The final chapter.

Well, here we are, at the end of this goddamn thing.

I guess the best thing to do is save the horseshit, and let you guys know, well- what happened to me.

That was the point of this whole thing, right?

As I stated yesterday, Julie had left me a message on the mirror telling me that she had kidnapped Scott, I assumed at gunpoint, seeing as one of the shotguns was missing, and that I had to meet her on the Williamsburg bridge, which whether she knew it or not, was the place where all this started for me.

She wanted to meet at 8:00, which meant that by the time I got there, she'd be changing soon, and I wouldn't have much time. I was fairly convinced that I wasn't going to change, but still, I was nervous about being out on that bridge again.

At 7:30, I grabbed the duffel bag with the other shotgun and put on the iPod, so I could talk to Dan on the walk up. It was nice to check in:

"So- what do you think, Kirk? How are you feeling?"

A little nervous, I guess- I mean, this plan- if it doesn't work-

"It'll work. It's got to work. I mean, you trust Alyssa, right?"

Yeah, I guess- I just don't know- if Julie changes before we can pull this off-

"Well, then- you'll be dead, and she'll bite somebody else, and with any luck you'll end up in this iPod with me. Then, who knows, maybe the new werewolf will find us, and we can help him- I dunno..fight crime."

What?

"Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood."

Well quit it. I'd like to say something to you.

"Oh Jesus."

No, stop it- I just want to say that if this doesn't work, well- buddy, it's been- well...

"If you say fun, I swear to God I'll figure out a way to inhabit another human body just so I can kick you square in the nuts."

No- no- not fun, I dunno, I guess- an adventure.

"Jesus, you're a pussy."

You never give me a break, do you?

"It's for your own good. Don't sweat it."

Yeah, well- for what it's worth thanks. I'm getting up to the bridge now- cross your fingers.

"I don't have fingers, remember? If I did, I'd be flipping you off right now."

Yeah, well... whatever- here's hoping that we can take care of this bitch, and send you on your way.

"Thanks Kirk... If it works out, I'll see you on the other side."

Yeah- Oh, one more thing- if you actually do move on to another plane, does that mean that this iPod will actually play music?

"How the fuck should I know?"

I dunno, I mean, shit- you're the one trapped in it, and if you move on, it'd be nice to have an iPod is all.

"You're a twisted fuck."

Yeah, well- good luck.

"Good luck to you too Kirk."



I took off the iPod and started walking up the bridge from the Williamsburg side. As I got halfway up, I turned the corner at the midpoint of the walkway and heard Julie's voice.

"Stop right there!"

She was standing in the middle of the walkway, with the shotgun leveled at Scott's head. He was tied up, had a gag in his mouth and had been beaten badly; his left eye was swollen up pretty good. I slid the shotgun halfway out of the duffel bag, and she saw me.

"Drop it!"

I dropped it.

"Let him go!" I yelled.

"Oh- I'll let him go. You're going to need something to eat when the moon rises." She grabbed Scott by the ropes around his hands and threw him to the ground. "Stop it" I said, he's innocent in all this. And I told you. I figured it out. I don't change anymore." I walked towards Scott, and Julie put the shotgun to his head. "Oh, you don't change? Really? You're a killer, Thomson. Like I am. Why can't you embrace that?"

Finally, she had said the magic words. Now was my chance.

"You're a killer, Julie? Tell me, who have you killed?"

"Who have I killed, I've torn more people limb from limb than you can possibly imagine. I'm a beast, an animal, and you'll see- soon." She turned her head towards the skyline, which was already darkening. The moon was rising.

"No Julie-" I said, "Not how many people has the WOLF killed. How many have YOU killed? Personally. As a human being. If you were really a killer, you'd pull that trigger right now. But you know what? I don't think you have the guts."

Scott looked up at me with horror, and moaned through his gag.

Julie fixed me with a glare, the evil behind her eyes shining.

"Really. You think I'm not a killer? Well watch this!"

She leveled the shotgun at Scott's back, squeezed the trigger, and as I was yelling the word "NO!" it was drowned out by the boom of the gun. Scott's body was blasted forward onto the cement of the bridge. As his body fell, I ran forward and tackled her, slamming her against a pylon of the bridge.

