14 Tale #14: Moon Howls

In our family, there's always a person who believes in the supernatural. My grandfather— a retired journalist— always believed in supernatural since he started working as a journalist in the back in the 80's. The company would make him travel around the world to write articles and articles that interest the company. At the start, he would write about crimes, interview serial killers and even document the victims. The company he worked for made him focus on these things, until the topic of paranormal began to rise.

He was the best writer so they made him write about those instead. At first, he didn't believe in paranormal and actually debunked some alleged bizarre activities; flying ghosts: just fabrics tied with nylon; creepy sounds during nighttime: coyote's from the woods hunting prey and many more. He enjoyed documenting and debunking this paranormal things and it earned him a lot of many and got him a promotion.

He even has albums with all the clippings of his articles. We grandchildren had fun reading them and we would ask him question in which he would enthusiastically answer. While roaming through the four albums, something caught my eyes: it's a newspaper clipping telling about a man howling at the moonlight. It was marked with a red highlighter and a lot of sticky notes were around it. I showed it to him and asked about it yet, he didn't smile and answered with a laugh. He looked sad and down, he touched his scar in his left hand: it's like a claw mark. It created four straight scar coming from his wrist to the elbow.

He rubbed it and looked at me with a sad smile. He took the album from me and gathered us children. Then he started to tell us another tale of his experiences as a journalist documenting the paranormal.

"Oh, my goodness. This is my most memorable article of all, this is my most interesting one and also the one who changed my beliefs— and gave me this scar." He pointed to the scar and looked at our faces as we said 'wow' in unison.

"What happened grandpa?"

"Yes! What happened? Tell us, tell us."

He giggled at our eagerness to learn the story behind it. He showed us the photo and said, "I was 36 years old and already married to your grandma when my company sent me to the countryside of Romania. They said there's a rumor spreading about a creature laying havoc to a town near a graveyard. Of course, me being a science person, didn't believed at it thinking that it would be like my other articles: finding it not true. I was about to stay there for two weeks and write an article about an alleged werewolf roaming the graveyard and the streets, howling at the moon and searching for a prey dumb enough to be out at midnight."

"This werewolf has already taken a family of six and two men patrolling that night. The bodies were buried immediately and cannot be dug up again since it would be disrespectful to them so I never got a chance to analyze the bodies. But people from their neighborhood became a good source of information, I guess. They all said that there's a huge claw mark at their chest, a bite mark and a missing flesh. The two men had a left arm and a left leg missing; the family has either their side waist or a limb missing. They all described the crime scene as morbidly gruesome. The whole neighborhood decided to just bury the bodies and burn the house of the family, fearing that the monster might come back and wreak havoc more."

"Collecting those information took me a week and a half since all of them don't want to talk about the subject in the first place and took a lot of convincing to talk in whispers. At first, I was satisfied at what I've gathered and decided to write an article about it and finally go home. However, a surprise took me one evening. It was a bright new moon and I was going back to my motel room from a nearby pub, a bit drunk; when I saw a shadow gliding from building to building so fast I could only saw a glimpse. Faint growls followed and a few scratches to the ground and buildings."

"At first, I thought it could be a dog running around, but then I heard a loud howl. A howl so loud it couldn't be from a dog or even a wolf. The next thing I knew, lights from the houses died out and I was running my fastest to my motel. My instincts told me it was a huge danger and I need to go to safety. And then, I remembered my articles. I thought to myself— why would I need to be afraid, for all I know, this could be a fake thing made by some greedy person who wants this land— I stopped at my tracks and waited beneath the bright moonlight; waiting for this fraud to show itself, ready to be unraveled by me."

"Because I was a bit drunk, I knew to myself that this would be a bad idea that I don't think straight. But I was overwhelmed by my curiosity to discover who is behind this werewolf mask. I waited, holding a wood tightly, ready to smack anyone that would appear in front. Minutes passed, and no one showed, nothing. I was about to let down my guard when the same growls and scratches emerged from the dark. A claw came into sight and its sharp end glinted from the moonlight. Then the growls started to go louder and I could see to a pair of eyes reflected by the moon intently looking at me, with murder evident from it."

"I became scared at that moment. It slowly walked towards me and I could see its sharp teeth, snarled nose and saliva drooping from its mouth. My legs started to quiver and my breath became hitched. My mind was screaming danger and that I should run away, but I stood my ground and waited until it was in range for my swing. I remained still, yet it still caught me off-guard. It showed itself fully in the light and stood there a werewolf taller than me. It's still snarling and growling and let- off a loud howl. It rang through my ears and with the effect of the alcohol, I couldn't stand it and dropped my weapon to cover my ears."

"By the time I collected myself, its claws were coming at me with such great speed. And the only thing I could think of by that time was it block it with my left arm. I felt such great pain that I screamed at the top of my lungs. I don't know if it's real but back then, I really thought I heard that werewolf howl together with my scream. And then I passed out. When I opened my eyes, I was laying at a hospital bed, with my left arm bandaged and still aching. I called the company about this and they quickly got me back home. Even though I was sent back home immediately, I still managed to pass the article I wrote, but I read some things back then that I don't remember writing at all."

"After this article of mine got published, many critics took interest in it and wanted to have an interview with me and there were others who said that I just made it up. But, no one can really explain where I got this huge scar by not considering what I wrote in the article. Due to its popularity, I got a promotion of course. But after that incident, I just wanted to quit the job and start a business of my own, without the quandaries of the supernatural."

Grandpa, true to his words, did start a business. Together with grandma, they started a diner and now has branches all over the world. Our parents helped them make it grow bigger and we grandchildren promised to make it bigger too when it's passed down to us.

However, despite grandpa's story and our other question in which, this time, he answered with a sweet smile; there's still a question lingering inside my head that I couldn't have the courage to ask: why would grandpa need to be in the basement every new and full moon? And why would we hear faint howls every night? And why grandpa sometime drool in front of us?

Grandma said it's just about being old, and that I might experience it when I'm old just like them. But my mind tells me otherwise. When they died two years ago, I was tasked to move their belongings in the basement. As I was making room for their things, I stumbled upon a secret door well hidden in the dark and could only be noticed if you trace the walls with your fingers. I opened it and darkness welcomed me. I used the flashlight from my phone and made what's inside the room visible. There's a cage, prison chains and a muzzle, all of this would fit for a very big dog; unless, its used not to a dog, but to—