It'snotImportant
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- Aug 11, 2010
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The Forest was still. Abnormally still.
“Where are the spirits?” whispered George.
“Be silent.” hissed Kelsie. “Oh…Where’s Mr. Wolff when you need him…?” she pressed her stone to her heart, making it ignite into a warm and comforting light.
The children stood stock still, listening for signs of movement.
Kiara heard Kelsie’s voice. “The Darks. They’re nearby.”
“How many?”
“Two or three, I Can’t—”
“Shhh!” interrupted Kiara. She turned her ear to the right, listening diligently for any indication of someone being near.
Suddenly, Kelsie’s voice erupted from the dark, startling everyone, including herself.
“ROGER! WATCH OUT!”
There was a terrible snarling noise as something leapt from the bushes, the thumping sound of its animal-like feet striking fear into their hearts. It snarled, mouth foaming—and a sickening scream of pain cut through the thick darkness. “AHHHHH! AH-AHHH!” the scream continued, followed by the sound of someone collapsing onto the ground.
Whatever had leapt towards them thumped away, out of hearing range and out of mind.
“ROGER!” Cried Kelsie, falling on her knees beside him.
“AHHHHHHHH!!!!! AHHHHHH!” He let out a blood-curdling scream, back arching from the ground and his teeth gritting.
Kiara and George did not need to see the grisly, bloody bite mark on Roger’s left arm to realize the thing that had just come tearing through the clearing was something terrible—something very, very terrible, indeed.
George whipped around, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling. “MR. WOLFFF!!! HELP US!”
George hurried over to his friend and onto his knees beside him, tears welling up in his eyes and flinching as Roger screamed again.
Mr. Wolff was white in the face as he and Ms. Hallman ran through the forest and into the clearing.
“What is it, What’s happened?!” he cried.
His question was answered by another scream of pain.
Ms. Hallman looked at Mr. Wolff, a look of horror etched upon her face. “No, not little Roger,” she whispered. “Please, no, please…”
“Move, move, get out of the way!” cried Mr. Wolff, pushing his way past the three other children. Kelsie caught a glimpse of Roger’s eyes—and was horrified. His pupils were dilating on and off, becoming larger and smaller—they were glassy and red around the edges, and his face was wet with sweat, his dark brown hair sticking to his forehead. He was mouthing words to himself, shaking his head, pleading with someone who wasn’t there. When Mr. Wolff raised him up and into his arms, Roger stared endlessly at the night sky, never blinking and breathing frighteningly quickly.
“Marian! He’s hyperventilating!” grunted Mr. Wolff. “Quickly, Now!”
Ms. Hallman raised her hand, quickly moving it across a space in the air. All at once, they were falling up—and the disorienting sensation of teleporting dazed the children’s senses.
They found solid ground under their feet—they were back within the safety of Bartholomew Castle.
They heard Mr. Richardson’s voice shouting as they hurried to the magical gate to the inside.
“OPEN IT, DAMN IT, OPEN IT!”
They rushed in through it, Mr. Wolff jogging as fast as he could, Roger curled up against his chest, screaming in pain.
“What’s happened?!” cried a worried Mr. French, trying to catch up. But the teary-eyed Wilbur held him back.
Mr. Wolff nearly broke down the door to the building, laying the shivering Roger down onto the biggest bed.
“It’ll be alright, It’ll be alright,” he whispered, mopping Roger’s contorted face with a towel.
Roger grabbed Mr. Wolff’s hand, hanging on to it for dear life. He tried to say something, but the pain was obviously too much. “AHHHHHH!” he cried, his back arching again.
“Shhh, shhh, love, shhh,” whispered Mr. Wolff. “I’m here,”
Ms. Hallman hurried over and knelt next to Mr. Wolff while the children watched in horror from the doorway.
“Oh, Benjamin, what can we do?” she whispered, stroking Roger’s hair as he cried out again.
Mr. Wolff shook his head, looking down at Roger. “There’s…there’s nothing. Nothing that I can do for him now.” Mr. Wolff ran a hand through his own graying hair. “I should never have left them alone…Why the hell did I leave them alone! And during a FULL MOON!” he slammed his fist down onto the table next to him.