Now, it was time to run.

I headed down the bridge towards the Manhattan side, with her chasing about 30 feet behind me. I looked up and saw the full moon. This was it. The moment of truth. I looked at my hands.

Nothing.

I stopped running for a moment and took in the moon. It was time. I turned back and saw Julie, who had also stopped running. Looking directly at me, she peeled her sweatshirt off, and stood topless in the light of the moon. She leaned against the bridge, and started to unbutton her jeans, getting ready to transform.

I looked at the moon again, and then back to Julie.

"What's the problem?" I asked, walking back to where she stood.

Her face was transfixed by fear. She looked at the moon, which was full, and back at her hands. Nothing was happening.

"What...what is happening to me?"

"I can tell you what's happening. You have committed murder. As a human being. All you wanted most in the world was to change into a monster. Well you have. You've murdered another human being, and now you no longer require change. Alyssa was right. You have become a monster, Julie, which is what you've always wanted to be. So now- unfortunately for you, you're cured."

She looked up, and her eyes were filled with tears.

"Cry all you want, monster. Congratulations."

Silently, she rose to her feet, took a running start and leapt off the bridge. Her body made a soft slapping sound as it hit the water.

It was almost over.

I had to check on Scott.

Running back up the bridge to where he was, I saw him squirming on the pavement. I untied him, removed his gag, and he punched me in the face.

"What the fuck was that!" He screamed at me.

"Rocksalt. Alyssa always had it rocksalt shells around, so I loaded the guns with it, and just hoped that she'd try to kill someone with it."

"But why?"

"Because Alyssa's theory was right. One cannot change into a werewolf unless one desires radical change in their lives. What I wanted more than anything else was to get out of the situation I was in. When I accepted it, and embraced it, I got over this bullshit. What Julie wanted more than anything else was to be a killer. I gambled that if she thought she had killed someone, it would be enough. And it was. I'm sorry it had to be you."

"Where is she now?"

"She's gone. Now let's get you to a hospital."

I pulled out my cell phone, dialed 911, and threw the other shotgun into the water. Scott sat slumped on the side of the bridge, and I realized I had one more thing to check on.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the iPod.

I put it in my ears and said:

Dan? Dan... you there?

And then- nothing.

He was gone.

He made it. He fucking made it.
Way to go, buddy.

I walked back up to where Scott was sitting, told him that the paramedics were on their way, and said goodbye, walking back across the bridge to Williamsburg under a bright full moon.

This night, I made it to the other side.

And that's the story, folks- I hope you enjoyed it.

I mean, I guess I could keep this thing going if you guys really want to hear about my next shift at the video store or what I thought about the new Star Wars movie (it sucked), but I dunno- I think the story has been told.

So thanks for your comments, your interest, and coming and checking this thing out for the past 8 months.

I couldn't have done it without you.

But for now, I'm tired and I'm going home.

I still gotta figure out how to get that fucking cow down the stairs.

-Kirk Thomson







P.S.
If you want to read the story of this blog, why it got started, and what's happening next, feel free to click this link .

Or don't. This is kind of a nice ending, I think.

Penultimate

Well, it is somewhat odd for me to begin writing this entry, as I've been doing this blog for about 8 months now, and this is the second to last entry.

I'm not kidding this time- I know that there have been a few false endings, practical jokes, and moments where I was positive that I would either be killed or take my own life, but that's not going to happen this time.

This blog was started under the title "What is happening to me, " and that is a question that has been answered. I've had a hell of a year, seen and done things that boggle the mind, gone to the extremes of sex, love, violence, joy, hatred and pain, and come out the other side ready to face my life again.

I know that several of you have commented that even if I'm not a monster, you'd still like to read about my life, but that's just it- when I was a werewolf, I needed the help- I needed to reach out to people, needed to know that I wasn't alone, and now, I just don't need that as much. As I've stated, the blog is a very personal medium, and serves the author more than the audience. While having certain segments of my life out in public has been helpful for me in the past, now, I think it's time for me to own it myself again.

I've learned a lot over the past 8 months, and not just how to properly insert a link in HTML. I've learned that change is essential, change is important, change is a vital part of life, but change is something that happens slowly, and often isn't even percieved until the transformation is complete.

