A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Lycans are made

March 12, 2012
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The first lycan I ever came across was a female Alpha that hunted me down when I was fourteen years old.

I did nothing to provoke this encounter. Other than prove an opportunity too good to pass up for her and her pack. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Prior to her attack on me , lycans to me were just some bogey-man I’d heard about, like a scare tactic designed to keep werewolves in line. To show young werewolves what we didn’t want to become. Ever.

To demonstrate to impressionable werewolves what was so beneath the very nature and biology of the werewolf. And to illustrate to pups like me and my four siblings how good and great werewolves, Breukelen werewolves in particular, truly are.

I never doubted myself as a werewolf until that encounter. Everything I had ever been told about lycans up until then was proven completely true by that attack. I never have had any reason to doubt my pack. Or my pack leader or the werewolf way of life. But it turns out not all wolves are created equal.

Lycans aren’t a concept. They’re humans who have become wolves. Not true werewolves as such. They’re not born a werewolf. Werewolves are born .

We carry a genetic legacy that is eons old and passed down through our bloodlines.

Lycans are made not born. They do not have a genetic advantage of the human race like us. They do not possess a werewolf gene. They’re a problem created by werewolves.

They’re kind of like a basterdized offspring of a werewolf. The problem with this is that werewolves don’t care about lycans. Well, we’re not supposed to care about lycans. Even though werewolves are at fault here.

Of course being a werewolf myself, a true werewolf, I’m not supposed to say such blasphemous things out loud. Or you know like ever. The general rule for lycans is they just can’t be us. Therefore they can’t be a part of us. Can’t be a part of our packs or our way of life or our culture.

They’re beneath us. They’re nothing.

So you see the problem?

Werewolf attacks and bites a human. Human manages to survive the werewolf attack. Human becomes infected by werewolf’s bite. Werewolf creates something it doesn’t want, a lycan .

Lycan has nowhere to go because lycan lacks identity. Because it is the werewolf way is to deny the lycan such a thing. Strip it of what it would otherwise be entitled to if it were a werewolf, or even a human.

Therefore the repercussions of lycanthropy are put into their otherwise, unprepared for it, body’s system. Human gets past stage one, infection. Survives to live and tell whoever will listen and believe them, that they were attacked by a werewolf.

Human gets ridiculed and become ostracised from everyone and everything around it as a result of this one event affecting them, that they can’t let go of. A month later human goes through first shape shift. Human somehow manages to survive the shape shift. Human is no longer a human, but a lycan.

This new lycan does not understand what has happened to them or how it works. Has no information to go off. Has no support network. The werewolves they find out about, turn them out. All but run them out of werewolf territory.

Any time the lycan runs into werewolves, they fight, and are met with hostile intentions for no actual reason, other than they carry the scent of a lycan. Lycan is made to go it alone. Because lycan is not a werewolf by nature, intention, or biology.

When I was just a pup, I lived rather naively amongst my pack. I was just part of a collective community that looked after me. I was just a pup from the leading pack alpha’s family.

My father is the alpha leader of the Breukelen werewolf pack in Brooklyn, New York. I adore and admire my father. I thought he could do no wrong. I thought he was amazing.

He loved me, loved his pack and he was rather brilliant at leading our pack, through business decisions as well as strategic decisions and understanding the personalities of our pack. Not that I would figure that out until I was older and began to glimpse the inner working of our pack at play.

I didn’t know there were politics to work through because I never saw that side of our world. As a pup, I didn’t need to be.

But after my first run in with a lycan I changed . I guess you could say I grew up. Not that long after the lycan attack on me I met Booker Parish. I was fifteen and Booker was seventeen.

My world was about to be tilted on it’s well structured and known axis. All because of a boy. But not just any boy. Benico Parish, Ben for short, Booker to his friends.

Booker was the first lycan I met who didn’t want to kill me.

Didn’t want to harm me.

Booker Parish is to this day the only lycan this werewolf has ever been in love with.

