Blood Cursed

by H. L. Graham

  The man felt so much pain and sadness which he channeled into his revenge, hunting every night for the wolves. He focused his pain and energy into the hunt. He grew bitter and wanted no other company except for his pain, anger, and revenge.

  The man stepped back outside as the forest around him darkened with the arrival of night. He lit a fire in the stone hearth. He skinned the wolf, cutting a piece of meat for dinner easily separating the pelt from the meat underneath.

  I expected to feel revulsion as he skinned the wolf, but I felt interested. I have always avoided hunting and fishing. Bambi deserved better treatment. Tonight, within this dream, I felt drawn to the smell of the animal’s blood as it permeated the air. I quietly approached the man in order gain a better view as he expertly slid the pelt from the flesh. I was mesmerized by the ease at which he wielded the sharp knife and how it passed under the pelt smoothly as if he were cutting through warm butter. I watched intently as time passed and the moon rose higher in the sky. The man finished cleaning the wolf and hung the pelt on the stand to dry. He pulled out a canister and poured water over his blood-stained hands.

  We heard a rustling from the woods and the man pulled a long knife from his belt. He yelled in a language I didn’t recognize, but I understood what he said.

  “Who’s there?” He yelled.

  At that moment a small old woman stepped from the woods, her face covered with wrinkles. Her eyes small slits she could barely see through. Her hair was long, grey and wildly pointing in every direction. She walked slowly as suffering from arthritis and her right hand curled lifelessly by her side. She held a long stick in her left hand, leaning on it heavily as she moved toward the man.

  “Go away witch,” the man shouted angrily for reasons I did not comprehend.

  The old woman raised her staff and began to chant. As she chanted the man became increasingly upset, screaming at her to go away and leave him alone.

  He yelled, “I must kill them all.”

  She continued to chant, her voice becoming louder and louder. The man covered his ears, yelling and screaming at the woman. The language she spoke sounded ancient.

  Seconds passed into minutes. Her chanting grew louder and faster. His yelling and screaming began to sound like howling. The man began to change into the form of a wolf. First his hands turned to claws and his teeth elongated. He ripped the clothes from his body and fell to the ground howling, screaming and rippling with pain. Fur exploded from his back and his body continued to shift until he took the shape of a wolf. He howled into the night paced back and forth in front of the woman.

  She finished chanting, smiling at him.

  She spoke again, this time in his language. “The curse of the wolf ‘til the day you die. Back to a man after night turns to day. Three nights each month with the full of the moon. Live with this curse to pass through your blood. Every seventh generation will bear a female child. Free of the moon she will turn at will. A ruler of wolves but cursed, none the less. Upon yourself you brought this fate. Wolf killer.”

  The old woman disappeared into the night and the man, now a wolf, howled at the moon. He golden aura glowed similar to Rebecca’s dream. It rippled with a power I could not fully comprehend. The power pulsed, throwing me backward into the woods. I could feel his anger and sadness, the weight of his sorrow pushed me down into the abyss, drowning me. I screamed and fought to free myself. My lungs burned. I felt someone on top of me holding me down. The witch appeared on my chest breathing a horrible stench into my face. She was so strong. I couldn’t move. Her eyes glowed white, the color of the full moon. She pulled a claw from the folds of her skirt holding it up toward the moonlight. Then bringing it down onto my shoulder, she ripped through my flesh. I felt the blood rolling down my arm. She smiled as she held me down, looking into my eyes and said, “wake up child, it’s your turn now.”

  The next thing I knew, Gaven was shook me awake.

  “Hannah, Hannah, wake up, you’re having a bad dream,” he said.

  I woke crying in Gaven’s arms, the sadness and fear from the dream would not release me. Gaven held me and stroked my back until I calmed down and the crying faded away. I clung to him until the sadness faded away.

  Gaven finally spoke, “You were thrashing and screaming in your sleep. It took me several minutes to wake you up. You were fighting me and screaming and crying.”

