5
1354 Words
ISLA
Morning had never been so slow like this in my entire life. The sun looked like it wasn’t sure it wanted to rise at all. When the rays from the sun finally slipped through my curtains, I let out a huge sigh of relief. I was glad I had made it through the night in one piece.
I survived the night.
I didn’t sleep all through the night, not even for a minute. I lay curled up under my blanket, eyes wide open, listening to every sound, every breath I took. My heart raced. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
The werewolf. A breathing, real werewolf.
He had touched me. Spoken to me. Looked at me like I belonged to him.
I rubbed my face and sat up. I was dizzy from the exhaustion and sleepless night, from the fear and everything I had been pretending wasn’t real.
“How do I go back to being normal?” I whispered to myself.
My life wasn’t normal anymore. Normal had disappeared the moment I met him.
But I needed answers, I needed to understand what he was and what I was to him. Also, I needed to know if there was a way to get him out of my life for good.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my coat, my scarf and my bag and rushed out of the house as soon as the library opened.
The library was situated at the edge of town. It was one of the oldest in town and was quiet and forgotten by most people. The wooden sign outside the library creaked. The building itself looked older than everyone who lived here. That was why I chose here. Libraries as old as this held secrets and I needed secrets.
Inside the library, it smelled like dust and paper. Books covered the wall. Some were a bit dusty, some shelves were crooked, and others were stacked too high. But the environment felt warm and peaceful, compared to the chaos in my head.
I searched the back shelves, looking for anything….anything at all that would mention werewolves.
I searched all sections. Fantasy sections, folklore, even mythology.
I pulled out every book with a wolf on the cover. Storybooks, legends, children's tales. Nothing helped. Nothing was real. Nothing could tell me about the man I had met last night and how to stay away from someone like him.
I was getting frustrated. I wasn’t getting what I wanted from this library. I climbed a small wooden ladder and checked the top shelves, running my fingers along the book spines. Yet nothing helpful.
My frustration grew. I was afraid too. I needed answers.
“What am I even looking for?” I muttered to myself. “How to survive a werewolf? How to avoid them? How to….”
“Miss,” a gentle voice interrupted from behind.
I turned around so fast that my hair whipped my face.
An elder man, probably in his early seventies stood behind me. He was the owner of the library. He was tall but thin, with silver hair and round glasses that made me look kind and sweet. He wore a dark sweater and smiled faintly.
“Are you looking for something specific, dear?” he asked.
I hesitated. I didn’t want to sound crazy, but after everything I had seen, it was better to be honest than pretend.
“I’m looking for books about….werewolves,” I said slowly. “Not the fairy tale kind of books. I want the real deal. Something true.”
He looked at me for a moment and I immediately wished I had kept to myself. He must think I’m crazy. But his expression didn’t change. He didn’t look shocked or confused. He didn’t even laugh. His expression carried a sense of understanding.
Then, he smiled.
“Ah,” he whispered. “So you’re looking for stories.”
“No,” I whispered too. “I need information.”
He nodded.
“Come with me, child.”
Child. Most people would have found it a bit insulting, but from him, it felt comforting. Like someone older and wiser was stepping into my matter.
He led through the library, past the main shelves, past the public rooms and past a small wooden door I hadn’t noticed when I first walked in. He unlocked the door with a tiny key that hung around his neck.
Inside the room were lined up old, dusty books. None of the books had bright covers, and there were no labels.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“This is a section most humans have forgotten,” he said. “Books about things that the world once knew…before people convinced themselves that none of it was real.”
He scanned the shelves carefully, then pulled out a thick dusty book bound in cracked leather. He handed the book to me carefully, as if it were fragile.
“Here you go, my dear,” he said. “This one will help.”
The book cover had no title. Only a faded symbol. Like a crescent moon and a claw.
My heart raced.
“What is this, sir?” I murmured.
“Knowledge,” he said simply. “Knowledge more real than any fairytale.”
I held the book close to my chest, suddenly nervous. Curious and scared too.
He stepped back but before he left, he turned to look at me again.
“Werewolves are real, my dear,” he said softly. “They exist among us, whether humans accept or not.”
His words struck me. He knew about werewolves. He believed they exist. And he had said it like it was the simplest thing to say out loud.
“How do you know this?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Have you met with one before?”
He smiled gently. “Age, my dear, teaches you what the world tries to hide.”
With those words, he left me alone.
I stood there in that quiet room, holding the book whilst trembling.
Werewolves were truly real.
Hearing it from Kade was one thing, he was a werewolf. But hearing it from this old man made the truth settle in my bones.
They were real.
I moved to a small wooden table and sat down. My fingers brushed over the cover page again. It felt warm and strange.
“What am I doing here?” I whispered to myself.
Part of me wanted to abandon this book and run away from this library and pretend like last night had never happened. And return to my old problems like every other young college girl, school, work, and a cheating ex. Those things hurt and weighed me down but at least they were normal.
But another part of me wanted to know more. Not just for Kade, but for myself.
I opened the book and began to skim through the pages. The pages were yellowed and thin filled with sketches of wolves, moons and symbols I didn’t understand. The words were written in old handwriting that told stories about ancient packs, bonds, Instincts, and power.
One word kept appearing over and over.
Mate.
My heart thudded. Kade had said the same word to me. Now I understood what it meant.
I swallowed hard and kept going through pages until I reached a chapter titled “The Human Mate.”
My breath hitched.
Human. Mate. Me.
My fingers trembled as I touched that page. I was afraid of what I was about to read.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered.
Kade was real. His world was real, and now I was tangled in it whether I liked it or not.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what I was about to read, to learn what I had been dragged into without my knowledge.
As I lowered my eyes to the pages, the lights suddenly flickered. I ignored and turned my gaze back to the paged.
Then it flickered again, not once but twice.
Then the whole place went dark.
I froze.
There was someone here.
- Writer
