Dance of the moonlight wolves

i try not to do disclamers but i think i should say that i havn't edited this in like, ever. so it's probably got a lot of spelling and grammar skrew ups. also, just a question. i had a preface about the magic wolves that live in the forest that i cut out for time restraints. i tend to believe less is more but tell me if you guys think some preface would be better.

A pair of cold hands clamped around my eyes, skin standing out pale against my darker shade and pulling me into the janitor’s closet. “Don’t be afraid,” whispered a voice.
A voice I had heard before.
“Why would I be afraid?” I asked confidently, in actuality the hair on the back of my neck standing on end in terror. I hoped she wouldn’t notice.
“You should be,” she whispered. A chill ran down my spine, but then the girl buried her face in the back of my shirt. I could feel tears soaking through. “Damn it T.J. I’m a monster—No. I’m worse than that. I don’t know what the hell I am.”
Wait, how did she get my name? Oh, whatever, there was a crying girl on my back. “Kim?” I asked experimentally. Her hands loosened from my eyes and moved to my waist. I turned around and let her cry into my chest, rubbing her back and not really knowing what to do. What the heck was going on?
Don’t get this wrong, we weren’t close. Or friends for that matter. In fact, I wasn’t even completely sure her name was Kim. I had heard some teacher tell the class that we were getting a new girl by that name and it was a stab in the dark. Though saying I’ve never seen this girl before would be a lie. I remembered her all too well.
I’ve seen a lot of weird things in my life, more than most probably. But watching Kim dance on water was defiantly near the top of the list. Of course I didn’t know her name was Kim at the time. I was just walking through the woods late one night when I found her, twirling under the moonlight in a silver dress, humming lightly to herself. Not that that wasn’t strange enough.
It’s an optical illusion, I thought at first. The water must not be more than a few inches deep. The reflection of the night sky hid its depth and made the girl look as if she was walking on water when she was really wadding. They do it in movies all the time. I almost called out to her, but held my tongue.
My grandma used to tell me stories when I was a kid. She was a superstitious old black lady who always greeted me with a “now child,” and then continued on into a story on why I should always eat my vegetables or something like that. I didn’t know her that well. She’d come down to visit every Christmas until she passes away a few years ago. I tended to avoid my crazy relatives during the holidays, but if there is one thing I do remember about my grandmother, it’s her ghost tales.
The one that came to mind then was a story of a village boy who happens upon a witch dancing on the surface of a lake. When the witch sees the boy peeping, she turns him into a horse and curses him forever. “And that’s why you should never go into the ladies restroom,” my grandma finished with a nod of her head.
I didn’t get it, well the restroom thing anyways. The witch’s tale however was crystal. And I defiantly did not want to be a horse. I backed away from the lake.
The girl still hadn’t noticed me. She kept on humming and skipping, swinging her feat to kick a spray of water into the air. She had her back turned, but it didn’t look dangerous. Half of Grandma’s stories were just fairy tales anyways.
I quit being a wimp and stepped in the pond, not expecting to get more than the soles of my shoes wet. Instead my entire leg went in. I stumbled forward, soaking the rest of my T. I caught myself before doing a face-plant in the mud. “The Fuck!” I yelled in surprise.
The witch girl turned at the sound of my voice, and for a moment I was sure she was going to kill me. But if she was, she was too distracted by the ripples my splash had made. They raced towards her. The girl backed up, as if she could outrun the waves, but in the end they reached her feet, and with a scream the girl fell in.
I forgot she was a witch then. I threw off my shirt, which was really pointless because it was already soaked. I don’t know. It’s what lifeguards do in the movies. I wasn’t really thinking right then. There was a girl drowning in the lake and it was kind of my fault, so I dove in.
I’m not the best swimmer. I never claimed to be, and the chill of the autumn night made my muscles freeze up. So by the time we reached shore I had probably swallowed more water than the girl. The only difference was that the girl wasn’t breathing. I placed my hands below her rib cage applied repeated pressure in a half hearted attempt at chest compressions. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? I had no CPR training or any idea of what I was doing, but this girl still wasn’t breathing and I was on the edge of panic. I didn’t bring my cell phone; we were in the dead center of the woods and night and witch or no witch this girl was probably going to die.