***

To Read more from Perception, go to: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/133976


Animal logic

July 19, 2010
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“He’s in Town with a Few Days to Kill.

Park. Pull over. And Pray.” – Predator 2

My brother Markus and I recently held a Predator movie marathon in the spirit of getting familiar again with all the Predator movies before we go off and see the newest one of them all – Predators.  Yes, plural.  Put an S on the end and hello, marketing genius!

Predator 2 is again a movie that the werewolves of New York can possibly relate to quite easily.  It’s not all about the bloodshed and killing either.

This time, because it’s set in a city (Los Angeles) and the Predator, has to deal with a different landscape, and personalities encountered in the urban jungle, rather than the environmental jungle, like in the first movie.

As in the first movie, the Predator engages in stalking and hunting it’s prey, by watching the strongest or best, if you will, fighters in a gun fight.  The predator, doesn’t want an easy target, not that it doesn’t collect a few weaklings on the way, because hey, fun and kill ratio.  But ultimately, it wants a worthy competitor, which is why it chooses  Lieutenant Mike Harrigan from the LAPD (Danny Glover) to go one on one with.

A werewolf will willingly go into almost any fight you present it with.  Because fighting to us, is quite natural and well, in a sense of some kind, fun. Sometimes, most of the times. Well, you know, when you’re in human form and you know, you can push the boundaries of your body and you want to.  But really, a werewolf will only fight a worthy, opponent when in wolf form or if they really have to.  There will be some good reasoning behind it.

Like the Predator, we won’t jump into any old situation, or be provoked easily. We have more brains than that, even when in werewolf form.

Again, the attraction for us werewolves to the Predator is one of similarity.  The Predator has to cope in the city environment like we do.  It has to be smart and essentially hide its true self – so it cloaks itself to become invisible.  Werewolves whilst not A) Aliens or B) invisible – but damn, wouldn’t that be cool ? – quite often have to hide our werewolf self from the everyday populace.  Because werewolves roaming the street, all furry and what not, would freak people out.  Freaked out people panic. Panic becomes reaction and then you find bad situations arise.  People don’t think when they’re in a react mode.

Like the Predator alien, when in animal form, werewolves, will be far more aggressive in nature than in human form. If we sense your fear and panic and you run in front of us, we’ll think it means we can go hunting. Namely, you.  It’s animal logic.  It just switches on and it’s hard to see past it and switch if off when your in tribal form and you get the notion of hunting prey, and bloodshed in your mind.

However, there is a disconcernable difference that werewolves don’t share with the Predator. We don’t hunt for fun. At least, not any werewolves I know of.  I know of a Lycan that does, since she once decided to hunt me, all because I just happened to be a werewolf in her existence.  No other real reasoning to it.  If you’ve read my post on that little life experience before, we haven’t lost sight of her completely.

Ultimately whilst we only see one Predator playing games with the human casualties in this movie, we find out in the end, that of course, there is more than one. Which leads me to presume, they hunt as a pack.  Maybe they just split into groups.  Or maybe it’s like a competition between them, each Predator goes their own way and see who gets the most human trophies – body count and skulls.

I haven’t  hunted in a pack formation, because I haven’t really hunted before.  There’s been no need in my life. I’m a city werewolf, growing up in a concrete jungle and dealing with female logic in life, dating, sex, shoes and relationships. That kind of thing, more than enough to work my brain around majority of the time.

But I still feel the urge to hunt, when I shape shift. It could be called a kind of restlessness within.  In particular when I shape shift in the outdoors. Pack hunting is not unheard of with werewolves.  It can be quite useful when taking down a larger enemy or piece of prey that has good defenses.  Whist there is also safety in numbers, there is also strength in numbers and the ability to overpower the prey in question.

The biggest association that attracts most of the werewolves I know, who are fans of the various Predator movies, is the almost indestructible nature of the Predator alien.  We see that in ourselves.  We understand the thought that you can just do the things the Predator does, because you’ve got superior abilities.

