Village life; simple, carefree and filled with exciting stories of my grandmother. I’m Shyam, now I’m twenty years old, but I’ll never forget her thrilling tales. Even today it astonishes me and I wonder from where did those countless fables come in her satchel?
As we grew older, it began to sink in that many of the stories were simply fabricated by her. It so happened that we had cultivated a bad habit of not falling asleep without listening to her stories. My helpless grandmother would give in to our stubbornness and spin a narrative then and there. I pity her today.
Now she’s no more with us. God rest her soul in peace. Howbeit her full moon tale is something which I can’t forget and invariably think about it every single night. They give me goosebumps even today and grip my head in a whirlpool of innumerable questions. Of course I don’t believe it but I’m definitely dubious about it.
Tonight there’s a full moon in the sky and my sleep seems to have vanished. Sitting on the the rooftop of our house, I’m gazing at the white celestial body and the same queries are at the forefront of my mind. Is it really true? Does it actually happen? On a full moon night do men frightfully transform to becoming dire wolves?
Shrugging and fatigue taking over, finally at 3 am I proceeded to my room downstairs. Peeping in the mirror once, I ruffled my unruly hair and puffed before calling it a night.
In the morning my eyes opened with the first crow of the rooster. Something was not right. I began to feel weird inside the blanket. Out of the blue I was hairy all over. My nails had grown overnight. They were now long and hurting me like thorns. I gasped incredulously.”Haaa…… what’s this?!?”When I went to cup my mouth, something sharp and pointed poked my fingers.
I wished to glance in the mirror. But panic did not allow my legs to move forward.