  I found my voice, “I had a nightmare. It felt so real. I was watching everything. Then it changed and she was talking to me, telling me that it was my turn. She stabbed me with a wolf claw on my shoulder. It felt so real.” I reached my hand to the spot that the witch tore open and my hand came back sticky with clotting blood.

  “Oh, my god, it was real,” I screeched and jumped out of bed running to the bathroom mirror.

  Gaven followed me into the bathroom, “Hannah, calm down! Let me see your shoulder.”

  He pushed me down onto the closed toilet seat and began digging in the linen closet for our first aid kit. He removed my tank top and slowly cleaned my shoulder with gauze, peroxide and antibiotic ointment.

  “The bleeding stopped. It looks a bit deeper than a scratch, but I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” He said as he began to apply a bandage on me. “Tell me about this dream,” he ordered as his eyes tightened with a look of concern.

  I sat still, found my voice, and began to tell Gaven the whole dream. He sat quietly on the edge of the tub and listened with no expression on his face. After I finished speaking, I watched Gaven think for several minutes.

  Gaven finally said, “Hannah, I know you don’t believe in the supernatural, but I think there is some validity to this dream. You said the witch spoke directly to you, that it was you turn. What do you think she was referring to?”

  Was he joking? I began to think about the dream and quickly dismissed anything not easily explained. I stood and walked out of the bathroom toward the bed.

  “You’re kidding me, right? It was just a dream, nothing more. I had a nightmare. Between my new client and all these attacks, I’m sure my psyche created a very convincing detailed dream. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed during our sessions. I think my mind was trying to cope with those feelings.” The rational part of me kicked back in, refusing to accept what Gaven was saying.

  Gaven had always been a believer in mystical things. He talked about accepting things we don’t understand in the world. We may never agree on such things, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. He loved legends related to the sea. Stories about mythical creatures controlling the weather, creating hurricanes, and his favorite, the Bermuda triangle. He obsessively read everything he could get his hands on talking about the Bermuda triangle. Gaven even talked about the recent killings in our town in mythical terms. Sometimes, I felt Gaven tested how open I was to mythology.

  This usually pissed me off.

  “Why do you always jump to the least rational reason for any occurrence? You know it makes me uncomfortable,” I said trying to start a fight.

  “How do you explain the cut on your shoulder?” He asked.

  I tend to get angry whenever I didn’t understand something and Gaven accepting the dream as real set me off. “I don’t friggen know. I must have scratched myself when I was struggling to wake up.” I answered.

  Gaven replied, “Just once you might try to look outside your scientific world and accept things for what they are.”

  “So you want me to accept I’m a werewolf because I dreamt some distant relative was cursed by a witch?” I yelled at him.

  “You’re not listening to me.” He replied. “I’m not saying you’re a werewolf. I’m saying there may be a message in your dream you’re ignoring. You’re the damn shrink, aren’t you always preaching there are meanings to our dreams.”

  I was fighting an uphill battle.

  “There are hidden meanings in our dreams due to our psyche trying to process our feelings. Not premonitions about turning into werewolves when the moon is full,” I shot back at hi
m. I wanted to shut him up with a logical explanation.

  “Hannah, why do you always reject what’s real and in your face? Because it doesn’t mesh with your so-called reality, it can’t possibly be real? You just woke up from a nightmare with a large gash on your shoulder. But you refuse the possibility it may be something supernatural. What else could have made that cut? There’s nothing sharp in the bed.”

  I paused, refusing to lose this argument. “Just because I don’t spend my days playing with fake sea creatures because I can’t handle the real world doesn’t mean I can’t understand the mythical. This is a dream, not reality. Dreams don’t cut you,” I screamed at him, “Freddy Kruger is not real.”

  Gaven backed away, hurt by my words. I attacked his passion, his art. I knew it would shut him up and I wanted to win the argument. The pain showed on Gaven’s face. He nodded, rolling over to his side of the bed and turned off the light.

