Four days without electricity, without solid shelter or heat. My stomach growls agitatedly. It will be taken care of after dark though I won’t remember it.
When I was told I had the curse, three days lay between me and the moon sealing my fate. I shoved the warmest clothes I owned into a bag and took the first bus out of town. I’m too much of a coward to kill myself, so I did the next best thing: a hundred miles of wilderness in every direction. Even if I ran all night, I’d never get close enough to hurt anyone. In the last haven of civilization I passed, I bought a few camping supplies, then I walked into the forest, knowing I’d never be seen again. After two days of walking, I prepared my makeshift home. I tried to start a fire, but the foliage fought me, and I eventually gave up, too exhausted to stay awake any longer.
The first night I woke up coated in blood next to an eviscerated deer carcass, teeth marks still marring the flesh. My stomach stubbornly emptied itself as the stench of death washed over me. It took most of the day, stumbling naked through the forest, to find my way back to camp. I curled up in my sleeping bag, shivering and bloodied from sharp sticks and stones. After that, I took my clothes off before nightfall. I only had one pair left. My others had been shredded and left scattered across the wilderness.
The next night I think the wolf took pity on me. I woke up in a small den under an overhang. The third night, I woke up back in my tent. Each day I was exhausted, and all I could do is sleep, trying to ignore the viscera still wedged between my teeth.
I huddle in my tiny tent shivering and pray for nightfall when the fur will return. I don’t remember much of the change, but I remember being warm, being full. My lean body and delicate skin are no match for this harsh environment. I have no claws or teeth to protect myself, no sensitive nose to find food, no thick fur to defy the wind. Out here in the wilderness, the human in my veins is the curse, not the wolf.
Today was an adventure in speed writing. I had a very short break before I working more this evening, so I just had to get this down and published. Is it the most polished thing I’ve ever written? No, but it’s done. Having a time limit can be liberating, because you see how quickly you can do something when you put your mind to it. I also decided to title my story instead of making the title the writing prompt. Today’s prompt was “four days without electricity.”