took him to the abandoned house for a joint, promising drugs, money, and told him that a girl would arrive to have fun with him. He fell for this trap. He didn't know that the girl was me.
Now you know that some of us werewolves keep the long tradition going. We don't hunt for sport. It's not to be cruel either. It's in our nature and we need to for food.
I understand that I've angered a few other werewolves who call themselves civilised. Jenni hasn't killed anyone though. I don't know about Halvard, you need to ask him. But remember that, we're all werewolves no matter how you dress it up as.
Some like you will be very upset to know that we like hunting people just to eat them. It's what we do. It's what we are. If you want to execute me then go ahead, you bitch Marielle Ice.
I'm in prison for murder. In fact, in the eyes of the law, I'm just a murderess. To the law of werewolves in the land, I'm far worse. The death penalty was stopped in Britain last century, but it lagally remains within the law of our inner werewolf community.
I'm a member of Fenrir's Daughters, and so are many other female werewolves who are either good and bad. My friends and enemies are in it. I'm certain all of you do-gooding werewolves will read this. I'm Charlotte and tomorrow is my 23rd birthday. Atleast I'll see through that because next week is when I'm going to find out the verdict.
((The Fenrir's Daughters fiction stories belong to author Rayne))
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2015 Rayne Herbert.
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