Estimated reading time — 16 minutes

Henry glanced over at the empty side of the double bed. Patting it with his hand brought the faint aroma of lemon detergent out of the fibres and into the air, it wasn’t strong enough to mask the underlying musk of animal in the sheets and duvet. Lately Henry never knew if the smell was from Maggie or George but the latter knew better than to get on to the bed. It was just under double digit hours since Maggie had slept in the bed. The smell must have been from her.

A dog bark off in the distance was met by another much closer. Henry stared at his thighs that carried too much fat, the purple and red veins on his legs stood out against pallor skin. His vest lay limp over his stomach and his pants that had been washed to within an inch of their lives had lost all elasticity around the waist. Maggie used to badger him to buy new ones. It took her months to wear him down. She hadn’t cared about that recently, even less now that as she was buried in the ground.

Henry had woken at seven in the morning, it was now thirty minutes later, he had done nothing aside from swing himself to a seated position on the edge of the bed and reflect on memories from the past. Pushing his weight through legs he got to his feet with the agility of a person two decades older. He caught his reflection in the mirror on the wall, he took his arms in to his sides and straightened himself to appear more presentable. Flicking his wispy white hair to try for the illusion that it wasn’t thinning. He thought the skin under his eyes sagged more than yesterday. The same with the skin under his neck. His eyes sight, remarkably good for his age but lacked sharpness without his glasses.

“I need a haircut” he said to himself, “I’ll visit Mike in town, he always fits me in.”

In the bathroom, rolling the end of the toothpaste tube he managed to produce a pea size blob of white paste with a red stripe down the centre.

Remembering the guidance from the dentist when he was a child. Staring into and beyond his reflection in the mirror he scrubbed at his teeth with bristles that had lost their straightness at the end of the brush.

The towel on the rail was damp from last night. The dirt had been cleaned away from his hands but the calluses were red and proud. He had spent longer than usual in the shower last night, making sure every inch of skin had been well soaped and cleaned.

Washing his hair twice full cycle, shampoo, wash, shampoo, wash. He hoped it would go some way to washing away the memory of what he had done. Afterwards high on adrenaline and disbelief he had sat on the bed watching reruns of game shows on the ancient box of a television. The towel wrapped around him made a pronounced damp patch on the bed. He reached out towards a dusty box, a Christmas present that had sat there from two Christmases past by the side of bed. Emptying the content of the box on to the bed to a background noise of an audience screaming at a contestant as they decided if they should keep the money or go for the big prize.

“Anti-aging”, “Re-vitalising” were words emblazoned across the tubes and bottles that lay strewn across the bed in no particular order. Henry’s imagination run amok, thinking that the smell of creams, gels and lotions might confuse any Police dogs sent sniffing around the house. He wondered if the police at that very moment were waiting for a search warrant to come through after someone saw him digging a large hole under torch light in the middle of the night. There weren’t many people as tall as Henry in town, the authorities would soon work out that it was him. Henry undid the cap on the bottle and tore away the foil seal. Eyeing the tube under the light he could see bubbles frozen in the translucent ooze.

Edging it under his nose gently, it smelt like cologne, and not at all like something that had been gathering dust for a few years. Squeezing an over generous amount of translucent gel into his hands he started to rub them together, linking his fingers together to get it into every nook and crevice. Scrunching his fingers with the greasy residue he slapped them to his face, massaging it into his skin with his palms. He bared his teeth while waiting for the sting to subside.

Sliding open his wardrobe door he stared at the railing of identical shirts and identical chino’s, stacked and folded neatly in the compartments one above the other.

Henry froze in a state of indecision.

“What you doing Henry?” he said to himself, “they are all the same.” Only the poor light in that corner of the room gave the impression that the shirts were an array of darker colours.

“I need to get going otherwise my plans for the day are going to come to nothing” he said out loud. Henry knew that was a lie, he had hours to spare.

Just over a month earlier Henry had found Maggie, unconscious in a fetal position along the cut through path in the woods, five minutes walk beyond the bottom of the garden. It was late, she hadn’t come home, he knew that despite his protests she always took that short cut. Her hair matted and stuck to her face by a viscous mixture of saliva and blood. She had a bite mark on her arm that had gone in deep enough to the break the skin.

