A Little Story about Werewolves that needs a Title

I’m going to say this right now: I am obsessed with the supernatural. I love vampires, werewolves, mermaids, just to name a few. You should see my collection of books about fairies – one of my favourites is a book of poetry devoted to them. However, today, I’m sharing a little something on werewolves. Be warned: This won’t be the first, or the last, time you’ll hear of these characters.

The wolf stares at me. It’s a new wolf. It’s not my wolf. My wolf had emerald green eyes that glitter starkly against her immaculate white fur. This wolf is different. He’s a shadow, and the alpha. His eyes colourless holes of black, the curious glint the only thing distinguishing them from his black hair. I wait with baited breath. Is he going to attack me? The only thing I can think about is my older sister, Astrid, being dragged from her favourite spot beneath the oak tree at our edge of the woods. I was five at the time, and I had come out to tell her that I had just seen George running into the woods through the public entrance if she wanted to join him. I remember that as I arrived at her oak tree, a shadow of a wolf seemed to be dragging her through the snow, leaving a thick stream of blood. I’m not sure whether she was screaming or not – I was too far away. But she did turn her head towards me. The snow had buried her nose and mouth, and her dark yellow hair, wild and dirty from being pulled and dragged in multiple directions, covered her the rest of her face. I did see her eyes though. The bright, luminous emerald green that only a twelve year old can have. That was ten years ago. I look at the wolf before me. Is it going to drag me away too? He looks directly into my eyes. I reach tentatively into his fur. I had assumed it would be course and gritty, the fur of a survivor, of an alpha. But it was soft and fluffy. I pulled my hand back and he nuzzled my palm. He looks at me, then at the pond where my legs are swirling in the still blue water. He glares at the water, almost as though he can see something in there that I can’t. I follow his gaze, and for the briefest moment, a pale green face looks back at me, but it was gone before I could notice anything else. The wolf snarls at me before stalking off. I look back into the water, but the face isn’t there. I shake my head to clear myself of the eerie feeling. There’s something I’m missing… But what is it?

This story really needs a title. Any ideas are welcome!

Thank you in advance,

– The Empress

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About empressofbooks

I'm a girl whose first love is writing, followed by reading. My other passions include playing trumpet in my school bands, eating, playing cello in my school orchestra, eating, school, eating, English lessons, eating, procrastinating during French, eating, music lessons, eating, sleep, eating, coffee, and did I mention eating? Oh, and don't you dare forget my love for Midsomer Murders... And eating. So join me, my loyal followers, in all things literate, musical and, most importantly, tasty! View all posts by empressofbooks

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