Of course, living as humans and sharing the nature of the werewolf means, we can’t flaunt that ability. It’s part and parcel of what restricts the werewolf.


Behind the Eyes

July 16, 2010
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When I announced I was going to go to the movies and see the new Predators movie, I was met by a lot of happy noise over the family dinner table.  Everyone wanted to see the movie.

Is it any wonder really?

Family of werewolves, want to see a movie called, Predators.

To get into the mood for the new movie, it was suggested that we should all re-watch the other Predator movies in this film franchise.  So Markus and I held a movie marathon.

Have you ever sat through an animal movie with a werewolf?

You really should, it’s fun. We all go crazy at certain points in the film.  Get very vocal, growling, howling and whooping it up.

For those who live under a rock and have no idea what I’m talking about, Predator was the original movie, that stared Arnold Schwarzenegger in a Guatemala jungle with a special forces team, sent on a rescue mission.  They came across a Predator (Alien) and were hunted by the Predator.

Is it any wonder in the Predator movie, that we werewolves, identify greatly with this first movie.  It’s not so far from a pack movie, there are elements we all saw and recognized easily in it.

There’s a lot of Alpha male bullshit from the humans.  Dutch (Arnold Schwarzenegger) and Dylan (Carl Jackson) grasp bulging arms when they first meet and attempt to hand wrestle for top dog dominance.  It’s about showing each other they’ve still got it (skills, ego, strength, dicks, whatever) and that one of them, is definitely the top dog and leader over the other.  In this case, it would be Dutch, the hero of the piece, the one who gives the group/ pack of soldiers their orders.

Then there are the soldiers of the movie, not that much unlike us solider wolves in a pack. You just have to watch the scene where you get to see each of the personalities in the Chopper.  It’s the solider with the glasses – Hawkins, who shows you how unsuspecting and deceiving looks can be.  He looks skinny, wears glasses and is the most unlikely of the group to look the part of well oiled, war experienced solider.  The rest are boisterous, full of attitude and have huge muscles.  But it’s Hawkins, the quiet one, who catches whatever is being thrown at him in the chopper, without even looking up or flinching. Showing his super skills and hinting at there’s a reason, he’s with the macho males, earning him a knowing smile from his fellow solider, Poncho.

Werewolves are much the same as this.

You’d never know what we are to look at us in human form. We look normal enough.  But it’s when a petite woman can pretty much lift up the back of a car off the ground or outrun the likes of an Olympic athlete, that you’d probably start thinking differently.  But like the soldiers in this movie, we’re taught to blend in, to camouflage ourselves in society. To survive.

In this first movie Predator, we see a lot of instinct – Billy the tracker – also a werewolf trait – tracking, not only figures out their situation involves more than gorilla warfare soldiers.  But he senses the presence of the Predator and starts to look for it before the others really become aware of what’s going on or what they are up against.

Werewolves use instinct a lot. Especially when in tribal form.  It’s kind of like, the epicenter for how animals think.  They don’t necessarily  just react without reasoning. There’s thought, and there’s instinct ingrained into us. In how to react to other wolves, and how to fight.  As much as there  is knowledge of the culture we live in.  Pack wolves are formidable.

The first movie also takes you the viewer through what the Predator sees.  How it sees, how it hears and how it thinks.  This part of the movie, shows you that Animals (or aliens as the case may be) have intelligence beyond general assumption and thought.  Because beings do not look like humans, does not mean, they do not essentially function or behave in a similar fashion.

The Predator bleeds.  Humans bleed.  The Predator walks upright on two feet. Humans walk upright on two feet.  The Predator uses weapons, the humans use and construct weapons.  The Predator hunts, like any human hunter would hunt. Spying on it’s prey, watching and waiting for it’s prey, until it’s challenged. The Predator, like werewolves, uses it’s environment, in camouflage, higher ground when taking to the trees.

