My father was an abusive man, I was glad he was dead. You see one day he got really drunk and after beating my mother and I, he went off into the woods and was never seen again. We lived next to the woods and he would often go there after he had an outburst but this time he didn’t return. His shredded up clothes were found, covered in blood and dirt and it was assumed wolves or a bear got him.

It was the fifth anniversary of the day he died and my mother and I were sat in the garden, next to the small bonfire. The sun had set and so the only light came from the crackling fire and the full moon above our heads.

We we’re talking about him and how much of an asshole he was when we heard a crunch of leaves and twigs from the woods, followed by a low growl. We knew wolves roamed the area and they would often come up to the house and so we we’re cautious but not shocked at its presence.

Slowly, we backed up towards the house. As we reached the door I spotted the glowing pair of eyes that were inching towards us. I shoved my mother inside, slamming and locking the door behind us. I looked out of the window and sure enough those glowing eyes belonged to a wolf, only it was huge, the size of a damn grizzly. It’s grey coat was covered in dry blood and it was snarling, almost smiling at me as we locked eyes, and my god that was the worst part, they were almost human, intelligent and aware, in fact they were… familiar. My mother was pretty much frozen as she also stared at the beast before us, as was I.

What happened next chilled me to my core, this thing fucking spoke. You would think it would have some demonic voice from hell, which it kinda did, only it was the voice of my late father, deep and powerful.

“Now, now. Why would you say such things about your dear old man?”

I wanted to scream but no sound came out I could only look on in horror at my “father”

Despite my horror I was able to grab the shotgun we kept by the door.

“aren’t you going to let me ins…” BANG

Blood spattered the walls as i shot the bastard in the mouth. This didn’t kill him unfortunately but apparently it hurt enough for him to run back into the woods.

My mother passed not long after all this and I moved away and started my own family, ensuring I was nothing like my father. Although, recently I have become quick to anger, especially in the full moon. I spent the last decade thinking werewolves were real and my father was bitten. But as I sit here, with claws emerging through my fingertips, I wonder if the condition is hereditary.