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Name- Keith Cranston
Race- Werewolf
Concept- Soldier, Hereditary Bloodline

Nobody asks for this life.   I wasn't my parents' favorite, I was the accident, the unwanted child.  Mom did her best to hide it but dad didn't.   Mom hid it better, but even so.   My older brother Dale was ten years older than me, he was the favorite, he was brilliant at everything.   He was the perfect scholar, and thanks to some legal cases that got great press, Dale had his own practice by the time he was thirty.  My sister Lisa she was only five years older than me, and out four other members of the family she didn't treat me like a pest.   She was happy to have a little brother, and abit of a tomboy.    Even after she got married at twenty two, she still came home for my graduation, she and Mom were the only ones.  I shipped out for the Army, three days later.

In the Army, I found my calling.  The Vietnam War was in full swing, and I was going to serve my country, since I wasn't a genius like my brother, and I didn't have other prospects.   Besides, it pissed Dad off to no end.   I served a total of six years, the last two as an Army Ranger.  My Sister had a daughter, Katie, and I was her godfather.    I made a point to send money for her to buy a present for her, for each of her birthdays and for Christmas, even though I couldn't go home.   When I first met her was when I got my week's leave after Ranger School.   When they pinned that tab that marked me as a Ranger, and then when they took me to an off base parlor and got me my one and only tattoo, I admit, I was proud.  No matter what else happened to me, I had accomplished something.   I had their respect.   When Lisa and Katie welcomed me home, along with mom, I was happy.   Even Dale came home, and while we weren't close, he told me he was proud of how I had made something of myself.   My Dad, well he never said anything about that.   He shook my hand and placed a hand on my shoulder, then let me go and walked away.

After a year as a ranger, i was between ops, and the letter came.   Both Lisa and her husband  Michael had been killed in a hit and run.   There weren't any details, but since Dale's practice was across the country in New York City, Mom and Dad were now raising Katie.   I served another year before an op went bad.   Out of twelve of us,  four of us made it back.   None of us were unharmed, and in the end we were all honorably discharged, and awarded the Purple Heart.   

When I came home, the therapy wasn't easy, but I did it.    I got my own place, and got set up with a friend of my paternal Grandfather.  I don't have alot of memories of my grandfather, but when I came home, he came to see me.   He looked me in the eye, and then he smiled.   "My boy, the warrior, the Ranger.  Take this letter to Ethan Pike.  He owns that large Hunting and fishing camp North of here.   You have him read that letter, and he'll put you to work as a hunting and fishing guide.   The rich clients can be a pain, but so long as you produce results, the pay is damn good."

I listened to him, and soon I had my first real job.   I didn't read the letter, but when Mr. Pike did, his eyes glossed over, and it looked like he was remembering something amazing.  At any rate, he put me to work and I used my skills to make a profit, and soon enough, I had my own place and ride, I could make up for lost time with my Goddaughter, who looked so much like her mother. She was a little tomboy, just like her, and even at only six years old, she was a firecracker.

A year later, we got word, Grandpa had died.   His cabin was burned down, along with everything inside.   When his will was read, it shocked everyone.   Everything he owned passed not to my dad, or my uncle Jensen, but to me, on the proviso that I didn't sell his land.   My grandpa had fought in World War I, in the US Army.  Dad and uncle Jensen hadn't fought in World War II or Korea, and Grandpa hadn't forgiven them for it.    It seemed that our family had a long tradition of serving in the military, even back before the United States existed.   That I'd kept it alive meant alot to my grandfather, even if i hadn't known about it.

The greatest shock was mine, when once the rest of the family was gone, I was shown just how wealthy my grandfather was.  He was diversified, with many properties, and shares in several companies that paid great returns on his investments.  He was rich, like "never have to work again" rich, but lived so modestly, you'd really not have known it.   All of that, his gun collection, his money and property, it was all mine now.   Later that day, I met Edgar Hayes.   Edgar was the son of Ian Hayes, a comrade of my grandfather's, and about twenty years older than me.  He ran a successful legal and accounting firm.  Our families had a long history, going back to the days of the country's founding, and It turned out he was the one who managed grandpa's finances, and any legal issues that arose.

"I know your brother is a lawyer, and you may want to use him.."  He'd lead, but I held up my hand.  "Mr. Hayes, you and your father knew my granddad, and he trusted you enough that he let you handle his affairs.   That tells me more about your character than most anything else.  I'd like you to keep doing as you have, to maintain the relationship our families have."

"Very good,  Mr. Cranston."  "Just Keith, please.   I'm not big on formality so much anymore, especially with those I trust."   He smiled and shook my offered hand.  "You can call me Edgar then, Keith.  Don't worry you're in good hands."

