Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
"You're here to look at the werewolves?!" the lady at the counter looks baffled out of her mind. You're already petrified, having had to develop all the courage you possessed to even walk up to her and say that. It's not like your intention to adopt a werewolf was lacking, it was just that your confidence in your own self was diminishing with the stunned look on the receptionist's face.
You nod, swallowing down the panicky overthinking in your brain, clutching your bag strap tighter for help. The lady still looks like she hasn't heard you right.
"Y-you want a werewolf pup?" she asks, face paling ever so slightly.
"It's cub, not pup," you automatically correct, before flushing a bit in embarrassment. You were a journalist, after all. Grammar was your first priority over everything else.
"Why?" she asks, almost incredulously.
"Is it wrong to want to serve society?" you raise an eyebrow at her continued surprise, feeling your sarcasm come out. You weren't eager to delve into the real reason behind your trip with a stranger.
"I-well-alright then, I suppose, I'll show you to the werewolf pup- I mean, cubs' den," the lady says with uncertainty, getting up from her seat behind the counter. Her flat heels click irregularly on the tiled floor as she keeps glancing back at you when you follow her, as if concerned that you'd magically disappear.
"Here it is," she nods, stopping in front of a two-way mirror that offered a view into a room that's big enough to house an elephant.
You really have to give credit to the orphanage management, because for all the fear that humans possess concerning werewolves, they certainly did their best to recreate the little canines' natural environment for maximum comfort. Two large dark faux trees are in two corners, and the false roots made of plaster of paris cover the floor, creating an uneven ground for the cubs to climb and run over. A large rocky outcrop sheds a corner of the room, where blankets that look like leaves and soft mattresses that look like rocks make a sleeping area for the cubs.
"We're not trying to treat them like animals," the receptionist says quickly, seeing your surprised expression, "It's just that, most of them come fresh from the forest, when their parents are killed by illegal werewolf hunters. So when we try to introduce them to human environments, they resist and struggle. It's more comfortable for them to be in this man-made natural environment."
You nod again, understanding the concept. Werewolf hunting has been made illegal decades ago, ever since humans and werewolves struck the bond that decreed that neither species would harm each other. But that doesn't stop certain people of the ancient beliefs from venturing out and hunting them down.
There's about 8 cubs around the room. 2 are cuddled up in a corner, sleeping with their arms tightly around each other. They look like perfectly normal humans, perhaps 5 years old, one in a dress and the other in a shirt and shorts.
"Those are the twins- Toby and Thalia. They're the youngest in the group," the receptionist says, following your gaze.
"Who's that adventurous one on the tree?" you ask, a mirthful smile playing on your lips as you watch one elder cub jump and grab one of the lower-hanging branches, swinging himself up with difficulty.
"That's Alex. He's always been like that. I'm afraid his story is a bit tragic. He's been kicked out of 5 foster homes already," the receptionist says, expression softening. You can empathise with her. Even if humans feared werewolves, it didn't nullify the natural sympathy and compassion that welled up in every being's heart.
"Oh no, he's wolfing out," the receptionist suddenly says in a panic, looking into the room with concern.
You look in and realise that one of the cubs is lying on the floor, curled up in foetal position, shaking and crying. The others are around him, trying to see if they can help, offering him leaves or rocks.
"I need to get the vet," the receptionist says hurriedly, rushing down the corridor, and you really have to appreciate her for being able to run at such speed in heels. You look back into the room, and see the kid struggling, the first signs of grey fur blossoming over his scalp. He's in pain, hands shuddering, face shining with a sheen of sweat, breath coming out in short, rapid gasps. Your heart wrenches as you see the poor boy turning into a werewolf so painfully, and instinctively, you walk around to the door, yank it open, and rush to the cub.
The others make way for you in surprise. Most of them are below the age of 9, but one of them is 13.
"Who are you?" she asks, standing in your way, doubt and suspicion making her voice caustic.
"I'm here to help," you raise your hands in surrender, "Your friend there needs help."