The Predator recognizes the dominant male in Dutch, when Dutch decides to stop running and take it on, one on one.  It is this attitude from the hero, Dutch, that is much like werewolves, when  in human form. We’d rather fight than run, any day of the week.  We believe in attack, rather than defend.  We understand the showmanship of dominance, the importance of displaying strength, whether in numbers of solo.

There is a mentality behind it.

Much like that, hidden ,behind the eyes of a werewolf.

Arooo.


Werewolf vs Werewolf

May 20, 2010
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Paris’s eyes were dark and drilling into me. His face was taunt, and looked strained. Dare I say it, but I of course, was the cause of his distress. He’d made me sit down atop a table at Addison’s house in Alphabet City, where they’d taken me, because it was closest to the area the lycan bitch and I had been caught fighting in. I had a tissue to my constantly bleeding blood nose and my head slightly tilted back, trying to stop the flow.

So there I was, sitting still, my scrapped knees dangling over a table top, keeping my mouth shut, saying nothing, and looking grim, and coated in blood, namely my own, waiting for my reprimand from my boyfriend the Manhattan Pack leader, like I was under police investigation.

But it wasn’t coming, the reprimand.

He was holding my right hand, gently and wiping the blood off the broken skin on and around my knuckles and hand. Every now and then his eyes would wander up and down my arms, silently counting, I think, all the scratch marks along them. They went right up my arms. Pink lines of varying degrees of depth, colour, scaring and blood. She’d cut through my top, shredded the long sleeves.
Not that it bothered me. Nothing about what I’d done bothered me. I was lucky I figured, but didn’t care for lucky, the corner of my bottom lip was torn, slightly away from my mouth. But none of my injuries mattered.

Getting back into the fight with that lycan, that mattered to me.I was going numb to the pain, because my anger was keeping me warm inside.

Paris being silent towards me, bothered me. A lot. Still, I refused to break the silence. I was in no mood for talking anyway. I could barely bring myself to look at the Alpha male behind Paris in the kitchen, pacing away – Addison. As far as I was concerned, he was completely at fault.

What fucking werewolf interferes in a fight that isn’t their own?

The werewolf Addison, that’s who.

There’s no real politics or ruling on this type of thing, jumping in on a regular wolf street fight. It’s just not…wise, or appreciated and I guess you could say, that in terms of the fight I’d started with the lycan bitch, it undermined me in front of her. Again.

What fucking werewolf likes to look like a weakling in front of other werewolves or more insultingly, a lycan?

Not me. I have pride, in bucket loads.
Hence the staunchly silence of my unspoken anger.

“Wanna talk to me?” Paris finally asked, as he squeezed the red coated washer out in the warm bowl of water beside my hand. My eyes flicked past him and glared at Addison who’d decided to stop pacing long enough to lean against the kitchen bench top. He folded his arms over his chest and stared straight back at me.

“I did you a favor, that lycan was going to pummel you into a new existence.” Addison fired at me before I broke eye contact.

“Addison, why don’t you leave us in private.” Paris said half turning his head towards his second in command. We both watched as Addison marched out of the kitchen area loudly and unhappily.

“Now, wanna tell me what happened?” Paris said taking up my left hand and starting to wipe it with the warm liquid.

“He was going to break both my ankles you know.” I muttered. Knowing I was acting childishly and not caring.

Paris stopped cleaning my hand wound then and looked at me in earnest seriousness.

“I’d never let him get away with doing that to you. But you must’ve pushed him to his limit, Addison isn’t one to threaten violence easily. Kingsley on the other hand…” Paris said referring to another one of the Alpha warriors in the Manhattan Maen hierarchy.

“I got into a fight.”

Paris sighed heavily and started wiping down my hand again, gently. “Believe it or not, I can see the evidence of that. Believe me, from what Addison told me of what he and Jules saw of the fight, you’re lucky they intervened when they did.”

“I was holding my own.”

