THE SHARK CHRONICLES: POSTCARD THE THIRTY-SECOND

Darren glanced out the window at the full moon. It was a blue moon, the plastic smiling man on the news broadcast had informed him, the second full moon to occur that month. Riley seemed a little restless, kicking in his sleep as Darren pulled out the next postcard. It showed a very busy street scene in Times Sqaure, and the text splashed across the front said "Come and experience one of New York City's 8 million stories!" Darren leaned back in his chair and flipped the card over

EIGHT MILLION AND ONE

Everybody turned and looked as he walked by,

For he was covered in blood so red,

And then they all in a panic fled,

For they feared by his hand they would die.

The man stumbled over to a wall,

And let out a scream that turned into a howl

Then what happened next held me in thrall

Never before had I seen anything so foul

The blood-drenched man’s jaws sprouted fangs, his hands grew long claws

His muscles rippled and swelled and his skin vomited forth coarse hair,

Suddenly, amidst this convulsing change he gave pause,

And with blazing, glowing orange eyes at me he did stare.

This man-wolf stood erect, and then let out a mighty roar,

He leaped through the air, straight towards me, his eyes bleak

I knew right there and then I was dead, all done for

The hummingbird beat of my heart made my knees too weak

I knew I could not turn and flee,

For surely this wolf-creature would be upon me

Quick as lightning if such (un)natural force were clothed in fur and teeth

I remember it was a full moon I trembled underneath

Then: at my side, more feral, more powerful than I could ever conceive

The wolf stood, bloody muzzle to my ear, and whispered, “Do you believe?”

I stared, amazed, into its eyes and grew calmer

And that, my dear child, is how I met your father.