Hello, my name is Tala Channing, and I’m a werewolf. I don’t expect you to understand me, or even want to be my friend, but for some reason my mind seems to think this will help me come to terms with what I’m dealing with. I guess writing in a journal might help, but all I plan on doing is ranting about every little thing that goes wrong in my life, which happens quite a bit. I guess I could start by giving a brief history of how I became a werewolf. I was ten, already psyched about going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the following year, and I had decided to go play with some boys down by the river near our house. It was late, and being the insensitive little boys they were they left me alone in the woods in the dead of night. I was scared, cold, and confused. Not a good combination. Before I knew what had happened, a beast came towards me, panting and growling with each step it took. It looked like a wolf, but also like a man all at the same time. My parents had told me about werewolves before, but I could never imagine what I had seen that night. He approached me, I ran. But I just couldn’t get away. The brush was too thick and it was too dark to see three feet in front of me. I felt his razor sharp teeth sink into my skin and I remember screaming so loud I thought my lungs would burst. I don’t recall much after that, except that my parents never came and found me. I was alone in the dark, unable to find my way home. I think I was there for a couple of days, wandering around the woods, searching for food. By then my leg had strangely healed and I managed to get back to the river and follow it up to my house. My parents seemed happy to see me, of course they had no idea what had happened only days before. They said they had sent a search party for me, but I don’t recall seeing anyone else in those woods. They fed me, bathed me, and put me to bed, but that night was the full moon, and there was no way I was going to sleep. I lay there, feeling the urge to just rip everything to shreds, to howl at the moon, to kill. The house was quite that night, all the lights were out and the moon illuminated the kitchen. I remember seeing something lying on the floor, and it smelt so wonderful I was salivating. I grabbed it, sinking my teeth in, and heard whatever it was yelp. But I couldn’t stop; I kept on feeding, ripping fur and flesh from the bone until I was content. The lights came on, and I looked down to see the mangled body of our dog. I think the worst part was that I felt no guilt, no remorse. I enjoyed every bit of it, and now there was no turning back. I was a werewolf. My mother screamed, my father pulled her away from me. I stood there, my brown hair covered in blood and stared at them, wondering what would happen next. The next few seconds were a blur. My father apparently stunned me, and when I woke up, I was back in the woods where I had been bitten. They had abandoned me, their little girl, just because of what I had become. I tried finding my way back again, but when I did, they were long gone. How I wish I could have stayed in my own bed just one last time. This is the story of my life, and how I met a werewolf that would change my life forever.
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