The night was dark, the moon shone bright enough to cast shadows that seemed to dance about and move against the trees that stood like dark sentinels. A large shape tore through the shadows of the trees, eventually breaking free to an opening atop a ledge that overlooked a town nestled between mountains named Lunesta.

Lunestra was a special place that had, unbeknownst to many of the humans dwelling there, supernatural origins. A destination that brought tourists from all over the world, not only for its mountain ambience and all-season weather, but also for its luxurious shopping and comfortable and cozy lodging even in the harsh and cold winter. Eccentric shops of all sorts lined its Main Street, and while not a large city, comparatively speaking, Lunestra had its own charm, especially when it came to its food and festivities. 

Lunestra was also a place full of whimsical wonder, holding shadowy secrets and creatures and legends and rumors of fantastical beasts and creatures such as this werewolf. While some spoke of the myth of monsters, others lived it because Lunestra was one of the most densely populated places of supernatural beings in the Mainland. But that, my friend, is something that is kept secret, locked away and forgotten through a sort of worldly spell so humans can continue functioning normally, without the fear, and truth, that monsters do lurk in the dark.

The hulking werewolf leaned into the moonlight as if taking it its warmth like a human being basking on a sunny beach. A gnarly beast with a long snout, vigilant green eyes, muscled arms and bulky form that could snap a tree in two with the swipe of its massive claws.

The beast narrowed its gaze on Lunsta with its downtown streets and various homes of shapes and sizes and colors. It was looking for something, searching, and after a moment of panning the whole town and finding what looked like its target, it leaned back and let out a terrify howl, its breath seen in the cold of the night air. The echo of the howl slowly faded from existence, becoming as vast and empty as the dark sky, replaced with the sound of a beeping alarm clock.

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“What a weird dream,” Vincent Black groaned, blinking his tired eyes open, his blurry room becoming clearer with each blink as he arose from his slumber. He rolled over and slapped his annoying alarm clock’s snooze button with a frustrated movement.

Instead of slapping the snooze button, though, he smashed a dent into the thing, effectively silencing the alarm. He sat up and stared at it, rubbing his dreary eyes. Running a hand through his hair, he smacked his dry lips and cleared his throat while the alarm gave one last beep before it died a robotic death.

“That’s what you get for rudely waking me,” he said with a smirk.

He jumped out of bed, stretched his arms over his head, and cracked his neck in nervous and excited motions. Which made sense as it was his first day of high school.

He yawned, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, but moved to his closet and opened it to reveal his school uniform: A black suit jacket with matching tie, pants, and shoes and a red dress shirt; both the jacket and red shirt had a crescent moon insignia over the right chest of the opposite color, the one on the jacket a little bigger than the one on the shirt.

As another yawn escaped him, he grabbed a towel that was draped over a desk chair and moved to the bathroom to start a shower.

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Cleaned and combed and fresh, he stood with his school uniform on, rubbing his hand through his black hair, turning, and checking himself out in the mirror. While Vincent didn’t prefer wearing a uniform, he had to admit that he wasn’t too shabby looking.

“Not bad,” he said, frowning. “Not bad at all.” It was a start, as he reminded himself that first impressions could make or break one’s social life. And he really wanted to have a social life this year.

The only problem was his tie. After failing to tie it properly for the tenth time, he surmised that he would really need to get one of those clip-on ones. For now, he’d leave it draped over his shoulders. He gathered his things and grabbed his backpack, making his way out the door.

As Vincent descended the stairs he thought about the past and a time when he was in the locker room in middle school. He was the only kid that seemed to have hair on his chest, armpits, and… other places. Like a lot of hair. It was embarrassing, because while the other boys seemingly had little to no hair, their skin was smooth as a baby’s bottom, and he became the butt of their jokes because of this. He got the name “wolf boy” from there on out.

He was hairy but he wasn’t that hairy. Suffice it to say, Vincent was kind of a loner throughout middle school because of that and other weird happenings. One would think being called wolf boy would be endearing. It wasn’t.

Even in elementary he had problems. Like when he was called a dog by a group of boys that had seen him running on all fours and barking like a dog. Apparently, it wasn’t normal, even if it felt natural to him to do that for some reason. While he tried to reconcile with the kids and befriend them, he was pushed down, face forced in to the sand while the others shoved sand down his pants and shirt. He was itchy for the rest of the day.

The only time adults got involved was when he pushed one of the boys off him in a huff, even slugging another one in the face, knocking him out cold and breaking his jaw, which apparently is quite the painful ordeal. The adults jumped in after he had slugged the kid.

In the end, Vincent got pinned as the culprit that supposedly started it, and they were just defending themselves as he was bullying them. What a joke that was. And the adults ate it up, because majority rules, right? Five stories against one. He was always a minority in that regard. Alone, and seemingly disliked by all.