The doctor who checked her over at the hospital reckoned the bite mark was from a human not a wild animal. A month had passed and every evening as they lay in bed together she kept re-telling Henry what had happened. Her eyes told him that she was in no doubt. He would cup her face between his hands and kissed her on the forehead and tell her she wasn’t well. Softly guiding her head to the pillow he would tell her that she would get better if she rests.

One night she had lifted the bed covers gently to prevent her actions waking Henry. He wasn’t asleep, he was facing away from her with his eyes open, staring at the white wall next to the bed. He waited until she was clear of the house before he threw aside the bedroom curtain. He watched her vault the garden fence in a demonstration of dexterity that he had never seen before. Throwing on clothes he headed in the direction of the woods.

The torch that he held tightly repeatedly whipped an orb of soft yellow light left then right. He spent ten minutes blindly plotting a path through the vegetation, about to give up on his search he heard a commotion behind the thick trunk of an old oak tree. A hungry grunting sound and thumping of feet from a heavy footed creature. Taking steps while placing his feet slowly and softly he shone his torch in the direction of the sound. What he saw made his legs give way and he hit the earth with a wet thump. Maggie sat straddled over a whimpering deer, her teeth biting into it’s neck, blood running down the edges of her mouth, her breasts pushed through her shoulder length hair as she leaned over. She whipped her gaze towards the direction of the torch and the yellow beams reflected green off her eyes.

“Henry” she screamed.

Disgusted with herself she looked down at the scene of her making and ran over to him, wiping the animal blood desperately on to a tightly packed area of fern before falling to her knees embracing the shocked shape of Henry, burying her face into his chest.

He tried to push her away desperately but she clung to him tightly with remarkable strength.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this” she sobbed pathetically.

Henry couldn’t form words, incoherent blathering sounds left his mouth.

“I’m still Maggie but now I have cravings that I can’t ignore. My body burns on the inside when I don’t listen to them. You don’t want me to suffer do you Henry? But look it’s a small price to pay, have you ever seen me so well and supple, my arthritis no more.” She said, stretching out her arms to demonstrate her temporary state of flexibility. “I feel better than I ever have.”

After a few minutes, Henry more calmer, asked what she had become.

“A werewolf” she had said with a murmur of proudness in her voice.

“But you….don’t look like..?” Henry couldn’t bring himself to complete the sentence.

“What you mean hairy, fangs and a long nose? That’s just in the movies. Real werewolves have lupus tastes and characteristics without any physical changes.”

She swore she would never harm Henry, saying that she would rather die than harm a hair on his head. Henry wanted to believe her but his cautious nature caused to seek out a precaution, a silver dagger in his bedside table drawer. He pulled it off an elaborate ceremonial piece that had once taken pride of place on the wall above the fire place. It was the only silver in the house. He had heard stories that silver bullets would bring an end to a werewolf so why not a silver dagger.

A decision that saved his life a week later, Maggie’s condition had worsened, the lupus disease has taken hold, more as each day had passed. She no longer spoke with the same rationality, now only staring at Henry like he was prey. He kept the bed size drawer ajar, you could glimpse the silver dagger, making it easier to grasp if required. Henry had wakened to find Maggie straddled over him, she sniffed at this chest, he could feel the drool that escaped from the edge of his mouth, saliva strings fell upon his chest. Her peripheral vision had not seen his hand reaching of the drawer, her state became more agitated, she seemed fevered. Baring her teeth, fighting inner conflict that told her that it was her love below her and not hapless prey.

Henry brought the dagger into her side, she had gone beyond the point of no return, her animal instincts had got the better of her, she attempted to bite down around the site of his left nipple. Her eyes rolled white in her head as he retracted the blade from her side, she flopped across his chest. Her head caught Henry on the nose, drawing out a claret stream from each nostril.

He expected to feel the warm thickness of her blood on his side but she didn’t bleed. The stab site had extinguished the life from her, her body shriveled appearing even more withered and drawn than she had been in life. He rolled her lifeless body in the bed sheet. Henry buried her body under the beam of headlights in a stretch of woods about thirty minutes away by car.

