1 Wes

I am blinded. By a bright light. I looked around trying to get my eyes to adjust when I saw him sitting in a chair next to my bed.

"I'm glad to see that you are awake, Paul."

"Wes… What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"No…"

"You were badly hurt 3 days ago, and you have been asleep since then. You shouldn't try to move and keep resting until you are fully recovered."

That was the last thing he told me, as he turned off the lights and walked out of the room.

I don't understand what just happened. What could have caused me to blackout for so long? My memories are hazy, and all I can remember are glimpses of Wes and a lot of blood. I am glad my godfather was there to take care of me. I'm not at the hospital, so that must be a good sign because I am lying in the bed that I use when I sleep over at his house. My upper body, right leg, and around my head are covered in surgical medical tape and some blood stains that have dried up trying to seep through. I can move my body fine without any pain. I do feel a bit sore, and my energy is drained. What could have happened?

My godfather is a witch, and he is a hell of a good one. Wes takes pride in what he does.

Most people still do not believe that witches exist, but those that do, fear their "abilities" and say that they are evil; they work with the devil.

The truth is, he is not a bad person. He has helped many people with his "recipes" as he likes to call them.

It's funny though, he does not even look like a witch. He dresses like a normal person, like me and everyone else around here.

Wes does not wear a pointy hat or the long black robe that television shows and movies like to portray.

He usually wears a plain white T-shirt, blue jeans, and boots.

Some days he likes to wear his 10-gallon hat that covers up his short curly blond hair.

Wes never likes to wear sunglasses because he likes to show off his ice-blue eyes, and he gets a lot of compliments from the ladies. I cannot blame him at all.

He is in his early forties and is well built, he does not go to a gym, but instead does a lot of gardening work and lives off the land, along with his night job. I still think that he does have some sort of a workout routine, because of how fit his body is.

He has more of a western look, or as we like to call them, "cowboys."

I wish that he would walk back in here and tell me more about what the hell happened.

I thought back on the last thing that I could remember…

…Usually, I would be running late for class; I could never wake up on time. There are other days that I do not even show up. The good thing is, I am not in high school anymore; I am in college now, so I do not have to worry about a police officer coming to my house and giving me a court letter for truancy.

I am what people would like to call a "loser" because I do not have anything going for me. I have no goals in life to keep me going, and I do not socialize with anyone, I isolate myself from everyone and only have a hand full of friends I talk to. I wake up, go to class, then work, go back home, spend most of my time with Wes, and go home again and sleep for about 13 hours a day. The only reason I am in college is to get my parents off my ass who keep telling me to go to college and get a degree in something. I just don't know what that "something" is. For now, I am just taking my core classes—

Wait a minute… I was fishing by the river with Wes!

He forgot to bring the bait and ran back to the house to get it. I waited there for him because I did not want to carry the stuff back and forth just for some bait. He did not live that far from the river, so we walked there.

That is when it happened!

I was lying down and closed my eyes for a bit while I waited for Wes to return when I heard something moving in the tall grass behind me. I thought Wes had made it back already.

I remember saying, "That was fast", but when I did not hear a response and kept hearing something moving closer, I looked up in that direction.

There stood a tall, dark wolf the size of a bear. Maybe it was even bigger. I felt my heart pounding out of my chest.

"I REMEMBER NOW!"

The door to my room swung open.

"I thought I told you to get some rest!"

"Sorry, it's just that I remembered what happened."

Wes sighed, "I guess that means you're not going to fall asleep any time soon."

I shook my head, "Nope."

"Okay, let's talk about it for a bit. I wanted to wait until you were fully recovered to tell you."

I sat there confused, "…tell me what…?"

"That wolf was no ordinary wild animal. That was a spirit that attacked you, 'The spirit of the black wolf'. In other words, you're a werewolf."

"What do you mean I am a werewolf!? They actually exist!?"

Wes raised his right eyebrow in disbelief, "What do you mean that they actually exist!? I am a witch and I exist."

"Yeah, but that is different."

Wes gave me a whatever look and continued, "I am going to ignore that. As I was saying, there hasn't been a werewolf in existence in over 2,000 years. You are the first of your kind. This makes you special and quite different from other werewolves."

I can hear Wes telling me this, but I just do not believe it.

"Go ahead and go back to sleep and try to not think about it so much. If your wounds are healed by tomorrow morning, you might just be able to attend class tomorrow, and you do not want to miss your mother's lecture." Once again, he turns off the lights and walks out of my room.

I am lying in my bed scared because I do not know if things are going to get better or worse. More importantly, will I be able to control this?