So... I Met a WerewolfExcerpt...
Where
do I start? What should be the opening to my story? I’m not very good at this
sort of thing, but I have heard you need to grab the reader early on, to keep
them hooked. You hooked yet? You will get hooked, I am sure, just as you will
think this is a work of fiction, when I can guarantee you, it is not.
This happened, and werewolves are real. My
advice? Stay clear of dark areas during a full moon; and if you hear howling,
run! Oh, and don’t get lost in Scotland, if you can help it. Mind you, what
advice can I really give: if a werewolf smells your scent and decides he or she
wants you for dinner, you don’t have much of a chance. It will be swift, no
messing around and I doubt you will feel much pain as you will be dead straight
away…
But this chit-chat hasn’t led me to a
beginning. Was it our drive north? Settling in at the cottage? Or am I too
worried about the beginning. I can see us walking now up a faint path…
I think I have it. Yes, I think I have a
beginning for you all…
Chapter
1
Grabbed by a Ghost
‘Should have brought some
spare batteries… what did I tell you before we set off?’
That’s how it began, my brush with the
supernatural world: it was a world I thought only existed in books and films,
not real life. It was the kind of subject I chatted about with friends or
shared memes on social media of ghosts or zombies appearing from nowhere to
startle you, usually accompanied by a blood-curdling scream. I’m sure most of
you have seen them.
But no… there was no such things as that
lot, was there? Ghosts, aliens, demons, vampires and werewolves. Made up
stories to frighten people, mostly little kids who didn’t know any better.
‘Don’t forget the spare batteries. I did
say that, and what did you say? ‘Sure, I won’t forget the spare batteries.’
That’s what you said. But lo and behold you have forgotten them. That’s
typical, that’s just typical of you sometimes. Too busy thinking of something
else, like food for example! You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t…’
The rest of my mother’s words were drowned
out by the sound of my music as I turned up my iPod. I lagged behind them both
and watched my mother’s side view as her mouth moved up and down. I was
reminded of a cow eating grass. Not that she looked like a cow, of course: she
was far from that. Meanwhile, my father just carried on, looking down at the
GPS in his hand, giving it the odd shake, like a monkey figuring out how to
open a plastic banana: not, of course, that he resembled a monkey, in any way.
That was what they were arguing about, and
what they had been arguing about after the mist appeared like a slowly drawing
grey curtain, obliterating most things around us: the views of faraway hills
and lochs, of greens and browns, rock and soil.
We were on their way up some three-thousand-foot-tall
mountain in Scotland. My father had pronounced its name earlier that day,
reading from his battered book of Munro Hills, but I couldn’t remember it: it
was like the name of some lost city in Atlantis or some mythical creature,
perhaps, with one eye and snakes for hair.
The day had started quite well. The early
morning drizzle had quickly disappeared as we headed up the glen and bright,
October sunlight had shone down on us. This lasted up until lunchtime, when we’d
sat by a waterfall eating corn beef sandwiches and drinking orange juice. Grey
clouds came in as we headed up a steep and faint path towards the spur of a
long ridge that would take us to the summit.
There was no one else around, in fact the
place was amazingly silent, save for the sounds of deer, rutting. I had found
this sound a bit eerie at first, but after a while had grown used to it.
Although I kept looking, I didn’t see any signs of the deer. The actual area
where we were walking was quite desolate. We had passed a small village on the
drive there (where a small child had stared at us from a downstairs window,
mouth wide, a look on her face that could have been anxiety or just sheer terror)
and parked on a small car park up at the end of a long and winding road. Ours
was the only car there.
As we came to the spur of the ridge, the
mist had started to form. In small patches at first, growing evermore ominous. My
parents had been quite positive at first, as they checked their map, my dad
with his compass out. Then when they felt they needed to get a bearing from the
GPS, the small machine started flickering. No spare batteries, mother annoyed…
I looked up as my parents turned around to
face me. My mother was mouthing something at me and I pulled the plugs out of my
ears.