  There was no way I was going to sleep now so I went downstairs. Too angry to relax, I decided to get some water and chocolate. Boy did I ever need chocolate right now.

  Rummaging in the pantry, I found what looked like a year-old candy bar. I tore off the wrapper and stuffed the candy into my mouth. Chewing through the hard chocolate made my jaw ache. As the chocolate began to melt on my tongue, I felt my heartbeat slow down and a soothing calmness embraced by body. This must be what drug addicts feel like when they get a hit.

  Plopping down at the kitchen table to stare out the window, my thoughts returned to my dream. What if there was some message in that dream? What if Gaven was right? What would that really mean? Where did this cut on my shoulder come from? The witch said I wasn’t tied to the full moon, what the hell did that mean? How does all of this have to do with Rebecca? And does it have anything to do with the murders? I felt increasingly afraid as I asked myself more and more questions that lacked answers.

  Chapter 8

  I awoke the next morning slumped on the kitchen table with chocolate stains coating my mouth. My laptop open and humming beside me. I’d spent the rest of the night researching my lineage desperately trying to find any explanation for the dream and the cut on my shoulder.

  Gaven walked in to prepare the coffee. He gave me a wide berth. This meant his feelings were still hurt and he wouldn’t acknowledge me until I apologized. I sat up and wiped the chocolate from my mouth with a napkin.

  I took a big breath and let it out slowly, “Gaven can we talk?” I asked tentatively.

  He shrugged.

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry I attacked you last night. I know you were trying to help and I projected all of my anger and fears at you. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” I stopped.

  It was better to leave it there and let him come around before I showed him what I learned last night. It turns out Gaven was partially right. I do have ancestors that lived in a mountainous region of Eastern Germany. Apparently, at some point they decided to come to America in the early 1900’s.

  I also discovered in that region of Europe many werewolf legends originated. And people still believe those legends today.

  Gaven filled his coffee mug then sat beside me. “Hannah, no matter what you think at the time, my only motivation is to help. I never want to see anything bad happen to you.”

  I wasn’t really sure what he was talking about, but I didn’t want to push it this morning.

  “So, you forgive me?” I asked.

  “Yes, do you want some coffee?”

  “Does the Pope wear a pointy hat?” I smiled at him.

  “Are you nuts?” He laughed.

  “Yup, how about that coffee?” I said.

  Gaven got up to pour me some of the freshly brewed delight, “Are you going to fill me in on your research all-nighter?” he asked knowingly. That man always knows what I’m up too. No secrets in this house.

  “You’re not going to believe what I found,” I said seriously. “There may be some truth to part of my nightmare.”

  “Really?” He said sarcastically. “I swear if you would just listen to me we would never fight again.”

  He began to page through my notes. He leaned forward grabbing my hands, holding them firmly so I would have to turn toward him. Our knees touched. “I just want you to know whatever weird stuff happens to you and us, I will always be there for you. You know that right?”

  “Sure.” I said lightly.

  He pulled my arms forward so I would have to look into his eyes, “I mean it, Hannah. Anything.”

  He held me there until I stopped wiggling and answered,” Gaven you’re scaring me.”

  “Answer me seriously.” I saw anger flash behind his eyes.

  “Ok, ok, I know, anything that happens, you won’t abandon me. Now will you please let me go?” I replied softly.

  Gaven let go of my arms and his mood changed back to his usual happy-go-lucky self. “Let’s see what you discovered.” He was acting odd this morning, must be lack of sleep.

  We spent the rest of the morning looking at websites. I discussed the possibilities of my nightmare and its meanings. For the first time in our relationship, I allowed myself to stop thinking rationally and began to look at other possibilities.

  Gaven was in hog heaven. He had so many theories and legends and supernatural stories he wanted to share and for the first time I listened. I didn’t dismiss his stories as irrational and illogical. I must be growing as a person, maybe?