You can't push the river.

Yes, I was bitten by a werewolf, and I have changed radically over the course of 20 minutes, into something that I don't think I will ever truly understand. But what I do understand is, that one cannot change into a werewolf if one doesn't also desire radical personal change. And I don't anymore. I have accepted what and who I am, and decided that any inward pain I have, can and will be made better by using the natural world around me to slowly work towards a better life.

If everything that pains us is caused by external factors of nature, it is those same external factors that can provide the cure. It just doesn't happen overnight, and I not only do I understand that now, the woman who made me understand it died in the hospital last night.

After losing her arm, Alyssa made it to the hospital OK, but lost too much blood, and passed away sometime around 3:30 in the morning.

Scott called just after it happened, I was back at the lab, cleaning up the bodies of Cameron and Chandler, and trying to make sense of what I was supposed to do. Scott broke the news to me, and I wanted to go right out and find Julie, but he explained to me that if I wasn't a werewolf, we really didn't stand much of a chance in a straight up fight, and it was better to track her using her ankle bracelet after she changed back this morning. I just hope to God she didn't bite anyone else. She ate most of Cameron's body, and in my experience, after I ate something large, I usually just looked for somewhere to sleep it off.

Let's hope that she did the same.

I checked in with Dan on the iPod, and we came up with a plan of attack.

I loaded the shotguns, and determined that we had to get to Julie before the moon rose. If she was a werewolf when we found her, we wouldn't stand a chance.

Then I went back to my place, fed the cow, and tried to get some sleep.

Scott called around 8:30, and I went back to the lab- the computers were kind of trashed, so it took quite a while for Scott to get things up and running- we needed to get a signal on Julie's ankle bracelet, providing that it wasn't destroyed. As it turned out, we didn't need it.

Scott sent me to Mikey's hookup for some supplies, and when I came back, around 3:30- he was gone. The following message was written on the mirror- in blood.

"THOMPSON. I HAVE YOUR FRIEND. MEET ME ON THE WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE AT 8:00 PM. COME ALONE."

It was a little messier than that on the mirror, but there really isn't any kind of decent "written in blood" font, at least that I could find.

But you get the picture.

I checked for the shotguns, and one of them was gone. I picked up the iPod, told Dan about the situation, and waited.

There was nothing else I could do.

This is already a long post, and as tomorrow's will be the last- I'll save what happened for then.

Thanks to everyone who has been supportive and enjoyed this blog.

See you tomorrow.





In loving memory:

Alyssa Elizabeth Stevens
1976-2005

Julie changed last night-

-and it didn't go well.

We spent the afternoon moving my cage out of the loft and into the new space where her cage was.

The idea was to have us side by side in different cages as the moon came up, just to see what effect we'd have on each other.

Might have been a bad idea.

I was in my cage trying to read as the the time approached. She was pacing around, animalistic, shrieking that she was going to kill us all.

I didn't get much reading done.

Chandler, Alyssa, Cameron and Scott were all pacing around- Chandler had this long speargun, Alyssa and Cameron had shotguns, and Scott was nervously checking several clipboards, walking back and forth from the cages to the computers, I guess monitoring Julie's ankle bracelet. I saw Alyssa loading her shotgun with shells, and it wasn't the rocksalt. This was ammo. I was a little freaked out, I must admit. This werewolf chick was out of her head- unloading some real over the top exorcist-babble.

She was saying things like "Hey Thompson- what's the matter? Don't you WANT to change? Don't you want to be a killer?! You know what it is to kill. You've felt it- it makes you strong. Why don't you embrace it?! That's what I've done. And just you wait to see what happens!"

"Fuck you!" I screamed at her.

I couldn't help it.

All of a sudden there was a hand on my shoulder. It was Alyssa.

"Here," she said- handing me the iPod. Talk to Dan. It'll relax you."

Julie's voice pierced the moment- "Well isn't that sweet! Little impotent werewolf with his girlfriend that's fucking someone else. Yeah, that's it, check in with Casper the friendly iPod. "

I turned to her, angry, and actually felt a snarl come to my throat, which scared me, a feeling that subsided as Chandler's gun butt slammed through the bars and into Julie's face, knocking her to the ground.