‘We’re just going to take a break, see if
the mist clears a bit, Ollie. Dad’s going to try and get a reading on the GPS
by removing and replacing the batteries.’
I nodded. We found a cairn and the three
of us sat down. I looked out at the grey mist all around us. The air was silent
as a tomb and the mist seemed to have substance, almost a shield to protect us
from the unknown; or maybe a barrier to keep us inside. I would look back on
that thought later that same day, and at how far from the truth that actually
was…
‘Look, I didn’t mean to forget them did
I!’ my father said. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t think, ‘Oh, I know
what will annoy the wife!’ Just stop going on about it will you…’
I turned my iPod on again. My head was
filled with music once more. Loud guitars, fast drums and cool vocals. I wished
we were back at the cottage and I was sat playing on games on the Ipod or my
phone or maybe reading a book. Any game or book would do.
I closed my eyes and yawned. We had
arrived in Scotland the Friday before and now it was Sunday. Saturday had been
spent climbing some other hill with an unpronounceable name, so I was feeling
quite tired. At least we were going to have a day in Inverness tomorrow,
walking around shops. We were planning a walk to Loch Ness, also, to have a
look for the Loch Ness monster. I pictured myself taking a photo of it and
selling it to some newspaper, making thousands of pounds.
I smiled at that and snuggled against the
cairn a bit. Although the rocks of the cairn were jutting out at all angles, I
felt comfortable against them. I thought I could quite easily go to sleep, the
air was so calm. I listened to the iPod and found myself sinking into the music
for a while. I loved this music. At thirteen years of age (fourteen in a month),
I had discovered a lot of new music lately, the sort of stuff my parents didn’t
really like much. In fact, they found it quite amusing for some reason, and I
didn’t really know why.
I listened to the guitars and the various
sounds they made, wondering if one day I would be able to play the guitar like
that. I had an acoustic at home and I was currently learning a few chords. E, A
minor, D7. What I really wanted was an electric guitar. I hoped my parents
would buy me one for my birthday next month. I could see myself on stage with a
Fender Stratocaster, or Flying V, playing to thousands. Wembley Arena, Madison
Square Gardens… I’d love to be a famous guitarist… that or a famous
photographer.
The song came to an end, and I opened his
eyes, wondering if my parents had made their minds up about who was to blame
for us getting lost yet. Perhaps they had decided it was actually my fault by
now. I looked to my side and frowned, quickly getting up to my feet. The next
song came onto my iPod and I turned it off as I looked around. All I saw was
mist. My parent had gone.
Fear took hold of me, like being grabbed
by a ghost. I felt numb. I was reminded of a time when I was six years old and
had been lost for five minutes in a supermarket. My throat had tightened then,
as it did now. Then relief had showered over me when I spotted them down an
aisle in the supermarket, and I had rushed over to them and gave them a hug
each. I prayed for that same feeling of relief now, but it did not come.
I hoped that they were hiding, playing
some silly joke, but somehow I knew that this was not the case. They had left me.
The words reverberated around my head. They had left me.
I was lost.
Hold on… I was (nearly) fourteen, and was
acting like a kid of ten. Lost! Kids of my age didn’t get lost, they simply
became temporarily detached…
I took a few footsteps forward, then a few
more as I looked around. But the mist was so thick now that I could hardly see
beyond three metres in front of me. I turned full circle. A giant gust of wind
suddenly blew up all around me and I felt the coldness race through my fleece
jacket. The gust subsided, only for another gust to arrive. All fell quiet, and
then from somewhere came the sound of what seemed like distant thunder,
approaching fast. It was another gust of wind. I kept steady, legs bent and
back arched, as the gust of wind, stronger than the previous two hammered at me.
When the wind subsided, I stared into the
mist and looked around. Still no sign of my parents… in fact there was no sign
of anything much at all. Just rocks protruding from the ground. I headed
forward another few paces. Mist. If only it would clear!
