Sunday, 15 September 2013

The Hounds of Hellington

Darren Worrow



Gareth’s hand swiped over the mirror, removing a section of the steam he frowned at the old face staring back at him; shit, I’ve aged 10 years in 10 minutes, he thought to himself. Picking up his razor he swished it down the left side of his chin and felt it contact his skin, “Shit!” he muttered through his foam covered lips. He turned to the toilet roll holder, stealing a small bit of the tissue, rolling it into a ball and attaching it to the blood covered spot on his chin.

He finished the job, slower but still stressing to push on. When it was done he swashed his face with cold water, dried it and then sprayed some deodorant under both arms. I can’t believe this has happened in Hellington, it’s just the kind of shit I moved out of the city to avoid; he pondered in a frustrated manner.

After getting dressed in his uniform he raced down the stairs like a bull at a gate, his wife was in the kitchen wondering what the fuss was about, she asked him; “what’s up dear?”

He picked up the cup of tea, swigged it, burnt his mouth, swore and put it back on the kitchen’s worktop. “No time to explain, I’ve got to get to work, darling…..I’ll call you later.” With that he grabbed at the cold piece of toast on the side, flipped it up into his mouth, snatched some car keys from the table, his phone from the worktop, swung the kitchen door nearly off its hinges and jumped outside to face the cool morning air.

Within minutes he was in Henry Crescent, pulled his car over onto a grass verge and leap out. There were a number of police cars already at the scene, people surrounded the grass area central to the crescent of houses, some were residents, clearly frustrated and confused, the others were Gareth’s colleagues, the small Hellington  police force of six. Gareth knew that soon the city police force would be here, trying to take over; they can have the job, he thought, I came here for a peaceful life.

Constable Jones, a young Welshman and Gareth’s favourite came running over to his car, “what is the situation Jones?” Gareth asked him.

“Chief Inspector, it’s not good. About 6:30AM a man called Leonard Humphries came out of his abode at number 14 to let his cat out. His son, 6 years old, name of Daniel flew out of the house and Leonard called him back. When he didn’t come back he went out to get him. Just at that point a white van came into speeding into the crescent, stopping in-between Leonard and his son, swiped up the kid and abducted him.  The father only got WH20 from his vehicle reg before it sped off. We are checking out all registration details that match Gareth, but no luck so far.”

Gareth rubbed his chin, upsetting the shaving cut’s blood that had until then began to clot, “and where are the parents?” he asked.

“Inside the house with Sheri, they are pretty broken up as you can imagine. Shit like this just doesn’t happen here, the whole neighbourhood are shocked.”

“I need you and Gary, Bob and Sue in the cars, search this entire village and beyond for this white van, I will take over of the enquiries here.”

“Quite a few of the neighbours are already circling the village but my guess is that he is miles away by now,” figured Jones, “I will get our team on it, most likely Ginger will be here soon.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, those guys will want to take over Jones, lets prove we can handle this shit shall we, find this kid, now!”

“Yes sir, don’t worry……”

“We need the press distracted for now constable, keep ‘em away until I have spoken with the parents, ok?”

“…If you want me on the search party sir?” Jones questioned.

“Yeah, I do, fuck, we haven’t got enough men,” Gareth looked annoyed, staring around the small housing estate for the right number house, it was obvious, people were hanging around there. He walked over to it; this was the bit he really hated.

It was a modest, well-kept council property, he walked into the house, put his hand on Sheri’s shoulder and she looked around, “oh Gareth,” she wined, “thank god you are here, this is…….”

 “Mr and Mrs Humphries, yes I know, thank you Sheri,” he turned to address the couple that were sitting hunched together on a sofa in the living room. The man was consoling the woman; she had her head in his chest so far you couldn’t make out her blotchy face. “We will find your son Mrs Humphries, I promise you that.” Then he looked back to Sheri, “I need you to get some progress on the registration search, we need to find who that van belongs to. I have sent the others out on patrol. I want you also to try and keep the neighbours calm, tell them that the police will handle this; if they know or saw anything please question them but I don’t want a bunch of vigilantes roaming around.”

“Ok sir, I will do the best I can…..”

“I know I’m asking a lot, it’s just until Ginger gets here with his troop,” he turned away from her and addressed the distressed couple, “I know this is a very upsetting time, I sympathise with you, however if I may ask just a few questions and you can answer them as best you can, is that ok?”

The man nodded, the woman did not look up from her husband’s chest.

“Are there any reasons why anyone you know might wish to kidnap your son? For instance, do you owe anyone money, have a grievance with anyone or know of any other reason why this has happened?”

The man looked up, he was in his late thirties, “I do not know who has taken him nor why, please find my son Inspector.”

“I have our team working on it, that I can assure you. If there is anything else you can tell me…..” he leaned over to the sideboard, “I take it this is your son?” he asked picking up a photo frame.

“Yes,” quivered the man, he stood up when his wife sounded calmer, “if you’ll excuse me Inspector, I need to find my son.”

“I urge you to stay here Mr Humphries,” suggested Gareth, “see that your wife gets the support she needs, the police will……”

“The police will what?” snapped the man, “The police here are not equipped for such a matter, I can help……”

“The city forces will be here very soon and everything will be handled, the best bet is for you to stay at home,” Gareth said, fronting the man up, “I except this is hard for you to except, I would do the same if I was in your shoes but you must understand that I am only acting in your best interest.”

