The Howl
815 Words
“The Howl”*
1. Prologue – The Glitch
A night‑camera feed flickers, static crackling like distant thunder. The timestamp reads *23:6?* – the last digit smeared, the date missing. A silhouette darts across the frame: half‑human, half‑wolf, claws scraping bark. The audio spikes: a guttural howl that reverberates through the speaker, then… _silence._ The video ends with a single word flashing on screen: *“Run.”*
2. Meet the Strangers
*Nina Okafor* – 28, Lagos‑born investigative journalist, known for busting corrupt officials on her blog _Pulse of the City_. She scrolls f*******: late, eyes glued to a group called *“Mysterious Creatures Worldwide.”* A post pops up: _“Did anyone else get this? Looks real…”_ – the video attached.
*Marco “Maco” Alvarez* – 31, Buenos Aires photographer, chased by the scent of the unknown ever since his dad disappeared in the Andes chasing a mythic “Lobo Hombre.” He’s the admin of the same group, constantly uploading blurry night‑shots. He sees Nina’s comment: _“That’s not CGI. Where is this?”_ and replies instantly.
3. The Digital Trail
Nina reverse‑engineered the video’s metadata. The file’s EXIF shows:
- *Camera:* Sony α7 III (Marco’s favorite)
- *GPS:* 45.7562° N, 21.2274° E – a speck in the Carpathians, near *Valea Strâmbă* (Crooked Valley).
- *Timestamp:* 2025‑09‑14 23:61 UTC – the “61” is impossible, a glitch.
Marco’s heart thumps. He’s seen that valley on an old map his dad left—_“Where the wolves sing to the moon.”_ He sends Nina a private message:
> *Marco:* “I know that place. My dad swore he heard a howl there 20 years ago. Meet me? I’m heading there tomorrow.”
> *Nina:* “Can’t wait. I’ll book a flight. Lagos → Bucharest, then…?”
4. Convergence – Bucharest Airport
Fog rolls over the runway. Nina steps out in a navy bomber jacket, hair braided tight, clutching a battered notebook. Marco waits, a vintage Leica hanging from his neck, a scar on his left wrist—bite‑shaped, old, unexplained.
*Marco:* “You’re Nina?”
*Nina:* “And you’re Marco. Let’s make this quick.”
A low, mournful howl slices the night, echoing off the terminal’s steel. Both freeze. The wind carries a faint scent—wet pine, iron, and something sweet, like blood.
5. The Chase Begins
They race to a rented Dacia, tires screeching on the wet tarmac. The GPS directs them to *Valea Strâmbă*, a 4‑hour drive through mountain passes. Radio static:
> “…reports of strange animal attacks in the Carpathians… officials urge citizens to stay indoors…”
*Nina:* “Sounds like a cover‑up.”
*Marco:* “Or a story. Either way, we’re on it.”
Mid‑way, the car’s engine sputters. A shadow darts across the road—large, lupine, eyes glowing amber. They slam the brakes; the creature vanishes into the mist.
6. The Monastery of Whispering Wolves
The road ends at a crumbling stone gate. Above, a weather‑worn sign reads *Monastery of St. Grigore*—once a refuge for monks who “kept the wolves.” Vines claw at the walls; moonlight slices through broken windows.
Inside, a dim hall. Candles flicker on a massive oak table. A parchment lies open:
> _“The Blood Moon awakens the Pack. Only the Marked may control the Beast. The amulet binds it.”_
On the wall, a fresco depicts a wolf with a silver collar—identical to the pendant Nina wears, a family heirloom from her grandmother.
*Marco:* “Your necklace…?”
*Nina:* “My grandma said it was a protector. She never told me why.”
A guttural snarl reverberates from the chapel. The doors slam shut.
7. First Confrontation
From the shadows emerges *Drago*, leader of the cult, scarred, eyes wild. Behind him, a chained creature—half‑man, half‑wolf, fur matted, eyes burning.
*Drago:* “You think you can steal the secret? The Pack belongs to the Moon!”
He raises a silver dagger. Marco lunges, camera flashing, capturing the beast’s eyes—reflecting a full moon, a flash of recognition. Nina slams the amulet onto the creature’s collar; a pulse of light erupts, shattering the chains.
The beast howls, breaking free, and *runs* into the forest, dragging Drago with it. The monastery trembles; stones collapse.
8. The Aftermath
Nina and Marco stand amidst dust, breath ragged. The amulet glows faintly, then dies. In Marco’s camera, the final frame: *the wolf’s face, human eyes, a tear of blood.*
*Nina:* “We just… what did we just do?”
*Marco:* “Opened a door. And I think… we’re being watched.
- Writer