After that, we collected the policy on Granddad's cabin, and began work almost immediately to rebuild it largely as it was, though we updated some things to account for how technology had changed since it was first built.  We were surprised to find his basement intact after the fire, but it seemed its roof and even the door were made of stronger materials.  I'd guessed he was more concerned about the threat of nukes and such and had made strong fallout shelter.   Within were enough weapons and supplies to survive for at least a year or two comfortably.   I was actually impressed with that.   There was also a small collection of books.   They mostly looked old, so I didn't do anything with them, leaving them there for later.  I wasn't the biggest reader.  I'd check them out one day once it was all rebuilt.

I stayed in my apartment until it was ready, carefully following Edgar's advice about spending money unwisely,  and about a month before the cabin was ready, I began to dream strange things.   I'd always liked dogs, and of course wolves, though I wasn't really good with them.   I certainly couldn't train one.   The dreams I had were of wolves, running, howling, and hunting.  One wolf would always stand out, it strong, and its fur was Black and Silver, and when the moon shone, it almost seemed to shimmer in the moonlight.   Its yellow eyes were the eyes of a superior predator, and the dream would end with that wolf, all alone, looking at me.  Soon enough the other wolves weren't even present, it was just The Wolf, and I, alone.   By the end of that first month, I found that I WAS the Wolf.  I was concerned, but at the very least, they weren't dreams of Vietnam.

The next night, I dreamed, but then awoke with a start.  I couldn't move, and there at the foot of my bed was the Wolf, only instead of Yellow eyes, they were Blue, like mine.  Then my view switched, and I was looking at myself laying in the bed, from the wolf's  vantage point.

For the next month, this continued, and I tested things.  I found I could do things no wolf should be able to do, even as a wolf.  I didn't lose my reason, and while it was strange, I said nothing to no one.  I didn't want them thinking I was insane, so I kept quiet.   

After a month, the dreams of the wolf, like noticeably dreams, they returned, and they were far from normal.  They were violet and bloody affairs, with the torn remains of animals.  This went on for a week, and I actually went out camping on the land I owned, just wanting to get away.   The dreams had gotten worse, even more violent, more even than some of the fighting in Vietnam.  It was the night of the full moon, and as I sat there, under a tree, my tent and gear nearby, the fire thankfully extinguished for the night, I felt something stir within me.

My whole body felt like it was on fire.   My skin felt tight, and the pain was unimaginable.   I could feel it as my flesh and bones changed, I could even feel my hair grow longer, and it was as if my rational mind was trapped within the flesh of a primordial hunter.   I hunted for the first time that night.   The deer never had a chance, I was faster, stronger, and my claws and fangs made short work of it.   I still remember the taste of it, the smell of hot fresh blood, and the crunch of bone as I devoured it.   I happened to see my reflection and even with the blood, I knew I was a sight.  I knew what I'd become.  I was a werewolf, and nothing in my life would ever be the same.   

I awoke the next morning, naked at my campsite, and thankfully human.   The next night, I changed again, and hunted again.   As time went on, I learned that I only forcefully changed 3 nights a month, but that the Wolf within could be provoked.  The change was impossible to stop once provoked, though I could reasonably delay the Change until I was away from whatever provoked it by asserting my own will.  Still I never succeeded in halting it, The Wolf always won in the end.

Soon enough, the cabin was ready, and I slowly began making purchases after moving in.  New locks, some new guns, and more.  I splurged abit to be sure, but if anyone had asked, I'd just say it was the leftovers from the Insurance and what he'd left me.   

From then on, I lived as I wanted, continuing to work as a guide, though I didn't have to, I took off a certain three days a month, just to be safe, and spoiled my Niece.   Life was as close to normal as I could expect it to get, but for me, something didn't feel right, I could feel the other foot, ready to drop.

Important People (non family)

 Edgar Hayes- Lawyer and head of his own Firm, he handles the affairs of the Cranston family.  This is something his family has done for many years.  His father served alongside Keith's grandfather when they were in the first World War.  He's probably the only person Keith trusts fully outside the few friends he has from his days in Vietnam.

Carlos Alvarez-  He was the squad's heavy weapons master, and a solid mechanic.  He has a Garage in Seattle.  He and Keith saved each other a number of times, though he lost his left leg below the knee on their final mission

Antonio Canelli- The Scrounger.   Currently working with the Quartermaster Corps.  He was someone who got saved by Keith's quick thinking.  It's through him that Keith was able to get his hands on some military grade kit

Ethan Pike- a friend of Keith's granddad, and his current employer.  He works with Keith regarding his schedule, and has been happy to do so.



