Vol. 2, Issue #18 Sept. 28th - October 11th, 2007

Restraint
By: Craig Wolf

Blood running hot hot HOT! Moon high full bright, moon giving light, and oh! the change has come again! Oh, the change, the change, the lovely wonderful precious CHANGE!
Burst out of house, howl, HOWL, and race to trees, to eat, to feed, to tear, anything that moves, but what moves on two legs is best, best, oh yeah, HOWL baby!
Run run run for woods, run!
OW! OW, CRAP! THAT HURT!
Thing around neck burns, burns!
Grrr. Show thing thing or two.
OW!
Stupid, stupid . . .
OW!
Not fair, not fair, stupid, hurtful...

#

In the morning, Carl rose from the dew licked grass, took off the invisible leash, and went inside for a cup of coffee, feeling good about the morning, but awfully hungry. Hungry like all the meat in the world couldn’t fill, maybe.
He wondered about that.
Mother sat at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee of her own. Her eyes were nervous, darting, like that of a prey animal waiting for the killing bite. Carl shuddered at the thought.
Mother cleared her throat.
“Worked, huh?”
Carl nodded. He did not fret about his nakedness; mother had seen it before, and usually covered in drying gore. Man, but he was hungry. He rifled through the refrigerator, found a roll of sausage, and his mouth watered. He tore open the plastic wrapping and shoved the sausage into his mouth, devouring it with greedy haste.
“I know you hate it, but . . .”
Hated it. Oh yes. But what was the alternative?
Carl didn’t want to think about it.
He pulled out a gallon of milk. He peeled away the plastic ring, popped the cap off, and chugged.
“You know it’s got to be this way, Carl. It wasn’t just cattle no more.”
Carl drank.
“And if they catch you . . .”
Carl drank.
“Ain’t you even gonna talk about it?”
Carl tossed away the empty milk jug and looked at his mother. She flinched away. “I’m tired,” he said, and went off to bed.

#

OW! OW! OWOWOWOW!
Grrr. Like to kill bad thing, like to tear bad thing to pieces and mark it, show it who boss here is . . .
OW!

#

“Carl, it’s for the best, it really is.”
He knew that, he knew that as well as anyone, but he didn’t have to hear it coming from her, did he? God, he was so sick of hearing it from her.
“We’re out of milk. And steak.”
“Carl . . .”
“What? What do you want me to say, mother? That I’m glad it’s working, that I’m glad I haven’t hurt somebody? Okay. There, I’ve said it, does that do you good? Does that make everything better for you? That makes me all fuzzy inside, Mother, I am aglow with happiness for you. Now may I please go get some rest?”
They stared at each other across the thick silence of the kitchen. He barely knew her any more. His own mother, and he barely knew her.
God, he felt tired.
“Carl, it was kids,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he said, and he looked away from her lined face that made him even more exhausted and he went from the kitchen so he might not see her again.
He heard her sobbing as he went to bed, but did not turn back.

#

Moon thinner, still no eat! Bad! Bad wolf, bad moon, bad everything! Need EAT! Need KILL!
Bad thing on neck, most bad of all.
Maybe if sneaky, maybe if real quiet . . .
OW! OW! OWWWWWW!

#

“Carl! Carl, what are you--?”

#

Hah! Bet that hurt! Run! Run! Ooh, that funny! Run! That hurt? Yeah? You really think so?
Well, it not hurt like it going to.
Wolf promise that.
Wolf promise.

Craig Wolf is a writer from Warr Acres and can be contacted via e-mail: cwolf4@cox.net.

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