There are 1163 chapters on CYOC concerning werewolves as of this writing (1164 if
you count this one). But if you want a story that is completely true and factual, you
have to read mine. I know a thing or two about werewolves because, frankly, I am
one. Of course, I wasn't always a werewolf. In fact, I have only gotten in touch with my
wild side recently. It was two years ago, on my 18th birthday...
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"Okay, class," Mr. Neville greeted us, "Back by popular demand is the mythical beasts
lesson. That special time of the year where we screw modern biology over and talk
about the history of your choice of mythical creature.
"So," he continued while passing out slips of irregularly cut notebook paper, "Write
down your prefered topic and pass it back in. Once everyone has voted, we'll see
which ones got the most votes and take a poll from there."
Once all the votes were counted we were given the choice between werewolves,
dragons, or salamanders.
"A salamander isn't a mythical animal!" protested Ryan Thorton, the football captain. "I
got tons down in the creek by my house!"
"It means the legendary salamander," replied an annoyed Thomas Critter, the class
brain. "They were said to have been born in fires and have control over them."
"Shut up, Crispy Critter!" the jocks yelled. Tom just rolled his eyes.
After the class voted on the final topic, there was a tie between werewolves and
salamanders (everyone had had enough dragons after that god-awful book in English).
And of course the tie breaker was...
"Michael, you haven't voted yet," Mr. Neville addressed me. "Yes, you, Mr. Baka, now
please make your choice."
"Werewolves!" the jocks encouraged.
"Salamanders!" countered the smart girls.
"Dragons!" urged Tom eliciting a "shut up Crispy Critter" from the jocks.
"Well, Mike," Mr. Neville asked, "What will it be?"
"Uh...werewolves I guess."
A collective "yes!" broke out from the jocks and groans came from the girls and Tom.
"Very well, werewolves it is," announced Mr. Neville. "Now you will each work with one
partner to complete a posterboard about an incident or legend involving werewolves.
You will give an oral presentation on Monday. And because I talked with your other
teachers, I know you have no other homework over the long weekend so no excuses.
Everybody have a good long weekend, happy Thursday, and I will see you on Monday.
Class dismissed."
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I had noticed that no one had partnered with Ashkii Windtalker, the only Navajo kid in
our school. He was a skilled artist and hardly ever talked, but when he did it was
meaningful and wise. He was like the stereotypical Navajo; superstitious, no facial hair,
long, traditional hairstyle. The only thing modern about him was his secondhand store
clothes. He wasn't poor, in fact quite the opposite, but he didn't like the new styles so
he stuck to plain jeans and T-shirts with simple logos and patterns on them.
Anyway, I'd noticed that no one had wanted to work with him, so I offered to be his
partner.
"Good choice, Mike," he answered, "You'll learn more about werewolves by working
with me than anyone else here." But as I walked away he added, "And Thank You."
_______________________________________________________
"Okay," Ashkii began, "Let's get to work."
We were at his house in his room which was decked out in all kinds of Navajo trinkets.
It was Friday at 11:00AM and we were there alone. His parents wouldn't be back until
5:00 that evening. Now by "parents" you should know that Ashkii was adopted by a
wealthy white family who, while they loved him to death, were not capable of carrying
out the Navajo traditions that Ashkii had learned before being orphaned at age 8.
Ashkii had come to love them as well as their modern ways, but fiercely retained his
old rituals.
A posterboard lay out in front of us on the floor. Ashkii had agreed to tell me about the
Navajos' beliefs about werewolves.
"The Navajos call werewolves 'yeenadlooshi' or skinwalkers. Skinwalkers are extremely
feared creatures that are rumored to steal your skin if you look into their eyes. They
are on a level with witches on the Navajo hatred scale. Now, skinwalkers aren't all
wolves, they can be many different creatures, but the wolf is most common. You can
tell a yeenadlooshi by large, glowing eyes, a black tongue, lack of genitals, and skin as
hard as rock. In some stories, they were completely feral with no thougts but the
animal's instinct while in beast form. In others, they were even smarter than their
human forms and could read minds as well as mimic the voices of a person's loved
ones in order to draw them out."
"Wow," I gaped as Ashkii paused for breath, "That's amazing how their werewolves
had all these powers. Ours just run around ripping people apart."
"Mmhmm, but some of these aren't true. I've done a lot of study on yeenadlooshi and
have found some things to be fact and others fiction. For one, they don't steal your
skin by looking you in the eyes. Another mistake is the feral stories. They were
completely intelligent in beast form."
"Hold on," I questioned, "What do you mean 'mistakes' they're just legends, all of it's
fake. There aren't any rights or wrongs."
"I was just about to explain that," the Navajo teen answered, "But what I'm about to tell
and show you is deep Navajo secret. You can't tell anyone and this can't go into the
report. Okay?"
"Oh, alright.." I replied, taken aback. Did Ashkii really trust me enough to show me a
secret from his culture? What would it be? Artifacts, a story, pictures, what?
But he didn't produce any object or speak. He got up, walked slowly to the window,
closed the blinds and looked between the slots. The room was much darker without
the sun.
Suddenly, Ashkii spoke. But it didn't sound like him. His voice was that of my older
brother, John.
"It's not going to be an artifact, Mike, and the story is only for explanation. I already
locked the door as we came in, so don't bother running."
What?!
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I'm just assuring that you don't go running down the
street yelling the secret."
Oh, okay.
"Glad you're okay with that."
This is freaky, it's like he's...
"...Reading my mind," me and Ashkii said aloud at the same time.
As the truth dawned on me, I started to notice his changes beginning. He started to
hunch over a bit, but instead of shortening, he grew from 5'10" to almost 7' hitting his
head off the ceiling. His body, previously smooth and hairless, was quickly covered by
his black hair, no, fur. His head erupted outwards and quickly became that of a wolf.
While his body became feral and muscular. His arms lengthened to the length of his
legs, allowing him to walk on all fours. Claws formed on his digitgrade paws while a
bushy tail popped out above his rear. His growth spurt had ripped off his clothes
except for his straining underwear and I could see every change on his body. He
grunted primevally as his underwear ripped as well.
"I'll give you a hint as to the last mistake I left out," he joked as his furry sack dropped
down holding two melons. His human equipment grew proportionately before being
sucked into his sheath.
Finally, the skinwalker stood complete in front of me.
"So, how do you like it?" Ashkii asked.
Truthfully, I was surprised I hadn't fainted or something. I was completely scared. But
something about his voice (back to his own) kept me sane. I could tell I was talking to
a coherent creature, not a mindless beast. Ashkii approached me.
"You know, Mike," he said, "I've always thought you were someone I could trust. I'm
glad that's true."
But despite his friendly words, his closer position revealed his razor sharp claws and
teeth. Yep, that did it...
_______________________________________________________
"Mike?"