Strength 3

Dexterity 3
Stamina 3 
Perception 3
Intelligence 3
Wits 3 
Charisma 2
Manipulation 2
Appearance 2

Alertness 2
Athletics 2
Academics 1
Brawl 3
Empathy 1
Primal Urge 3
Streetwise  1
Subterfuge 1
Crafts 2
Drive  2
Firearms 4 rifles
Larceny 1
Melee 1
Stealth 2
Survival 2
Demolitions 2

Resources 4
Allies 3 (Edgar Hayes, Carlos Alvarez, Antonio Canelli)
Arsenal 4
Library 1

Rage 5
Gnosis 5
Willpower 8

Resist Pain (L1)
Master of Fire (L1)
Combat Healing (L3)

human form




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Maurice was born on January 2nd, 1954. His parents were relatively well off, his father being an office manager for a small real estate firm in San Diego, California, and his mother being a homemaker. As a young man growing up in the turbulent 60’s, Maurice kept his head down, and closed his mouth most of the time. At his home, his father built a shed where he(the father) did wood carving as a hobby. Maurice was lucky enough to learn some of the beginnings of wood carving and working from him. Once Maurice hit high school, he fell in with a crowd his parents disapproved of, the skateboarders.

                This clique involved about 8 young men ranging in ages from 14(the youngest, Maurice) to 19 years old (Tom Marshall). They spent most of their time cruising on the beach front, but occasionally they would hear word of crews doing pool work, using empty pools to do aerial tricks. Maurice was very intrigued by these rumors. He started looking around his neighborhood for vacant houses where he could practice these moves. He also, around this time, took up acting as a runner for a local pot dealer. Using his skills on his skateboard and his knowledge of the area he never got caught. Using the profits from this sideline work, Maurice saved up quite a bit of money. He bought an RV which his crew sometimes used to travel around SoCal to get in time in other areas.

                Soon after purchasing the RV, Maurice started repairing and then crafting new skateboards. He spread word of his mobile shop through his street contacts. One of his father’s friends in the wood carving world took Maurice under his wing once he learned he was designing and building skateboards. This man, Michael Healy, would become a good friend and even Mentor to Maurice.

                Around this time, the age of 19, Maurice began having odd dreams and “visions” for lack of a better word. He also received word of a great-uncle who he knew very little about passing away on his father’s side of the family. He was apparently a bit of a recluse and never had kids of his own. While Maurice was dealing with these odd dreams, he started spending a bit more time in nature specifically in nearby national and state parks that allowed RVs. He was alone when the wolf trance took hold for the first time, and  he beheld a Grey wolf with a bit darker coloration than he had seen before. He was freaked out, and after he awoke, he drove back home at breakneck speed. His parents couldn’t tell him much about the vision he had, but his father said he heard rumors in the family about his Uncle Oscar McKenna who had passed away recently. He said Oscar had lived in northern California for his entire life, but there was no town mentioned. He said goodbye to his parents for a bit and got in his RV and travelled up the coast, looking for any trace of his mysterious Uncle. This trip took him a bit less than a week, travelling from RV park to park. He was in one of these parks when his full curse transformation took place.

                The transformation took Maurice by complete surprise. Luckily, he was in a relatively undeveloped area near a state park. His first 3 nights of transformation were the worst and most painful nights of his life so far. He became a monstrosity that stood 8.5 feet tall, full of corded muscle, his hands ending in sharp claws. His mouth extended into a muzzle and was full of extremely sharp teeth. His senses perked up and his neck thickened as well. Once the transformation was complete, Maurice shredded the tent he had set up to view the stars with and ran off into the forest. After a frantic nightmare of a night, Maurice woke up in shredded fragments of the outfit he had worn to sleep. His hands and mouth were covered with blood, and there were the remains of a large deer, on the other side of the glade he was in. Eventually he managed to make his way back to his RV, clean up and redress.

                This was about 3 months ago, and his search for his uncle has become almost frantic, looking for information on his new curse and also about his family history. His mysterious uncle and missing house are his focus right now.



Name: Maurice Gunther Mckenna

Race: Werewolf – Inherited.



Str: 3

Dex: 4

Sta: 3

Int: 2

Wis: 2

Per: 3

Cha: 2

Man: 2

App: 3



Alertness: 3

Athletics: 3(4) [Skateboarding]

Brawl: 2

Intimidation: 1

Streetwise: 3

Subterfuge: 1(2)

Crafts (Skateboards): 2(3)

Larceny: 3

Melee: 2

Performance: 2

Stealth: 3(4) [urban]

Law: 1

Medicine: 1

Leadership: 0(1)




Resources: 1(2)

Mentor: 1(2) [Michael Healy]

Allies: 1 [Tom Marshall]

Equipment: 2(4)




Open Seal

Heightened Senses


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  • 2 weeks later...

Name- Peggy Sue Sullivan
Race- Werewolf
Age- 18
Concept- Cursed Runaway                                  1385006204.0.l.jpg.3186bf91d0585b72c788f9250730aee7.jpg



Sigh, where to begin. I don’t like telling this story, reliving it. It’s personal, but I suppose, all things considered, you deserve to hear it, to know the truth. 


My name is Peggy Sue Sullivan. My parents who were 17 and 18 when I was conceived were big fans of Buddy Holly’s song, I was born the same year it came out. So, that’s where the name came from. I got teased a lot for my name especially in junior high and high school. I also got teased for being a tom-boy, for looking and dressing different, for not being a proper little girl in a pink fluffy dress.


