Amelia Has News

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Amelia paced nervously in her modest suburban backyard on the outskirts of St Albans. The neatly trimmed lawns, larch-lap fences and neatly trimmed hedges belied the turmoil within her as the full moon approached, triggering her inevitable transformation. As it did every month, a strange compulsion led her to a small, neglected park nestled within the housing estate. There, amongst the broken playground furniture, the rubbish and discarded nitrous oxide bulbs, she stood, waiting for the full moon to appear over the horizon.


In the quiet stillness, a figure, apparently clad in a long robe of shimmering white samite, manifested before her. The figure was quite still, apart from the way it seemed to scintillate under the intermittent bulb flashes of the broken street lamp and its hollow, sunken eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul. The ghostly presence suddenly spoke, in low, deep tones. He spoke of an unexpected change to her existence, revealing that a new life was growing within her - a sinister union of the supernatural and the mundane.


"Amelia, daughter of the moon, your child will be a creature born between two worlds - a being that will disrupt the tranquility of this place, more even than you have done over the years,” the ghostly voice intoned. “You must bear the responsibility. You will always be the one to blame. You alone shall know the guilt. Especially since you savaged and bit out the throat of the father, Jimmy Dingle, in your mad lupine rampage last full moon.”


Amelia's heart sank. The suburban serenity that had once offered her a semblance of normalcy for most of the time was now shattered by the revelation of impending motherhood within the confines of her cursed existence. The figure continued its haunting proclamation, foretelling a fate that seemed incongruous with the scruffy streets of the estate around the park and neatly manicured gardens of the town as a whole. To be honest, Amelia had started to get bored with him rabbiting on.


“Whatever,” she said finally.


As the moon rose in the night sky, the figured disappeared. Amelia grappled with the harsh reality of her situation. The once-familiar surroundings now seemed like a cage, trapping her within a destiny she never chose. Panic set in as she realised that the child growing within her would be a disturbance in the carefully constructed tapestry of suburban life. But then the full moon was unveiled through the clouds in all its silvery majesty, the pain of her other self began to assert its malign presence.


With each passing moment, the neighbourhood was silent, apart from the odd distant siren. The park, once a place of innocent laughter, now bore witness to Amelia's tortured transformation. The quiet suburban estate was once again blissfully unaware of the haunting echoes of her anguished howls as the inhabitants stared numbly at there 65 inch TV screens filled with the images of capering fools. 


Amelia was angry. So very angry. As all wolves can, she loped off at great speed, covering the distance into the town centre where, in the shadows, she pounced again and again. A loud fat woman on her way home from Wagamama’s, a drunk bloke smoking outside the back door of the Blacksmith’s Arms, a young couple snogging in the shelter of the  Abbey walls. And the mayhem continued. Month after month, But as time went on becoming more and more centred around the neglected park. The police, as normal were ‘baffled.’ No phone evidence, no CCTV, no budget anyway. No nothing. And then a lull for several months, signalling the birth of a creature destined to disrupt the peace of the once-tranquil housing estate still more.


And now there are two. Amelia loved the fangs of her little cub with every fibre of her being.






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