As a young boy, Jack had always loved the night.As a young boy, Jack had always loved the night. It's secret darkness, it's never seen sounds. Now, all of 16, he was walking along a moonlit path, enjoying himself. Jack knew he should be returning to camp, but just a few minutes more of this wonderful solitude.... A noise?! Jack turned, and peered up the path. Nothing there, must have been a deer. He scanned the clearing before him.... He laughed and hugged himself in youthful exuberance. `Mom always did complain about my imagination', he thought, sitting on a rock. As much as he would like to stay longer, Jack knew he would be missed. It was half-past nine now, and it was a good 5 miles back to camp. There was that noise again... Jack got up, and saw seven feet of the biggest, shaggiest something materialize out of the woods. It grinned, and way too many teeth gleamed in the moonlight. "Don't ye know what happens to little boys, who go out on the woods, in the night? They get eaten by big, bad, wolves...." The half growl / half chuckle, sent a shiver up his spine. Jack's mind refused to work. He stood, as dumfounded as a deer blinded by car lights, as it loped towards him. Only when it was close enough for Jack to plainly see it's all-too human eyes, did his body break out of it's slumber. Jack turned, and ran. Faster than he had ever run before. Not heeding branches, or shrubs, or roots... No, No! This can't be happening. But it was. He tripped, and fell. A hand-paw latched itself onto his ankle. Jack would have screamed, but his vocal cords refused to obey their terrified master. Another one grabbed his pants leg. Jack frantically pulled at his belt buckle, then his pants, and zipper. He jerked forward, just as the monster tugged, and was propelled flat on his face, his shorts pooled around his ankles. Jack kicked them off, and ran laughing, as he looked over his shoulder at a werewolf who was wearing a pair of jockey shorts, one ear sticking out of a leg hole. |