“You’re covered in your own blood. That lycan has scarred you all over.” He went on.“You’re going to have to shape shift to heal all this. Pretty soon too, I would think, as soon as your nose stops bleeding.”

I pulled the bright red soaked tissue away from my nose. It was practically falling apart in my hands it was so damp.

“I need to find that lycan.”

“Not gonna happen.” Paris replied firmly. “Jules is still out there, tracking her down. We’re on it. You’re not going anywhere until you shape shift and recover.”

I sighed heavily back at him.

“Don’t make me make you.”

I guess it was the only warning I was going to get. Alpha werewolves can force another werewolf in or out of a shape shift mode, as well as kind of interfering with the wolf’s will, if you want to call it that. We call it influencing. And if I didn’t do it myself, then Paris would do it to me. Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a smooth ride. Especially when you’ve got fresh injuries, like mine. He didn’t even need to be in animal form to do it to me, if I understood correctly.

He put my hand back down and moved the bowl of water, which was now all watered red, not pick, away from us.

“Talk to me.” He pleaded, putting my head in his hand and turning it to face it.

“You ever been hunted?” I asked.

He dropped his hand and stood up straighter in front of me.

“No.”

“Yeah, well, I never told you I was when I was fourteen and that bitch of a lycan your guys let get away from me, was the hunter responsible.” I replied sliding off the table top.

Paris looked wounded, pained and wounded. But my anger was just so much greater.

I pushed past him out of the room. Maybe I could get through a fast shape shift, fast enough to recover and get back on my feet again to find that lycan. Or maybe I’d just go out after her in werewolf form. That’d probably be my better shot.


Beta Werewolf vs Alpha lycan

May 18, 2010
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How to explain to your boyfriend, that you’re out for the night, filling a vendetta?

Don’t bother. Because he’ll figure it out, anyway. Well, he will if he’s the leading pack Alpha of the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack and you, his girlfriend, are causing trouble in his territory.

If I’d been in my right mind, and not floating around in the obsession of getting payback on the female lycan hunter that has a rather personal history with me. Then I’d have realized, of course, that not much goes on in a werewolf’s territory, that doesn’t get noticed by some member of the pack.

Especially if the pack, like the Manhattan Maen is rather large in numbers. Of course it means, that some good little werewolf, is going to report a mad capped, ferocious werewolf versus lycan marathon through the streets of Manhattan to it’s hierarchy.

Especially when there is potential for human casualties to be involved and of course, a greater exposure to the law enforcement and human community to contend with.

I mean, twenty questions and more is just damn annoying.

Still, I was starting to bleed when Paris sent in the troops to find out what the hell was going on, after receiving a lot of weird phone calls about sightings about two women hell bent on destroying everything in their path as well, each other it seemed.

I didn’t get to do what I wanted with the lycan.

Because Addison and Jules, Paris’s tough guys caught up to me before I could.
Of course they would.

Alpha warriors who are the best at what they do, keep the peace on their side of the Hudson. You rarely hear about werewolf wars and werewolf fighting going on over here. Probably because Addison and Jules are great at great at fighting and of course, super strong.

They’re not the only ones Paris uses for such things, but they are his main guys. So when they saw when they came across me and miss lycan in a dead end alleyway circling each other and growling, they didn’t stop to ask questions.

I mean, a girl fight is pretty damn obvious. Especially since the lycan bitch had her fangs and her talon like finger nail claws out.

It all went down so fast. Like plunging headlong into an inescapable bad dream you know is going to swallow you up whole.

I was taking hits and landing two to her every four, then I hit the wall behind me.The boys just yanked me back out of the fight and jumped right in my place instead. Went head to head with the lycan.

To say I was ballistic would be an understatement in severity of my rage.

Which of course, was more than enough to scare the bejezus out of the lycan, well I’d like to think so. It was probably more to do with Addison and Jules tag teaming to keep me at bay and take hard hitting pot shots at her, that maybe, even she couldn’t really better.