I was moody growing up, I had and have a temper. I would get into fights, not with other girls but with boys. I didn’t like it when boys picked on me, but it made me red hot mad if a boy was picking on any other girl. Those are the boys I fought. I won too, mostly. I didn’t fight fair. That got me in trouble a lot too.


Okay that’s enough bullshit I guess, back to the real story now. My dad is Tom Sullivan, he was too young for Korea and almost too old for Vietnam, so he never got drafted. Plus he had one of those jobs that gave you a pass anyway. My mom is Kathy Buchanan, she didn’t have a job except for housewife. Both of them came from big Irish American families and both of them couldn’t stand being Irish. They didn’t want a big family, hell they didn’t even want me. If they hadn’t been Catholic, I’d of been a smear running down a drain I’m  pretty sure. So, anyway no brothers or sisters for me but a lot of cousins. Like I said big Irish families.


It began the week I got my first period. I was almost fifteen, I developed late, such as my development has been, I’m still flat as a board in the boob department, not that I really cared. So I was a lot older than I should have been when puberty hit, I could easily pass as a boy if I wanted to. And I did sometimes. It was just easier to do things and get stuff like cigarettes if you were a boy. You know stuff us little girls weren’t supposed to be doing. My parents thought there was something wrong with me. I guess there is, it’s obvious I’m not normal.


So, the week my period came the first time was the same week Great Grandma Buchanan died. Gran Buchanan was old; she had been born in the late 1890’s no one was sure exactly when. She had been dark and mysterious to me the few times I had seen her.


One time I remember when I was seven maybe eight, it was Christmas and for some reason we had went to the big Buchanan family holiday and I was sitting off by myself because I’d gotten into a fight with one of my cousins and had been spanked because it was my fault like it always was, even if it wasn’t. Anyway, everyone was having fun, eating sweets, and playing. Me, I was off in a corner feeling resentful and sorry for myself when Gran Buchanan walked up to me. She was thin as a rail and looked like old leather stretched across a skeleton. She was scary. She walked with a cane, an old gnarled wooden thing that looked more like a club than a walking stick. Anyway, she came up to me and just stood there looking down at me then she spoke to me in Irish, two or three sentences I have no idea what she said to this day. Then she took a little wrapped package out of her dress pocket and dropped it in my lap then walked away. It was a package of hard candies. For me.


 She lived alone and was active and cared for herself right up till the end. She had eleven kids, five of them were still living, four daughters and one son. At least that’s what we thought, until Uncle Buck showed up.


James Kelly Buchanan was Gran Buchanan’s fourth boy, born in 1916 he grew up to be the black sheep of the clan. Always in trouble, fighting, didn’t fit in or get a long, terrible disposition if even half the stories I heard after were true. Sounds a lot like me. He joined the merchant marine when he was eighteen and traveled the world but when World War two broke out he joined the army. He fought in Africa, Italy, France, and Germany. Three of his brothers also fought in the war, two in Europe and one in the pacific. He was the only one who came home.


But he didn’t stay long, by nineteen forty-eight he was back in the merchant marine and after fifty-two or three he pretty much vanished all together. Everyone thought he was dead. Then there he was at Gran Buchanan’s Wake.


Irish wake’s are supposed to be a celebration of life, lots of stories of good times and memories lots of drinking… well this wake had the drinking. Gran Buchanan didn’t elicit the good feeling stories and most of the men just sort of stood in clumps and drank and occasional talked sports or politics, the women, crowded around the four living daughters and told their stories Nana Buchanan, my grandmother, mom’s mom, was one of those. Jasper Buchanan, who we thought was her only living son, wasn’t there. He was in a Home cripple and sick. He had had polio when he was a child.  Dad didn’t even come. The cousins made their own clumps of groups talking about movies and music.


Then came Uncle Buck. He had been called Buck in the army and it stuck afterward. He came into the house and you could hear a pin drop everyone staring. Now I didn’t have the faintest idea who he was then and didn’t find out until the next day when one of my friendlier cousins, Francis, told me. Anyway, Buck came in and glared at everyone and went straight to his mother’s casket and stood there looking at her for about five minutes then he leaned over and gave her and kiss on her forehead. After that he went to his sisters, and they talked, or he talked for another five minutes. None of them hugged or touched. It was a cold greeting. After that he went and got a glass and a nearly full bottle of whiskey and went and took a chair which he pulled up near the casket and sat there drinking and glaring at everyone.


It was my first wake. I was having my first period and, my god, I had never seen a dead person before. Just in movies or TV. To say I was an emotional wreck is an understatement. When It was time for me to go pay my respects I walked up and I could feel Buck’s eyes on me, then I was standing there, Looking down on Gran. I started cramping but I could leave and couldn’t look away. Nana had to come over and lead me away to a corner where I drank ginger ale and let tears fall down my cheeks.

