A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Red Riding Hood (Movie Trailer)

December 9, 2010
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Please allow me to share my trepidation with you over the upcoming Red Riding Hood movie. I have to agree with a comment made on you tube for this – Gary Oldman and Amanda what’s her face, should, SHOULD be a good combination for this movie.

But Catherine Hardwicke as director…I’ve already lost faith.

I know scarier and better versions of this tale than this. Here’s hoping it doesn’t completely miss the mark.


My What big teeth you have…

February 8, 2010
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You’ve heard of 3 wolves and moon Tshirt and it’s awesome power? It’s so powerful it’s inspired three Gary busey’s and moon T-shirt

My what big teeth you have, Mr Busey.

“All the more power to eat you with”

In Hollywood that’s got to be a good thing.

Once upon a long ago…

October 23, 2009
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I got sent a link to the Wolfman trailer by @booklover73 on Twitter and it got me thinking about the tale of The Wolfman I was told as a child.

Since it’s almost Halloween seems appropriate to share it, so gather round gentle readers, and read along to this dark tale.

Once upon a long ago, there was a land in chaos.

In the United Provinces of the Spanish Netherlands the king of the land, was not pleased with his kingdom. He believed to rule his kingdom properly, everyone must follow his rule under, his god. He wanted the people of the provinces to have one god only.

The people of the seven provinces had always lived good lives. But when they told the king they did not wish to follow his god, they made him mad. The King formed armies of men in silver who were dispatched to make the people, listen to his decree. When they did not, they often met with death at the end of a sword, or were hung.

The people lived in fear of the kings silver men.

The men in silver were many, and always travelled as large groups on horseback. They carried swords, and they never left a village standing. Their arrival always signaled that death would follow to those who opposed the king.

But there was one village the silver men came to, that history would prove, to be different to the others they had conquered.

In the province of Uterecht, most of the villages had heard of the warring these men were bringing across the lands. A man named William, had spoken to them, told them of what it meant to fight the kings’ rule. William formed many friends, who rode with him across the provinces spreading the word of what was coming to those who did not do as they king wished.

The villagers of Maarssen, knew they could save their own village if they sought the council of their neighbors the Breukelen for help. They knew it would not be long before the silver men visited the town and burned their houses for not following the King’s decree of one god for all.

The village of Breukelen was also a small village, filled with families, farmers, blacksmiths and women who made the finest patterned materials of silk and wool. They like the Maarssen were a happy village, who were happy to live their lives from day to day, doing as they always had.

After speaking to the elders from Maarssen they decided the best way to save their villages from ruin and keep their people alive was to join their defenses.

The war of the silver men, was always moving closer to them, every day.

Together they sought out their surrounding neighbors for help in protecting the lands they lived on and their people.

They formed groups of messengers. Each group with a member from the Maarssen and the Breukelen was told to ride to a village and seek their support for the war.

The villages were spread wide and far.

The evening two of the messengers reached a village, but it was already too late.

Every house in the village burned. Bodies lay slain in the streets and pierced through pitchforks as a warning to those who rode through, of the might of the kingdom’s silver men.

Flames burned crops of wheat. The night sky was so blackened from the smoke of many fires, that the stars could not be seen for three whole nights. Instead of sunlight for those three days, ash rained down from the darkened sky.

Few animals managed to escape being slaughtered. Horses ran scared through cobblestone streets. The cattle of farmyard animals, whined so loudly that it was said the messengers thought they were crying and screaming at the same time, as they stampeded the nearby lands in confussion.

But one man, was found alive in the village.

On his knees, he wept.

He wore a fur across his shoulders, and a helmet with a wolf’s head on it. He held a younger man, in his arms, his eyes closed, blood staining his clothes.

“He was my brother.” The Beserker told the messengers.
“He fought the soldiers. He tried to stop them from coming into our village. We are peaceful he told them. We have artists here. Artists do not need to seek god or war. We have taverns with mead that you will be given all night. Beds for you to rest in as long as you need. But the soldiers did not care. I could not get to him, before they drew their swords and cut him down. A woman screamed and then they began burning our homes, killing our people.”

The messengers listened to the weeping Beserker. They offered to help the Beserker bury his brother, so he could be at rest. The Beserker, was so angry by the thought of parting from his brother, he yelled at the messengers:

“I will ruin the fires of the one god and king in blood and love. When the moon is next full, I shall walk amongst those who seek to destroy us as a man. By nightfall they will only see the beast of their creation, an animal that abhors mankind, and only seeks to fuel his revenge through their death. I will tear them apart with my teeth and cut open their flesh. I curse their life if it can not be this way for them as it is for me!”

The messengers, tried to help calm him down. But he would not be parted from his dead brother nor listen to the messengers who told him to join their cause. The Messengers realized there was nothing further they could do and left.

It is said that after three nights of falling ash from the sky the darkened smoke cleared and the full moon was able to be seen.

The messengers continued to form their alliances with the villages, and fight the silver men’s armies. Reports came in from far and wide of a lone creature, not unlike a wolf but some said more like a man, seeking out only the silver men and those they protected under the king’s rule. These people would be found dead, their throats torn, their hearts missing, with only claw and teeth marks on them. It was often said that wild animals, wolves in particular had attacked them.