Still she managed to high tailed it mightily fast out of there as Addison went for me, as I went to run after her and he yelled at Jules to go after the lycan.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I didn’t fight Addison. He may be my boyfriend’s right hand man in pack business and his best friend, but his timing and his concern for my welfare – sucked!

I thrashed like I was drowning in a rip-tide that was holding me in place. Nothing but energy and desperation, fuelled me as I struggled against him for a good ten minutes. Trying to get out of his one arm hold on me. I was like a paper weight to Addison, but even so, I kicked him in the shins, several times in a vain hope of release.

He phoned Paris to update him on what was going on. Although, I must’ve angered him at some point, because he did tell me, if I didn’t stop struggling he would break both my ankles. Regardless of who my boyfriend/his best friend was.

I stopped.

Of course I can recover from that, but the breaking bones part, it still hurts a hell of a lot and is inconvinent.

The brief gist of the covert conversation relayed to Paris went something like – the Manhattan Maen Alpha’s pack partner and girlfriend was going nuts at him over some unknown Lycan bitch who had evaded their capture, but that Jules was on it.

I stopped struggling and yelling at Addison after he finished the phone call, when he said to me
“Paris is on his way to see you.”

That statement alone, sounded like my fate was sealed. The tone of Addison’s voice didn’t sound like we were going to have the happiest of reunions.

On the bright side, at least my ankles are in tact.


One in a hundred

May 16, 2010
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I might have lost the element of surprise, but I got the first hit in.

The bitch was too busy grinning at me as I stepped up to her, opening her mouth, about to ask what the problem was when I threw a left hook into the side of her face. Making her stumble off balance into those around her. But after that first hit, the lycan didn’t care for small talk either. Even though those around us complained and started swearing at her for her awkard landing.

Ha!

My fist was thumping with what I supposed was pain, but who could tell, I wasn’t really focussed on it or the skin across my left and middle knuckle which had split open and appeared to be bleeding. Tough stuff, this lycan.

The lycan growled at me, her mouth snarling back, showing me her very human teeth. Didn’t matter, her intent was clear as was mine.

This is the thing with lycans, they seem to embrace fighting, even more than werewolves do. They love to fight anyone, anything, but of course, especially, a werewolf. Pitty she couldn’t remember me really, I thought as she lunged towards me. That would make the fighting so much sweeter, for the both of us.

I swiveled out of her reach.

Still, I was prepared to just pummel her senseless till I was exhausted enough for my memory to be sedate. Given how strong my memory of that summer was, I knew I’d be working her lycan body like a punch bag, for hours. Which made me smile as I blocked a punch and proceeded to give her a stinging upper cut with my right.

But all that did was really piss her off. Make her really, mad.

And she grinned, her very human teeth, suddenly shape shifting to wolf fangs. My eyes widened at the sight. Some woman around us, starting screaming and screaming and wouldn’t stop. Her shrill voice felt like it was going to make my ears bleed.

Those fangs were freakishly big and sharp.

Merde.

I was barely aware of the rest of my surroundings and the people that were around us.
But the lycan was.

Here was something I clearly didn’t remember or recognize at the time, about the hunter before me now. She was, is, an Alpha Lycan.

Merde.

Alpha lycans are similar, but not exactly like, Alpha werewolves. They are made, rather than born, through a werewolf bite. And for something like one in a hundred of those people who are turned into lycans, you get an Alpha. That is to say, there body inherits better abilities, than the average lycan. They usually only pick up one or two tricks. I’d be guessing, but in the case of this lycan bitch, I’d say fast shape shifting would be one of her bonuses.

She only took her eyes off me to turn and run. Fleeing through the crowd of onlookers around us, pushing them aside like they held no resistance to her get away.

Running was a good idea.
For her.

After all, I’d rather finish this out of prying eyes, and before the police sirens caught up to us.

Still, I bolted after her, through the bedazzled onlookers who jumped aside, making way for me to get through their human road block.