I don’t know why I was crying. I barely knew the old crone, had no emotional connection outside of her giving me that candy so long ago which I had suddenly remembered. I wiped my eyes and looked around and there was Uncle Buck drinking whisky and staring at me. I turned away. The way he was looking at me was, I don’t know, frightening. I glanced back over my shoulder, and he was still looking at me. Every time I looked his way the rest of the wake there he was, watching me.


After we went home, I went straight to bed and had the first weird dream I ever had. I was at the wake, but I was the only one there. I went up to look at my Gran and she looked the same, but her lips were red, and her cheeks were rosy. Suddenly she sat up and reached out to me and I woke up with a terrible cramp.  I went and took some aspirin and went back to bed and had the same dream except this time Uncle Buck was there and we both went up to view Gran.


In the dream we walk up, side by side and we are holding hands. We stop at the head of the casket and look down at Grans body but it isn’t gran in the casket it’s me! I’m lying in the casket. And I’m standing above me too. Then Uncle buck looks at me and his eyes are yellow, and his mouth is open wide showing sharp crooked teeth and he howls and bends down and I can hear ripping and crunching and when he comes up he is covered in blood and the me in the casket is covered in blood and my throat is ripped out and.  I think I woke up I don’t remember. I did not have any more dreams. Not that night.


The next day I learned that Uncle Buck had left as suddenly as he had appeared. I found out that no one had called him or wired him a telegram telling him his mother had died. No one knew how to get word to him, even if anyone had thought about him. I heard stories about him from Francis and I told her that he had been staring at me all during the wake. She said it wouldn’t surprise her if he was a queer pervert and she giggled and said he might have thought I was a little queer boy. She always made fun of my small tits. Hers were big and round. But for some reason her joke struck me a s cruel, and I felt myself getting mad. It passed and life went on. After a few weeks it was just a memory.


Wanted Dead or Alive. You know, that show with Steve McQueen. That show was my favorite. I would watch it after school every day out local channel ran the reruns before the news. Steve McQueen fascinated me, but only in that show. I wanted to be his character, him. I cut my hair short and as close as I could to the way McQueen wore it. I wore jeans and a T-shirt everywhere. My folks got mad at the hair but nothing they could do. But they did make me wear a dress to school. I would leave the house in the dress and change into my jeans in the corner diner’s bathroom before I got to school.


So yeah, I was a little weird. Everyone thought I was bent, who knows, maybe I did too. I didn’t like boys, except for Steve McQueen, but I didn’t like girls either. To be honest I was indifferent to the whole sex thing. I did my schoolwork but didn’t participate in the school bullshit. I daydreamed.


And I got into fights. Looking like I did, I got teased a lot and I had fucking temper and I would just hold it in until I couldn’t. Then Id just fucking lay into who ever was teasing, usually a boy sometimes a girl, but the girls I think were scared of me. Eventually the boys learned to be scared too.


This one time, when I was sixteen, It was prom time. I couldn’t give a shit about prom but There was this girl. She was fat and not very pretty. If kids weren’t teasing me, they were Picking on her. Well, this time they drug me into it. Teasing the fat girl by saying that the only person who would take her to Prom was that weirdo lesbian Peggy Sue.


That was the first time I got called a lesbian where I could here it. I was at my locker, the kids had ringed the fat girl and I just reached into my locker and picked up the heaviest text book I had. I walked right into the circle and hit Tony Copetti In the face with that book. I swung it like a bat, like I was hitting a triple homer at Wrigley Field.


Tony was lifted off his feet and ended up flat on his back. I didn’t stop. I dropped down and sat on his chest and wailed on his head with that book. It took two teachers to pull me off. I got suspended for three weeks. Probably would have been expelled except my mom pleaded with the principle, and they had a history, so he relented.


And that was just one incident. Not all were violent. I got in trouble for smoking, shoplifting, not doing my homework. I was maybe a little too much acting out my Steve McQueen rebel fantasy.


I dropped out of school a couple of months before it happened. I was seventeen and I didn’t want to go to school anymore. It was like I was an alien every time I walked into that place. So I just stopped going. Of course that led to some pretty big fights at home dad kicked me out two or three time and mom always talked him down. I had had enough and packed my bags two or three times but mom always stopped me at the door and talked me out of leaving. I wish she hadn't.


I really wish she hadn’t.


It was late fall this last year, when I started having the dreams. Dreams about wolves. At first it was just nature dreams, wolves running in woods, hunting, shit like that. Always a bunch of them, what they call a pack. But after about a week my dreams seemed to start to focus on one particular wolf. I don’t know, it was strange, when I dreamed, I could always focus on this one wolf. And it was always the same one. Then one night the dream was just that wolf. I never dreamed about the pack again.

And the dreams changed. The wolf wasn’t in the woods, it was in the city. My city. And then It was in my neighborhood. Then one night the wolf was in my room.


