A Werewolve’s Gossip: Michelle Daintry

‘Werewolves…some people would have you believe that silver finishes the job. It doesn’t. That’s just an old wives tale.’

Jez put the pen in his mouth, thoughtfully, as he reread the small paragraph. Then he held the yellowed paper up to the light to see if that made any difference. But without the paperweight it just stubbornly curled back up on itself. Jez scowled at the paper, forgetting the pen in his mouth. The pen objected to being mistreated and showed it’s disgust by splattering his shirt and chin with foul-smelling ink. Jez threw the pen away and cursed at the blue explosion.

He leant over to see the damage, himself, in the hand-mirror upon the desk. He held the wooden-framed looking-glass up and gazed sourly at the boy in the mirror. His chin was streaked with indigo as was his neck, and a blue fireworks display was taking place on his chest. The boy looked like a sloppy vampire with an odd taste for blue blood. Though, frankly, the ink was the least of his problems. At least it covered the new head that was growing on his chin.

A deep chuckle roused Jez from his self-absorbed thoughts and he turned to see Doctor Raynor leaning against the bunk beds behind him. He rested his head on his hand which gave his face a lopsided look. A fresh bout of chuckles caught the doctor when he saw the mess Jez had made of his face. Jez narrowed his eyes. But for some apparent reason that tickled the doctor too. Jez felt his face grow hot but held his tongue. Adults always seem to find it so very amusing when you’re annoyed.

“I see you lost the battle with the pen, then,” the doctor smirked, then ruffled Jez’s hair affectionately.

Jez moved out of reach. What? Does he think I’m a child?, he thought. Then it struck him that there was something different about the doctor today. He stood back and examined him carefully, resisting the urge to lick his lips as ink certainly wasn’t one of his favourite dishes.

“What? Have I grown horns without noticing?”, the doctor asked lightly.

Then it dawned on Jez.

“You’ve combed your hair!”

An odd tinge of colour entered the doctor’s usually pale complexion but Jez paid little heed as his gaze moved from his hair to the clean shirt.

“And why are you wearing a suit?”

The doctor cleared his throat and smiled, though Jez wasn’t entirely sure it could be classed as a smile. Maybe more of a painful grimace.

“Erm, I did mention we had a visitor this afternoon, didn’t I?”

Jez thought for a moment, his mind blank, then a vague memory of flowers floated into his mind’s eye and with it a toothy smile grew on his blue lips.

“Oh, Ms Harper, eh?”

The doctor cuffed him lightly on the head and shook his head in disapproval.

“I’ll have none of that. Now go and get cleaned up. She’ll be here in an hour or so.”

Jez nodded, the grin remaining firmly on his lips. Then shuffled under the doctors arm and searched in the drawer for a clean flannel.

“Quite the unexpected visit,” Jez muttered absently.

“Learn to expect the unexpected, Jez, I’d’ve thought you’d know that by now,” the doctor replied before leaving the room.

Little did Jez know that the unexpected was about to arrive later that afternoon, in the form of Ms Harper’s sixteen year-old daughter.


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