He got expelled for breaking the kid’s jaw and giving him a concussion, apparently. Disorderly conduct and uncontrollable behavioral issues were the official labels. Which was ridiculous because he was only defending himself. Granted, he didn’t realize he had hit the kid so hard, or that his punch would pack so much power. He felt bad about that, he really did, even if part of him felt that the kid deserved it.

The ruling had been made, though, and he was expelled, leaving him no choice but to attend another school. He had several other incidents which got him kicked out of two other schools, which gave him a bad reputation. But that was in the past.  

High school would be different, it would be better, he told himself. He was going to make a positive impact, even if he was a hairy mess. He’d overcome his difficulties… like trimming down his hairy body hair and… other areas. He was sure he could make a connection in high school, make at least one friend.

His first real challenge, though, was tying his tie. And since he was now going into high school and thought of himself as an independent young adult, he knew exactly how to solve his tie problem –

“Mom,” he called, moving into the kitchen area where his mother was cooking up breakfast. “I’m having trouble with my tie again.”

His father sat at the table sipping his morning coffee and reading something on his tablet. He lifted his eyes slightly to Vincent, pushing his glasses back on his face, then went back to his reading.

His mother, a wonderful woman full of so many talents, among them being the best breakfast maker in the world, was whipping away at some eggs in a bowl. She set the metal bowl down and gave Vincent a knowing look as if she knew the drill.

“Oh, Vincent,” she said, taking his jacket and setting it to the side. “Are you ever going to learn how to do this yourself?” She adjusted his collar and tie, and went to work, quickly tying it.

Vincent scratched his already messy hair, which seemed impossible to keep straight, even with a comb and hairdryer. “I tried, mom. I really did. I’m just nervous, ya know.”

“Maybe you should get one of those clip-on ones,” his father suggested.

“Those look tackey, dear,” she said, pulling the tie tight and stepping back to check her work, hands on hips, head tilted. She let out a little tsk noise, signifying it wasn’t perfectly straight, as she had quite the attention for detail, on the OCD level, Vincent thought. She leaned forward and adjusted the tie. “Besides, I don’t think your school allows clip-ons as part of the dress code.” She patted his chest, seemingly pleased with her work, then turned back to the preparing of breakfast.

“Your mother has a point,” his father said, taking a sip of his coffee. “She knows best.”

He wasn’t wrong as Vincent’s mother was the type to have read over and memorized all the fine details of the paperwork, brochures, manuals, you name it. It was one of the more annoying things about her, because it usually made her right in any kind of argument.

“Look at my boy,” she said, grabbing Vincent’s chin and squeezing it. “All handsome and grown up.”

Vincent groaned and pulled away. “Ah, mom, don’t do that,”

“Do what?” she said with a knowing smile as she turned back around and emptied the eggs into a hot pan, quickly stirring them as they sizzled away.

“You know exactly what,” Vincent said, plopping down at the table and frowning at the perfectly tied tie. It was so frustrating to be inept at seemingly simple things. Online videos didn’t seem to help, either. All half measures. It was one thing he’d have to master, though, as he couldn’t just let his mom keep doing it. He sagged in his seat, letting out a sigh, determined to go over it again tonight.

He sat for a moment, taking in the sights and sounds of the room. The sizzling of eggs and sausages, the flipping noises of pancakes as his mother cooked away. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and flowers from his mom’s perfume, the bounce of her red hair as she swayed to a silent tune she hummed. It was nice.

“What do you think, dear?” Vincent’s mother asked his father as she flipped some completed pancakes and eggs onto a plate. “Doesn’t our boy look dapper?”

“Sure does,” Vincent’s dad said, raising his eyes to look at his son for a moment, brushing a tuft of black hair to the side. He winked, then turned back to his tablet.

Vincent’s mother turned off the stove and dished out the portions of pancakes, sausages, and eggs.

Vincent didn’t spare a second, and dove right it, not noticing his parents both looking at him intently. After swallowing a big chunk of food, he cleared his throat which hurt a little as he should have chewed more. “What’s up? Are you guys not hungry?”

His mother placed her hand upon his, a soft smile on her face. “There’s something we need to talk to you about. Something important.” She glanced at Vincent’s father, whom was oddly not drown in his tablet for once but looking right at him.  

Vincent couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit at this odd behavior. “What is it?”

“Son,” his father said, clearing his throat before saying the next words. “You’re a… werewolf.”

Vincent had shoved a whole pancake in his mouth and was chewing on its fluffy goodness as he looked at them, biting down in silence for a moment. After he swallowed, he let out a little chuckle at his dad’s humor, as it was a lame attempt to calm his nerves.

“Yeah, good one, dad. Wait to keep me on my feet.” He thanked his mom for breakfast, and patted his dad on the shoulder, shaking his head in disappointment at his dad’s lame joke. “Good try, though. A werewolf?” he chuckled as he made his leave. “Love you.”

And he was gone, out the door, leaving them both in silence. What he didn’t know, though, was that he was a werewolf, and they were being serious, and he was about to have a rude awakening once he arrived to his first day of classes at his new supernatural school.

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