Some things have cultural significance, some things have personal significance, everything probably has both. I think that’s why some people get so invested in certain symbols, while others find them boring or lacking meaning. I get the significance of robots for some people, though they’ve never been my metaphor of choice. Other people like vampires or aliens or, I don’t know, English professors cheating on their wives. While I might have had a brief flirtation with vampires as an angsty teen (because really, who didn’t?), it’s always been about werewolves for me.
I recently had to dig deep into this for an episode of Fake Geek Girls. As it turns out, exploring why something resonates so deeply with you is a pretty personal thing. There’s a reason that I’m so invested in stories about werewolves, even if they’re often disappointing; it’s a bit of rage, a bit of fear, a bit of longing, a bit of wildness. Part of the reason I’m dissatisfied, I think, is that what a metaphorical werewolf means to me is likely different from what it means to others.
Anyway, here’s a drabble about a werewolf.
(a.) From Greek nux for ‘night’ and Latin arius for believer)
A person or creature that’s most active during the night.
Elise didn’t ask for this, but she will make the most of it.
It’s two hours to midnight, the moon heavy and low in the sky. Elisa imagines sinking her teeth into it, of crushing it until it pops between her fangs.
The change comes quickly, painfully, like a punch to the stomach. She leans into it as each bone cracks, stretching and reforming her skin into a new shape. Elise feels sick until, suddenly, she doesn’t.
She runs. It’s what her body and the moon and her mind all tell her to do.
It’s only the change that hurts.