Werewolf Skin

13

The flashlight trembled in my hand. The quivering light revealed an ugly picture.

I gaped down at an animal body. No. Two.

Two animals.

What were they? I couldn’t tell. They’d been clawed to pieces.

Completely ripped apart.

I remembered the ripping sounds I’d heard. The sounds of these animals being torn apart. My stomach lurched.

What kind of animal did this?

What kind of animal was strong enough to tear other creatures apart?

A chill ran down my back.

I pulled myself to my feet. I forced myself to look away.

The rain poured down. I shielded my camera case under my jacket-and started to run again.

I had to get away from that ugly sight. Would I ever be able to forget it?

The wind whipped the rain around me. I felt as if I were running through ocean waves. But I couldn’t stop.

My fear kept me running.

That fierce creature still lurked in these woods. Still growled and hunted, somewhere nearby.

My sneakers were soaked. I slipped and slid in the soft mud.

I’m not sure how long I ran. I stopped when I nearly ran right into the creek. Pounded by the rain, it splashed over its low bank.

I turned and followed it, feeling a little more confident. After a while, I spotted a narrow path cut through the tilting trees.

I turned onto the path. Would it lead me out of the woods? I had to try it.

The rain slowed to a soft patter. My sneakers sank deep into the mud as I trotted along the curving path.

Soon I came to the bent, old-man tree.

“Yes!” I cried out loud. “Yes!” I waved my fist triumphantly in the air. I was almost home.

I picked up my pace. A few minutes later, I burst out of the woods, into my aunt and uncle’s backyard.

I was so happy! I wanted to fly!

I couldn’t wait to get into the warm house. To pull off my soaked clothes and get into something dry.

But I stopped in the middle of the backyard.

And stared into the circle of yellow light from my flashlight.

Stared down at the strange footprints in the wet grass.

Deep, rutted footprints heading into the Marlings’ backyard.

I bent into the light to see them better. They weren’t human footprints. They were too long and too wide and shaped differently from human feet or shoes.

Animal footprints.

Keeping the beam of light in front of me, I trailed the footprints, following them over the grass.

Across the Marlings’ weed-choked backyard.

I stopped when I saw where the strange footprints led.

Right up to the Marlings’ open bedroom window.