[ WP ] Scientists discover that the supernatural exists , but are fueled by human imagination and belief .

*Caution: blood and violence. * 
 
 
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 Even though I could not see it, I knew the werewolf stalked behind me. I felt its eyes on the back of my neck, steadily boring into my skin. I could hear the whisper of its footsteps over the ground, though I should not be able to. 
 
 Ever since the announcement moving the paranormal from the realms of pseudoscience to established fact, I had been living on edge. My parents had always joked that I had a vivid imagination as a child: that had not changed, and now it would prove to be my downfall. 
 
 It was a full moon, and the moonlight shone down through the trees as I walked beneath them. The werewolf would be at its strongest tonight, fueled by the apex of the lunar cycle. It had followed me every night since the announcement, creeping through the shadows of the streets and sitting on the lawn outside my window at night. When I lifted the curtain of my room to peek outside, I saw its bright eyes glowing. The terror would rise in my throat, threatening to choke me. The more I stared, the brighter its gaze grew. 
 
 It fed on my fear. I saw its large, dark nostrils flare as it breathed in my scent, and it growled from where it sat. The sound was a deep rumbling that I felt in my chest, though I knew it was impossible. But the laws of the known world had changed, and the impossible no longer exist. 
 
 Now it was following me and the moon was full. Tonight would be the night it struck. Tonight would be the night I died. 
 
 I walked faster on the path through the park. Every time I stepped out from the comforting glow of a streetlight, I flinched. Each step into shadow was a step into danger: the darkness of the night was the werewolf ’ s domain. 
 
 But as I hurried to the next pool of light, it did not attack. Flitting from light to shadow, from shadow to light, I remained puzzlingly untouched. I walked under the last lamppost on the path and heaved a heavy breath. I was almost to the gate, almost back to the human streets of the city. 
 
 Stopping, I risked a glance behind me. For once, the glowing eyes were gone. The night was abandoned. 
 
 I tilted my head and listened, but all I heard on the wind was the creaking of tree branches and insects. The moon hung alone in the sky above, a globe on an empty canvas. The night was returned to as it once was, filled only with the natural world and its limited dangers. 
 
 I turned back to the path and continued forward, stepping out of the lamplight towards the exit of the park. It was then the beast struck. 
 
 It charged from the side, bounding out from the cover of the bushes to bowl me over. Knocked off my feet, I went sprawling across the pavement. My head connected solidly with the ground and for a moment I was dizzied. 
 
 Then the werewolf was on top of me and I was fighting for my life. 
 
 Its heavy front paws landed on my chest and its claws scratched at my jacket. They ripped and tore at my clothing, trying to seek out my delicate skin underneath, but today I had worn the heaviest leather I could find, knowing I could not risk being scratched or bitten. 
 
 I threw my right hand up around the werewolf ’ s leg, catching its throat in my grip. It snarled in frustration and snapped at my face, but my hand was high on its throat, right below its jaw, and its muzzle could not reach across the length of my arm. I put all my might into holding its teeth away and fought to breathe against the pressure on my chest. 
 
 The werewolf growled again, its putrid breath lashing against my face. I saw a chunk of rotting flesh wedged between its teeth and I retched at the thought of what, or who, it might have eaten. Its eyes staring down at me were empty pits, soulless, only reflecting the light of the full moon. 
 
 I drew my left hand out of my pocket and stabbed the knife into its exposed underbelly. 
 
 It shrieked and thrashed against me, but I used every ounce of my strength to hold the beast and the knife in place. 
 
 “ You feel that? The knife? ” I whispered. “ That ’ s silver inside of you. ” 
 
 It snarled in response and snapped at my face again with its sharp teeth. 
 
 I held its head back with my right hand while I pressed the knife in further with my left. I felt blood spilling over the skin of my hand, dripping over my jacket to pool on the pavement around me. Bile rose in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down. 
 
 “ That silver inside you now—you know what silver does, ” I said. “ It ’ s spreading like poison throughout your body. You can ’ t escape it. ” 
 
 The creature threw its head back and howled at the cold moon above. I could hear its voice breaking in the cry. 
 
 “ I ’ m not going to be a monster like you. ” 
 
 It pulled its head back down and twisted against my grip, but I could feel its efforts weakening. 
 
 “ It ’ s you who are going to die tonight, ” I said, pushing my weight against the knife in its stomach. “ Believe it. ” The beast shuddered. 
 
 It continued to fight against me, even as its life slipped away, pouring out of its belly in gushing spurts. It was strong, but the silver was stronger. I watched the moonlight dim in its eyes until it was gone. 
 
 When the werewolf was dead, I shoved the body off of me, releasing my grip on its throat and the knife. My fingers and knuckles ached; they felt as though they would never be able to hold any shape other than a deathgrip. 
 
 I pulled myself up to a sitting position to better look at the dead creature besides me. Reaching out a trembling hand, I touched the fur of its face. It was soft, silken, luxurious under my skin. 
 
 I buried my face into the monster ’ s side and sobbed. My wet tears fell against the fur but could do no more to soak what was already saturated with blood. 
 
 As I twisted my fingers into the creature ’ s pelt, I felt it slipping away under my grip. My hands fell through the fur to touch skin. I squeezed my eyes shut as the beast under me gave way to something else. 
 
 I stayed frozen for hours. I did not want to open my eyes to see the horror I had wrought. 
 
 But when the creaking of the night gave way to the songs of morning birds, I knew I could not hide forever. 
 
 I opened my eyes and they were met with a tan flesh. When I saw my hands resting against the cold skin, I recoiled. 
 
 He lay on the pavement, paler than I remembered, his skin drained of blood and life. His hair was tousled, matted thickly with grass and dirt. His body and skin was smudged and streaked with grime except for his belly, which gaped open. Inside, I could see his guts. Blood crusted over the wound and down his side. 
 
 I rolled away from the body and vomited. For a short eternity, I choked and heaved, unable to breathe. Tears flooded down my cheeks and mixed with my bile on the pavement. 
 
 When I was able to face him again, I dragged myself close to him, lifting up his head to rest it in my lap. I stroked his hair and my tears fell on his face, rolling clean streaks through the dirt there. 
 
 He had wanted so desperately to be something, to be special. He had sought that out in the dark of the night and, misguided, he wanted to share that with me. 
 
 He had been my friend, and I had killed him.
