Hell Hath No Fury like a... Lovesick Werewolf?

Beginning right where "Werewolves in their Youth" left off:

“Dammit, Josh, don’t do that anymore. You’re gonna break my neck one of these days,” Clancy managed, while stealthily trying to wriggle out of his friend’s muscular hold. Joshua Chen, Clancy’s massive friend, finally pulled his arm away, releasing Clancy.

            Clancy, free at last, looked up to find his three friends’ attention directed away from Clancy’s virtual victory to something or someone behind him. Clancy turned in his seat to barely catch a glimpse of Rochelle Williams as she slid past Clancy into the lap of the boy on Clancy’s right.

            “Owen,” she cooed, drawing out the last syllable excruciatingly, “tell me you’ve got something planned for tomorrow?” Owen’s charcoal eyes simmered with discomfort, and Clancy realized just how much Rochelle had caught Owen off guard.

            “Baby, you know I would have planned something if I’d been able to, but tomorrow’s… well, you know what happens on the full moon, baby.” Judging by the look on Rochelle’s face, Clancy would have bet a hundred dollars that she hadn’t remembered that tomorrow night was a full moon, but refusing to admit defeat, Rochelle carried on, “I know, Owen, I just hoped we could do something before you, well, you know…”

            “Sorry, baby, but I’m gonna be working in the morning tomorrow, then preparing all afternoon.” Rochelle’s eyes had somehow morphed into the perfect pouting puppy dog eyes, and so Owen took his last chance to save himself, “Tell you what, babe, how about we have our own Valentine’s Day, just the two of us, next Saturday. It will be the most romantic day of your life, and you won’t have to share it with the millions of other people celebrating Valentine’s Day tomorrow.” Rochelle’s face was glowing: Owen always knew just what to say to her.  

Valentines Day is the stupidest holiday ever. I mean, whose idea was it to force moronic candy hearts down all your friends' and family's throats, spend an entire day catering to some ditzy girl's needs, and waste a hundred dollars on dinner reservations for her? Clancy mentally complained, I'm glad that Elise broke up with me, because now I don't have to worry about idiotic shows of affection or inane "holidays" like this one.

Werewolves in their Youth

The four boys all sat together at the table. Any person passing by would just assume them regular teenage boys, and they were, for the most part, just regular teenage boys, with regular problems and the like, but they were also certainly not regular teenage boys, as each of them knew.

            “God, Charlie, how many times do you have to break up with Elise before you two finally make up your minds?” asked one of them, his blue-gray eyes rolling up towards the ceiling as he teased his friend, playfully, or maybe a bit less playfully than one would presume.

            “She’s not your girlfriend anymore, Clancy. Get over her,” said the boy on Clancy’s left, his muscular shoulders and tall stature dwarfing his thin, wiry friend. Clancy mockingly shoved him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The boy took his mass of an arm and looped it around Clancy’s neck, holding him in a chokehold, then suddenly broke out into laughter.

            “Hey, man, I was only joking. Full moon’s tomorrow- save some of that temper for then."

Megan and the Guy, Chapter 3

Chapter three in which the relations between people are determined; the capabilities of unicorns are revealed; and frolicking occurs

Morgan, Megan, and Nadia jollily cavorted until they reached a meadow. Once in the boundaries of the field, they all started letting out uncontainable giggles. Nadia began to uncontrollably shape-shift between snickers, and Morgan couldn’t help but to contort her hands into funny shapes. Megan, despite her wild guffawing, was the only one of them who could think lucidly. Irrepressibly outlandish laughter, unexplainable bouts of childish chortling, suspiciously serendipitous snorting, horrifically horrendous hysterics, hopelessly hexed hooting, hypnotically hyper humor—this can only mean one thing: a magical unicorn is launching a telelaughic attack on us! I must save myself! Megan determined. Assessing her surroundings, she saw a large boulder near the edge of the meadow and ran for cover, not bothering to try to quell the childish chuckles that plagued her.

Once behind the massive rock, the inconceivable hysterics died in Megan’s throat. Out in the middle of the pasture, prancing towards Nadia and Morgan, was a unicorn, presumably their assailant. Megan, no longer under the creature’s chuckling enchantment, ran out into the middle of the field to meet him.

“Hey, you! Yeah, I’m talking to you, horn-face! What’s your problem? Why did you put us under a laughing spell? That is seriously messed up!” The unicorn turned to face Megan.

“Excuse me; I was only trying to protect myself in case you all were dangerous or evil. Self-defense.” The unicorn replied, very much annoyed.

