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Chapter Text

Orel found himself awake in his bed, heaving and sweating profusely. Memories of growing fur and claws flooded his mind, alongside memories of him scaling buildings, growling and howling, and making a mess in Doughy's house. The full moon haunted him throughout all of it.

His grip on his blankets tightened and he slowly recognized that he was in his bedroom. It was morning. The blanket warms him up against the cool spring air, grounding him to reality. He's home. It was all just a dream.

But his head was throbbing. Like he was thrown around like a ragdoll in his sleep, somehow managing to not wake him up from not so peaceful slumber. It made him want to cuddle the blanket further and lay in bed. He couldn't recall the last time he felt this bad. Orel, as opposed to his family, loved waking up in the morning and getting ready for what the day had in store, but today it was like he was out of energy.

He could remember one time he woke up not feeling well. It was not as painful as today, but he woke up with a headache and a swollen throat. His mom noticed his stuffy red nose and brought him back to bed with tea, and later came back with soup while his dad occasionally checked in on him. The tea warmed his belly, not in the way his brain felt like melting, but in a way that warmed his body like he was being hugged.

“Maybe mom can…” He was about to finally get off the bed, but he turned his head towards the window. The last time he tried to go to his mom for something this early she told him off about him needing to mature. Would she take a nightmare induced headache seriously?

“I'm too old to be crying over headaches.” His father also had to tell him to be more mature. His father's voice rang in his head, telling him not to bother his mom. He wished he could be more mature. The last time he tried, he got in trouble for taking his dad's drinks. He saw his dad drink all the time, he assumed that had to be how he was able to be mature. Turns out the drinks are something only mature adults can indulge in. He wondered how someone could indulge, the headaches he got in the morning were almost as bad as his current one.

Looking at his right hand, he finally noticed how messy everything was.

“... Why is my bed so dirty?” There were remnants of dirt and twigs everywhere. Even his shirt was covered in mud.

“Why am I so dirty?” He barely had time to process why he wasn't in his usual pajamas before a familiar voice shouted at him.

“Orel!” He's not sure where he came from, but his father yelled at him while towering over him. “Good, you're awake!”

He respected his father dearly, but moments like this made him afraid of him. He knew it wouldn't be long until the belt.

“Do you have any idea of all the trouble you caused?!” But Orel didn't do anything wrong. He literally just woke up. Trying to recall anything from the last week, he couldn't see anything that would cause this kind of reaction from his enraged father, who was nearly snarling from his words. Orel hoped he would explain what he did wrong, but instead he just got closer into his face.

“I told you to never go out if there was a full moon!” Orel can recall that order, but he never disobeyed it in reality. His father seemed to only get angrier at his confusion, tightening his hand into a fist and getting his face directly in front of Orel’s.

“Why can't you follow simple orders-”

“Stop it!” The boy instinctively pushed his father off of him out of fear. He would've already been afraid from disrespecting him, but he was also confused when he saw his father hit the door. Did he really have that kind of strength? He stared at his shaky hands.

“Don't you dare push me again, you know exactly what you did! What if other people saw you?” His dad continued to rant as he staggered back up. Orel was lost in his head, trying to figure out what was happening.

“... thankful that I picked you up from the middle of nowhere and brought you home.”

“Dad… what are you talking about?” He looked up at his father. His father stopped ranting and looked down at him in silence.

“You… don't remember?” He finally said after a moment. He had a smirk on his face, not like he was happy, but as if he was scared and tried hiding it.

“No… I don't think so?”

“So you don't remember disobeying me by going outside last night, of all nights, and running around like your tail was on fire?”

“No…” He could recall something similar, but that was from his dream last night. Nothing like that happened in real life as far as he could recall. It seemed like Orel’s response made his dad back away for a moment before wearing a more familiar expression. An expression he had on his face while he was teaching Orel lessons.

“Well, son, there's no easy way to say this.” He then took a shot of his drink. The sudden shift of Clay's tone could have calmed Orel, but he was so confused and the image of his father shouting in his face didn't want to go away.

“Our family line is cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“Yes. You see, someone in our ancestry upset God so much that God punished our entire bloodline with lycanthropy. Now every full moon, we transform into wolfmen. That's why today we must obey God's word to appease him for all the wrongs we’ve done.”

“Wolfmen? …Like werewolves?” The idea sounded impossible. That type of creature was only possible as a fictional character or a costume to be worn.

“Yes. Like werewolves. But you can't tell anybody, if word got out I may lose my job.” Orel looked away from his father, only more confused than ever. It was then that his dream played in his head again.

He was staying over at Doughy's house. He had remembered his dad's order, but Doughy begged him to stay a little longer and Orel felt bad for him. He kept stealing glances at the sky, watching an orange and pink sky turn into purple and dark blue.

Then something came over him. Orel felt his teeth grow sharp and his skin grow fur. He felt so scared, he screamed and howled, before running out of Doughy's room. He only lost more human traits the longer he ran. His memory from there is vague, but he remembers running out of the house on all four limbs and eventually running out of town. Lost in the woods. He couldn't recall anything after that other than being scared and alone.

“Are you saying that… I am a werewolf?” He looked back up at his father.

“Don't know how much clearer I could have made it, but yes.” He replied. He swirled his drink, causing a familiar clunking noise. The scenery only missed some fire crackles and it'd be like he was in his study.

