Growing up a Werewolf: The Teenage Years

© Copyright 2012 Fred E. Waldrop Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN:

978-1-4669-4465-7 (sc)

ISBN:

978-1-4669-4464-0 (hc)

ISBN:

978-1-4669-4466-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012911348

Trafford rev. 06/27/2012

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To Kala, who has never given up on me even when I did.

(Rejection can be a bitch)

Contents

  1

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  3

  4

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  6

  7

  8

  9

10

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20

  1

AS JONAH SAT LOOKING OUT his bedroom window, he couldn’t help but feel a little down. Tomorrow would be his thirteenth birthday, and what does he get to look forward to? A forced change, unless he goes out tonight to get it over with, that is. Well, at least this birthday, he won’t be getting any more surprises, he hoped. For his eighth birthday, the present he gave to himself was waking up at 2:00 a.m. in so much pain he couldn’t even scream. That was when he found out he was different from everyone else. By three minutes after two, he was lying on the floor a different person; a different being if truth be told.

On that fateful morning, Jonah, for the first time but not the last, turned into a werewolf. He wanted to run into his parents’ bedroom and ask them what was wrong. But then he thought that if they had known, they surely would have warned him that this would happen. So lying there crying, he decided he had to face this by himself, as he had so many other things in his young life.

While Jonah knew his parents loved him, he also knew they wouldn’t always be there for him when he needed them. Like the time when he was four years old and found himself locked outside the house and nobody was home. He had been outside in his tree house playing since early that morning, and when he got hungry, he tried to come inside to eat. The problem was there was no one home. Both his parents were at work, as usual, his babysitter of the week was nowhere to be seen, and of course, it was the maid’s day off. So what’s a four-year-old to do?

Most other four-year-olds would just sit on the steps and cry. But not Jonah Connolly. At three years old, when Jonah was tested, he had an IQ of 120, and at four, he had already topped 140. So Jonah looked first to Mrs. Spears’s house on one side and then to Mrs. Potter’s house on the other. Thinking quickly, he headed to the Spears. After explaining to Mrs. Spears that he was hungry and that no one was home, he was brought in, fed, and left in the den to look through all of Mrs. Spear’s books for the rest of the afternoon. When Jonah’s mom rang the doorbell at nine thirty that night, Jonah didn’t really hear everything Mrs. Spears told his mom, but he was told to never, ever go back over there again.

That very night, Jonah sat down with his dad and told him he wanted to make some improvements in his tree house. For one, he wanted electricity run out to it and a refrigerator put in. That way, he would have snacks outside in case this ever happens again. Chuckling, his dad assured him it would never happen again, but if it would make Jonah happy, he would still do it. So three days later, Jonah was the only four-year-old in the neighborhood with not only electricity, but hot and cold running water and central air and heat in his tree house.

But now, six years later, Jonah looked out his window at his tree house and shook his head. For a place that was supposed to be his safe haven, it had really become more his nightmare. If I wait until tomorrow night, it will hurt so much more, he thought. Might as well get it over with tonight and be done with it. That was the one thing Jonah had learned since he began changing; he had two options. One, wait the full twenty-eight days until he was forced to change, or two, change a little early. If he chose to change early, he could control the rate and speed of his transformation, and that eased the pain considerably. But if he waited the full twenty-eight days, sometimes he just wished his heart would give out during these times. The pain was just insufferable at these times.

So why not just change early all the time? Because once Jonah changed into a werewolf, he was stuck in that form for a minimum of four hours. And his greatest fear was and has always been that someone was going to walk in and catch him in this most cursed form. So for the past five-plus years, Jonah has postponed until the last possible moment his inevitably change. But tonight on the new moon, Jonah will do what he knows he must. He will sneak out to his tree house and bar the entrance and suffer what he is sure is the closest thing to a living hell that he can imagine.

As midnight crept ever closer, Jonah listened for any sound that his parents might still be awake. Usually, they were well asleep by now, but better safe than sorry. Finally at the kitchen door, he stopped and listened one last time before turning off the alarm system, and he opened the door. For over five years I have been sneaking out at all hours of the night, it looks like they would have caught on by now, he thinks with a sigh.

Closing the door and stepping outside, he mumbled, They would actually have to care to catch on. Walking quickly across the lawn, he looked at the dark moon and sighed one more time. One more myth shot to shit, he whispered. What ever happened to only being able to change on the full moon?

Climbing the ladder and lifting the trapdoor, Jonah once more looked around his personal hell. How this room ever seemed a sanctuary to Jonah, he will never know now. Getting the boards that he fitted into slots over the trapdoor, Jonah barred it and then closed the curtains. He walked over and turned on the air conditioner so it would be as cool as possible when the change is complete, and standing in the center of the room, Jonah started to remove his clothes.

God, I hate this, he mumbled to himself. I know this is just whining, but come on, why me? What is the purpose of me being this? If there were more like me, I could understand, but just me? Why, God, why does it have to hurt so much? Why every time? Maybe just once, just once, God, maybe I could black out or something, please? I could understand if something good came out of this, but come on. This just bites.