“Do you really think that that,” Megan pointed at Morgan, who was making a butterfly with her hands while brewing bubbles in her mouth, and Nadia, who was waving her arms around like an plane and managing to laugh while making airplane sounds when she actually turned into a small jet, “is dangerous? I can’t see how you would even register them as a threat! Besides, we’re not evil. We are just looking for a magical stone that was stolen from the girl blowing bubbles over there. I’ll show you a photo if you can tell me if you know anything about it’s whereabouts.” The unicorn nodded its head, and Megan pulled out a photograph:

“No, sorry. I haven’t seen it. But, I know someone who knows a guy who is friends with a harpy who once met a dwarf that knew a man who was the stepson of a goblin who once dueled a gnome who was friends with an elf who was the distant cousin of a swan who knew a mermaid who had cursed, well not really cursed, but cast a very nasty spell, on a prince whose brother knew a man that once stayed at an inn kept by a half-dwarf that knew a guy with a gambling problem that once won a game against an ogre that was employed for a bandit that once met the guy who stole it from your friend. Actually, the man who stole it is really my eighteenth cousin’s fifteen times removed on my mother’s side half brother’s biological father’s wife’s brother’s nephew, who I met at the last family reunion. So actually, I do know him. He is human, I think, but perhaps he…” Megan was about to punch this unicorn in the face, no matter how endangered his species was.

         “Do you or do you not know how I can get the stone?” Megan interrupted.

“Why yes, now that you mention it, I do know how you can get the stone.”

 Megan waited for him to continue. The unicorn just stared at her.

“Well,” she tapped her foot impatiently, “how do I get the stone?” The unicorn, which Megan now knew was clearly a master of insufferableness, just looked confused. Megan sighed irritated. Did we really have to stumble upon the most obnoxious, most talkative, most intolerable creature to ever exist on the planet? Her thoughts practically exploded inside her. She looked down at her feet and found that they were starting a fire in the grass. Oh, well.

“Where does the guy who stole it live?” Megan snapped. The unicorn had a look of comprehension cross his face. “Do you see that really really really really big tree over there in the distance? He lives next to it. But on the other side of the tree lives a half-elf who makes the best oatmeal cookies. I mean, all oatmeal cookies are good, but this guy’s are amazing. I can’t remember a time that I didn’t…” Megan stopped listening and went to fetch her enchanted friends, who were still madly giggling. Morgan was on her back, rolling around laughing, while Nadia, who had transformed into a hyena, was cackling ferociously. Megan grabbed them both by their arms and dragged them out of the meadow, where they promptly stopped their maniac hysterics, unlike the unicorn who just kept rambling on and on and on in the background: something about acorn-nut dark chocolate macaroons.

Chapters 4 and 5 to come...

Pandora

“Don’t open it.” was all he had said. He had forced her into this empty, unexciting room with only an oak-wood chest in the far corner. Though she had not been looking for it, it had immediately caught her eye. How could it not, in such a bare room, and when he’d explicitly instructed her not to open it? Its allure was inescapable, though. Upon closer examination of the mysterious chest, she could see that its design was more intricate than she’d thought. Although she could not read, she knew that the engravings dominating the front of the box had to be words. She wished she could understand the alien symbols; then maybe she’d know why he’d told her not to open it. Incited by her curiosity, she began to search for a latch. She was surprised to find it not protected by any sort of lock. Every detail on the strange box only intensified her need to see the inside. How easy it would be, she thought, to just lift open the lid and have a peak. He would never have to know. Her eyes were drawn back to the latch, now humming with strange compulsion. Hypnotized, she placed her fingers under the lid, and pulled it up, unleashing a hurricane of high-pitched squeals.

Miniature, winged monsters flew from the opening in a torrent of muddled and confusing pandemonium. She was thrown back onto the floor as squadrons of pestilent mosquito-like creatures launched themselves at her. She tried to lift her head to see what was going on when she was struck down again by a flurry of pesky imps. She reached out with her hands, trying to find the latch again, but her attempts yielded no avail. Scores upon scores of pesky demons poured out from every fissure of the chest for what felt like hours. Finally, the last monster buzzed over her head and out the door to the room. She risked resurfacing again to see what shreds were left of her empty-to-begin-with room.

Like before, the only thing worthy of attention in the entire suite was the chest in the far corner, which she now knew better than to mess with. But there still seemed to be a presence in the room, unmistakably coming from the box that had started this whole mess. No, I am not going back over there, she silently pouted, I learned my lesson. I should have done as he had said to do in the first place. What will he do to me now that I have unleashed this monstrosity upon the world, disobeying his direct order? A small cry echoed from the oak-chest, and she knew that she had to go back, although she also knew she shouldn’t. A quick peak is all I’ll have to do. Everything will be alright. That sound was probably just the wood creaking. I have nothing to worry about, she desperately attempted to console herself.

All of the allure of the chest had faded, every bit of mesmerizing compulsion she had felt before had vanished the instant she’d seen the first monster fly from the open lid. She reluctantly peered into the troublesome box. A timorous sprite sat in the center of the inside, hiding its face. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way after the torrent of mischievous spirits had attacked her, but she felt that this fragile creature was good. She knew this creature was good. So, she dropped her hand in, trying to catch the pixie in her fingers, but it flitted to the other side of the chest, fearfully.

“C’mon, I won’t hurt you.” She cooed, convincing the small creature to trust her. The sprite hesitantly moved toward her open palm. After carefully examining the giant hand, it crawled between her thumb and index finger, curling up into a ball.  She tried to speak to it, but it coiled tighter.

“If all the other ones are bad, then what are you?” she asked suddenly. The little creature uncoiled and uncovered its face to look up at her. She didn’t see its lips moves, but she heard the response more clearly than anything she’ d heard before. Hope.