“Benji,” whispered Ms. Hallman soothingly. “It’s not your fault…please…please calm down,” she rolled up his right sleeve. “It’s not your fault,” she stroked his arm. “It’s nobody’s fault.”
The Children stared at Mr. Wolff’s arm. It was a terrible sight, a jagged bite-shaped scar, and the rest of the skin was a darker color than the rest of his body.
The children dared to walk forward and sit beside their adoptive father. “Mr.…Mr. Wolff?” asked Kelsie quietly. He seemed to be less agitated.
“Yes, Love,”
“What…what happened to you?”
Mr. Wolff looked around at the three children, then at Roger. With a sigh, he held his right arm forward, letting them see more of the scar.
“When I was younger…say, about thirty-four…Wilbur, Ms. Hallman, and I were at our Midnight posts in Ganthrop’s forest.” he cleared his throat.
“Well…when I had my back turned…a werewolf named Jackson Knight leapt from the darkness and cornered me.”
Kelsie shook her head, knowing what Mr. Wolff was about to say. A terrible picture held her mind’s eye.
“He managed to bite me—and I felt the same horrid pain little Roger is experiencing right now.” He shook his head. “And if it hurt as much as it did for a grown man—I cannot imagine how much it hurts for a small boy.” He hesitated again, looking to Roger and then back to the children.
Kelsie could visualize what had happened, when Mr. Wolff turned around in the darkness, the reflection of the savage werewolf Jackson Knight in his eyes.
“Luckily enough, Ms. Hallman managed to stop it before it spread from my arm to the rest of my body.”
“So you’re a werewolf?” asked George.
“Not exactly.” He looked at the ground. “But I’m afraid I didn’t get to Roger in time to do for him what Ms. Hallman did for me. Roger…Roger is, as of tonight—a werewolf.”
Kelsie shook her head. “No—Mr. Wolff—you—you—can’t! He can’t be a werewolf! He just can’t!” tears were in her eyes.
“Jackson Knight, did you say?” asked George, a hard look upon his face. “And the one who bit Roger is his son, correct?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Wolff.
George’s gaze adverted to his friend’s face. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Where are the spirits?” whispered George.
“Be silent.” hissed Kelsie. “Oh…Where’s Mr. Wolff when you need him…?” she pressed her stone to her heart, making it ignite into a warm and comforting light.
The children stood stock still, listening for signs of movement.
Kiara heard Kelsie’s voice. “The Darks. They’re nearby.”
“How many?”
“Two or three, I Can’t—”
“Shhh!” interrupted Kiara. She turned her ear to the right, listening diligently for any indication of someone being near.
Suddenly, Kelsie’s voice erupted from the dark, startling everyone, including herself.
“ROGER! WATCH OUT!”
There was a terrible snarling noise as something leapt from the bushes, the thumping sound of its animal-like feet striking fear into their hearts. It snarled, mouth foaming—and a sickening scream of pain cut through the thick darkness. “AHHHHH! AH-AHHH!” the scream continued, followed by the sound of someone collapsing onto the ground.
Whatever had leapt towards them thumped away, out of hearing range and out of mind.
“ROGER!” Cried Kelsie, falling on her knees beside him.
“AHHHHHHHH!!!!! AHHHHHH!” He let out a blood-curdling scream, back arching from the ground and his teeth gritting.
Kiara and George did not need to see the grisly, bloody bite mark on Roger’s left arm to realize the thing that had just come tearing through the clearing was something terrible—something very, very terrible, indeed.
George whipped around, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling. “MR. WOLFFF!!! HELP US!”
George hurried over to his friend and onto his knees beside him, tears welling up in his eyes and flinching as Roger screamed again.
Mr. Wolff was white in the face as he and Ms. Hallman ran through the forest and into the clearing.
“What is it, What’s happened?!” he cried.
His question was answered by another scream of pain.