That day we got the package and the letter from a sheriff in California. The letter was to inform us that James Kelly Buchanan had been killed in a what appeared to be a hunting accident. My parents could figure out why they had sent this to us and not to one of his siters. I was getting a terrible hollow feeling in my gut. I could feel something inside twisting.


The package contained Buck’s personal effects. A fancy and expensive Rolex watch, a bowie knife, a couple of heavy rings and a turquoise necklace like the Indian boys wear. And a Letter addressed to me.


I grabbed the letter before my dad could open it and ran to my room. My heart was pounding, and tears were streaming down my cheeks. I tore it open.

The letter was one sheet of paper, it had one sentence handwritten, in the middle of the page “I am sorry”, it was signed Uncle Buck.

Uncle Buck. I’d never said a word to him. But that’s what I’ve called him ever since.


There was also a Key in the envelope. It wasn’t a house key or a car key it was smaller like a post office box key or one of those boxes you can rent at a bank.

I showed my parents the letter and that just made them more mystified. I didn’t say anything about the key.


That night I dreamed about the wolf coming into my neighborhood again and the ended with the wolf in my room. I woke up with a start and there not three feet away from me was a wolf. In my room. The same wolf from my dream.


I looked at it too scared to move. It looked at me with those big …blue eyes?  Eyes just like mine.


My stomach flipped and suddenly I was the wolf looking at me in bed, except the me in bed was still asleep. I felt weird. I felt like a wolf. But not like a wolf too.

I padded around the room sniffing and pawing at my clothes. I went to the door, and I reached up and opened it with a paw that seemed to have fingers but didn’t at he same time. Like they were only there so I could open the door. I was asleep in my room, but I was a wolf in my living room too. I opened the front door the same way I had the bedroom door and trotted outside. I went exploring as a wolf in my dream not a dream.


I should have been freaking out, but I wasn’t, I was a wolf. I was dreaming but the wolf seemed so real, everything in the dream was so real but it couldn’t be. I ran all around the neighborhood. Scared the shit out of the neighbors cats and dogs, none of them had seen a wolf before I guess. It was wild I was a wolf but I could think and feel and it was just the weirdest fucking dream I ever had.


I ran around in this dream for what seemed like hours until I started feeling tired. That was a freaky feeling. Getting tired in a dream. I made my way back to my house but didn’t go back inside cause that would have been way too weird. Instead I went and laid down in the bushes outside my bedroom window and fell asleep.


When I woke up I felt good and a bit disoriented. I wasn’t in the bushes I was in my bed. I’d been dreaming I was a wolf. I got up and went to get something to eat. Dad was already gone to work but mom was sitting at the table. She grilled me like a cop. She wanted to know why her uncle would be sending me letters and had I been talking to him. I told her no that the only time I had ever seen him was at Gran’s wake but she didn’t believe me. She didn’t say it but I know.


I sort of forgot about the letter and the key, I wanted night to come so I could dream about the wolf. It took me about two weeks to figure out that I was actually a wolf in my dream and that the wolf was real or at least real when it was there. I also discovered that I could do other things.


I was at the corner store getting cigarettes and when I stopped outside and lit one up it almost made me sick. The smell and taste I threw the cigarette away and gave the pack to a wino who was nursing a half empty bottle. He seemed grateful. I crossed the street. Something was calling me I don’t know.  I went around the corner and there were two guys roughing up a girl. She was about my age, wearing short shorts and a tube top,  Both the guys were black and one was poking his finger in the girl’s face while the other guy who was big like a football player was behind her blocking her from running away or even backing up.


I don’t know what I was thinking but I called out from across the street and started towards them. “Hey, you assholes leave her alone!” I clenched my fist and came up on them “Mind your own business Bitch!” The small one said. The big one turned around and looked down at me and laughed. “What are you? You a boy or a girl?  I can’t tell.” He laughed some more.


I felt the anger rise. The hairs on my neck stood on end and I let out a small growl and stepped up to the big guy our chests only about two inches apart and stared into his eyes. Suddenly I smelt fear. He backed away pushing the girl out of the way the small guy backed away too, “Hey I’m sorry didn’t mean anything”. The two men ran away, and the girl just stared her back against the wall. I looked down at my hands which were at my sides but held up kind of high about midway between my hips and shoulders, fingers spread looking like claws. Like I had been about to rip them apart. I dropped my hands to my side and backed away murmured something to the girl and ran. I didn’t stop running until I got home.


What the fuck was happening with me.


When I got home my dad was there and he laid into me about my argument with mom, and my acting up. I was already on edge and my temper flared. I was yelling, he was yelling, mom was crying. It was a bad scene. This time I left before my dad kicked me out and even as I was stuffing my things in my big bag, I knew it was for real and that I wasn’t coming back.


Mom pleaded with me as I was heading out the door and down the driveway. Dad never got out of his easy chair just sat and drank his beer.


