1st July, 1939

Outside Ashland, Maine, USA

George labored in the unusually warm weather, the thermometer pushing eighty degrees as he worked. The thick overalls and heavy boots that all lumbermen wore, only added to the discomfort. His axe lopped smaller branches from the side of a felled giant with each swing, as he cleaned the trunks ready for transport. His skin itched and it took all his will power not to scratch, as inside he could feel the churn of something animal wanting to take him over. He yearned to leave his tools behind, to disappear into the cool of the forest. Instead he focused on swinging his axe, barely keeping his balance astride the tree, which didn't even have the sense to know, that it was already dead.

By the time work finished he was on the verge of collapse. The bumpy ride home in the back of a ford truck, usually an unpleasant way to end the day, somehow was different today. The wind cooled George's itching skin, as the roaring in his ears made him feel more alive than he was used to. The stench of sweaty workmen, trailed away behind them as they drove. It was Saturday which he was grateful for, tonight was the full moon and he would need the day off work tomorrow.

"You don't look so good." The bearded man in the passengers side commented. As they pulled up at his stop and George leaped over the side stumbling, before righting himself.

"I just need a good rest, I'll be right." He replied before turning to the modest shack he called home and making his exit.

That night it came as he knew it would, clawing at his insides, angry and wild. Naked he sat in front the fire on a wood chair waiting for it to consume him. Around his neck a silver pendant dangled from a chain, a gift from a gypsy, taking the form of a spearhead adorned by two women and a beast. He had been caught off guard by the crone, who had approached him as he carried paper bags of groceries from the shop. Thrusting the pendant at him she had insisted he take it, her gaze fixed solid, so much so that he had taken the trinket to appease her.

"Remember." She spat at him. "those that you kill... They won't stay dead. They will haunt your dreams." With that she had left him. Somehow the woman had known it was him, he had no doubts that she knew. As much as she despised the creature that he was, the gift she gave him had worked, returning a level of control he had thought lost.

As the swing of the moon passed the horizon the transformation began. With the beast, came hair and teeth, his jaw bursting in pain as incisors pushed outwards. With the pain came a rush of adrenaline, as muscles tore and formed again rapidly. Where he had only stubble now a beard bristled, creeping across his face, slowly covering the human beneath it.

With the last of his human strength, George Waggner the man, ran through the open door and into the night. His pendant searing into the flesh of his chest as he attempted to flee from himself.

The next morning he was awoken by a banging on the door. Vague memories still fresh, he lept from bed still wet from his night of activities.

"George?" The banging resumed. "It's Warren, me and Béla were heading out to the lake for a spot of fishing. You wanna come?"

Fumbling he sought something to cover his dirt clad body, wrapping himself in a blanket he took a quick look in the shaving mirror before answering the door.

"Sorry, didn't sleep the best." He stammered to the man who graciously drove out of his way almost daily to give him a ride to work. Behind him stood the bearded Béla with a friendly grin.

"Sure not to worry, you look like you need the bed rest." The man nodded before climbing back aboard the pickup truck and giving him a curt nod before trundling along the dirt road that passed his property. George sat quietly listening to the noise from the truck fade into the distance as he retraced his path mentally.

He remembered running out and across paddocks while he still had full control. Then there was the old graveyard, on the outskirts of town. He remembered standing amongst the crooked unkept monuments for the dead, as the wolf slowly began to take him. From there it was fog, trees, the moon and blood, somewhere there was a lot of blood. Then there was the cool water of a lake enveloping him.

Collapsing into his bed he fell into a fitful sleep as the last of the curse was passed from his body.