Werewolves ManCrush and Legends
It's Monday again so that means a new ManCrush. This week still continues my werewolf fixation. I'm not sure who this guy is but hello arm porn, right?
This week starts off with sickness with me. My youngest was kind enough to share his head cold with me. That's okay, it meant I pretty much got to hang out in my PJs all weekend and today too since I don't work.
The weather looks like it has officially turned more wintry here. No snow yet, but it is coming. I say bring it on. I may not get my car out of the driveway much this winter again, but I have a new coat and I'm ready for the cold temps.
Book news is about the same. I'm still plugging away on She's No Cowgirl and ready to get A Second Chance published. I thought for something special today I would share the legend I wrote for it so I hope you enjoy.
(c) 2018, Brooke May
Subject to editing.
Deep in the depths of the Black Forest, far before the Romans began to spread their influence through what is now Europe there lived a small village that can’t be found on any modern map.
The citizens of the simple logging village fled when something dark and deadly emerged from the blackened timber surrounding their home.
Because, in the beginning there was just the beast.
There was nothing about him that was linked to any form of humanity. He was a destroyer, a killer, and was simply a monster. The creator had no clue what he had unleashed on the lands. He had thought having a being who was both animal and man would unite the world of the humans with the animals they sought to conquer, control, and kill.
But he was wrong.
The monster destroyed everything he could find. Either in his human form who was once an innocent or during the full moon, the monster was just that, a monster.
He was dark.
He was out of control in any way modern man could rein over himself.
And he was set on destruction.
The creator could not take back what he had already released into the world. Legends had already spread about the creature as the simple villagers fled their homes to find safety in bigger townships and far away from the borders of the forest.
Legends of a beast who walked like a man except once a month during the full moon when this creature would turn into his purest, truest form. It didn’t matter though; the first beast was still the same monstrous fiend during his time as a man. Cruel, sadistic, and completely heartless, he lived his life among the others until one day he stepped into the woods following a light that no other could see.
In the middle of the clearing, where the light shone brightest, stood massive, pitch black grey wolf. The man was not frightened of the wolf or its size. Gripping his ax, he intended to kill the beast and he did just that. But when he stepped over the wolf, to claim his prized kill, light erupted from the body of the fallen beast. The light left the wolf, leaving nothing but folded grass and shot right into the man, through his physical body and embedding into his soul.
The creator sought fit to save this man from his cruel ways, but he had failed.
The term werewolf was coined and as the legends spread, fear grew in the hearts of those who had not even seen the creature.
Different stories and myths were born about the werewolf, but most were never near to the truth. That first werewolf caused more mayhem and destruction that all of his descendants would be viewed as the terrible monster he was.
And his gift, seen as a curse, was passed to his son, and his grandson until modern times where his heirs began to embrace it, accept it, and change their forefathers views of this as a gift.
When the creator knew there would only be one way to save not only the people who were terrorized by the beast, but the man inside as well. He made a mate; a female who would be perfect for the werewolf in every aspect.
She would be the light to his darkness, the love to his anguish, and a true nurturer who would soothe the wildness inside of him and cherish him in a way he had never experienced before with understanding.
When the creature first laid eyes on his one true love, the evil in his heart was vanquished and the cruelty he had always held onto gave way to something more. It could have been her scent, so unique that it lite something back to life in him. Or it was her lack of fear of him and her courage as she walked across the abandoned village and placed her hand in the center of his furred chest. Or the kindness he melted at glowing through her eyes.
Whatever the case was, from that day forward, he was no longer a monster. Still cursed, but humbled and able to finally accept a part of himself.
Together, they lived their lives. Because, you see, a werewolf’s life is not eternal. They live out their lives just like a normal human would. They grey, they age, and they die.
The two had many children. Their sons were werewolves like their father while their sisters remained human. The sons found mates who were made just for them and the daughters safeguarded their family’s secret.
And the history continued. The sons of the first werewolf’s sons separated and started to form their own packs in various places. Being together would be too dangerous. Until many centuries had passed and now in the modern times, werewolves remain a secret to most of the world, but live their lives among humans. For the fear is still there, the fear of the unknown and unexplained.
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