I headed towards downtown where I could catch a bus to anywhere. Downtown isn’t where the good girls go, it’s not seedy but it isn’t classy either. The economy had hit the city pretty hard and a lot of shops were boarded up. But there were plenty of bars and topless joints and other not so wholesome establishments.


One was a pool hall. I was walking up the sidewalk when I noticed it. I could see the bus station sign a couple of blocks on. There were four or five guys, probably in their twenties, outside the pool hall smoking. I could smell weed. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened. I turned suddenly and cut across the street and found myself in front of a curio shop with a sign that said they told fortunes. I looked in through the window but couldn’t make anything out in the twilight. What was I thinking. I shook myself and started down the sidewalk toward the bus station again giving a glance toward the guys across the who were still there. Just then a voice called out from behind me.


“Hey boy, Yes you I saw you looking in my window.”


I turned. I was a plump woman probably in her mid fifties she had brown skin and black hair streaked with gray, she looked Latin. “I’m not a boy.’ I said with a bit of defiance in my voice.


“That’s even worse for a girl. It isn’t safe here after dark and it is almost dark.” The woman gestured with her chin at the men across the street at the pool hall. I looked and three or four of them were looking hard at me. I don’t think the thought I was a boy, or maybe they didn’t care. I felt a chill run down my spine and my hand bunched into fists, then the lady spoke again.


“Why don’t you come inside I’ll make you some tea. My son, Fernando, will be home from work soon. He will walk you to the station. They know him and won’t bother you if you are with him.”


I looked at the lady, then at the punks across the street. They made me angry. I saw one of them put his fingers up to his lips in a V like a backwards peace sign and he stuck his tongue out through them and wiggled it at me in a lewd and disgusting manner. I wanted to go across the street and rip his throat out.


“I make a nice cup and I have some cake too.”


I looked back at the woman, “Okay, Thank you.” And followed her back into the curio shop.


Once inside They woman introduced herself as Maria Mareno, I told her my name. She told me to look around while she fixed the tea. I did. The shop was small but roomy, it wasn’t cluttered at all like you would expect, and the goods ranged from hand made toys and Knick knacks to clothing and records.


There were two doorways, aside from the one behind the counter, one on each side of the shop. Neither had a door but both were closed off by hanging bead curtains. I looked through the one on the west side of the shop and it opened on a landing with narrow stairs going up to the second floor. I made my way back across the shop to the other curtain and peeked. That one led to another small room with a table and chairs there were racks along the wall filled with boxes and jars and little statutes of Jesus and Mary and on the table which was covered by a purple velvet clothe, was a crystal ball and a worn deck of cards that were much bigger than normal playing cards. Several of the cards were out of the deck and spread on the table face up. I had never seen cards like this the faces were like little paintings I moved closer curiosity taking hold. Each card seemed to be displaying some sort of scene.


“You can touch them if you want.”


I jumped. The old lady was standing in another doorway on the south wall set between some shelves. “I’m sorry,” I stammered embarrassed.


“No Little girl. Do not be I was about to ask you in anyways this is the only place we can sit and enjoy our tea.”


I pointed at the cards “I’ve never seen cards like these what are they?”


“Tarot cards, I use them to tell fortunes.” The woman pointed behind me at the curtain I had come through. I looked and saw a sign.


Madam Maria


Crystal Ball - $2

Tarot - $4

Palms - $6


“This is where I make most of my money.” She, Madam Maria I guess, ducked back through he curtains she was at and then came back with a tray full of cups, cakes and a porcelain teapot. She set them on the table then scooped up the cards and set them on a shelf behind her.


“You’re a fortune teller.” I asked.


She just nodded, “Mm Hmm. Now sit before the tea Fernando should be here in about thirty minutes. The next bus doesn’t leave for another hour.”

I sat as she poured the tea, “People really pay that much to have their fortunes told.”


“Yes,” Maria sat, “many pay and would pay a lot more. I give my customers a good value.”


“But it isn’t real. Is it?” The look on my face made the older woman chuckle, then she shrugged. “It is real if the person believes it, and it gives them a sense of relief.’


We drank our tea and ate some cake. Madam Maria told me how she read fortunes in the cards. “I am not a witch if that worries you. The cards tell a story. The subject handles the cards all I do is shuffle then they pick, and I interpret.”


“That sounds difficult.” I had all but forgotten that I was running away. “Why are the cards cheaper than palm reading?”


Madam Maria chuckled, “The cards are easier they give clues. Palm reading is more difficult, intimate. It requires that the seeker and I touch. It is more…eh, like I said, Intimate.” She held out her hand, “Let me have your hand.”


I didn’t have the money to pay for this and she seemed to sense that when she noticed my hesitation. “Do not worry I am closed for business, this is just a demonstration, a reebie.” Her smile looked genuine.


I held out my right hand and she took it gently, held it a moment her eyes on mine. Then she turned my hand over palm up, “Relax your hand, let your fingers open.” I did as she said and she placed her left hand on mine, still looking in my eyes. Then she closed her eyes and tilted her head.