"He has all the help he needs with us," the girl says firmly, folding her arms, glaring up at you with intensity and fierceness.
You sigh in frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose. You were never great at handling kids, having always been overly blunt and awkward. Handling werewolf children seemed out of your territory. You're starting to really doubt if you could handle adopting a werewolf cub seeing your inability to even talk to one normally without getting annoyed.
"He's in pain, isn't he? What are you doing to help him?" you ask dryly, putting your hands on your knees to bend down to her level.
"Whatever it is, it's better than what you humans tend to do," the girl hisses, "All you do is kill our parents and then leave us here to grow up alone and disloved."
"Unloved," you correct instinctively, before realising your mistake and feeling like an idiot. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to correct you-" you try to say quickly, but the girl looks like she's going to burst into indignant tears.
"You're so mean!" she cries, "You humans are so rude and mean to us! What have we ever done to you?"
You wince, wishing you could take back your words and approach this situation more tactfully. But you can see the young cub still struggling behind the girl, and your heart chides your brain mentally for being an idiot.
"Look, sweetheart," you sigh, kneeling down, deciding to be honest, "I have nothing against you. I came here so I could bring one of you home and make that special little cub the most cherished child on the planet. I'm not here to harm you, or be mean. I'm terribly sorry for reprimanding you earlier, but if I don't help your friend now, he could be in serious trouble. Please?"
The girl looks uncertain, and she probably didn't understand half the words you said, but she moves aside, and you sigh in relief as you quickly get up and rush over to the shaking boy.
"Okay sweetheart, listen to me," you say, pulling the shaking cub the straight way up. He's so thin and small as he's wolfing out, he fits in your lap. You sit cross-legged on the forest floor of the room, pulling him properly into your lap and cradling him in your arms. His ragged, warm breath hits your neck as you hug him close, trying to give him comfort.
"Listen to me, can you hear me? I'm here to help. Can you hear me, darling? Just nod, can you understand me?" you whisper softly away from his ear, so that his sensitive werewolf hearing wouldn't magnify your voice a hundred times.
He nods softly, whimpering as the fur covers his arms and his bones start melding and changing.
"Alright, so, can you tell me three things that you can see?" you whisper.
He shakes his head, wincing and shivering as his shoes fall off, claws growing from his small toenails.
"Okay, okay, never mind. I've heard that your hearing is very good. Can you tell me three things that you can hear?" you ask, changing your tactic the second he stops responding.
He's hesitant, but he slowly whispers, "I can hear your breathing. I...I can hear everyone else's heartbeats. I...I can hear...the wind outside the window..."
"Okay, keep going. Don't think about what's happening to your body, just listen. Tune into everything that's going on outside," you say in the hopes of distracting him.
"There's people outside. Two people...are running here...They're still far...the tiles are loud...the human babies are wailing...everything's so loud all of a sudden..." he whines, covering his rapidly enlarging ears.
"It's alright, focus on the soft voices, sweetheart. Focus on our heartbeats. Listen to your friends' heartbeats. Isn't it calming?" you whisper, cradling him closer. He sniffles, fully covered in fur now, yet he doesn't look like a typical werewolf.
"I-It is," he hiccups, snout snuggling into your soft shirt for comfort, "They're regular. They're...nice."
"Then focus on those. They're periodic, 72 beats per minute. Time your breathing with that. One breath in every..um, 15 beats. Can you do that for me?" you say, hugging his head closer and ignoring the in-house vet and receptionist who've just rushed into the room and look as shell-shocked as if you yourself had become a werewolf.
He nods, and you count slowly for him. Gradually, he shifts from listening to his friends' heartbeats to listening to your words. His breathing evens out as the transformation completes.
You'd expected a wolf cub, at the very least. But the little creature whom you're holding in your arms is nothing more than a puppy. He's almost asleep, comfortable in your arms, tired after his first transformation.