‘Come on,’ I muttered. ‘Just clear for a
minute so I can see something.’
I sighed, looking into the grey.
My
parents would come back for me, surely, when they realised I was not with them,
that I had become detached. Best thing to do would be to stay put. But why had
they left me? Perhaps they had told me they were going to have a look around
and come back, but I had not heard them because of my iPod. That had to be it. I
would go back to the cairn and wait for them there.
But when I turned around, there was no
sign of the cairn. Just the mist. I had walked too far away from the pile of
stones. I started heading in the direction I thought it might be. But all I saw
was mist. I cursed for not having stayed at the cairn to begin with. I carried
on for what seemed like four metres, and then came to a stop. Where was it? It
can’t be far, surely, as I had not walked too long a distance from it in the
first place.
Maybe some beast had swallowed up the
cairn and was playing games with me as I wandered, scared. Maybe the same beast
was stalking me now and was ready to attack. A big grey monster with a large mouth
and razor sharp teeth… with huge claws that could cut into flesh like the
blades of…
I stopped and looked around.
‘Hello?’ I called. I’d thought I had heard
something. Someone in the mist. It was my mother… calling my name. I started
walking towards where I thought I’d heard her voice. (If it was hers, a grim voice in my head said. If it was in fact a voice at all… a human voice, anyway…).
I hurried on, ignoring it. I concentrated
on my mother’s voice instead. ‘Mum?’ I called. ‘Can you hear me?’
I saw a shape up ahead. I rushed over to
it, but when I approached it I saw that it was a large rock, sticking out of
the ground. I looked around. I saw other such shapes, more rocks… but they did
not look like rocks, they were like ogres, waiting for me, ready to pounce. I
tried not to think such thoughts, they were not doing me any favours.
One of the rocks cried out. It was a deep
and throaty cry. My heart nearly stopped dead in my chest, but then I steadied
himself. It was the sound of deer, rutting again. Somewhere in the glen. It
sounded nearby, but it was amazing how sound carried on the hills and in mist.
I turned around. I needed to find the
cairn…
I had a sudden thought. My phone! Why hadn’t
I thought of that before? I reached into my pocket and pulled out my Samsung,
switching it on and peering down at it.
No signal. I shook it, as though it might solve
the problem… still no signal. Not one bar.
I looked up. ‘Mum?’ I called. ‘Dad?’
I received no answer. I started walking,
squinting my eyes at the mist, almost willing it to clear. But if anything, it
seemed to grow denser. So… I carried on walking.
It was almost as though I was blind. In
fact, I could well be. Blind in a grey world and being followed by grey
monsters, ogres that could be anywhere… in fact I could be walking straight
towards one right there and then. It would grab me in a monster hug and tear my
head clean off with its huge mouth…
Enough! I decided. I needed to calm down
and I really, really had to stop thinking thoughts like that! There were no
monsters, just mist and rocks.
‘Hello?’ I called. 'Mum! Dad! I’m here!
Mum!’ I waited for a reply but could almost taste the silence. I had to start
thinking positively. I was lost (detached)… but once the mist rose I would be
able to get my bearings. I tried to focus on that. I took a tentative step
forwards and…
Fell.
The earth seemed to disappear under my
feet and I was tumbling downwards.
My arms flayed, reaching for something to
grab onto, then I landed on my feet, but with the force was sprung forward. I
tumbled, head first, did a cart wheel, landed on my back and found myself
slipping down loose scree… I was going at an incredible speed, and with each
metre I slid, I prayed for more level ground, or even grass would be nice.
I had seen cliffs and crags whilst walking
up various mountains and some had drops of hundreds of feet. On the Isle of Skye,
there were drops of over a thousand feet on the Black Cuillins. So I knew, with
growing dread, that I could be falling for a very long time. The terror choked
in my throat: I might have screamed or called out, I can’t remember.
Suddenly, I felt searing pain in the back
of my head and everything went black. My last thought as the world disappeared
was: this is it, I am dead…
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