This is the 31st in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.
Wolf Boy’s Vengeance, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 1st January 2012
Word count: 542
Theme: horror, supernatural, werewolf, get rich quick
The story:
“Transform damn it,” cursed a young boy tied up, he was about ten, skinny, malnourished .
“Aww, look the puppy is struggling,” laughed a young man, in his twenties, dressed in brown leathers and carrying a cross bow.
“Sheet,” another man said, dressed all in black, with black face paint on, “He don’t kna werewolves don change till full moon.”
“Keep an eye out,” the young man that had been laughing snapped. “These fuckers are always in a pack.”
The young boy was still struggling against his bonds.
The man dressed in black slipped into the shadows of the trees, the last sight of him was a glint from the large knife he’d pulled.
“Okay, pup,” the leather clad man said squatting down close to the boy, “This is how it’s going to work, you’re going to stay there, cry out if you must, and then we’ll bag a bigger werewolf when they come to help.”
“Why are you doing this?” the young boy cried out.
“Why not? Saw a bloke on the news, he’s got twenty pelts, and the government’s paid him fifteen hundred a pelt. I reckon a couple of pelts is worth an afternoon, and lo, one of you fuckers walks right into the a trap,” the leather clad man said.
The young boy stopped struggling and started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” the man asked annoyed.
“I’m not in a pack,” the boy said rolling over, “You’ve only got one pelt, and not even that.”
“If you’re not in a pack, I’ve still got you numbskull,” the boy said, struggling to pull the string back on the crossbow.
“Ahhh,” the boy sighed, and then his body shimmered, and suddenly he was smaller, covered in fur, with clawed hands, but still humanoid. Though his mouth had become a muzzle, the young man heard him laugh still.
The young man raised up the crossbow to take aim, he pulled the trigger as fast as he could, but the tattered mass of ropes through his shot off target. Before he could do anything else, the werewolf was on him tearing chunks from his neck and torso. The young man didn’t appreciate the crash through the foliage behind him as he slipped into unconsciousness.
The black clad man charged out brandishing his knife, the werewolf turned and looked, and then easily dodged to the side, as the blade came rushing at him.
“Argh!” the man screamed, and swung again, but the werewolf caught the arm holding the knife, and then wrenched it in two different directions, resulting in a loud snap.
“On full moons we uncontrollably become full wolves, moron,” the werewolf hissed through a mouth not designed to form human words. The man tried to run, but the wolf charged him, knocking him to the floor. With a wrench of the man’s head, the werewolf killed him, and started feeding.
The young man had regained conciousness, and was fighting to stay concious as he saw what was happening to his best mate. He rolled over and started to crawl away, the blood still flowing out of his wounds.
Suddenly, there was a weight on his back.
“Going somewhere?” the voice lisped.
The man screamed as teeth clamped down on the nape of his neck, and he was dragged away. Still screaming.
Aspiring 