You look up at the other children in confusion, not bothering to question the vet. "Are all of you like this in werewolf form?" you ask slowly, not wanting to startle them. The cub in your arms is a little grey puppy. Yes, he has wolfish characteristics. But if anyone had seen this little adorable fluff-ball on the streets, they wouldn't hesitate in petting his head and feeding him treats.
"Of course," Alex nods.
"I thought...werewolves were, you know, werewolves," you frown a bit.
"That's a very outdated notion," the vet speaks up, catching everyone's gaze, "Due to intermingling of werewolves with humans and other species, the original characteristics of werewolves are quite lost."
"So you're telling me that people are afraid of these cute little babies?" you raise an eyebrow, still hugging the boy in your lap close to you.
The vet and the receptionist hesitate. They're clearly not used to such an abnormal response, and you sigh in annoyance, facing the cubs instead.
"So none of you become ravenous or blood-hungry on full moons?" you ask carefully.
"Never," the eldest girl scoffs, "We don't even always turn on full moons. All the mixing of bloods has really messed up our schedules."
"Ma'am, you can give Lucius to us now-"
"No."
The receptionist falters, hands retracting as she offered to take the boy from you. "I'm sorry?"
"I said 'no'," you repeat, a firm look on your face, "I'm keeping him. I'm adopting Lucius."
"Oh, alright then. Should we begin with the-"
"I'm not finished," you interrupt, having no idea where your sudden burst of confidence has come from, although you have a lurking suspicion that it has come from your renewed determination to improve the lives of innocent werewolves.
"I'm keeping Lucius. And Toby. And Thalia. And Alex. And all the others," you say, the glare in your eyes daring her to challenge you.
She looks mind-blown, to say the least, as if her most outrageous dream had come alive before her eyes. The vet looks...concerned for your health.
You almost worry that she's going to stop you, when she suddenly gives a small smile.
"Alright, Ma'am. Shall we begin with the formalities?"
__________________________________________________________
"Mom, mom, mom," Lucius is all but yanking your short burgundy hair, desperate to get your attention.
"If the house is not burning to pieces, I don't want to be woken up," you groan, covering your face with the pillow as you try to fall back asleep.
"Mom, come on, please please pleaseeee, just wake up," Fariah whines, begging you and shaking you.
"Alright, alright, you little tricksters, I'm awake," you laugh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as Fariah pulls you up to sit on the bed.
"Mom, come on, we need to ask you something for our school project, " Toby says quickly, and Thalia smacks him upside the head.
"You dunce! You weren't supposed to tell Mom so quickly!" she hisses at him, feeling proud for having learnt a new way to call her twin a stupid person after reading some of your more lazily written articles.
"Thalia, I'm happy about the vocabulary expansion, but we agreed that your twin is not a dunce," you say strictly, raising an eyebrow. Thalia murmurs 'sorry' to Toby, who looks annoyed that she smacked him on the head. Even though the twins are both 13, Thalia's just an inch taller, and she wastes no opportunity in bullying her twin because of it.
"So, what do you need for your school project?" you ask, pulling up your legs to sit cross-legged on the bed.
"I don't need it," Lucius says haughtily, "The twins and Fariah need it."
Lucius has been on Cloud 9 ever since he turned 14 and he got to officially announce to the world that he was older than the others.
"Alright, alright," you laugh, "What do you need?"
"Well, Mom," Fariah starts, nervously twiddling her thumbs, "Our hearing is always a hundred times better than yours. And...we can never hear your heartbeat. So, we were wondering, why can we hear everyone's heartbeat but yours?"
You know that this is not a school project. That was just an excuse for your kids to ask you a question that had probably been gnawing at them for days now. You breathe out heavily, knowing you'd have to answer the question someday.
"I was stabbed once," you admit softly, pulling Toby close to you so he could hear more clearly, "I was in the forest, hiking, and I came across this...madman. Drunk. Raving. Blind as a bat with rage over something trivial. He had a knife, and before I could even attempt to get away, he stabbed me right in the heart."