Alyssa was not pleased.

"Goddamnit Chandler! There will be NO VIOLENCE while the subject is still human! We were clear about that!"

Chandler glanced to Cameron, who nodded, backing her up. Chandler turned back to Alyssa.

"I'm sorry, M'aam. It's just she was-"

"Forget about it." Alyssa waked back around to the door of Julie's cage, joining Chandler. "Goddamnit, she's out- we're going to have to-"

I put the iPod on, and closed my eyes. I needed to relax.

Dan- buddy, you there?

"Yeah, I'm here, pal, how goes the full moon fever?"

I don't know- I'm here in the cage, the moon's about to rise, and Julie's right here next to me-

"In the same cage!? Are you fucking nuts?"

No, different cages, Alyssa just knocked her out- it's just...it's just, she got to me.

"What did Alyssa say about your changing?"

She said- if I don't desire radical change, then I won't change- she read me this passage from one of her books, it said 'all situations are changeable, but you can't push the river.'

"Sounds like a fortune cookie to me."

Yeah, me too- still, there's some wisdom to it- you see, change is inevitable. Change will come. I can improve my life, but it's not going to happen overnight. You can cross the river if you build a bridge- you know? You just can't push it away overnight.

"Yeah, I hear you. Wait. What the fuck is going on out-?"


The tremendous BANG of Julie's cage door slamming open blotted out my ears for a moment, obliterating my conversation with Dan. The rest was kind of a blur. Julie, now a large werewolf, had thrown a large chunk of Chandler's torso up against the door of the cage knocking it wide open, and splattering Cameron, who was trying to close it, with gore. Alyssa cocked her shotgun, and ran around to the front of the cage.

The whole scene was kind of nasty.

Apparently, Julie had been knocked unconcious, or at least led everyone to believe she had been, and when Chandler walked into the cage to give her smelling salts, she began to change. I'm still a little amazed that they thought that two minutes before the moon rises was a good idea to climb into the cage with a werewolf, but Chandler was always a little cocky. Also, I might just be a little more attuned to the timing of that kind of thing than he was.

Whatever, now he was in pieces, and all hell was breaking loose.

As Alyssa raised her shotgun, the wolf slammed directly through the door of the cage, sending Cameron flying through Scott's computer desk. I couldn't see Scott anywhere. There was a deafening boom as Alyssa fired her shotgun, and a high pitched screaming as the wolf wheeled around on her, sinking it's teeth into her arm, and tearing it out of it's socket with a disgusting wet splashing sound.

Alyssa's body hit the ground just as a geyser of her blood shot at least 7 feet into the air. I heard screaming, and realized it was coming from me.

I tried to change.

It's the first time I ever tried to do it. All I could hear was screaming, crashing, the roaring of the beast and the multiple blasts from Cameron's shotgun, and I was staring at the moon. If ever there was a time that I should have changed, that I wanted to change, that I needed to change, it was then.

I stared at the moon though the window of the cell and tried to concentrate.

Nothing.

I stared at my hand.

Nothing.

I began clawing at my face and chest, drawing blood, trying to lure the monster out of me, but it was gone.

I was helpless, pushing the river, and had to sit and watch, as the carnage unfolded.

Julie, now a werewolf, had roared when Cameron's shotgun blast hit her in the back, distracting her from Alyssa, who was slumped in a corner, missing an arm, in a pool of blood. The wolf turned, and what happened next was difficult to describe.

It leapt at Cameron from across the room and blasted him off his feet. I saw his feet under the wolf, and heard the frenzied feeding, and then an arm just sort of skidded across the room. There was so much blood that it didn't really move that fast, it just sort of drifted towards the wall, away from where his body had been. Then one of his legs did the same, kind of twisting on the bloodsoaked floor like a piece of driftwood on a slow moving river. It kind of parted from his body and just slowly spun clockwise, away from his body.

The wolf rose from the kill and looked at me.

Like, stared at me, with those same piercing eyes that I remembered Julie having from when I first met her. Then, everything human was gone from her.

She howled. It was a long, victorious, baying howl of triumph. She looked at me once again, with a look of scorn, if an animal can truly possess such an emotion, and turned away. She took a running start, hurled her body at the front door of the apartment, smashing it, and was gone.