Walking down the hallway, Henry’s bulk caused a reverberating thump on the floor boards with each step, only muffling when he crossed a long rug. Stopping at a door halfway along, reaching out a hand he started to twist the door handle, It had been twisted so many times that the patina had worn away revealing dull grey metal underneath. “Not today, not today” Henry said. “Of all days not today”

Releasing the door handle it sprung back to it’s starting position.

In the kitchen, Henry made himself an instant coffee, sitting on a wood chair he looked over at George as he stirred his coffee. Their eyes met.

“You need to eat your food today. You’re going on a sleep over.” George showed no reaction.

“You are going to stay with Cindy” His ears pricked up and his canine senses came alive. Henry rubbed him on the head and George nuzzled his head into his leg.

“You are going to have a nice time at Cindy’s, don’t play up you hear me. Don’t turn your nose up at whatever they give you. You’re not going to get pampered like a prince like you do here. If Marge gives you a can of plain old dog food, you close your eyes, take a bite and swallow and be a gentleman. If I hear you’ve been playing up there will be trouble.”

George watched Henry’s animated face with a hangdog expression, understanding he was being given instruction.

Henry placed his empty cup in the metal sink. “Do I need the leash or are you going to do as you’re told?”

George sat up, straight backed, ears up, every bone in his body emanating obedience.

Slapping his thigh brought George to heel by Henry’s side. Henry looked back into the kitchen keeping the door to the outside half open, he had kept it clean since Maggie stopped taking an interest in the house.

“I’ll be back soon” he said to the house. The minimalist decorating style meant his words hung in the air fractionally longer in an echo.

George lay across the back seat on the blanket, wind fluttering his ears as the car paced along at a steady speed. All four windows down as far as possible, it was gearing up to be a hot one, only mid-morning and the fierce rays prevented Henry from looking up further than the horizon. He pulled down the sun shield then checked back on George on the back seat.

Their eyes met but George never raised his head “I know you don’t like being in the car boy especially in the heat, the drive isn’t far, I promise.”

Looking in the rearview mirror he saw Maggie sitting in the back seat stroking George on the head, allaying his anxiety of travelling. Talking to him like a parent would talk to small child, George would lay there motionless, blinking ever so often. Maggie had a way of comforting that Henry had never seen from any other person, her magic worked on animals too. George would lay on his familiar blanket on the backseat, mesmerised, his mind a million miles away from the unsettling car journey he was on.

A car in a line of oncoming traffic beeped its horn at a pedestrian and when Henry looked back in the rearview mirror Maggie was no longer there. He could only see George laying there, still, imaging that Maggie was with him, running her fingers through his fur.

Opening the passenger door, George leapt out sprinting around the German shepherd that met him on the grass verge. He had leapt up in excitement as the vehicle had slowed, he pawed at the back passenger windows eager to get out. Equal to his excitement, he and his canine friend ran and bucked, slaloming between each other before breaking to catch breath. Their chests moving up and down frantically and tongues hanging to the side. George looked towards Henry for permission to run off with his friend. “Go on, go and play with Cindy, remember what I said”

Henry felt warm inside with the happiness his words would bring. George recognised Henry’s dismissive hand signal and tore off around the side of the house into a patch of green space, closely followed by Cindy only a few strides behind. Pigeons took off in many directions as George bolted back into view seconds later.

“I’ll catch up with you soon friend” Henry muttered before the pair of them disappeared from view. He yelled thanks to Marge who stood up from her seat in her front garden to wave away his thanks, letting him know there was no inconvenience.

The barbers pole was spinning with gusto above Henry’s head as the bell announced his arrival. Mike the owner got up from one of the row of seats meant for waiting customers. He folded the news paper in half and tossed it onto a side table, it landed in the middle of a splayed pile of magazines. He shook a red sheet that lay over one of the barber chairs. Mike could barely stand up straight and shuffled his feet to move.

He squinted at Henry through his round wire glasses. “Watcha got there Henry” Mike asked excitedly.

“That’s my guitar case, I didn’t want to leave it in the car” Henry replied.

“I didn’t know you could play the guitar.” Mike said contorting his face with a raised eyebrow.

“I can’t but I’m learning.” Henry joked. He rested the case in the corner of the shop.

“Good for you, learning keeps your mind strong, stops you going senile.”

“Is that so, you learn something new everyday!” Henry chirped.