Ms. Hallman looked at Mr. Wolff, a look of horror etched upon her face. “No, not little Roger,” she whispered. “Please, no, please…”
“Move, move, get out of the way!” cried Mr. Wolff, pushing his way past the three other children. Kelsie caught a glimpse of Roger’s eyes—and was horrified. His pupils were dilating on and off, becoming larger and smaller—they were glassy and red around the edges, and his face was wet with sweat, his dark brown hair sticking to his forehead. He was mouthing words to himself, shaking his head, pleading with someone who wasn’t there. When Mr. Wolff raised him up and into his arms, Roger stared endlessly at the night sky, never blinking and breathing frighteningly quickly.
“Marian! He’s hyperventilating!” grunted Mr. Wolff. “Quickly, Now!”
Ms. Hallman raised her hand, quickly moving it across a space in the air. All at once, they were falling up—and the disorienting sensation of teleporting dazed the children’s senses.
They found solid ground under their feet—they were back within the safety of Bartholomew Castle.
They heard Mr. Richardson’s voice shouting as they hurried to the magical gate to the inside.
“OPEN IT, DAMN IT, OPEN IT!”
They rushed in through it, Mr. Wolff jogging as fast as he could, Roger curled up against his chest, screaming in pain.
“What’s happened?!” cried a worried Mr. French, trying to catch up. But the teary-eyed Wilbur held him back.
Mr. Wolff nearly broke down the door to the building, laying the shivering Roger down onto the biggest bed.
“It’ll be alright, It’ll be alright,” he whispered, mopping Roger’s contorted face with a towel.
Roger grabbed Mr. Wolff’s hand, hanging on to it for dear life. He tried to say something, but the pain was obviously too much. “AHHHHHH!” he cried, his back arching again.
“Shhh, shhh, love, shhh,” whispered Mr. Wolff. “I’m here,”
Ms. Hallman hurried over and knelt next to Mr. Wolff while the children watched in horror from the doorway.
“Oh, Benjamin, what can we do?” she whispered, stroking Roger’s hair as he cried out again.
Mr. Wolff shook his head, looking down at Roger. “There’s…there’s nothing. Nothing that I can do for him now.” Mr. Wolff ran a hand through his own graying hair. “I should never have left them alone…Why the hell did I leave them alone! And during a FULL MOON!” he slammed his fist down onto the table next to him.
“Benji,” whispered Ms. Hallman soothingly. “It’s not your fault…please…please calm down,” she rolled up his right sleeve. “It’s not your fault,” she stroked his arm. “It’s nobody’s fault.”
The Children stared at Mr. Wolff’s arm. It was a terrible sight, a jagged bite-shaped scar, and the rest of the skin was a darker color than the rest of his body.
The children dared to walk forward and sit beside their adoptive father. “Mr.…Mr. Wolff?” asked Kelsie quietly. He seemed to be less agitated.
“Yes, Love,”
“What…what happened to you?”
Mr. Wolff looked around at the three children, then at Roger. With a sigh, he held his right arm forward, letting them see more of the scar.
“When I was younger…say, about thirty-four…Wilbur, Ms. Hallman, and I were at our Midnight posts in Ganthrop’s forest.” he cleared his throat.
“Well…when I had my back turned…a werewolf named Jackson Knight leapt from the darkness and cornered me.”
Kelsie shook her head, knowing what Mr. Wolff was about to say. A terrible picture held her mind’s eye.
“He managed to bite me—and I felt the same horrid pain little Roger is experiencing right now.” He shook his head. “And if it hurt as much as it did for a grown man—I cannot imagine how much it hurts for a small boy.” He hesitated again, looking to Roger and then back to the children.
Kelsie could visualize what had happened, when Mr. Wolff turned around in the darkness, the reflection of the savage werewolf Jackson Knight in his eyes.
“Luckily enough, Ms. Hallman managed to stop it before it spread from my arm to the rest of my body.”
“So you’re a werewolf?” asked George.
“Not exactly.” He looked at the ground. “But I’m afraid I didn’t get to Roger in time to do for him what Ms. Hallman did for me. Roger…Roger is, as of tonight—a werewolf.”
Kelsie shook her head. “No—Mr. Wolff—you—you—can’t! He can’t be a werewolf! He just can’t!” tears were in her eyes.
“Jackson Knight, did you say?” asked George, a hard look upon his face. “And the one who bit Roger is his son, correct?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Wolff.
George’s gaze adverted to his friend’s face. “I’m going to kill him.”