Just when I was about to give up and start hyperventilating or something, Lake water spurted up from the girl’s lungs and flowed down her chin. She took in a few ragged breaths and slowly the witch girl’s breathing returned to normal. I took this opportunity to run. I had already learned once to believe my grandmother’s stories.
So when Kim dragged me into that closet I thought for sure that I would die. And now she was crying? And did it really matter that we weren’t exactly friends? She thought we were, she needed one, and that’s all that really mattered.
I realized then just how lonely Kim must have felt. It’s not like you see witches walking around every day. For all I knew, and for all she knew, she could be the last. And if she came venting to me she, a stranger, it was because she had no one else to vent to? Hell, I didn’t even know if Kim was a witch. Just that she was confused, lost, and drowning in some strange power that she couldn’t control.
And I knew the feeling.
She continued to sob. I held her closer, feeling the same urge to help her as I had in the lake, only this time it wasn’t as simple as jumping in to save her.
Her crying waned in intensity until it was just a few tears sliding down her cheeks. I took the opportunity to ask, “Kim, don’t you have any family you can talk to this about?”
She shook her head silently, still latched on to my shirt. “I don’t have any memories past you, saving me that night. I was hoping you’d know.”
I held on tighter, not really knowing what to say to that. either way I felt another round of tears coming on. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are.”
“It’s alright,” she pulled away, wiping her nose and straightening her hair. Her episode was over. “Sorry I had to spring this all on you. And thank you for saving me at the lake. I don’t know. I just really thought you would know something.”
“Sorry,” I repeated. Kim sat back against the closet wall. she was wearing skinny jeans and an adventure time shirt. Completely normal. How could I have ever found this girl so scary before?
“Can I ask just one thing?”
I shrugged, “sure.”
Kim put her head against my chest. I froze. “You don’t have a heartbeat, do you?”
A chill ran down my spine and my mouth became about as dry as the desert. I searched desperately for a lie. “I… I—uh…”
“You don’t have to lie. I’m not judging you. Looks like we both have our problems.”
I sighed. “I was a werewolf once.”
“Once?” Kim raised an eyebrow.
“I went to see an exorcist about it. He cured me, but it cost my heart.” A wave of memories came back to me then. Of moonlight and bloodlust. Of waking up in strange places the taste of curses on my tongue. My sister finding me, and tying me up in the shed every full moon. Of howling and screaming and wanting to kill her, but crying and holding her when the sun was up.
Then there was finally getting rid of the curse. The sketchy abandoned speakeasy and the man whose face I couldn’t remember. The counter-curses and charms that burned my skin and filled my head till I couldn’t tell what were actually my thoughts and what was his programming. Then finally the taking of my heart, it racing, speeding, until at the zenith of the beat, it failed. Leaving me feeling cold and empty. And wondering deep down if I made the right choice. These memories I’ve done such a good job of hiding until now.
“Do you regret it?” Kim asked, ear still to my chest, searching for a beat.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I took a breath, “I feel like the wolf inside me was something I could have controlled, but I wimped out. I gave up my heart because I wasn’t strong enough and it’s something I’ll never get back.”
“There’s something else to,” Kim said, with a tilt of her head.
“There is?”
“Yes,” The witch girl rested her chin on my shoulder, “something you can’t even remember.”
If I had a heart, it would have been racing then. Instead I just felt cold. “What?”
“Can’t tell… but I can look for you.”
There was a beat of silence. Kim was looking for an answer.
“You won’t be able to go back,” she told me, “but I think I know how to find your heart.”
You won’t be able to go back. I had heard that line before, from the man that took my heart to begin with. Kim waited for an answer. “Alright,” I agreed.
