Of wolves and men

The call of the pack, the howl in the dark of a cold winter night impossible to resist. The moon, bright in the crisp air summoning up the animal essence within, the bestial urges driving the transformation as a snarl escapes his lips. Clench teeth try to hold back the sound building in his throat, fighting to retain some last vestige of control even as his mind surrenders to the beguiling compulsion. The blood, hot in his veins pours adrenalin through his system overloading the last resisting neurons as the change happens faster and faster.

Eyes, once blue, now yellowed, bloodshot, bulging as the strain of the change, the pain of the process drives him to his knees. Back arched, joints dislocating, limbs stretching, changing, morphing as the scream of pain is torn from his throat. Surrendering as he throws his head back, the scream becoming a wail, joining the howl, one with the pack at last…


About Autistic writing

Im 46, autistic and vocal about it, a specialist autism mentor in higher education, embarking on my MEd in adult autism, autistic advocate and campaigner, writer and co-founder of asP - the autism strategy partnership #differentnotdamaged #askaboutasP

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