“I heard someone say it on the television so I guess it must be true.”

Mike shrugged and stood aside so Henry could sit down in the barber seat. The seat appeared to brace itself in preparation for Henry’s weight, the cushion seat let out a sound like a person taking a blow to the stomach as he sat.

“What will it be today Henry?”

“Make me look presentable, do your usual magic.”

“Presentable huh, what’s happening today? You gonna have your photo taken or something?”

“Well it needs cutting and I’ve got a feeling that today is gonna be a good day. Do you ever have that feeling Mike?”

“Yeah I do but you know what happens when I feel like that?”

“I don’t, tell me Mike!”

“Someone comes along and ruins it.”
Henry laughed over the swish of the scissors that danced around his head, flicking at his head like a topiary trimmer.

“Where you going to practice your guitar?” Mike asked making conversation.

“Oh, up on the hill in the park. There’s a place up there that Maggie and I go. We’d sit and watch the world go by, just sit and people watch.”

“How’s Maggie?”

“Not too good at the moment.”

“Nothing too serious I hope.”

“Doctor thinks she’ll be okay, she’s keeping a low profile while she gets better.”

“Wish her well.”

“I will Mike, thanks.”

Henry hated lying to Mike, such on old friend. It wasn’t much longer now he thought, soon everything would be out in the open.

“I think it’s going to be busy today, there is some event going on in the park. Campaigning for something or other. I don’t watch the news, I don’t need doom and gloom at my age. The only news I read is in pamphlet that old Petey prints and hands out. He only writes about crop expectations and entrance fee price rises at the summer fair. That’s my kinda news!”

“That sounds like the Mike I know”

“And don’t you forget it.” Mike said pausing and pointing at Henry’s reflection in the mirror with scissors in hand.

Twenty minutes passed before Mike brought up the mirror so Henry could appreciate his new haircut from all angles. He guffawed at Mike’s offer of gel for his hair, telling him he’s too old to be concerned with stuff like that.
Settling up at the till, Henry gave a generous tip, Mike appreciated his generosity before patting him on the shoulder as he went on his way.
The bell above the door jingled as Mike called out. “See you again in a month”

“A month? I think you’ll be seeing a lot of me before then.” Henry replied as he adjusted his collar.

Positioning his car on the other side the park Henry gave himself a fair walk to reach his destination. The words fuzzed and bled over each other through the loud speakers on the stage in the distance. Henry kept pausing with the weight of the guitar case. He lent on the guitar case until the burning stopped and he got his breath back.

The park was alive with activity, parents laughed as kids ran around, turning into shouts when they strayed too far from sight. Teenagers hung around in groups, the boys tried to look cool and the shy girls couldn’t bring themselves to look them in the eye. All under the ferocity of the sun that was at it’s hottest in the early afternoon.

Henry resisted the offer of assistance with carrying his guitar case. Soon there were no more offer of help as he moved against the direction of the streaming crowds. Soon the only people that crossed his path were dog walkers and the occasional jogger exercising in the insufferable heat.
Henry sat at the base of a tree that was wider than it was high. It’s large outward branches were low to the ground and suspended in the air like thick oversized arms. He took his sandwich out of his pocket, cheese and ham, he’d got it to go from the shop next door to Mikes. The sandwich sweated in the wrapping, souring the smell of the cheese. Directing the sandwich to his mouth he looked out at the view in front him him. He could see right down into the crowd in the park. He could make out the overhang covering the stage.

There was a band playing, the crowd echoed the chorus of the song pumping from the speakers.

“Youngster’s today.” Henry chuckled to himself “That’s not music.”

He imagined Maggie sitting next to him. She would be tapping her foot even if she didn’t know the song. She was always so upbeat, always saw the good in everything. Henry chugged his flask of water that he carried around with him in a handful of gulps.

“Time for the main event!” Henry said to himself.

He stood up and laid his guitar case flat on the ground, checking over both shoulders, he was alone. A brief clap of the hands knocked the dried dirt from his palms. The lid of the case sprung up aggressively after undoing the clasps.

In the case there was no sign of a guitar, just a long rifle sitting snugly in place.

