Werewolf Waiting

I - The Wolf

In the darkness of the woods he awaited his prey.
He had stalked it; Watched it.
He knew it would pass this way.

He stood upright, his sharp teeth in the moonlight glistening.
He stood silent behind a tree in the shadows
Completely motionless, listening.

He could hear his prey now
Getting closer, closer, almost within reach.
He wanted to let out a howl---not yet, not yet.

Down the path his prey came, nervous
Eyes darting about, imagining—knowing—he saw something
Lurking somewhere in the blackness.

Closer, ever closer to the Werewolf waiting
Silent in the shadows
His hunger insatiable, anticipating.

Any minute now, he could hardly hold back
His prey would be within reach--
And he would attack...

II - The Man

He moved along the path trying to contain his fright.
He felt unseen eyes upon him;
Eyes in the shadows of the night.

He'd seen something moving amongst the trees.
He'd heard it--
Or was it the wind rustling the leaves?

He tried to tell himself it was nothing
But there it was again!
Certain now—he was not imagining.

He peered into the woods, not daring to stray from the path
But only darkness showed itself.
Not a single shadow of a movement could he catch.

Still he walked on, not wanting to stop
Deeper into the woods
Feeling every moment, every movement watched.

Unknown to him, every step he was taking
Was bringing him ever nearer
To the unseen, the motionless, the silent Werewolf waiting...

III - The Hunter

The boy stood alone in the forest
Terrified; Trembling;
Had it really come to this?

The Werewolf was not far away
Unaware of the boy
Concentrating intently upon its prey.

The man moved slowly through the trees
Peering into the darkness
But neither wolf nor boy did he see.

The Werewolf awaited the man's approach
Anticipating the attack
His jaws clamping down on his victim's throat.

Suddenly the wolf heard a sound.
Something was somewhere behind him.
Slowly he turned around--BANG!

The Werewolf clutched at his chest.
The bullet had pierced his heart.
He fell, himself a victim, a victim to Death.

The boy had done what he had to do
With a lump in his throat and a tear in his eye
For he was the son of the wolf.

A Werewolf's freedom can only be won
By a silver bullet
Fired by the hand of a loving one.