Legend Moon Rising

• Stephanie Gilhooley, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2010

He was hungry.
I knew that, and yet I ran.
Ran into the distant darkness that I had once called home.
I had tried to keep him safe and this was my reward.
Many would observe sarcastically that I had none.
In fact, the little cynical voice in my head continually reminded me of this.
I constantly told it to shut up.
Running through streets, trying to manoeuvre my way to salvation.
There were myths; tales of the Long-Ago Ones, and how they built immense cities and were rich and powerful. These people had invented glorious machines, breathtaking artwork and had life-spans of over eighty years.
The Long-Ago Ones perished two hundred years ago with the rest of civilisation.
Yet, many believed that one relict of them remained.
The Tower of Heaven.
Deep in the heart of the Catastrophic City, legend said, there was a colossal, glassy tower that seemed to scrape up into the very skies.
Salvation, they said, lay at the top of that tower.
On top of the hundreds of diseases, animals and deadly traps that allegedly remained from the end of the ancient world.
The world of the Long-Ago Ones.
“All you need to know,” the tribe elders told us again and again, “is that the City is indeed catastrophic. You will perish if you go there. Listen to us, and you will survive.”
My parents hadn’t listened.
They insisted that the elders were superstitious old fools, and so we lived in the city for five years.
Until the teeth appeared.
Razor sharp teeth started to grow in their mouths, joined by powerful claws.
Fur.
Tails.
Every night, they howled up at the smoky moon.
It was terrifying to see them; my beloved parents, turned into wolves.
I stayed with them as long as I could, until it was apparent that they no longer ignored our potential for food, so I crept away with my younger brother as they cried at the moon, temporarily distracted.
I have never stopped crying since.
We camped out on the other side of the city, never making a sound.
“If you move,” I whispered to him, “our parents eat us.”
That shut him up.
It’s not safe, I reminded myself constantly. It’s never safe. Don’t think that you are.
I did, though, without even knowing it.
I only realised this, however, when I saw my brother’s heaving wolf body towering over me.
As you do.
So there I was, running to Salvation.
Rhythmic footfalls fell behind me, as I heard heavy panting.
Running on pure adrenaline, I skidded around corners and sprinted down alleyways, always aware of the hideous monster inches behind me.
Until I saw it.
The Tower of Heaven.
Beckoning towards me.
In a daze, I ran through the doors and up the staircases.
Panting, I stopped, getting my breath.
“Hello,” a menacing voice growled behind me.
Three werewolves smiled darkly at me.
“Dinnertime,” my father purred as they laid their claws on my shoulders.