At five that morning, Jonah moved slowly back across the lawn and into the kitchen. Locking the door, he thought about setting the alarm, decided against it, and headed upstairs to bed. With a chuckle, he thought, Let them wonder who turned it off, I’ll say it wasn’t me, like always. Man, I wish I had time to eat, but Mom and Dad will be up soon. Work comes before everything, even dawn. Plus I really don’t feel like talking to them, so . . .

Halfway up the stairs, he wondered when school started. He almost stopped until he heard someone moving around upstairs. All he knew was it wasn’t today. It had better not be today, he thought groggily. Walking into his room and looking at the calendar, he saw it was only August 4. That’s right, today’s my birthday. Well, happy birthday to me, and school doesn’t start until the twenty-fourth. Sleep, that’s what I need, and plenty of it.

Yawning loudly, he closed the door to his room and thought, Besides, this is my last year in regular school. Next year, college.

Jonah, said a soft sound through the door what seemed like only moments after he had lain down.

Grunting, Jonah said, Yeah?

Baby, your father and I are leaving now. Do you need anything? asked Elizabeth Connolly, Jonah’s mother.

Ummm, about four or twelve more hours sleep, replied Jonah.

Chuckling, Elizabeth said Okay, sweetie, see you tonight.

Sure thing, Mom, said Jonah. Don’t work too hard. And he rolled over and went right back to sleep.

Sliding next to her husband in the passenger side of the car, Elizabeth said, I wonder if Jonah is all right? He’s usually up in the morning, but this morning he wouldn’t even answer his door.

I wouldn’t worry about it, darling, said Patrick Connolly, Jonah’s father. The alarm was off this morning, so he was probably up walking last night again.

I wish he wouldn’t do that, said Elizabeth. Anything could happen to him, and we would never know about it until it was too late.

He has always been a special child, said Patrick. We have always had to make special allowances for him. I mean, even the doctors don’t know what’s going on inside that head of his. The last time he was tested, he scored so high they couldn’t come up with a score. He’ll be fine, my love, just trust that we have done our best.

But he starts college next year, said Elizabeth, wringing her hands. I mean, what if he starts his change while—

Baby, cut in Patrick, you know as well as I do that the change usually skips a generation. I know we will have to tell Jonah sooner or later so he’ll be prepared for his children. But as for him? We don’t have anything to really worry about, so calm down, okay?

Sighing, Elizabeth looked out her side window and still worried. Somewhere deep inside, she felt that something was wrong, something was very wrong.

  2

IT WAS NIGHT ONCE MORE, and Jonah was dreading what was to come. Nine months older, and still he hated having to go through this every month. Looking out of his bedroom window, Jonah sighed and wished this wasn’t happening to him. As usual, he was going out a few days early; but for once, he wanted to go out tonight, Friday, so he could recover the entire weekend. He could wait until Sunday, but Monday he had school, and that would be all but impossible to work, and he knew it. Sitting there and looking at nothing, Jonah thought, The last few months have been a lot harder than all the rest put together. Mom seems to be noising around until almost two in the morning every time I try to go out. Good thing she and Dad worry more about work than me. Seven days a week, rain or shine, they go in no matter what. Wish I mattered as much to them.

Smiling to himself, he thought, If she’s trying to put a pattern together, this should throw her off. It’s only been twenty-four days since the last time, so I’m way early. God, only two weeks of school left, and then I think I’ll sign up for some summer classes in college, and I can be out of here.

Sitting at her dresser, Elizabeth was thinking about Jonah. She didn’t care what Patrick said or what their pack leader said either; something was going on. Every month, just about every twenty-six or twenty-seven days, Jonah went outside for five or six hours and locked himself away in that damn tree house. That told Elizabeth that her baby was going through the change alone. She had been trying to help him, dropping little hints, staying up late around the days she knew he would be going out, but he always got around her. But not this month, by god, she whispered. She was going to find out what was going on whether or not either of the men in this family wanted her to. It was her motherly right after all to be there for her baby if he needed her.

Looking around his room, Jonah thought, 2:00 a.m., Mom should be asleep by now and slipped out. Quietly, he went down the hall, then the stairs, all the way through the house to the kitchen. Standing at the door, he turned off the alarm and eased outside and then closed the door again without a sound. Just one hundred yards, and I’ll be safe, thought Jonah looking at his tree house out in the back. Glancing up at the dark back of the house, Jonah smiled and eased into a run toward his private hell. At least the next time I change, I will be someplace else, thought Jonah as he climbed his ladder. I can’t say if I will like that or not. It will just be different, mumbled Jonah as he bolted the trapdoor shut.

Going through his usual rituals of closing the curtains, turning on the AC, asking God why, and finally undressing, Jonah stood ready. Tonight just seemed different to Jonah for some reason; he almost started to get redressed but decided it’s just his nerves.