The Wolves of Kajul

Jasteirra ran as fast as she could, trying to escape the menacing creatures that were at her heels. One of the Wolves caught the edge of her skirt, pulling her down to the hard, cold ground. Her face slammed into the dirt, and she felt currents of blood streaming down her leg. She could not do it; she could not escape now; she was dead. Jasteirra put her hands to her ears weakly, attempting to block out the overwhelmingly cacophonous howls of the Wolves of Kajul.
She felt one of the beasts sniffing her side; it was nauseating. Jasteirra then heard an ominous sound from behind her, not a Wolf. They were footsteps that loomed closer every moment that passed. She sucked in a sharp breath of air, holding it. She could feel her heartbeat quickening to the increasingly closer sounds of the strange steps. But she didn’t have to wait for the mysterious being to reach her.
A loud battle cry erupted from behind her. She heard the sounds of swords clashing, a brawl being launched. Who was it that was attacking? Was he here to help her or hurt her? In a world like this, Jasteirra didn’t know who she could trust. Even her own best friends had betrayed her to the Sorcerer of Kajul. Suddenly, the sound of someone falling to the ground flooded her ears.
She feebily  pulled herself up from the ground, to see what had taken place. Laying on the ground was her own father, dead, and standing above him, a victorious expression on his face, was the Prince to the throne of Anora.
“Hello, sister.” he declared maliciously.

Dreamscape

 Jeremy was running, running from the reality threatening to consume him. He tripped over a small stick, sharp and pointed like a blade. Red liquid ran down his ankle. He had to keep going, though; so he quickly got up and pushed his legs to work again. His foot stung with ache. The ground opened up in front of him, a massive chasm ready to swallow him. He tried to bring his feet to a stop as his life flashed before him: his little sister’s tenth birthday party where his mom had made the cake with baking soda instead of baking powder; his high school graduation; the day he found out that his best friend, Seamus, had been found dead in the woods; the day his sister had told him that she saw the ghosts too, that was when he knew they were real. And now they were chasing him. They used to just lurk around the house, wandering in the halls, standing in front of mirrors, letting out almost inaudible screams in the middle of the night. His parents had never seen them, just him and Molly had. Recently they had become more violent, locking doors, pinching his sister, appearing out of nowhere right in front of them, showing their god-awful, bloody faces. The memories stopped as Jeremy came to a halt in front of the large crevasse in front of him. The stench of death hung in the air around him.  His foot slid less than an inch and Jeremy already felt himself being pulled into the bottomless pit. He knew that if he fell into the abyss he wouldn’t make it out alive.

 The dream shifted around him as he came into consciousness and found himself in his own room. Just a dream, that was all it was; he had not fallen into the deep, dark pit. He cautiously looked toward the foot of the bed to see if a ghost was there; they often followed him into his dreams and made them nightmares. Then he saw his foot. The blood gushing from the wound on the side of his heel. Something was definitely wrong.

Patty

In honor of Saint Patty’s Day which wasn't yesterday (but it was yesterday when I posted this on my original blog), I’m going to type up a lame story to do with the holiday. It follows a leprechaun, and it’s a bit fun and random:
Once upon a time there was a leprechaun, Patty. All year long he worked in the Pot’o’Gold factory, processing gold coins that would end up at the ends of rainbows. Every Saint Patrick’s Day he gave a bag of fresh gold coins to all of the leprechaun children in his small village north of Dublin. He wanted to be a magical unicorn, though. Every day, while Patty was pounding gold coins with the crest of the royal leprechaun family, magical unicorns were roaming freely in England, spreading joy and happiness to English youngsters. On Patty’s 265th birthday he got a letter from the factory’s head leprechaun. He had been promoted to senior leprechaun coin pounder; his pay would be doubled and he would have an extra two vacation days every century. Patty was so unhappy that he ran away to the magic forest, to live among the woodland faeries and the elves. He ran through the magic forest, carried by his short stubby leprechaun legs. While running on the forest trail, he came across a creature standing in the middle of the wooded path. It was a pixie.
“Hello, Patty.” She said jollily. How did she know his name? “I know everyone’s name, I am Santapixie, I give presents to little children every Christmas! It’s not Christmas today, but it is still a magical holiday, so I can grant you one wish. No strings attached, no loopholes, no unhappy endings!” She then took out her wand. The point was in the shape of a five-point star. Patty immediately knew what he was going to wish for. He closed his eyes and thought about his wish, like he was about to blow out the candles on his 264th birthday cake. Seconds later, he felt something funny on his head. He reached up to touch it, but his hands had turned to hooves. Pixiesanta squealed with glee. She held up a mirror to him and he saw himself. He was a magical unicorn! His horn sparkled with the reflection of the sun and his mane swept across his back, purple. His wish had come true! He would live happily ever after now! He looked up to thank the pixie, but she was gone, vanished. In her place was a first-class unicorn airline ticket to England! He silently said a prayer of thanks to Pixiesanta and made his way to the unicorn airport. Happily ever after would be a nice way to live for a change.