Azimuth: #4

2009-07-09T02:15:26Z

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{{DEFAULTSORT:Old-Fashioned Lunacy}} [[Category:Story]] [[Category:Azimuth]] [[Category:Were-wolf]] [[Category:Horror]] {{Comment tag}}

{{author's note|Standalone short piece. In which I remember the existence of the #, or scene break. ;) TF fiction loves werewolves, and I had a crazy idea about an argument between the human and the wolf mental perspectives. (Actually, it wasn't quite that, but that would be an interesting narrative...) I invited the idea that a young lady, touched by the full moon month after month, might possibly imagine they actually have some way of fighting it. Inspired by pretty much every werewolf movie that's worth seeing (and a few that aren't), with a nod to Memento. I kinda liked it, which meant it didn't really grab anyone's attention when first I wrote it. Ah well.}}

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It occurred to Jess that there shouldn't have been a little wolf prowling over her hand. Despite being impossible, she was a nice creature, white and grey with perky ears and a warm stare that made her smile. Her four canine paws felt soft and light against the palm of her hand. As compelling a daydream as it was, she was busy. A few blinks later, the wolf was still there, as if nothing had happened. Jess had never made anyone or anything disappear by blinking before, and it didn't seem she was going to be able to start now.

"Let's go outside," she said, clearly, though her little mouth didn't move at all.

Jess felt it was quite unreasonable for her to respond to a request from an imaginary wolf on her hand, and resumed whatever it was she had been doing before. Which, in all the excitement and confusion, she realised she had forgotten whatever it was she was just doing. Can't have been too important then, she guessed. A piece of paper was both helpful and not so, with some scribble on it in her handwriting.

'Don't listen to her,' it read. She had been rather in a hurry when she wrote it.

"Okay..." said the young lady, standing up and putting the imaginary wolf on her shoulder. "I think I won't. I'll stay indoors."

"So many pieces of paper telling you what to do and who to be," spoke the wolf, and Jess felt warm and faint all at the same time, her thoughts coming out as though they were steeped in warm treacle.

"Whatever happened to being free, Jess? To being alive, living for yourself?"

She stood up sharply, a hand covering her mouth as though to keep something in. The room shook around her; familiar, yet imposing. It wasn't right any more, and a loud noise sounded from under her feet, making the girl jump backwards, back against the wall, her body all tense now. It was just her chair falling over, and there was nothing to get worked up about. Nothing, really. The room was just a room, and Jess was just Jess, although with an extra headache and some trembles on the side. And the wolf on her shoulder was now a lot bigger, wrapped around her neck like a fuzzy scarf, tail dangling down onto her shirt. The little canine leaned up and whispered in her ear, more insistently this time. "I want to go ''out'', Jess."

Today was not a fine day to go crazy, Jess considered. Perhaps her mind would let her reschedule this. And yet the nagging of the wolf around her neck made some sense; she was too warm, this indoor place wasn't friendly any more. "I shouldn't, I couldn't-"

"Who says?" the wolf asked. Her voice was churlish and provocative, grating at the girl's patience carefully, with each further word. "You can do whatever you like. Go wherever you want. You don't like how life holds you back. The people at work don't respect you. But you can do something they can't. You can go out-"

Jess felt a burning in her chest as she wrenched the wolf off her shoulder, hands gripping tightly around its scruff as those small paws tried to grab onto her hair. She resisted, shaking the creature free. "I'm not going out! I don't have to listen to you."

Her fingers felt warm, and the wolf just smiled at her, infuriatingly. Even as little flecks of red trickled over her fur, and she winced and shook her tail. "Careful with those claws, pet. You don't know your own strength. But I think you're starting to get it."

Get it? Get what? Jess dropped the wolf, fur and blood and all, and looked at her hands. Very much like they'd always been, except for the sharp black points sticking out where the ends of her fingers once were. So subtle their appearance, she hadn't even noticed. Sniffing at the metallic red on her palm, that scent felt familiar. But why? What was happening to her?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she explained, crouching down to look at the wolf, who wiggled a bit and shook her head. "There's nothing to apologise for, since I'm not actually here." And Jess became aware that the creature on the floor wasn't a wolf. It was a cat, its features seeming to just change as it lay there, meowing and scratching at the floor. Somewhere in her forgetful mind she realised this was her cat, and then she settled down, kneeling back, smiling.

"I get it. This is a hallucination. Or a bad dream."

And suddenly Jess's thoughts were alive, perplexing and confusing ideas moving through her mind that she didn't quite understand; places, names, faces, a number of things she thought she could almost remember. Tellingly, she felt quite ashamed, since there had never been a wolf on her shoulder. It was where it had always been, of course, and that was ''inside'' her. The claws made more and more sense each second, and she licked them clean before even realising what she was doing. ''Ew'', ew, no. Of all the wrong things to do. The girl sat down, keeping her gaze away from the fresh kill, and instead focused on herself. This was all in her mind then, the wolf and the claws and the meal; this was something she could keep on top of. Whenever she heard of people having lucid dreams they tended to go off and fly, or marry famous people, or even wake up, and here she was killing her cat and keeping a wolf from going out.