  That evening, we expected Leslie for dinner. He had been working a lot over the past couple of weeks and this was the first break he had since the last time we saw him. That was over a week ago. Leslie usually has dinner with us once a week, sometimes twice. He also pops in on Gaven at the studio for donuts and coffee on a regular basis. Gaven hadn’t seen him since dinner last Friday which meant the murders were keeping him busy.

  Curious about his investigation, I found myself thinking about the attacks all day and wondering if they might be linked to my nightmare.

  Chapter 9

  Leslie arrived with pie in hand. I inclined my nose to take in the delightful scent of peach pie. Surprised I could discern what was in the box since I usually had trouble smelling anything even when placed directly under my nose. I guess my allergies decided to let up for a while. I’ve been suffering from heavy allergies since moving to Florida. My list of ailments includes stuffy nose, itchy eyes, sneezing, and best of all lack of any sense of smell. I’ve taken over-the-counter medications, prescription medications and even a few herbal remedies to no avail. But tonight, my nose was working and working great. Very odd.

  “Mmm, peach my favorite.” Taking in the peachy aroma.

  “You say every pie is your favorite,” Leslie answered as his walked over and set the pie on the counter.

  “Every pie is my favorite.” I added as I ripped the pie from the box and licked the edge of the pie tin where the juices leaked out during baking.

  Gaven grabbed the pie from me with a look of disgust, “What are you, 5 years old, licking the pie so no one else can have any? Your piece will come from this side.” He ripped some crust off the pie marking the side I had licked.

  “Give it here,” I grabbed for the broken crust piece and gobbled it down licking my chops before speaking again. “It smelled so good, I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Alright pie hog, keep it under control.” Leslie plopped down next to me on the counter stool.

  Leslie looked pretty haggard. He had dark circles under his eyes, his clothes were wrinkled and un-tucked. It appeared he had slept in them. He even showed some stubble on his cheeks, not like him at all. Leslie was always clean-shaven and meticulous about his clothes. Always ironed and properly tucked in. Whatever learned at the police academy stuck. I think it’s like being in boot camp and everything has to be ‘squared away.’ That’s the phrase I use to make fun of Leslie. He always felt as a detective he should always portray a good image of himself and the police. All bits of information become fodder for my jokes. A girl has to keep
herself entertained. Especially since I am completely outnumbered by the men in my life. I really needed to make some female friends.

  Leslie has been working long hours on the murder case. He feels as a bachelor, he should push himself harder than the other guys. His only responsibility being the force. Leslie is from Punta Gorda and prides himself on the fact it is a small safe town, until recently. He works hard every day to keep it this way. He takes it as a personal affront that these awful murders have been occurring here.

  Leslie rubbed his eyes, then twisted and turned until his neck, back and what seemed to be his elbows cracked. He visibly relaxed and looked around the kitchen.

  “So, what’s for dinner?” He said with a yawn.

  “Man, you look exhausted.” Gaven said with concern.

  “Yeah, all I do these days is work, but I’m determined to solve this case. I can’t sleep at night, so I just get up and work.” Leslie went to the refrigerator to scrounge for food. He found a beer, opened and nearly drained the whole bottle before making it back to the counter.

  “Thirsty much?” I jumped up pushing Leslie aside and stuck my head into the refrigerator. “Outta the way, I’ll find us something to eat.”

  The most delicious aroma wafted toward my nose. Gaven prepped some veggies and meat for dinner. “Hey, what’s that great smell?” I asked reaching into the refrigerator and grabbing the food. I carried it to the counter next to where Gaven was leaning and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

  I popped a nugget of beef into my mouth and savored the taste. Gaven looked at me like I had gone insane.

  “Did you just eat raw beef?” He looked at me like I had sprouted wings.

  “Whatever it was, it was great.” I replied. “Beef tar tar, yum.”