Line of sight

May 12, 2010
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You know what happens when you hold onto something emotionally for a long time, when you can’t let go?

Life goes on around you, and you become the only one that remembers why you’re holding it so tight.

The feeling of justification that you need becomes a lone thought through tunneled vision, with it being all you can see or what or need.

So when the lycan turned around suddenly abrupt, breaking stride on the sidewalk and swiveled to face me, it shouldn’t have surprised me, that she looked straight through me. Her eyes darting about in the street, sizing up all the pedestrians and foot traffic surrounding her.

She is after all, just a lycan.

At first she didn’t get it, straight away, that I’m the hunter this time. Because, I look unassuming amongst the other bodies around us. Of course, I was the only one who held her gaze, and I was the only one who kept holding it and advancing towards her steadily. I was giving myself away. But by this stage, I didn’t really care. My emotions drive me, and they had gotten the better of me, I’d let my anxiousness seep out and she’d felt it.

Knew there was someone there tracking her.

She looked back at me, tilted her chin up slightly, her head to the side and looked down her nose at me. Like I was something of insignificance to her. The same thing, I’d been when I was fourteen and trying to deal with my first shape shift and a pack of hunters, who turned out to be angry lycans, out for some pay back on the breed that made them what they had become, against their will. Didn’t matter that I wasn’t responsible for their turning. Didn’t matter that I didn’t know them, had never met them before in my life.

All that ever mattered was that I was a werewolf.
And I’d made the mistake of being in their line of sight, in their world.

She lifted her nose slightly and sniffed. I watched her eyes widen, ever so slightly as the recognition of werewolf scent registered with her.

The bitch actually smiled at me.
Can you believe that?

But still she remained calm, in control. I could barely hear her heart beating.

I guess she wondered if I might actually just walk past her, just be some werewolf aware of her presence there on the street, but nothing more. Well, if she guessed that she guessed wrong.
She stared me down as I got closer to her and her smile got wider, as her heart beat picked up a bit more.

Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.

I think she’d figured out by then that I was coming, but she doesn’t know me.

It’s apparent on her face that I’m an interesting surprise development in her day.
But she doesn’t know what this is about.

She doesn’t remember.

And I can’t forget.


Scavenger Hunt

May 10, 2010
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There is no mistaking my intended prey.

I would know that scent anywhere, and when the Lycan turned it’s head, giving me the perfect profile view of it’s face, everything inside me went wild and I wanted to scream and howl.

So you can take that as a confirmation of positive I.D.

But I clamped my mouth down tight. Fist my hands and forced myself to remain, calm.

The lycan tensed slightly and hesitated in step, but then clearly thought nothing further of it, and went along it’s merry little way.

The key to this is to remain calm. Because wolves, and lycans pick up on strong vibes, especially in close vicinity of one another. You can literally sense fear, feel an attack coming etc. It’s the animal side of us, it’s how it works. So if I let my emotions get the better of me than my element of surprise is gone, before I’ve even got close enough to reach out and touch my prey.

In a city filled with people, if the lycan hasn’t picked my trail then, it’s really, all the better for me. I want every advantage I can get. I intend to surprise, like a big bite of hindsight coming back for a haunting.

The problem with modern day hunting, in a city like New York is, you’re never really alone. So I’ve yet to figure out how to get the lycan alone. There’s also the problem of my cell phone, it keeps ringing.

I can ignore certain calls, and turn my phone to silent. But when Paris calls, I have to answer. That man takes persistence to a whole new level of achievement. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you want to view it, my Prey lead me to a crowded area so I could answer my phone and seem inconspicuous. Just another New Yorker going about their business, in the hustle and bustle of daily life.

“Hey what’s up?” I greeted him with.

“I was wondering what you would like to do for dinner tonight, I can come and get you from..”

I smack my palm on my forehead. Paris knows my timetable. Shit. I’d gotten so absorbed in tracking the lycan through the city. I’d forgotten about pretty much everything else. Like eating and the rest of civilization.