What seemed like an eternity of silence passed, and then I heard sobbing.

It was Scott, from beneath a pile of shattered wood. He'd been hiding under his desk when Cameron's body shattered it, and he stayed down. I hated him at the time, for his cowardice, but it was probably the smartest thing he could have done.

I yelled at him to check with Alyssa, who was slumped in a corner. He applied a tourniquet, and they left for the hospital. He unlocked the cage, but I stayed in there.

I just couldn't move.

After he got back, he told me that Julie was still wearing her ankle bracelet when she left.

So today, we have to find her. Me and Scott. The ex-werewolf and the bookworm. Alyssa is alive, but might not stay that way- she's in a hospital bed minus a limb. And she was one of the lucky ones.

So now it's up to us to find Julie. You know, before the moon rises again.

We're leaving now- according to the signal on the ankle bracelet, she's somewhere in Greenpoint.

It's been a while since I've been this scared, but I have an idea.

I gotta go now and load up the shotguns.

Christ, I hope it works.

Well, tomorrow's the day-

Full moon tomorrow night, and then it's three in the cage next to that wacko chick werewolf, and I'll see if I'm really over this shit.

Part of me wishes that I was a werewolf, cause it's gonna be no picnic trying to sleep next to a werewolf, raging against the bars of it's cage.

Amybe Alyssa will let me out if I don't change.

I had a hockey game today and I'm pretty goddamn tired.

Here's a little more Emerson for you-

This is from an address he gave at Harvard in 1837, called "The American Scholar" back when Harvard meant something other than a guaranteed TV writing job right out of college.

I mean, shit- didn't a degree from Harvard used to mean something? I mean, something other than "You went to Harvard, and you're 22? well feel free to have a job ruining the Simpsons!"

Anyway, here's the passage that turned me on, about the role of "great literature" in education:

The theory of books is noble. The scholar of the first age recieved into him the world around; brooded thereon; gave it the new arrangement of his own mind, and uttered it again. It came into him life; it went out from him truth...But none is quite perfect. As no air pump can by any means create the perfect vaccum, so neither can any artist entirely exclude the conventional, the local, the perishable from his book, or write a book of pure thought, that shall be as efficient, in all respects, to a remote posterity...

Each age, it is found, must write it's own books; or rather each generation for the next succeeding. The books of an older period will not fit this. Yet hence arises a grave mischief... The (original) writer was a just and wise spirit: henceforward it is settled the book is perfect; as love of the hero corrupts into worship of his statue. Instantly, the book becomes noxious: the guide is a tyrant...Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it thier duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given; forgetful that Cicero, Locke and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote those books. Hence, instead of Man Thinking, we have the bookworm...




What he is saying here, over a century after his death, now reknowned as one of the classic geniuses in American literature is this:

"Don't fucking feel like you have to read me."

"If you are sitting inside, poring over the classics, worshipping them because some college tells you it's great, well then you're not a scholar, you're a douchebag, and you should be absorbing the universal truths that nature presents to you, and turn that universal truth into your own book, that speaks the language of the times. And if I'm too old and stodgy by that time for you to get into my stuff, well- fuck it. Put down my fucking book, don't believe the hype, get the fuck out there, live life and write about it!"

I'm paraphrasing, of course.

I haven't read all of Emerson's works, but I'm fairly sure he didn't call a lot of people "douchebags."

Maybe James Boswell.

I know, Dr. Johnson was pithy as hell, but seriously, what a suckup.

Oh, and I'm working over at the store tonight.

So on the exterior, while it might look like I'm merely repeating the phrase "Yeah, we have Team America, but they're all rented out"; what I'm really doing is getting out into the natural world, gaining experience, and adding new possibilities of metaphor to my constantly evolving soul.

By the way, who woulda thunk that in a year with no playoff hockey, I'd decide to fill that void with transcendentalism?

Weird.

OK- time to go to work.

I got my Star Wars tickets.

I know, I know.

I'm going Friday, during the day, so no spoilers in the comments section, OK?

It's a nice day today, and I just got back from my buddies place in Brewster, where I went last night and did a little outdoor barbequing.

