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Why on God’s green Earth would anyone go grocery shopping on Halloween night? Why wouldn't anyone communicate the fact that they were all running out of dinner food? Why was it always Mark that had to do the shopping? The answer to all of those questions was left in the air as Mark left the store with his hands full.
The streets were littered with trick or treaters, as it was night, including Matt in a bunny costume (to his credit, that was pretty scary to Mark), which made the trip home all the more embarrassing as it was frustrating. In an attempt to avoid this, he decided to take a backroad through the forest.
Man, he really should’ve brought some headphones or something, because the atmosphere set by what he thought was wolves was really getting to him. It was a full moon, so they were probably howling at it. It wasn't like he was scared of them, per se, he was just a little unnerved by the mood. That was all. Yeah, he was fearless!
What was that noise from behind him? Why was it growling? He froze and slowly turned around, eyes wide.
It was a wolf. A rather large one, too.
Mark knew the by far worst thing to do was provoke it. He should just back away and keep going. But what should be happening obviously wasn't, as wolves tended to run away from people, and here it was. They held eye contact with each other for a few more seconds before the wolf advanced on him.
Mark, once again, should have done something to defend himself. Him being himself, though, he remained standing in fear for a little too long before turning to run. Running doesn't take you far from a wolf, as it turns out, especially when you hesitate, so he was taken to the ground, dropping his groceries.
Mark braced himself for death, or whatever the thing had planned, but all did was bite, hard, into his forearm. He managed to shove the thing off of him as it did so, finally managing to get away. Thank God home was only a 2 minute’s running distance away.
He threw the front door open, wincing a little in pain. As soon as he did, Eduardo looked up from the sofa, a little disgruntled. “Took ya long eno-” he stopped short, “Are you okay?”
Mark held his forearm in pain, noting the blood he had drawn from it, “Yeah, I’m just peachy,” he said. “Of course I’m not okay! Some wolf in the forest just bit me!”
“What if it was a werewolf?” Jon said from the doorway, having come to investigate the noise.
“Werewolves ain’t real, Jon,” Eduardo said. “Mark, you need an ambulance.”
“I know that, I dropped my phone when it happened.”
Eduardo sighed (a little dramatically at that) and called an ambulance for him. Mark headed to the bathroom to clean off the wound a bit before it arrived.
He looked at the wound in the mirror. It looked a little gnarly, what with all the blood. He wiped it off, and it just kept bleeding. Concerning, for sure. He shivered.
… everything hurt.
He didn't realize until just then, but the wound hurt the most. It was like a loud voice over a small crowd; everything hurt or ached in some way, that just stood out. The pain originated from being knocked to the ground, it just never subsided.
Oh, he was so infected from whatever was in that wolf’s mouth. He was definitely going to die.
He wiped off the wound again, pressing hard this time. More pain came from where he had pressed, and he removed his hand to find his nails stained with blood. They were sharp, and had cut into his skin more.
… what the hell?!
His first reaction to this set of events was to obviously just stare at his hand some more. Why would he do anything logical when struck with fear, or whatever emotion stemmed from finding out your fingers were literally claws? He looked at himself in the mirror as a whole, and oh, God- he was definitely hallucinating or something.
Everything looked wrong. He looked… hairier? Not that being hairy was a bad thing, it just wasn't Mark’s style, and him seeing himself like that…
The ambulance better hurry up.
“Hey, Eduardo, how long until that ambulance arrives?” he shouted.
“It has a 15 minute delay because of idiot kids downtown,” Eduardo called back. “I did what I could.” Right, so that translated to ‘I yelled at the person who answered the phone to hurry up until they lied to my face.’
He was going to die for sure now.
“Hey, Mark, are you okay?” Jon asked from outside the door.
“I already said I’m obviously not, Jon,” Mark said. “And now I’m hallucinating from whatever was in that thing’s mouth.”
“Can I see?”
“You aren't going to see anything, I’m pretty sure I’m making it up.”
“I dunno,” Jon sounded a little antsy, “Maybe you're not? I can check.”
Mark hesitated.
“W-Wait, you have clothes on, right?! I don't want to-”
“No, I just took off my sweater, the bite’s on my arm,” Mark sighed, letting Jon in to see. Jon’s eyes went white at the sight of Mark.
“Yep, you're definitely not hallucinating!” Jon said, worry written on his face, after which being replaced by a bit of seriousness. “I think you were bitten by a werewolf.”
“They aren't real, Jo-” He was cut off by a wave of pain. He doubled over and put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming.
Jon booked it to the common room. “Eduardo!”
Eduardo covered the phone speaker. “What is it now?”
“Mark’s a werewolf!” Jon shook Eduardo’s shoulders for emphasis. “Please believe me!”
“Jon, how many times do I gotta tell you, they ain’t real-”
A wolf stepped into the common room. It was blond.
They stared at it, and Eduardo hung up the phone. “You know what? I’ll believe ya this time,” he said in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.
Mark, on the other hand, was freaking out internally. What the actual hell was going on? Why was he a dog now? Was he actually a stupid werewolf? Last time he checked, those things didn't exist! Then again, neither did zombies, and he’d been through 2 apocalypses in his lifetime, so this shouldn't be that surprising.
“Can you talk?” Eduardo asked, uncharacteristically a little nervous.
Mark tried to, and it did not work. What was he going to do? What if this was permanent? Oh, God, oh God…
“Don't worry, I don't think it's permanent, werewolves turn back in the morning. Maybe around 7?” Jon piped up. “Just… sleep it off. That should work.”
“How exactly do you know all of this?” Eduardo turned to face Jon directly.
“I read sometimes,” Jon said, a little smug, a little nervous. He silently thanked whatever was up there for letting none of them question the fact that his eyes were entirely black.
Mark stared at Jon in a way that hopefully conveyed that he could absolutely not “sleep it off”. Jon did not understand the look whatsoever, but then again he never really understood most body language, so it wasn't entirely Mark’s fault.
---
Jon was right.
Not about the sleeping thing, not by a mile. As it turns out, turning into a 12 year old girl’s idea of an idealized furry boyfriend made it difficult to sleep! But around 7 in the morning, just as Jon had said, Mark was back to normal, or as normal as he could be after the ordeal.
Mark also noticed a couple of other things in the mirror in the morning. It was very much unlike him to check his appearance at all, it was just a special case. The bite had been scarred over already, for one. His ears were now pointed, for another. It was easily missable, it wasn't like they were animal ears, they were just pointed, but it was enough to irk him. His nails were also slightly sharper. He would have to file them later, he mentally noted.
As he entered the kitchen, he was greeted with silence.
“What?” he finally said.
“I knew I was right about the morning thing! I wasn't entirely sure!” Jon said.
“You ‘weren't entirely sure?’”
“I mean, I was for the most part, but-”
“Just… shut up, both of you,” Eduardo said. He took a long drink from his coffee, “I’m going to need several days to process that.”
Mark sighed. “It's just one night,” he said.
“A month, roughly,” Jon added. “Every full moon.”
“Jon, how do you know that’ll happen again?”
“Your ears are different, your nails are different, you’re a werewolf !” Jon pressed his hands together, squeezing them. “Can I ask some questions?”
Mark sighed again. It was going to be a long day.