Read The Jazz Age Werewolf | Tapas Web Community

The grand house at Lakeside had been alive with revelry that Halloween night in 1919. Laughter echoed through the rooms as guests, adorned in costumes, mingled and celebrated. The air was thick with the scent of spiced cider and the sounds of excited chatter, a typical backdrop for a party of this scale. Ten-year-old Dorothy, however, had been caught up in the timeless thrill of childhood games, diligently bobbing for apples amidst a group of her peers, her face flushed with exertion and amusement.

Having finished her turn, Dorothy had noticed a cluster of adults nearby, their conversations more subdued and mysterious. Curiosity piqued, she made her way to her mother, Elizabeth, her eagerness evident in her every step.

"Mother, can I play the mirror game?" She had asked, her question a familiar refrain from Halloweens past. It was a tradition, steeped in perhaps a touch of superstition, and the whispered stories of what could be seen in its depths had always held a strange allure for the young girl.

Her father, Martin, had immediately interjected, his tone firm yet gentle.

"I don't think so, Dorothy. You're much too young for this. It's more for adults." His was a stance that Dorothy had come to expect, a protective barrier erected around the unknown, yet her desire to participate hadn't diminished.

"Dad, you say that every year. I want to try it," she had pleaded, her voice a mix of frustration and determination.

Elizabeth, however, had taken a different approach. Her expression had softened, a hint of understanding in her eyes.

"Oh, now, Martin. Let her have a little fun," her voice a counterpoint to his concern. "Alright sweetie, I think this year you’re old enough," she added, her words a declaration of Dorothy's maturation. With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, Dorothy followed her mother towards the darkened room, the promise of a glimpse beyond the ordinary hanging heavy in the air.

Guided by the flickering flame of a candle held in her small hand, Dorothy peered into the mirror's depths. A moment of startled silence had fallen upon her as a face, unfamiliar yet somehow familiar, emerged from the shadows.

"Honey, is that someone you know?" Elizabeth had asked, her voice laced with concern as she leaned in to get a better look.

Dorothy’s response had been hesitant, filled with a youthful bewilderment.

"I think I’ve seen him at school," she had replied, the identity of the mysterious figure lost in the fog of childhood recognition. And yet, when pressed further, she could only reply, "I don't know," the enigma of the encounter settling about them like the dust motes dancing in the candlelight.

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The Bastion mansion had been alive with the sounds of revelry; wealthy guests in elaborate costumes had been enjoying a Halloween ball. However, for eleven-year-old Brian, the festivities had long since lost their appeal. Bored with the adult chatter and forced interactions, he had retreated to the mansion's sprawling yard, seeking solace with his favorite toy train. As he meticulously arranged the tracks, a rustling from the hedges had broken the quiet evening, and he turned to find nine-year-old Victoria emerging, a slight smirk playing on her lips. Brian, visibly annoyed, had simply hmphed and turned back to his toys, his eagerness for solitude disrupted.

Victoria had approached him, her voice sweet but laced with mischief. "Hi, Brian," she said, seemingly unfazed by his obvious disinterest.

“What do you want, Victoria?” He curtly asked.

She had offered him a flower brooch, presenting it with a dramatic flourish, "For you, my dear." His reaction had been swift and dismissive, swatting the brooch away with a frustrated flick of his hand. Victoria, undaunted, had persisted, her tone shifting to playful teasing, "Can't a girl give a gift to her boyfriend?"

Brian, exasperated, retorted, "How many times do I have to tell you?! I'm not your boyfriend!"

Victoria, refusing to accept his rejection, countered with a sly, "Come on Brian, you know you like me."

Growing increasingly agitated, Brian vehemently denied it, stating, "No, I don't and I never will! So, just go away, and leave me alone!"

Her playful demeanor had vanished, replaced by an unsettling level of certainty, "Better be careful, Brian. You don't know what I'm capable of."

Rolling his eyes, Brian responded with sarcastic indifference, “Oh, now I’m scared.” This sarcastic remark seemed to have been the catalyst for what was about to unfold.

A transformation had taken place; Victoria had risen into the air, her hands glowing with an unnatural light. A dark, swirling smoke had begun to emanate from her, quickly enshrouding Brian before spreading outwards to consume the entire mansion. Guests who had been laughing and chatting moments before now panicked, their conversations cut short by the encroaching fog.

Mary, filled with terror, had cried, "What's happening?"

James had taken charge, ushering everyone towards the front door, shouting, “Everybody out! Head for the front door!”

Mary had frantically searched for Brian, calling his name, but her cries had gone unanswered. "Brian! Brian!," she had sobbed, but he was nowhere to be found. She told James, “I can’t find Brian! He must be somewhere in that smoke!”

“We can't look for him now! Come on, we gotta get out of here!” before they started running into the foyer towards the exit. Unfortunately, they had been denied escape as the doors had slammed shut, trapping them inside. They had embraced tightly as the smoke completely engulfed them and the mansion before they vanished.

When the smoke had finally cleared, revealing that nothing seemed to have changed, Brian had reappeared, his voice filled with mockery.

"Ha! Looks like your plan didn't work."

Victoria, unfazed by his taunts, had responded with a hint of veiled menace, "Just wait. When you see what I've done, you'll want to be mine."

Brian, remaining unimpressed, had declared defiantly, "Nice try. There's nothing you could do that would make me want to be yours."

With a final warning, "Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you," Victoria waved her hand and then disappeared, leaving Brian alone in the seemingly untouched yard.

Later that night, Brian sought refuge on the balcony of his room, the cool night air offering a momentary solace. He had been restless, a strange unease settling deep within him. As he gazed upwards, the clouds, which had been obscuring the sky, suddenly parted. A full moon, round and bright, emerged in the darkness, bathing everything in its silvery light. This celestial display, rather than offering peace, had triggered something profound and terrible within him.

A guttural scream, ripped from his throat, had shattered the quiet of the night. Brian's hands flew to his head as an excruciating pain seized him, his body suddenly thrashing with uncontrollable movements. He felt his skin tingling, hair beginning to sprout and thicken as if some unseen force was rapidly transforming him. He stared in horror at his hands, the flesh covered in coarse, dark fur, his nails elongating and sharpening into wicked claws. The transformation was swift and brutal, consuming the man he had been.

Against the backdrop of the luminous moon, a terrifying silhouette had begun to emerge. The human form of Brian was contorting, his limbs shifting, and his posture becoming low and predatory. A creature of folklore was now taking shape; a beast with an insatiable hunger, a werewolf was born from the full moon. His human thoughts fading with the transformation, becoming more primal than before.

Meanwhile, in the confines of her room, Victoria had been watching the entire spectacle through her reflection in the crystal ball. A sinister smile had slowly etched onto her face, fueled by a wicked satisfaction. She had been anticipating this transformation, knowing the dreadful power of the full moon and its connection to the beast within Brian. Her plans had been unfolding perfectly, and now her carefully orchestrated events were coming to fruition.

Victoria's gaze remained fixed on the image in the ball, as the silhouette of the werewolf against the backdrop of the full moon had been her goal. Seeing the beast, the creature she had been so keen to unleash was a masterpiece in her eyes. The transformation had been executed, and now she was free to take the next step, whatever that may be. The night, for her, had only just begun, and the hunt, she felt, would be a very interesting one.