"It was painful, yes. I couldn't feel anything, and I could sense the life draining out of me. The guy was probably going to stab me again, when someone else burst into the scene. He shoved the guy away and threw him off me. He sent the guy crying for his mama. I didn't even realise what had happened - the suddenness of it was too disorienting. I was on my knees, gasping for breath, when he saved me. I must have passed out, because when I woke up, I was in a cot, wound stitched up and bandaged. He had brought me to his home and healed me. I was forever indebted to him for saving my life. I had to spend some days in his home itself because I still didn't have the strength to walk on my own from all the blood loss. In those few days, I fell for him harder than I have fallen for any other person. He was the strongest and kindest person I had ever met, and he felt the same way. He shared his struggles with me, and I shared mine. We were madly in love, I'm afraid," you give a wry chuckle, "But...his solution to my heart was only temporary. I needed proper medical treatment if I were to live. I told him that I could get to the hospital on my own, that he'd get into trouble if he came with me. But he insisted, and he took me to the hospital as my heart literally failed. He was so scared that I wouldn't make it, and I was so scared that he'd get blamed for what happened to me. Unfortunately, only one of our fears came true," you smile sadly, cuddling Toby's back closer to you.
The cubs are quiet, wondering how this love story was related to your heartbeat. You realise that you'd deviated madly from the topic and quickly correct yourself, "So, I had to get a pacemaker and a whole lot of transplants and transfusions. It took me 5 months just to get out of bed without my heart being overexerted. The reason you can't hear my heartbeat is because the pacemaker is too low for your ears."
"Why did the guy you liked get blamed for what happened to you?" Lucius asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern.
"Nobody believed him," you shrug, giving a rue smile, "By the time I got out of the hospital, it was too late for me to help him in any way. No one even told me where he was, what happened to him, where they took him. All I know is that he was punished for no fault of his..."
It's been 10 years since it took place, yet your heart always burns in your chest as you recount it. The cubs look sad and confused, so you try to cheer them.
"But in a way, it also turned out to be a small blessing in disguise. Because after that, I decided to visit the orphanage to adopt certain children. And guess who God gave me?" you ask teasingly, grinning.
"Us!" Fariah declares happily, her innocent sweet 11 year old voice making you laugh.
"Yes, I got you little munchkins," you laugh, tickling her so she giggles and falls on the bed on your lap beside Toby.
"But how did his punishment lead to you deciding to adopt werewolves?" Thalia asks, tilting her head and cocking her ear up in the air to hear your answer better.
"Sweetheart," you smile softly, "Even though a human stabbed me and nearly stopped my heart forever, the one who really stole my heart was a werewolf."
When you adopted an orphaned werewolf cub, you expected to end up with a ravening blood-thirsty monster. Instead, you ended up with a fairly normal kid who occasionally becomes an adorable puppy.
And the cowboy, knowing he could never return to the town he had just saved sauntered off into the picturesque sunset, the darkening sky overhead looking like a candle dying out, it's orange coat stuck in perpetual shadow. His cowboy hatted silhouette became smaller and smaller as his story ended... Stirrup Trouble Sam reached the Sunset wall and swiftly found the door handle. Opening the door on the Sun, he stepped outside his story. It had been a long day and he was all narratived out. But he was looking forward to the after party drink. For the longest time as he reached the end of each chapter, or scene in the movie adaptation he had chanced him arm getting into that exclusive club. Each time however he was turned away. "If you aint winding down, you don't get in." The Bouncer would bark at him. "This establishment is for a certain final-tele." The 'Conclusions Lounge' was the hottest ticket in town and getting inside was about as hard as lassoing a rain cloud. However Sam had earned his free pass and he was legitimately a resolved character now. Endings are tough on everyone and having a nice place to go for the aftermath was a great source of solace for any character. The Bouncer eyed him but knowing he had finally made the list, he stepped aside pointedly. "Appreciated pardner," the poorly written archetype said tipping on his hat as he walked past. Inside the bar was quite crowded, it was Summer which meant a lot of TV shows were ending and movies were being