But those two messengers always thought that this was the Besersker’s curse to carry as the Wolfman, forever seeking his vengeance, yet never satisfied.

By the third night

August 5, 2009
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Third night of the lunar week. New Moon in da house, you know what this means?

Didn’t think so..let me explain, it’s like another world at night. For us.

It’s not just a case of me shaking up with Conall for a week, having wild animal sex and us shape shifting at the end of each night into wolf form.  That would be one, very, basic, description of it.  But I’d be leaving out a lot of detail if I said that was all there was too it.

Like I said, there is a werewolf club scene in New York for good reason.  We need somewhere to go, to be together otherwise you’d have feral, were-wolves on the loose, on every street around every corner terrorizing people for a week, every month of the year.  It’d be like anarchy.  We’d get policed or worse.

And If you think werewolves wouldn’t attack humans, think again.

Sure, the were-wolf culture has come a long way from being just mindless monsters that Hollywood would have you believe are cursed and without control over themselves or the matter.  We’re not cursed. But we have to live and work in a society that doesn’t fully understand us or even truly know we exist.  So it’s a fine line that our lives balance on, seemingly all the time.  Attacks do happen, even now-a-days. But they’re less than they used to be, because Packs around the country have been guiding us for years.

The truth is, lunar week affects all werewolves differently, and it can vary depending on circumstances. But mostly, there is a pattern of what you can expect to happen to you and you figure out what works best for you during the lunar week.

The first three nights leading up to the new moon phase, are bearable enough. Hell, for the first two nights, I don’t have to shift.  But my body gets little wants too. Conall has to shift every night of the lunar week. So most of the time I do to, rather than him do it alone. Fighting a shift, can make it so much more painful than it needs to be.  Sure I only feel it for a brief time. But it feels like eternity when you’re being torn apart and re-born from the inside out, fast. So I don’t fight it.  Conall does more often than not, especially if I’m not around. For me, I can still feel the after affects the next day if I do try and fight shifting, or holding it off.  It’s happened before.  It’s why I now routinely book myself in for a regular massage after lunar week.

But by the third night, well, I loose choice in the matter. After that every night of the lunar week is a shape shifting night.

When I said our emotions and sensations were heightened, I wasn’t kidding. This includes hunger. You can crave things, like, ravenously crave them.  Like your body will crazy without them.

For most were-wolves it becomes about blood and meat. Red meat.  So being around my dear friend Aimee or any other non friends at this time, is fairly dangerous. After all, I can smell her scent and hear her heat beat and if she has an open cut on her body, like a paper cut, I would be able to smell her blood.

I’ve never drank human blood, but I’ve had it described it to me once, by someone. It sounded like they had a drinking problem.  Because they hadn’t been able to stop. Didn’t stop.

When a werewolf drinks blood, it’s not all high tea and dainty, fine china cups. It’s more like teeth tearing muscle, cracking bone and burying your face into the meat till your snout and face are covered in it.  And yeah, there was a part of me that found that exciting to hear.

That’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull and taunting it.

Hmm, I guess I see why Hollywood makes us out to be monsters. But really, I think it’s more a primal urge that gets played on us.

The urgency the werewolf inside me has to go for that blood, that fresh meat, could be enough for me to forget who she is to me.  To loose control over what I know I can normally control, through my routine habits on lunar week.

So I try to stick to what I know. To do what does work.

To enjoy what I can without fear of hurting someone. I mean, it’s already enough that I have to get through all this stuff and function in society at the same time. I mean I still have to interact with my neighbors, workmates and the like.

On the flip side, I also stick to my known and trusted routine and pack mates, because there are those humans that do know about werewolves.  That would try and harm us, take advantage of us for fun, fetish or other circumstances.

It’s a hell of a lot harder to do if they can’t infiltrate your world and be a part of it.  So it’s for my own protection as much as that of my friends like Aimee, when I do my thing with Conall.

Learnt my lesson on that one, pack is life.


July 28, 2009
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So it doesn’t stop there.

Aimee’s established with me that she’s okay about, things, about us. We can still be friends.

But there are questions, more questions.

Always, with the questions.

She was just being respectful of me considering the news I’d had to deliver that I’m part pet, as well as human.

Her first question to me, was is Lycanthropy a disease?

I say it’s Hollywood’s attempt at movie magic to elicit sympathy for it’s characters. Honestly not trying to be trivial here. But explaining something as ingrained as your identity to someone is hard.

As far as I’m aware of, maybe it started out that way, but from what I’ve always been told and read about it, it’s a gene.  A “were”gene. Which has evolved and now somewhere along the lines, the gene has started to regress again.

Because birth rates amongst were-wolves are lower than previous decades.  Yes, were-wolves it would appear, are a dying breed, so to speak.

If current birthing trends continue, we will be just another race that breeds out.

Means, I guess, that the only wolves then around, aren’t shape shifters, they are natural born wolves.  Just wolves that are animals, you know the ones you see in the wild.

I don’t find it easy to talk about all this stuff, especially when her curiosity just makes me feel like a freak show.

So more Q& A’s later, some other time.

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