Wolfboy

There once was a boy who, while out in the forest was scratched by a wolf and, because the moon was full and shining bright, became a werewolf and just like a wolf he wanted to go and live in the forest with the other wolves, find a wolf mate and raise cubs but his parents would not let him.

"No boy of mine is going to run around in the forest howling at the moon", his mother would say, putting human clothes upon him though he was covered in thick, silvery grey hair; boots upon his back paws and gloves upon his front ones; tucking in his long wolf tail and forcing him to go to school and church.

But life was very hard for the wolfboy with werewolf instinct burning in his blood especially when the moon was full and the wolves were howling outside.

Often his mother would go into his room and see him on his bed on all fours, his back arched and all his fur exposed, howling at the window.

"Don't you have any self respect?", she would shout at him, "Any pride in yourself?".

"How can I have self respect as a human. Humans are like domesticated pets", he growled, "Wolves are a proud, majestic race. They face the hardships of the wilderness; they hunt with courage in their hearts; they are strong and swift. They have self respect and dignity".

But the mother was determined that her son would grow up to be a human being and follow societies rules and, because she had heard that cutting off a wolfboys tail would keep him from running off and becoming a wolf, one day she drugged her sons dinner and, while he was fast asleep, she cut off his tail with a kitchen knife.

Then she hid the tail in a place where the son couldn't find it.

For a long time the son searched because he could not become a proper wolf without his tail, he sniffed around in the yard, digging holes, searching and he sniffed around the house too but wherever he looked he could not find it.

But then, one morning, his mother woke up and realised that her son had gone and his tail was not where she had hidden it in the box where she kept her pot pourri.

"How did he find his tail?", she asked herself, "He couldn't have sniffed it out because I buried its scent with perfumes".

"I gave it to him", said her husband.

His wife looked horrified.

"But why?", she asked, "Now we've lost our son".

Turning round, her husband showed her a small circular scar upon his back at the base of his spine.

"I never found where my mother hid my tail", he said, "I didn't want my son to lose his".

And so the son lived as he had longed to; running in the forest with the other grey wolves, he had three small cubs and would some times, when the moon was full, tell them stories of his life in the human world which they all thought very peculiar indeed.