The Curse of the Full Moon | Teen Ink

The Curse of the Full Moon

March 4, 2013
By Anonymous

A thud, a tap, a thump, every little noise kept pulling me out of my dreams. It was as if something didn't want me to sleep. My clock radio showed 3:35 A.M. I pushed the covers off and pattered across the chilly hard wood to my door, another thump. I leaned over the railing in the hallway. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. Running back into my room I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on. Slowly, I tiptoed down the stairs. With fear, my hands were shaking as I stepped off the last step and made a right into the hallway, leading to the kitchen. I should have never told my parents to go to that party, I thought. I pressed on along the dark shadowy hallway.
A growl. I stopped in my tracks. WHAT WAS THAT?! A dim light stretched across the kitchen, from the open fridge. I swallowed my fear and kept going, but slowly. I peeked around the corner, food from the fridge was scattered on the floor, and a massive black figure stood in the dim light. A board creaked with my weight. It heard me and turned around sharply. Then I saw everything. When it roared the loudest roar, I saw its insanely sharp white teeth, its black fur stood up on its back, and it towered over me. When it stepped closer I stepped back. It charged and I tried to run, but the massive black beast landed on top of me. I felt a sharp nauseating pain in the side of my stomach, like a knife digging into my side. Then . . . everything went black.

I awoke in an uncomfortable bed that felt like cardboard. I slowly opened my eyes and saw the surroundings of a hospital room. Dad was asleep on the sofa by the window, and an IV was hooked up to my arm. Mom was holding my hand and saw my eyes flicker open.
“Hi honey,” She said softly.
“Hi mom.” When I spoke, a pain in the side of my stomach pelted against me and I gasped. Mom kissed me on the forehead. “I'm sorry, baby, you had to get stitches, the cut was really bad.”
“What happened?” I asked, lifting the hospital gown to see my wound stitched up.
“We came home and found you on the floor, you lost a good amount of blood. So we rushed you here and they fixed you up.” She hesitated, then continued. “Do you remember anything from tonight? What happened when we were gone?” She looked worried. I told her what I could remember: that I heard noises coming from downstairs, I went to check it out and then a large beast jumped on me. That’s all that I could remember.

Dad woke up and talked to me and asked how I was doing. They went to get a snack from the cafeteria, because they had been up with me all night and hadn't had anything to eat. I was asked if I wanted anything, but I didn't. My stomach was still a bit uneasy. I lay in my cardboard bed trying to remember more of the night, when I thought I saw something move under my skin in my hand. Maybe I was seeing things, no that wasn't it. My skin was moving, no, my muscles were moving. They were moving. I stared in awe. An excruciating pain in my stomach made me sit up in bed sharply that the bed shook, I clenched my gut and squeezed my eyes shut. Breathing heavily I stepped out of bed and opened the window. The fresh air hit my face and helped me relax a little bit, but then another pain sent me to the floor.

“Oh my gosh, what's wrong with me?” I whispered to myself.
Then I saw that my fingernails were bleeding. I fell on all fours when my bones cracked. The muscles in my arms rippled and jumped. My fingernails grew longer, then I heard my parents outside the room door. Something told me to get up and climb out of the window. My parents couldn't see me like this. It felt right to do that, so I did, I climbed out the window.
By the time that I thought I was in the forest far enough, I fell to the ground and I retched. My fingers dug far into the ground, I felt the dirt build up under my lengthening fingernails. Then my spine shot up, and I screamed with so much pain.

“You're doing great, just keep going.” I felt a hand lightly rest on my back. I heaved again...and again.


The author's comments:
Werewolves inspired me to write this; I love werewolves.

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