The Curse

The bright sun shone through the snowy trees, its light breaking through the branches and casting uneven patches of gold across the thick, untouched snow. Each step crunched loudly in the cold air.

Josef was small for a boy of ten winters, the snow reached just above his knees, soaking the hem of his boots and slowing his stride. His brother walked behind him, sword in hand, their breath visible like clouds. Their armor creaked softly with each step, and the forest around them stood silent.

Suddenly, they heard the sharp crunch of a branch snapping somewhere in the distance. Josef’s heart jumped. Without thinking, he sped into the trees, his small legs pushing through the snow as he followed the sound, branches brushing against his cloak. “Wait!” Otto yelled, his voice cutting through the forest as he chased after him. But Josef didn’t slow down.

His pulse raced with excitement and curiosity; he was determined to find whatever had made the noise. He ran deeper into the woods, the sunlight fading as the trees grew thicker, until he skidded to a halt. Standing before him was an unusual wolf.

Its fur was black as night, dusted with clinging snow that melted slowly against its body. Dark blood stained its teeth and muzzle, standing out starkly against the white ground beneath it. Josef froze, his breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The wolf flicked its head up, snow falling from its fur as its eyes locked onto Josef—cold, knowing, and unnaturally aware. It began walking closer, each step slow and deliberate. Then, without warning, it reared slightly and burst forward, sprinting straight toward him.

Panic flooded Josef’s chest.

He tried to turn and run, but his foot caught in the snow, and he fell hard. The air was knocked from his lungs as the wolf leapt onto him. Its claws raked across his face, digging deep, leaving a burning mark as blood spilled onto the snow. Then it bit his leg. The teeth felt icy as they sank into his flesh, sharp and unrelenting.

He screamed.

Otto yelled as he ran into the woods, sword raised. He burst through the trees and saw the wolf on top of Josef. Otto rushed forward without hesitation and drove his blade into the wolf’s head. The creature collapsed instantly. He dropped his sword, scooped Josef into his arms, and ran as fast as he could through the snow, back toward the village and the doctor.

The doctor examined him carefully but found nothing unusual. The swelling had already subsided, and aside from the deep claw mark across his face, the only remaining wound was the bite on his upper thigh.

Ten years later, on a night when the moon hung high and full, its bluish light poured through the window and spilled across the floor. Josef lay awake in his bed, unable to sleep as his body ached with a deep, unfamiliar pain.

His head throbbed relentlessly. Sweat poured from his body, soaking the sheets, while his stomach twisted violently. He rolled off his bed and crawled toward the bathroom, each movement sending waves of pain through him. Slowly, he stood and stared at himself in the mirror.

His dark blue eyes had turned into a bright, almost glowing grey. The hair plastered to his forehead by sweat had darkened, turning black before his eyes. His teeth began to ache. He reached up to touch one—and it fell out.

Then another. And another. Blood poured from his mouth as the rest followed, splattering against the sink. Moments later, new teeth began to grow in their place—longer, sharper, and stronger than before. He cried out in agony as his bones cracked and shifted inside him.

The sound echoed in the small room. He collapsed to the floor, curling into the fetal position as coarse hair erupted across his skin. He lifted a trembling hand and watched in horror as it stretched, fingers thickening and reshaping into claws.

His vision blurred, turning red around the edges. The pain peaked, then suddenly vanished as the transformation completed, his body fully reshaped into that of a wolf. After a few moments, darkness claimed him.

When he woke, he was in a field, naked, his clothes torn and missing, his body covered in blood that was not entirely his own. He had no memory of what had happened.

To Be Continued