A Riverside Story

Hi all, this story is an unsuccesful competition entry from earlier in the year, and one of my favourite stories, so I thought I'd share it all with you. I apologise for not posting anything written recently, have been very busy! As usual, remember you can follow me on twitter @Harry_Tennison, and subscribe to the blog on the tab on the right hand side of the screen. Enjoy!

We cruised along the river in our barge. We’d been sailing ‘there’ (that’s all father would tell me, that we were sailing ‘there’) for four days now, just me and him, leaving everything behind. We ducked to avoid a low hanging willow tree as it swooped perilously towards us. I clung to my father. Having lived in the city all my life, I was not used to such scenery. The green fields we had passed sent me into a state of shock. Where did this colour come from? It was so unlike home. We did pass some towns though, although father always sent me inside when this happened, telling me I’d caught the sun and needed a break from the light.

As we emerged from the willow branches, my father laughed. He hadn’t laughed in such a long time that the small chuckle sounded alien to me. I looked up at his bearded face, wanting reassurance that everything was alright. My father looked down at me, laughed again and scooped me up into his arms.

“Not long now!  I can feel it! We’re nearly there, nearly there!”

I did not understand what he meant, but I shared in his jubilation. My father was happy again and that was what pleased me.

As the day wore on and we continued downstream, father put me on his shoulders.

“You see that house in the distance Elizabeth? The grey one?”

I peered hard into the distance and could see it, with the river running past. I told father that I could.

“Would you like to hear a story about that house? It’s a very special story, not many people have heard it” my father asked me.

I nodded, smiling. My father responded with the same smile. He went below deck quickly, sitting me on the floor, and fished out his pipe from somewhere I couldn’t see. He didn’t smoke but it helped him think. He put it into the corner of his mouth and shut his eyes.

“Now, let me think...aah yes!” he spoke to himself. “It was a midsummer’s evening many years ago. There was a cool breeze present in the air, making the night reasonably cool. A small boat was rowing along this very river. A man was rowing, his strokes precisely the same length each and every time. He had been rowing all day for around a week, but not a bead of sweat was to be seen on his forehead.”

My father was staring rather absentmindedly into the distance, holding onto the hand rail. He broke out of this trance momentarily, looking down at me and quickly up again.

“The river curved and as the water changed its path, so did the boat. The man continued rowing. He carried on until it was too dark to row anymore. Conveniently there was a jetty at the side of the river. The man tied his boat to the jetty and started to walk up the steep river bank. Upon reaching the top he realised he could see nothing except a light, about a hundred metres away. The man began to walk towards this light. As he walked, the man realised the light was coming from a house.”

My father paused again. He had resumed his trance-like state, staring into the distance, this time in the direction of the house itself.

“After walking for short while, the man came upon a path leading to the house. He began to walk along the path, stopping at the door. He knocked but the door swung open as soon as he touched it. The man stepped inside, looking around the house. It was completely furnished, as if someone had been living their moments before: empty cups on saucers by armchairs, a TV set in the corner of the room, an award of some sort on the mantelpiece.”

Father’s eyes were fixed upon the house. Our boat had stopped. For the first time I noticed it had turned dark; the moon peered slightly past the clouded sky gave the river an eerie glow. My father’s eyes were wild.

“The man looked out of a window, seeing a full moon high in the sky. He noticed a staircase, and a faint glow at the top. He walked up the staircase.”

Father had moored the boat on a jetty on the riverbank. He grasped my hand and pulled me out of the boat, towards the house. I asked Father why we are going to the house, and he growled at me. Tears filled my eyes. We got to the path. I stopped but Father pulled me.

“Come.” He snarled.

We entered the house-I was in tears but silent, too scared to make a sound. Father took me upstairs, dragging me up the stairs. Upon reaching the stairs he slumped into a chair.

“The man looked out of the upstairs window and saw a full moon---”

Father screamed. I leapt to help him but he pushed me away. He looked outside the window. A full moon was in the sky.

Father screamed again. He suddenly started to pant uncontrollably. He fell to all-fours. He looked at me but they were not his eyes. He screamed again as his face became longer, more streamlined.  His back arched and his clothes split from the vast increase of muscle which had appeared so rapidly. He swung his head back and unleashed a blood-curling howl. I couldn’t hold in my silence any longer. I uttered the smallest squeak of terror and it turned. This was not longer Father, it was a monster! And then it happened. It bit me.

My name is Elizabeth and I am a werewolf.