The wolfy whisper crept upon her again, echoing in both ears at once, and Jess went tense. She sounded sinister, every instinct calling the tone dangerous, threatening. And yet it was sweet as could be.

"We do this every time, you and I. This is the natural game we play whenever the right night comes. Whenever the world is lit solely by the light of the full moon." Jess squeaked and closed her eyes, breathing more rapid upon hearing that ''word'', is that what this was about? Old-fashioned lunacy?

"It's all in my mind," she mumbled. The wolf laughed at her, making her stomach flutter in embarrassment.

"Oh, some of it, not all of it. I'm in your mind, I'm in your everything. I'm you, you see? Though I have never, ever cowered on the floor, scared of a little blood. Cat meat isn't great, but he should have been faster. Obviously."

Jess wasn't cowering, mumbling a protest, but the wolf went on.

"Oh, yeah. I'm you! So naturally I can do this." And the girl felt her body jump into life by itself, eyes wide now as she stood up... but she didn't want to stand up. She wasn't moving herself. Her arms and legs, they were going on their own, claws straightening her hair, legs a little unsteady. She wore no shoes, and hooked claws tapped on the floor from where her toes used to be.

"Now, I'm going out," she felt herself say, words passing through her lips. She was falling, merely a passenger now as the wolf walked her out of her bedroom, along the corridor, down the stairs. Slow, purposeful. Taunting her locomotion, now that she had it.

For a split second, Jess remembered this happening before. Many times. She wrote the note for herself a long time ago, but it never helped. She never remembered the change, nor the things she did during it, nor the things she did while she was out, and perhaps that was for the best. Less questions, less problems. Less confessing to authorities. A biological failsafe, she considered.

She was at the front door before she knew it. Pulling the bolts, turning the locks, the Jess who wasn't Jess opened the door. The moon looked on at her approvingly, evaporating her anxieties and drawing out a toothy, satisfied smile. It was almost as though the meaning of everything had been whispered to her, so soft, so perfect. The night-time greenery faded off into the distance. Scents and sounds and feelings rolled over and carried her dissenting hesitance away, to the quiet place where it usually went while the wolf was out playing. The last conscientious action she took was generous, but helpful; she closed the door behind her.

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A tense pressure built up all around her, making her yelp and tumble forwards. This small form wasn't right, these tiny hands and legs wouldn't do... and so they didn't, skin tearing and splitting as fur peeped out of the gaps, letting cool night air into her warm fur. Heavy, developing claws scraped away the feebleness to let her stretch, to let her breathe again. Stiff, clickity growth preceded the stretching of her arms and legs, the limbs getting leaner and yet fluffier, thick dark fur pouring over everywhere it could touch, every point it could spring out from.

There was no time for her to revel in her freedom, though, since her face was contorting forwards, flashes of necessary pain wrecking her enjoyment. Loud, inhuman howls filled the air as she complained noisily with the forming of her muzzle, heavy jaws beset with sharper, longer teeth as her nose flattened, eyes narrowing. Those small, useless ears quickly got bigger, flexing and stretching into taller flaps with fur up and down both sides. They pulled backwards, upwards, nestling against where her hair would have been if it wasn't being perpetually overran with the more wiry wolf-hide.

Her shoulders broadened and her skin thickened, her foot leaving a print before becoming longer, pushing away dirt underneath as it clenched, large and wicked, getting longer and shoving her balance forwards with a feral, lupine hunch. Balanced, not quite perfectly, but that would change with the growth of a wispy and fur-laid tail. A lingering dull ache pushed through her muscles, perhaps the changes would be quite painful to little girls but, she was a fine wolf, and a bit of change here and there never hurt anyone really - least of all her. Narrowed eyes bore no resemblance to human, and yet that was the biggest deception; even as a beast the wolf was calculating and smart. For instance, she knew how long she had out to play, and she knew where the best food was, and no cages or closing times would get in her way.

Hunger tickled at the werewolf's stomach, driving away the dull pain of metamorphosis. She pulled her soiled feet from the floor and dropped onto all fours, stretching legs before testing her agility, darting forward. The world was much quicker on fours, and she pitied the people who'd never know it. Of course, if she felt like it, she could let them know what it was like. Powerful, thoughtful ideas she had, the same as always. But that would be too much hassle, would create too much competition. She always had the option, but for now, the wolf had a dinner date. The ground was a little wet, and she left careless tracks as she ran along it, left careless sounds of breathing and running.

It didn't matter. She was over seven feet tall, nothing here could possibly challenge her.

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