the curse of the werewolf

It all started with the rise and fall of the Supermoon.

For as long as Estkel could remember, perhaps even since the beginning of time, the Elders have taught of the non-relational existence between the Wolves and humans. For such an ultimatum, he found it eerie that the origins remain largely unquestioned.

Estkel belonged to the world where multiple races para-existed in the Mist Realms, although each race is unaware of each other's existence. Except the Wolves. As the elect with their ability to shape-shift unleashing beastly power they fought a colossal war between the Realms aiding man, so long ago, it is only known as myth today. Yet the remnants of the blood bath still tinge the memory. It draws out a visceral response in the young cubs each moonlit story time, as they belt out their howls.  Their insides say, it must have happened.

As quick as this sensation comes, it goes.  All is brush it off,  except for Estkel. Being a rebel fuelled with curiosity it would not let him rest with the Elder's division statements. There must be a way to co-exist rather that para-exist. And as such, the decent into the dangerous depths of inner turmoil, blood, bone, scars, love, hate, peril, betrayal bound within and between moonlit mist realmportation takes hold.

The transformation begun.


This is my story.


Oh Eloi, help me.

*Photo: Reuters*

illegitimate literature,

rough idea,

yet to be developed into decent story