How do I handle this?

“um..”

This opportunity can not pass. Not now!

My eyes were still focused on the movement of the lycan, walking amongst the unsuspecting humans on the sidewalk.

Don’t you hate it when you know yourself so well that you just know, you will beat yourself up if you let this opportunity pass through your fingers?

For forever.

And yet I know I’m going to hate myself just as much for the words that come out of my mouth.

“Can we do it another time? I’ve got something I’ve got to do tonight.”


I could be

May 6, 2010
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The werewolf shape shifting doesn’t really kick in, till a wolf hits puberty. That’s not to say other wolf traits, don’t already exist before then, it’s just the shape shifting has to wait till the body can take it on, or some such, I was told.

So at fourteen years old, I didn’t really have a grasp on all that I could be, would be. I didn’t understand how it all worked.

I mean, it’s one thing to be told what it’s going to be like, or what you might expect to happen to you. But it’s another, to actually go through a shape shift.

My family had been taking me and some friends of mine out on these trips, away from the NYC ever since I was twelve. Readying all of us to go through the first real big changes in becoming a full gown werewolf.

Supposedly ‘going country’ for the initial shape shift, is supposed to ease the werewolf into being. You know, let them get the scent of open spaces, mountains and dirt and forests and other animals. That kind of thing. That’s how I ended up in Wisconsin and in the sights of the Lycan who would hunt me down for mere amusement.

The hunting party, my father and I would discover later on, had a regular little game for werewolves like me.

Once they’d managed to identify a werewolf, They would make it run through unfamiliar woods, that they themselves knew like the back of their hand. Wounding it repeatedly with silver coated buckshot. So they could take the intended target down. Then they would capture the injured werewolf. Always an inexperienced, young wolf, who would fall more easily then an older full grown werewolf. They would remove the buckshot, allowing the werewolf to shape shift back to human form. Then when they saw who their human form was, they would torture the victim again.

They had me for  hours before my father caught up to the hunting party.
Apparently, in their warped world, that’s a new record.

Before the Breukelen Alpha came along, they’d never gotten caught in the act.


I am

May 3, 2010
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Ever wanted to turn the tables on someone?
Have a do-over on your terms? Well, I believe, if you ever get the second chance, you should take the shot.
Literally.

Only I don’t use guns or weapons. I don’t need to.
I am a werewolf. Altijd.
I am the weapon.

When the scent of The Hunter came to me, it was like a burst of recoiling terror in the pit of my stomach. Made my insides clutch as my breath froze me. But this was quickly replaced by steely anger, that was so red hot, it burned me from the insides out. Had to remind myself, I’m not fourteen anymore and to breathe. Slowly.

This is my life. The Hunter just made a massive mistake in coming here. Re-entering my life.

I moved with stealth to fall in behind my prey.
The time had come to go hunting again.
This time, on my turf, and my terms.
This time, I’m the hunter.
My prey doesn’t have a clue, what it’s really up against.
Hasn’t a clue I’m coming for it.
Hasn’t a clue about me.

This isn’t about revenge.

It’s about a fair fight and righting the wrong done to me.
Revenge would be about pain, hurt, torture and leaving a constant reminder with my prey, forever. Although I’m pretty sure there’s going to be some form of hurt involved in this reunion. I haven’t figured it all out, because I’m almost too scared and excited at the same time to think to rationally.

But there’s no mistaking that scent of ash, hay and wet fur tinged with copper. That’s the hunter who thought it’d be fun, to play with my life, without regard for anything about me or mine.

The Lycan that hunted me.

Apparently, I wasn’t even the first werewolf the Lycan has hunted.

I can track this hunter for; forever if need be. That’s how driving the force inside of me is with the scent of that time, riddling my brain. I wonder if anyone has ever tried a hunt in the urban jungles of New York before? If my prey runs, then that’s what I’ll turn this into.

All I have to do, is wait till the timing is right.


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