Short Story | Horror
The Werewolf Hunter
If a wolf had sprung from the gates of hell, then that is what I’d be up against.
The cell was dank and cold beneath his bare feet. Jebediah could see his breath and he watched as the sun set through the bars of the small window.
“Is it true you killed your own father?” asked the warden, who had heard the rumours. “No, but the true story is something much worse than you can imagine,” said Jeb.
“You see, my father taught me to shoot and reload the musket when I was 10-years-old. Our farm was small on the outskirts of Prague and our livestock were all we had to put food on the table. He told me I may only have one chance to strike it right between the eyes, not a wolf but something equally as defiant and relentless in its pursuit of death. If a wolf had sprung from the gates of hell, then that is what I’d be up against. He told me the full moon would be upon us, soon enough. And when the moon was full, it would come.”
“I waited and watched over the small flock of sheep. As the sun began setting, I grabbed the musket and made my way into the barn. Once inside I heard an ungodly roar. Standing upright with hair covering its entire body was the beast my father had warned me about. Eyes glowed as it gnashed its huge teeth. It would have pounced were it not for the shackles. Heavy chains restrained the monster to the wooden beams of the barn.
I raised my musket and took aim striking the beast between the eyes and felled it with one shot. But the horror had only just begun. There before me on the barn floor lay my father in a pool of his own blood. He had been the beast all along. My mother came to his side and held his head. His dying mouth opened slowly with sharp teeth still hungry for human flesh. My mother said, through tears, that she was sorry. They had no choice. She couldn’t pull the trigger knowing that the monster was her beloved husband.”
The warden stepped back horrified by the story; the rumours had been true. He said to Jeb with indignation, “Now you are bound to this cell to spend the rest of your days.”
“Unlikely”, said Jeb. “You see, tonight is the full moon, and I am my father’s son. These flimsy bars will not hold me.”
The warden left and walked into an adjoining room with a one-way mirror overlooking the cell. He said to a group of doctors, “Clearly delusional. He thinks he is in Czechoslovakia 100 years ago, for God’s sake. I don’t know about werewolves, but I know he murdered his father. Probably get off with an insanity plea.”