“I… wasn't dreaming?”

“So you do remember?” He sneered.

“I didn't mean to disobey, but I was being loyal to my friend.” He clasped his hands together in a begging motion.

“Doughy, right?” He said and pinched his nose.

“Yes-”

“I'm going to have to talk to the Latchkeys. Ugh…”

“Dad… why didn't you tell me about this before?” His dad let go of his nose and looked away.

“Well… I suppose it never came up.” He then ruffled Orel’s hair.

“But now you do. Good talk.” He then left Orel alone. The boy was only left more confused. Being told that not only does a fictional monster exist, but once a month he would become one, didn't sit right. He repeated his father's words in his head until he remembered why he was like this.

“Hmm… I suppose I need to pray more?” He looked up, hoping for an answer. Only returned with silence, he clasped his hands and prayed anyway, hoping he could be better than his ancestor.

Chapter Text

Bloberta watched as her husband and sons left. She had overheard Clay's conversation with Orel and she was disappointed that he took so long to tell him about it.

Yes, she knows about the curse. She doesn't know much, Clay would never talk to her about that, but she's had to come face to face with that knowledge early on.

Twelve years ago, Bloberta was a couple years into her marriage with Clay and was finally pregnant. It wasn't really either of their choices, and honestly she had contemplated leaving him before she found out about the news. There were many things she disliked about him at that point, but one weird rule had bothered her for a while.

Go to bed early if there is a full moon. She rolled her eyes when she first heard the demand out of his mouth, but he wouldn't relent. Normally she didn't do that, she'd just read a book or clean around their room and that seemed to be enough to not bother him with whatever he was doing downstairs.

However, one night was different. It was spring cleaning time and for Bloberta it was at least a week long of her deep cleaning the house. Clay complained about not being able to walk around due to her uprooting the house every single time, but she didn't stop, it was something she had to do. She couldn't describe it, but she had to. Otherwise everything was filthy and she couldn't handle that feeling for long.

This week, the full moon happened to be arriving at the same time she's supposed to work on the living room and her husband was not happy about it. Clay argued with her, but she didn't relent and eventually he gave up and retreated to his study. She simply just went on to do her chore list. A couple hours later and she was about halfway done when the Sun left the Earth.

“It's amazing what you can do when you don't have a husband nagging at you constantly,” she said to herself before chuckling. She looked out the window and saw the full moon watching the Earth as she heard howling. The howling was grating, but it happened without fail every full moon. Then she heard growling.

She turned around and saw a wolf sniffing and growling around the living room. She tried to sneak out, but she knocked over a table, getting the wolf's attention. Its red eyes glared at her before running after her. She tried to go for the door, but the wolf was too fast and nearly bit her hand.

“Clay!” Maybe it wasn't the brightest idea, but she knew Clay's study was filled to the brim with weaponry. She rushed to the hallway and slammed into the door trying to get her husband's attention.

“There's a wolf in here!” No matter how much she knocked, she heard no response. Not even some snide remark about how a wild animal could've possibly gotten inside their house, which if Bloberta wasn't in immediate danger she would be pointing fingers at him because she knew for sure the doors were locked. But right now she doesn't have time to ponder.

“Open the door, Clay!” She screamed and knocked until she heard growling again. The giant figure was staring at her from the living room, ready to pounce again. She turned the knob and found that the door wasn't locked. She quickly got inside and locked the door before hearing the wolf slam itself into the door as it howled.

She turned away from the door, but did not see Clay anywhere. Sure, she didn't like him, but she didn't necessarily want him dead yet, so she tried to search for him in his study.

The walls of the armory were long and dimly lit. If he passed out somewhere or, if worst case scenario, he left remains of blood or carcass it was hard to see them. But neither should be hard to smell. Yet neither the smell of iron or the smell of her alcoholic husband has yet to enter her nose. Then she heard the door slam open.

She grabbed a shotgun from the wall. She has never held a gun before in her entire life, but it was either attempt to use it or lay down and die. It ran right at her and she pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The wolf pounced on her, and she used the barrel to keep its fangs away from her, but its saliva drooled on her and its stench filled her nostrils.

Wolves don't smell like that. Not that she was familiar with wild animals, but she could smell whiskey. Not just any old whiskey, it was his favorite whiskey entrenched in his terrible breath that she hated the smell and taste of.

She couldn't comprehend what she was sensing. In the meantime, the wolf finally stopped trying to bite her and backed off a bit. Maybe it gave up, maybe he recognized her own scent, but she was still not waking up from whatever this was. She didn't have time to process before the wolf grabbed her collar and began to drag her. Trying to resist, she was met with growling that still left her on edge.

He dragged her all the way to her bed. It let go, but its red eyes glared daggers at her until she laid in bed. He then left the bedroom.

She got up and turned the desk lamp on. Maybe she could get some reading done, but the wolf returned to growl at her again. She turned it off and laid back down. The wolf then jumped on the bed and laid on her. She wanted to scoff at him, but she didn't feel like it considering everything.

They both, by some miracle, fell asleep like that. She woke up by herself in the morning. She probably should have gotten up and finished the living room, but instead she just laid there and thought. Her husband was a monster. She could wake up without all her limbs one day. At the same time, his monster form suited him in her opinion.