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February 22, 2025
A.I. Generated
The stillness of the night was shattered by the snap of iron jaws—a bear trap meant for the beast, yet it held only the lifeless weight of a hapless sheep. It was not hunger alone that drove the Wolfman to its throat, nor the primal call of the wild. No, this was something far more insidious, an unshakable curse, a wretched impulse clawing at his very marrow. The creature had not sought to kill, not at first. The air, thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves, had promised him solitude. But the moon, that dreadful overseer, had other plans. It whispered through his veins, a ghostly wail that twisted reason into ruin. The sheep, its eyes wide and unknowing, had merely wandered too close. One moment, the Wolfman had hesitated—an echo of the man he once was. The next, his claws were buried deep, his fangs stained crimson. As the creature struggled with the tangled remains, a deeper horror gripped him. It was never about the hunger, never about survival. It was about the insatiable will of the moon—mocking, demanding, commanding him to spill blood beneath its merciless light.