“You have undergone big changes, you are tense, worried,” she paused and her head tilted and turned to the left even more, “angry, and scared.”


She opened her eyes and lifted her left hand from mine, and she looked at my palm. Her brow crinkled in puzzlement, her lips pursing. She didn’t move her head, but her eyes lifted to mine, “Let me have your other hand.”


Her left hand was held out for me. I placed my left hand in hers the same way, I had to cross my arms to do this, suddenly I felt trapped. Maria stiffened as she looked at my two palms, I smelled fear. I tried to pull my hands free but couldn’t Madam Maria’s grip was steel.


“You have had a relative die recently, distant relative one you do not know.” Maria’s voice was just a whisper now. I was getting freaked out, “How did you know that?”

 “You need to know him, Peggy, to know yourself.  Find him.”


“But he’s dead! How am I supposed to find him? What does that even mean?”


“Find where he died, how he died.” Her gripped tightend, “And beware the moon, when it is full, be far away, be alone.”


Her voice sent chils down my spine. Just then the little bell above the door rang and some one called from the main shop “Mom, I’m home!”


Maria gasped and let go of me. “We are in here Fernando.”


A tall boy , handsome, maybe my age maybe a bit younger or older even, came into the room. Maria stood up abruptly and looked at me and gave a little shake of her head. Don’t say anything. I clamped my mouth shut.


Fernando stood looking quizzically at me and then his mom. “Fernando this is Peggy. I want you to walk her to the bus station and then come home for supper. ”I stood and she put a hand on my shoulder. Good luck Peggy, remember what I said.”


We left and made small talk as we walked to the station. I watched as Fernando let and went home. AI bought my ticket. The teller told me the bus was running late, so I took a seat on the bench and settled in to wait.


A few minutes later I looked up and three of the punks from outside the pool hall had come in. The tongue wiggler was one of them. Other than the teller there wasn’t anyone else. The punks sort of cirlcled around the bench they started saying things to me. I was scared and I was angry and excited all at the same time. I heard a noise behind me. The teller had closed the ticket window, she didn’t want to get involved.


The punks kept talking and saying nasty things. I stood and pushed past them and ran outside into where the bus would be coming. It wasn’t there I spun around the punks came out after me I dropped my bag and ran across the lot into a field across the highway the punks chased me they were faster. I felt one of them push me from behind I sprawled onto the ground and one of the grabbed me and turned my over I felt hands allover me and I screamed and I looked up and saw the moon.


It had been covered by thick clouds but there was a break and the moon was revealed , it was huge it filled the sky. It was a full moon.


Suddenly I spasmed violently. That startled the punks who backed off a few feet. I didn’t notice all I saw was the moon which filled my mind.


I spasmed again and then my back arched off the ground bones began to snap and reform. My body twisted and my skull felt like it exploded as mymain-qimg-55a413b321be32057f3ec25a451f56e8-lq.jpg.5fac14ee3332c27270979ed2030efc8e.jpg nose and jaws seemed to fuse together and grow long. i can’t describe the pain. It felt like it lasted minutes, but it mustn’t of or the punks would have run.


They didn’t though and thing that I had become saw them and knew them as prey.


The first one died quickly; a taloned hand/paw/claw ripped his throat out almost taking his head off his neck. The other two ran I lept onto the next one and snapped his spine then ripped his head off then I was after the third, the tongue wiggler.


It was me but not me. I knew what was happening, but I had no control. I caught tongue wiggler, and my claws raked his back, tearing his flesh from his body he went down but was still alive. The wolf thing flipped him over and I put my wolf face right in his and opened my mouth. I bit his face off and then buried my teeth into his body rending with sharp fangs, snapping ribs with powerful jaws Until I got to his heart. Then I ate that. Power surged through me excitement joy I lifted my blood-soaked head and howled at the moon.


I tensed. A sound. A movement I don’t know but I wasn’t alone. The wolf lept again and found another soft body to rip and rend.


I looked over to the bloody and torn body sitting beside me on the log. “I had no Idea you had comeback to make sure I was safe”


Fernando’s ghost looked at me with his one remaining eye. It didn’t say anything. It never did. Anyway you know the rest wolf thing wandered off andScreen-Shot-2019-07-01-at-8_34.27-AM-624x442crop.png.0fd732a1fdd22b23ca28d3ab5a4b8dec.png fell asleep I woke up naked dirty covered with blood. I snuck back to the edge of the field. Miraculously my bag was still there and the cops weren’t around, the bodies, what was left of them, hadn’t been found and were hidden by the long grass.


I wanted to go to Maria but what could I have said. I ran in grabbed my bag and ran back into the field to a small group of trees where I dug out my extra jeans and a t-shirt. My shoes were gone. So I went on bare foot.  I remember what Maria had told me.


So I started hitchhiking west.


I had to find where my great uncle had died. And how he had died.

















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