The sun begins it descent at four thirty-eight pm at which point we all know to pack away our belongings, as anything left out when the moon is high will surely be destroyed. Despite knowing this and hearing the warnings of my mother I decide I want to see what happens, so I stay out, past the moon beginning its ascent, past the clock chiming nine times. I stay out until the chill is deep in my bones and fear creeps up my body for reasons I can’t see. The wind feels sharp and every gust feels like dozens of paper cuts against my skin. I begin to regret my decision when I see, at the end of the street, a blanket previously unmoving now shredded by an unseen force. I try to run but my feet feel frozen to the ground, and after a moment of struggle I realize they don’t just feel frozen, they are. So I still, hoping that halting all movement I can prevent what ever is coming from seeing me. But as the first blow comes and throws me on the ground I send an apology t my mother, for not believing the stories, praying she can forgive me and my stupidity. The pain is so sharp I lose my breath and with it my ability to cry out for help, although no one would come, too afraid of meeting the same end. For a moment I think I see my father, and perhaps I see his ghost, but he has long since passed. My eyes close on their own, and I hear wolves howling, I feel a smile effortlessly appear. For when the wolves howl, you the end is near and the pain will finally be over.