My Luna Has Returned

Four years later, as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I was left stunned and bewildered. It was unbelievable, but I had become a werewolf! How was this even possible? Trying not to panic, I had to keep myself composed, as I couldn't risk my parents finding out about my transformation, especially after Shawn had jokingly suggested the idea not too long ago.

Several weeks ago, my group of friends had been amazed by what they dubbed my "superpowers." My abilities included running faster than an average human, possessing incredible strength, having super hearing, and even a rapid healing ability. My parents, upon discovering my extraordinary capabilities when I officially moved in with them, were taken aback, making me feel uneasy and different. Since then, I had tried to maintain a low profile, but it wasn't always easy, as I couldn't resist the joy of running, which became somewhat of an open secret.

I had considered joining the school sports team, but the attention it would bring deterred me from doing so. Shawn, one of my friends, had even teased me, suggesting I might be a werewolf or vampire. His words stuck with me, prompting me to secretly research the topic. While some descriptions didn't align with my experiences, many mentioned super-strength, super-speed, and heightened senses – traits that aligned with my own abilities.

Despite my reservations about delving into the realm of mythological creatures, I couldn't ignore the anomalies in my life any longer. Thus, without my parents' knowledge, I would take their car and drive to the forest where everything began – the place where I had fallen over the cliff four years ago. Running through that forest made me feel connected to something familiar, a feeling I had been missing for ages. I longed to discover the truth behind these strange occurrences.

Time and again, I would call out to "my wolf" while running through the forest, hoping for some sign or connection, but nothing happened. Frustrated, I eventually gave up. However, today, while contemplating my lost family, my past, I felt an unusual connection. My bones cracked, my body trembled, and before I knew it, I was on all fours – a wolf.

Now, stranded in my wolf form, I tried desperately to shift back to my human self. The experience was unsettling, and I was unsure if my wolf could communicate with me. Chanting "shift, shift, shift" in my head, I remained trapped in this unfamiliar body. However, when I imagined myself in human form, a tremor ran through me, and I found myself back on my knees, naked, breathing heavily on the floor of my room.

Recalling the night four years ago, when I awoke naked, the mystery began to unravel. Perhaps I had been in my wolf form when the accident occurred, explaining the peculiar circumstances surrounding my transformation.

Despite the exhaustion, something felt different now. It was as if my brain had finally acknowledged a part of me that had been there all along – my wolf. How had I never felt it before? Why did it surface now? Perhaps my acceptance of being a supernatural being that shouldn't exist had triggered this awakening.

Curiosity turned towards my biological parents, wondering if they, too, were werewolves. As I pondered the unknown, a new chapter of my life had begun, full of questions and revelations about my true nature and the world I now found myself a part of.

Lost in thought, I gaze out the window, observing the car parked outside the house as darkness descends. The encroaching night doesn't bother me; after all, my supernatural eyes can easily navigate the darkness. As I come to accept my true identity as a supernatural creature, I feel a surge of empowerment and invincibility. The urge to run overtakes me, and I quickly change into a dress that will be easy to take off, slip on some sandals, and grab my purse.

"I'm going to Anna's!" I call out, reaching for the car keys. But before I can open the front door, my mom emerges from the kitchen.

"At this hour, Riley? It's late, and you have classes tomorrow," she says, her hand absently playing with her thinning hair. Cancer may be taking its toll, but she remains strong, refusing to yield to the illness. I try not to dwell on the effects of her decision to forgo chemo; it's a painful thought. I had urged her to undergo treatment, but she insists on savoring her remaining years, choosing to avoid the suffering that chemo might entail. At eighty-two, she's surprisingly agile and independent.