How did this happen? How could I have been reduced to
this, this monstrosity? My body aches with the pains of my torment. What am I
to do? I cannot even face myself, much less the world. My reflection stares
back at me from the gilded mirror on the wall across from my bed. Always
watching…always judging. I see wolves and men, dancing, an emotionless waltz as
they change; my reflection is mocking me through that dance. My hair morphs
from blonde to wolf gray and back again, as my reflection mocks me still.
As the silent waltz begins to end and the dancers finish
their finial changes into wolves and men they begin to come out of the mirror,
like it is a portal into anther world, a world unknown to the men of my plane
of existence. I am afraid of these beasts; they circle the bed on which I lie,
mouthing their silent laughter and ridicule. My reflection is emerging from the
mirror, his grotesque shape half man half fiendish monster, and I scream.
“Get away from me you spawn of sin!” I scream, grasping
my rapier hilt, but the creature does not listen, I leap from the bed with the
shriek of a banshee, and drawing my weapon I proceed to destroy the mirror.
Instantly the dancers vanish, as I fall into the slivered shards of glass. I’ve
cut my arms on the tiny glass daggers and the smell of blood arouses my canine
senses, but I somehow manage to drag myself back to my bed and throw myself
into a tormented sleep.
I’m running down a dark corridor, sweat drips from my
face, my limbs are heavy, and I pant, trying to catch my breath, only to
suffocate more with my labors. The passage never seems to end, it goes on and
on into oblivion. Then, without warning, I’m falling into the endless void.
Then it appears, a she-wolf of untold beauty, she comes to me even as I fall,
walking on the air as though it was solid ground. As the beast approaches me it
reaches out its muzzle to my hand… Crashes like that of cannon fire sounds and
I wake with a start, to find Angelina bending over me, bathing my brow with a
damp rag.
I’m lying nude in the middle of the bed, as Angelina
moves about the room, her face stoic and her eyes worrying. With tight lips her
bandages my arms and washes my face for fear of fever. I know what a test of
strength it must be for her to keep her words bottled up inside, for she is
normally very outspoken. Finally she sits on the edge of the bed and takes my
hand, stroking it gently.
“Ambrose…” She whispers my name as I watch her through
half open eyes, taking in her every move. “Ambrose, we can’t go on like this.
You cannot keep hating yourself for what you are, because there is nothing you
can do to change what you have become.” She sighed gravely. “I want us to be
happy again, I want to be able to see you happy, not afraid.” She gets up to
leave and I catch her hand, pulling her down to lay next to me. I cradle her in
my arms and kiss the top of her head.
“Have I really hurt you that much?” I whisper softly into
her ear. “Has what I’ve become cause you that much pain.” She shakes her head.
“No, Ambrose, but it has caused that much pain to you. We
all have a demon, buried deep in our hearts. In the hearts of the wicked it
grows until it consumes them, and it the hearts of the pure a constant battle
must be fought to suppress it, but it a way you may have been given a hidden
gift with your curse.” I open my mouth to protest, but she puts a finger to my
lips. “You have the power to unleash that demon within yourself, and if you’re
careful you can use that to do good.”
With these words she kissed me softly and left the room.
I lay there for sometime, pondering her comments. When it finally hit me. She
was right. I smiled to myself, pulling my exhausted body into a sitting
position, and taking the fates for sending me such a light when my own demon
needed taming.