Wolf: Maine Station(s)

A Story by Abishai100

A lycanthropy story about sought 'escape' from a moon-curse of religious estrangement, yielding a 'dream' of matter.

A lycanthropy-yarn drawn from the excellent late-20th Century series Werewolf (Fox-TV). Enjoy!

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Amlan Satan wandered around until he reached the quaint area of Maine (Bangor) where he'd seek a nice/comfy job as a supermarket clerk/assistant and try to forget his dark curse. He hoped he'd find some special social-media post outlet for commentary and stories to forget something that transformed him into a real werewolf.

After moving to Boston from Algiers, Satan studied at MIT and learned to appreciate the value(s) of cognitive science and computing but during a camping-trip was bitten by a wandering black wolf with glowing yellowy-eyes. He got a fever and tried to shake-off these newfound strange urges but then started to mutate, every full-moon, into a werewolf. He never believed in superstition and preferred normal overground capitalism-race storytelling and not fantasies of the heart, but he wouldn't deny what had happened to him. Every morning, after a full-moon night, he'd awake, somewhere in the forest of some town he'd wander into as a running-man, sometimes naked or with blood on his hands, and know he was a werewolf doing something terrifying/isolationist the night-before. It was about 5 years now since college, and he was now in Maine, seeking a job for normal-life, trying to forget his dark-curse, and perhaps make normal Selfie-posts about consumerism living (hmm).

AMLAN: I got this cool werewolf action-figure for Halloween, since I rolled-around this sleepy/nice New England town during the October-month, and I'm going to 'dream' about the nature of self-made sanity, since I can't create any natural (God-given) sanity due to my horrid full-moon curse, worth a movie-joke (ha).

Well, something called to him as the full-moon came in Bangor (Maine), and he didn't find the normal comforts of his stations he'd established in the New England area, in his nice leased apartment and in his nice supermarket position as a quiet/happy clerk. He wandered into the Bangor woods when the full-moon day came that October, and he began transforming, into a werewolf (once-more). How'd he spin this 'exercise' into a Selfie-post (hmm)?

DANIELLA: Here's a zesty/soft/yum (Indian) luchi-bread plate (for ya).

AMLAN: You're such a gorgeous hostess of my Maine station(s).

DANIELLA: There's something stranger in your eyes, since we began dating!

AMLAN: What if I told you I'm a werewolf, Danielle...would you believe?

DANIELLA: Are you joking (with me), Amlan Satan?
AMLAN: I'm enjoying your luchi-plate (tasty!)...but not joking (with you!).

DANIELLA: I'm a policewoman, Amlan; I don't need insanity in my life.

AMLAN: I'm not insane; next full-moon, I'll find you evidence for this.

DANIELLA: Look, just enjoy the luchi (now); we can talk more later (ok?).

AMLAN: I'm sorry...I do love you...I'll post a luchi-photo online (for you).

DANIELLA: Good (thanx).

Now, he/Daniella had formed a quaint Bangor/Maine couple of romance for about 2 weeks, as Halloween approached that October, and Amlan Satan had already awoken the day-after the full-moon that month, with the usual blood-stain hand signs for omens/brooding. He confided (openly) in Daniella who, after her divorce, simply was more interested in seeking a normal-life for herself and her son (Damian). He didn't want to 'prove' any of this to her especially, but he didn't know (honestly) what else to do/say. How'd he post something fun/honest about his new lady on social media (now)?

DANIELLA: I got you this acid and absinthe combination for skin/drink.

AMLAN: What's this?
DANIELLA: They say if you treat the 'inner-man' for the wolfen-spirit, you heal.

AMLAN: Some light acid for my lycanthropy-claws and absinthe for the brain.

DANIELLA: Excellence, Satan; if you're a werewolf, this is a remedy-mix!

AMLAN: You're quite intelligence...and caring (to me), Daniella.

DANIELLA: Good; tell me what happens to you...next full-moon (ok?).

AMLAN: Hey, if this works, I'll post the remedy-tale on social media (ok).

Well, the next full-moon did come, as Thanksgiving (now) approached, and after the murder-mystery of a wandering escaped convict, found decapitated in the Bangor woods after the October full-moon, Amlan Satan wondered if his werewolf alter-ego was the culprit indeed. As this November moon approached, Satan hoped earnestly (now) to use Daniella's remedy-blend to salve away the wolfen-spirit inside his inner-man and simply continue his new happy-life at the supermarket and with Daniella/Damian. Perhaps he'd even make a Bangor short-story with photos on social media.

DAMIAN: Wow, a college-basketball chess-set (for me)?

AMLAN: Excellence, sonny; there's so may cool games on YouTube (now)!
DAMIAN: Well I guess I'll be watching the games this year (on TV).

AMLAN: I can teach you the 'bloody-castle' move (for stalemate-chess).

DAMIAN: You're so cool, Mr. Satan (and mom really likes you).

Full-moon came, and Daniella's remedy-blend worked, and Amlan for the first-time since once-bitten didn't transform/mutate. There were no signs whatsoever. He decided the wolfen-inner spirit was somehow imbued with a strange life-wrought humility-sensation, and he decided to continue to pray/meditate on this newfound calmness/happiness, and he had Daniella/Damian to thank (partially) for that! He got Damian a 'cool' Sabatini (Argentina) pro-women's tennis spirits 'youth-fanzine' trophy-image item, a 20th-Century memento of the upstart-athlete's 'cool' defiance of invincible Graf (Germany) in the 1988/1990 US-Open finals.

DAMIAN: Wow, so Sabatini shocked the world in the US-Open.

SATAN: Excellence; no one (then) thought anyone'd defy the Graf in NY.

DAMIAN: You've become much more cool, dad.

SATAN: I'm so glad you call me your dad (now), Damian!

DAMIAN: Mom's really lucky she met you (wow).

SATAN: I'm the lucky one, sonny; I'll make a story with this tennis-trophy.

DAMIAN: Thanx.

SATAN: God bless you, sonny (and me)!