Henry slung his leg over the low hanging branch at it’s widest section and laid along the branch on his front, straddling it with his legs, resting the end of the barrel in the v of two connecting branches. Out of his pocket he pulled out a round, bringing it to his lips he kissed it. The metal casing cold against his lips.

“This is for you” he muttered and looked up at the blue sky and imagined a place far beyond the sun kissed sky and the stars above, a place where Maggie was looking down at him with a tear in her eye. Pulling the bolt back until it clicked into place he slotting in the round. In an effortless motion, wasting no time he brought the scope up to his eye, his finger stroked the trigger.

On stage the band and their equipment had been cleared away by roadies and a wooden lectern on a raised podium now stood in the centre. The smartly dressed man behind it waved his arms and pointed his hands towards the sky, bringing with it a rise of noise from the crowd. He spoke through a mic about how he could make the town a better place, nodding in agreement with himself as he delivered his manifesto.

Nesting his cheek against the top of the stock, Henry’s tuned his breathing down to subtle exhales through his nose.

The intercepting lines on the scope sight crossed just above the figure at the lectern.

His index finger pulled against the trigger, the crack rang out, his shoulder cushioned the recoiling thump of the rifle. The well dressed figure he saw magnified through one eye stood still for a few seconds before falling backwards.

Henry dropped his rifle to the ground and sat back against the tree. He watched the birds that had been spooked by the crack slowly return back to their places in the trees.

He thought about what the authorities would do next, he didn’t suppose it would be long before they caught him. The Police had smart equipment, he had handled the bullet with his fingers. There would be DNA or a finger print somewhere. But there was one thing Henry was sure of that their equipment wouldn’t tell them. Why was the bullet made from silver ?

Henry would only have the answer, because his target was a werewolf.
He didn’t expect the Police to believe his story when they finally caught up with him, one detective sat opposite him in the sparsely furnished interview room. The other stood in the corner of the room leaning into the wall with their arms crossed.

Henry kept repeating himself, so many times he lost count. “The man that he had shot, the mayor, had bitten Maggie when she had volunteered at one of his events in town during his bid for re-election. She gave out badges and stickers to people who passed by. He took all the volunteers out for a meal to thank them for their assistance. Maggie and the mayor had been the last ones at the venue. Maggie said he had made advances towards her but instead of kissing her he had bit her, drawing blood. She had fled and passed out in the woods by the house. Henry told them that the bite had passed a lupus infection on to Maggie and that had turned her into a werewolf, he had had to kill her in the end in self defense.”

The detective threw a question at Henry from left field, taking him by surprise.

“Where did you meet Maggie, Henry?”

“The county mental institution, the one up in the city”

“Did you work there?”

“No, I was a patient. We were both patients.”

“I see.”

“We were discharged, we were better. She had nowhere to go, my mother had died not long before and I didn’t want to rattle around in the house on my own.”

The detective sat at the table looking at the file open in his hands, he knew the answers to what he was asking, they were typed neatly into the relevant boxes on the medical records.
He tapped his finger at the bottom of the page and handed it over to the other detective.

“ Verdict – Henry Rawlston and Maggie Phillips to be released. They pose no risk to the public. Decision expedited due to funding cuts.”

The standing detective slammed the cardboard file shut and threw it at the other detective.

“Fucking bean counters looking to save money, we should get them down here to sort out this mess, the town crazies are loose and seeing werewolves now” he muttered under his breath.

“Both of us are gonna be filling in paperwork for the six months on this one, you know that, dontcha? Take him down, get him outta my sight this is giving me a friggin headache.”

After the door to the cell slammed, Henry sat on his metal frame bed with his back to the wall and his knees pulled to his chest. He could hear the distant hum of traffic along the main road past the exercise yard through the barred window. The chak chak chak of magpies outside brought a smile to his face. He needed to see how many there were. He remembered the song about them, one for sorrow, two for joy. There was a wide solid shelf high above the bed, bolted to the wall, not just screwed in, it could take his weight Henry thought. It was in line with the window too, the window out to the magpies. Henry then performed an extraordinary feat, extraordinary for any man. He pulled himself up on to the shelf, without a strain, groan or to be fair, any effort. Only one thing in his mind came anywhere close to his feat, it was the night he saw Maggie vault the fence at the end of the garden.

Credit: MP Marshallsay