Every time I have to change, I think it’s wrong, so what’s different this time? mumbled Jonah. Problem is, it is wrong. People aren’t supposed to do this. They aren’t supposed to turn into animals. It’s just wrong, and everyone knows it, even God. That’s why it’s called a curse, for Christ’s sake. With a heavy sigh, Jonah said, The sooner I do this, the sooner I’m done. And he fell to his knees from the pain, a silent scream coming from his lips.

Sighing, Elizabeth decided it was about time to go to bed. It’s too early for Jonah to make his trip outside, she thought. So with one last look outside, she started to turn from her window. At the last moment, she saw something dart across the lawn toward Jonah’s tree house. Smiling to herself, Elizabeth whispered, I knew I raised a smart boy. That’s right, baby, stagger your change dates so no one becomes suspicious. Quickly and quietly, she pulled her robe and slipped out of her closet and headed toward the kitchen. When Elizabeth saw the alarm was turned off, once more she smiled. "It was you I saw, Jonah. Okay, your momma will get in that damn tree house tonight, just you wait."

Just as quietly and quickly as a mature werewolf could, Elizabeth loped across the backyard. Coming to the ladder at the base of the tree, she heard moaning. Jonah was moaning. Panicking now, Elizabeth climbed up the ladder as quickly as possible. Hitting the trapdoor, she found it locked. Shit! she screamed. My baby needs me! And without meaning to, Elizabeth started changing into a werewolf herself. Now with more muscle and strength than an ordinary human, Elizabeth had no problem knocking the trapdoor completely off its hinges. And there, sitting in the middle of the floor, looking more scared than she had ever seen him in her life, was her baby, Jonah.

And just as she had thought, he had just finished going through his change. Climbing into the room and reaching for him, Elizabeth whisper-growled, My baby, how long… Why didn’t you tell me?

Just as Jonah was finishing his change, his security blanket, his locked trapped door, was knocked five feet in the air. Pushing himself in a corner as fast as his pain-racked body would allow, he watched as some sort of monster crawled through. The first thing Jonah noticed was its teeth; there were just too many of them even for its mouth, or so it seemed. Then it reached for him, but not with hands, but with what seemed like knives, one on each finger. But after several agonizing seconds, he realized that these were its claws after all, not knives. And it seemed to be covered in fur too, and he finally started to understand. Covered in fur… like him… Wait a second; did it just speak?

Still cowering in his corner, Jonah looked up a little. Looking at the monster, he had to wonder, Is it crying? Why? Lifting his arm a little more off his head so he could get a slightly better look at this beast, he thought he might know who it was. With no more than a whisper, Jonah breathed the word, Mom?

Now sobbing uncontrollable, Elizabeth moaned loudly and nodded. Sitting up a little bit more in his corner, Jonah, still completely confused, just stared at his mom, not knowing what to think, not knowing if he should or could move. Staring at each other, finally, Elizabeth asked, Can I come a little closer, my baby?

Still a little unsure, Jonah nodded slowly.

Coming within a foot of her baby boy, Elizabeth reached for him, but he tried to escape through the solid wall behind him. She quickly pulled her hand back and asked, What’s wrong, my baby? It’s me, your momma. I won’t hurt you, I promise.

Jonah blinked several times before saying, But… but how? I thought I was the only one.

No, my baby, said Elizabeth. Your father and I are both werewolves. We belong to a pack of werewolves.

After several tries at speaking, Jonah finally asked, Why? Why didn’t you tell me?

We didn’t know— began Elizabeth before Jonah cut her off.

Bullshit, Mom, you’ve known you were a werewolf for a long time now, I bet. Don’t lie to me.

Sighing, Elizabeth said, Yes, I’ve known I was a werewolf for almost twenty years now, but I didn’t know you were one.

Finally finding his nerve and his legs, Jonah stood and started walking toward the open hole that was once a door. Looking behind him, he just shook his head before he jumped the ten feet to the ground. Screaming at the top of his lungs before running off into the woods, Jonah yelled, This is just great, my whole life, one frigging lie! Everyone has been lying to me my whole frigging life! And then he ran off as fast as he could with Elizabeth calling his name.

It was nearly one the next afternoon before Jonah walked back into his parents’ house. His mom ran to him and wrapped him in a very tight embrace indeed. While Jonah didn’t exactly try to pull free, he also didn’t return her hug either. Crying once more, his mom asked him where he had been. Jonah, not looking at either his mom or dad, simply said, Walking.

Jonah’s dad, Patrick, stepped forward and said, Listen here, young man, that just is not an acceptable answer. Your mother asked you a reasonable question, and I expect a reasonable answer.

Jonah, smiling one of the nastiest smiles either Elizabeth or Patrick had ever seen, simply said, I asked Mom a reasonable question last night, and she wouldn’t answer it for me. So why should I answer your questions?

Quickly looking at Elizabeth, Patrick asked, "What question