Without another word, the witch girl moved to take off my shirt. She placed her hand in the center of my bare chest and narrowed her eyes, still searching for a wayward beat. Or so I thought. Her hand melted through my skin and sunk to my core. I almost screamed, but Kim covered my mouth. “Don’t be scared,” she reminded me. I held my tongue.
She stuck her arm deeper into my chest, fingers groping for anything tangible. I could feel them curl inside me. I didn’t like it.
Her entire arm was already inside me when she whispered, “I’m going to have to go deeper.” But before I could protest she stuck her other arm through my chest, passing easily as if I were made of water. Next her head, then her waist, until I could feel her footsteps reverberate across my gut. Her weight, now inside me, held me to the ground. Yet still, she went deeper. I couldn’t understand how there could be so much of me.
I’m not actually inside of you, T.J. Kim’s voice whispered in my head. I’m in your mind, separate from your body. What you’re feeling now is only an illusion. Her heartbeat fluttered against my chest, reminding me of what I had lost.
Then, I heard her voice again. Found it, she said. And the memory hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was 14, and it was Christmas. I tore open my presents to find a fully loaded shot gun; the one I had always wanted. My grandma smiled from the back of the room. I ran up and hugged her.
“Thank you. Thank you so much! It’s just what I wanted.”
“Now child,” she said laughing lightly and shrugging off my hugs, “and those are special bullets too. That there is blessed silver. It will kill animals and demons alike. But remember child. You can shoot geese and you can shoot ‘coons. Hell, I don’t care if you shoot a mockingbird. But whatever you do, never shoot a wolf. Wolves here are gods among animals. If you see one, run the other way.”
Before my grandmother said that, I would have never considered even looking for a wolf, much less shooting one. But my little boy self took my grandma’s warnings as a dare. Suddenly killing a wolf was a challenge, and success meant transcending god.
So one night I took out the dream catcher my grandma had given me a few years back. I wasn’t sure what it would do but there was magic in my grandma’s relics. And maybe it was just enough magic to call a wolf.
I marched out into the forest and threw the dream catcher on the snow. I surveyed the trap for a moment before ducking behind a shrub in wait, shotgun aimed at the dream catcher. I don’t know how long I sat there. Long enough for snow to soak my pants, numb my legs, and for me to question every tale my grandmother told. I was about to give up, when from the mist a wolf appeared.
The beast was a good head taller than the wolves I’d seen at the zoo. It poked the charm with its long snout. Its fur was a gray-blue that shimmered to a purple where the moonlight touched it. Unrecognizable hieroglyphics show gold on its underbelly. I watched in awe as it sniffed the dream catcher. This was no ordinary wolf, but my bullets were blessed silver. I cocked the gun and took aim.
The wolf heard my movement and looked up just in time to see the bullet collide with its skull. Our eyes met, and for a moment I could see the beast’s fear.
No!
The bullet hit, turning the wolf into a dense fog. The wind picked up then, blowing the mist towards me, and suddenly my nose was filled with the smell of silver and gunpowder.
NO!
And when it passed, I ran home. Feeling deeply that something was wrong. I burst through the door to see my grandmother, unconscious on the floor.
No! No! NO!
Then the next full moon I changed, taking the form of the wolf I had killed.
Suddenly, right there in the broom closet, the wolf burst from my chest. It turned, growled, and stared at me with Kim’s eyes. Then it asked, “Have you learned your lesson yet?”
“Yes,” I cried.
Still, the she-wolf stared at me.
“I’m sorry!” I yelled louder, “I was young and stupid. I didn’t mean to and I’m sorry.” I hung my head in shame. Arms clutched around my bare chest, still searching for the heart I did not have. The wolf put her nose against my head.
“There is nothing wrong with making mistakes.” Her voice was a growl, but underneath I could hear the light chime of Kim’s. “But you can either run from them or learn from them.”
The wolf licked me with the tip of its tongue. “The Lion King,” I said, looking up, “and here I thought this story was about wolves.
If Kim had still been human I feel she would be smiling then. Instead she turned and gave a light howl as she disappeared through the wall.
And somewhere deep inside my chest I felt the steady beat of my heart start up again.