watched. The Summer reading folk had a good few months to look forward to and wouldn't be darkening these doors for a while yet. People were buzzing around and telling each other the stories of how they ended up here. "Well I have to admit it, " a random man pontificated loudly nearby, "I wasn't sure about my particular storyline ending but it seemed to be very popular and i was so tired anyway, I just said, 'Bring it on!!'I'm thirsty!" The woman next to him responded. "Well at least you had a clear ending. I just dropped out of the story. I know I was a bit part but if they had given me one line indicating my life had continued...Well it would have been work anyway." Sam leaned against the bar and took a look at the drinks menu. He wasn't much of a drinker, all those saloon scenes were a misnomer but a few of the cocktails looked appealing. "Give me an "Abrupt Stop." "That's not a drink Sir. That's when we cut people off. We had to introduce it after materials started having those multiple endings. Lord of the Rings had a lot to answer for." "Emm..ok then, " Sam pondered. "An 'Up in the Air' then?" "Excellent choice. You never know what you're getting!" Sam was a loner by nature and narrative and so he continued to eavesdrop on the people around instead of engaging with anyone. A soldier was talking to an Alien. "'Conclusions' is so much better than that last place we used to get dropped off at .Remember "Finishing Touches?" That place was always falling apart!" The Alien replied,"Have you heard? It's become a wrap-dancing club now." The solider just shook his head in disbelief. Another man who was standing next to them but wasn't involved in the conversation piped up. "Uhhh...do they provide...um...like...happy endings?" The Solider and the Alien just turned away. A sassy 20 -something year old female protagonist was giving directions to a friend of hers on a contemporary mobile phone. "I'm at the club. Where are you? You're where? Midsection Point? Jesus, that's ages away! You need to follow the arc along the coast and take a left at the Narrative Dead End and you should be able to see this place. It's a light at the end of a tunnel. No don't worry about it! I want you to experience a brand new culmi-nation. I'm just sorry I couldn't pick you up at the Foreword!" The bar man leaned into the cowboy. "Ah listen man, how are you going to pay for that drink? Have you prepared for every eventuality here?" Sam was quick to reply. "Oh don't worry, I have enough. I had a great payoff!" He did wonder where all his co-stars had gone to. Probably a private house party somewhere in the Third Act district. It didn't matter. Being surrounded by those people wouldn't have helped him come to terms with his big ending. Sam was a smart man. This wasn't just the end of his story. He had long felt the Western was running on empty as a genre. His sunset would be the last sunset for a while.
Hours passed and he drank a lot of different concoctions. Outcome Rum, Sting in the tale, Anything with a Twist but the night was winding down. He looked around at all the various supporting casts, the backstory bunch and the tale-ing offs. He slumped his head onto the bar and began to drift off. Waking up a little while later he realised he had to go to the restroom. Staggering, his stirrups scraping across the floor he made his way from the bar. It was then he heard the barman on the phone in the backroom having a loud argument. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME. I'M FINISHED!...NO I DON'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT YOU ARROGANT PRICK! I mean if you go through with this deal, this establishment will be gone. And we got a good thing going here. All stories end and we have a reputation for being the best. I mean Penultimates will always be second best. I can't go back to my old job there!" Sam was saddened for the bar-man but also felt expired by what he had heard. He quickly left the bar and began the long walk into posterity. **************************************************************************************** Conclusions quickly went into for closure. Lots of other venues vied for their business but Endings became quiet affairs. It became the norm for the gatherings to take place in a characters house or for people to spend time with friends and family somewhere special and private. On his first day the conflicted and flawed character stepped out of his story to get some air. He noticed a new building with an enticing sign. "Opening Soon". He couldn't tell if that was a sign or indeed, a bar name.
"So, how's the wife?"
"Ah yes, the old ball and chain."
"That's a little rude, don't you think?"
I pull out a wedding photo from my wallet and you see me at the altar across from a chain chomp with a pink bow.
I just finished playing Wytchwood and now I feel like my life doesn't make sense