Jesus, it's nice to get out of the city for a little while and just hang out in somebody's yard.

I stopped by the lab today and checked in with the were-nerds.

They're all hopped up cause the full moon is coming up, and that girl werewolf has started to freak me out. She's all talking about how she's going to kill all of them, and get out of the cage, and I noticed that Alyssa had unloaded a whole bunch of her lethal weapons, which is odd- normally she's all about rocksalt in the shotguns and tranqulizer darts.

It was Williamson that was the lunatic.

Of course, I killed the shit out of that guy.

I can still see that motherfucker's head bouncing across the floor like a soccer ball.

It's funny, I don't even really feel too bad about it. I mean, I guess that sometimes it crosses my mind that I've you know- killed people, but in the cases of Williamson and that mind control guy, I don't really have remorse. They came into my environment and fucked with me.

I do feel bad about the bus accident, though.

I still wonder what happened to that kid.

I hope he's OK.

It's interesting that I'm thinking about all this stuff as I get ready to see the Star Wars movie, which is going to be all about a man's slide into evil, and using his great power to kill and destroy, and I dunno- it just gives me the willies is all, especially when I think about that girl werewolf.

I've been reading Emerson recently too. Actually, just the essay "Nature" which is pretty phenomenal. I've tried to tackle it in the past, but it just was too dense, or I'd get into it, appreciate it, and then immediately forget it.

But this time I've been getting into it.

It takes me about an hour to read even 20 pages of it, cause there are so many ideas combined with so much poetry, but damn- while it's nice to read that a few commentors on the last post think that I write well, but fuck that-

That guy writes WELL.

I mean, no fucking around, he basically sits down, asks what the meaning of life is, comes up with the idea that if we are to determine the meaning of life, we have to define the parts that make it up. He comes up with only three things in the entire universe: Nature, Art and the Soul.

All three pretty big topics.

Then, he just says well- let's look at nature. What do we get from nature? What is the meaning of nature? What does nature bring to us as human beings and what do we bring to it?

And then he fucking answers the question.

Like hashes out EVERYTHING, in a solid outline, and just starts breaking down human existence and how it relates to, and is a part of, nature.

Me, I mean, fuck- I'm writing a foulmouthed blog about werewolves, hockey and video stores.

Still though, that is art.

And as Emerson would say, the role of the artist is to concentrate the beauty of of the world on a single point, illuminating it. Then, the soul- which has a natural inclination towards beauty, is satisfied and contented for a moment, leading him to conclude that one reason the world exists is to satisfy the soul's need for beauty.

And you know, if you have the kind of that soul finds a foulmouthed blog about werewolves and hockey satisfying, well then, that's how this thing fits into the overall meaning of life.

You know, without accounting for taste.

Certainly we're talking about big picture/little picture stuff, but sometimes taking a step back and appreciating the big picture makes the details of the little picture all the more vibrant.

Speaking of vibrant, I'm gonna get baked to the gills and see Star Wars in a digital theater on Friday.

It's gonna be fucking sweet.

You know what's funny?

I'll tell you.

It seems like the happier I get, the less interested I am in updating this blog.

That's fucked up, seeing as when I was at my worst, this blog was tremendously important to me.

It was all that I had.

Not only as an outlet, but because of the commentors.

The positive responses I got to my posts really helped me when I was at the end of my fucking rope.

I guess I'm posting now not because I have anything interesting to say, but more because I feel like I owe it to those people who hung in with me when it was bad, and gave me some feedback.

OK- I'm drunk right now.

You know what else I think is funny?

The fact that me being drunk is SO not a problem when compared to some of the other stories I've openly and honestly told you about.

I'm sorry, but I just don't care about werewolf shit anymore.

The girl werewolf, the scientists, the rest of it, I just don't care.

I've been a werewolf for like, months now, but I didn't change last month.

I don't think I'm going to change again.

And if I don't, would anybody care about my life?

I mean, really- that's an interesting question. I've taken a lot of shit about this blog from commentors, but really, think about it- if I wasn't a werewolf, would anybody care?

I guess I'm asking because I feel like I may have found someone who cares about me.

And if I have that person, and I'm not a werewolf- would anybody read this?

It's an interesting question is all.

I dunno, maybe.