Frustrated the man sat back down, “he is a good son, a real good boy, why?” he cried and his wife joined him, they cuddled each other and wept in pain. Gareth did not know what to do next, he wasn’t used to this kind of thing and he had sent Sheri off. This is going to be a long day, he thought to himself. 




Gareth watched impatiently while the counties Chief Commissioner pulled his lanky body from out of his swanky car. He was easily noticed, the one with the copper coloured top, Gareth would utter. They all took a great deal of humour from his bright red hair and it came to the point where he really didn’t batter an eyelid when called Ginger, so much so he often referred to himself by this nickname.

At this point in time though Gareth was not in the mood for jokes, he had gotten nowhere with the case and feared Ginger’s men would take over. There was no time or reasons for pleasantries, not that Ginger gave them out much anyway; “What’s the latest Gareth?” he stubbornly asked.

“Not much, I have all my men out searching the area but I need more. The villagers have gathered around and are also organising a search party; due to the lack of resources I allowed them to do it under police supervision, but I need more men.”

Ginger addressed the officer next to him, “John, see that there is one officer for every ten men at least, ensure they are briefed.”

“Yes sir!” he shouted and turned on his heel.

“They tell me we have part of a registration of the van, any news?”

“I am working on that, allow me to go and check their progress if you can organise the search teams, don’t scrub me out of this job sir, I know we can do it.”

“Very well,” Ginger said, “get to it, the rest leave up to me.”

Gareth moved away, walking over to the car he spotted the father, Leonard approaching him, “please inspector, can I assist now; a social officer is with my wife; I need to do something?”

“Yes, you can, I am sorry about before; there was little you could do to help. Please go and see that man there, he is the chief commissioner; he will find you a job to do in the search.”

“I would rather work with you, if you don’t mind?”

“Very well, I understand,” Gareth was slightly flattered; it cheered him up a bit, “I am going back to the station to check out some research on the van. I will be back as soon as I can and we can search too.”

The man agreed and Gareth put his hand on his shoulder, “we are doing all we can, hold on in there.”

The village police station was little more than a house situated on side of the green; it was usually adequate for their needs but he knew that very soon a makeshift station would be erected out of canvas on the green space at the centre of the crescent by Ginger’s army. He arrived at his office and jumped out. Sheri was inside, sitting tapping frantically away on a laptop computer. “Ginger is here,” said Gareth, “any progress.”

“Good timing Sarge, its coming through now,” she stopped her typing and stared in wonder at the list scrolling up the screen. “There are ten similar registrations within a thirty mile radius from here; it could have been any one of them.”

“Narrow the search, I have a hunch this guy is more local, say, 10 miles.”

Sheri did so and waited, “Got one; Farnsworth, David: 11 Hunter Avenue. I know David, he is a strange one, wouldn’t have thought he would do this though Sarge.”

Gareth picked up his phone and pressed buttons with haste, it rang: “Johnson, we have a white van matching the reg; David Farnsworth, 11 Hunter Avenue, get over there now!” He slammed the phone down. “Are there any other possible matches, say, within a 20 mile radius; cross reference them with criminal records and email them to my phone.”

“Are you going to the address?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied and sped back to his car. Without waiting he went to the address, it was a large village but only took a few minutes to get around. When he arrived at Hunter Avenue Johnson was already there with Bob, they were coming back around to the front of the house. “Permission to break in sir, no one is around?” Bob asked.

“We have good reason to Bob, go for it.”

Just then Gareth’s phone rang; he snapped it up, a number unknown. The voice of an old man sounded out; “hello, is this Chief Inspector Gareth Evans?”

“Yes, who is this?” demanded Gareth.

“I have heard about the missing child, I may have something of interest to you. Please come to my house; I am at The Gables, you know where that is?”

“Of course, I will be right there,” replied Gareth and promptly put the phone down. “Right, Johnson, get Ginger on the phone, we need a team down here. Wait for them, and then go in. I want a report of what you find as soon as possible.” With that Gareth took to his feet, it would be far quicker to run over to the Gables from here, by the time he started the car and driven out of the village and down its track, there was a footpath which run all the way to it.

It was an old, run down farm house which looked bleak and inhabited from a distance; this better be worthwhile, he thought as he trudged up the muddy path and banged the door knocker until it shook the whole door.



An old man in a green worn out, hand-knitted Jersey opened the door, “do come in please Mr Evans,” he said in a crumbling voice. His grey hair was randomly placed on his head and far from anything you might deem as a regular haircut shape. Even his eyebrows were a mess and his ears were hugely round, his nose even more so, just redder.

Gareth stepped inside, by its décor and rough, dirty appearance it was obvious that this man was somewhat of an eccentric. “Please take a seat Mr Evans.”

Gareth did not, he was far too anxious, “please Mr, say what you have to say, I am a very busy man.”

“I was walking the dog earlier and I spoke to one of your officers, I am quite concerned as a man came to see me not so long ago, his name was David Farnsworth and he drove up here in a white van matching the description your officer told me. My name is Boyce; I am a local historian and genealogist. He was very concerned, this lad, he had done a bit of research on his family tree, you see? We found out that his family line leads back to the old owners of Hellington Manor, a Henry Farnsworth. Do you know the story of the family Mr Evans?”

“No, I do not but please, is this relevant, we just need to locate him?” asked Gareth, he seemed to be getting tiresome of this man already; he fumbled his words and spoke very slowly.  

His bony finger pointed at the inspector, “It may be crucial Mr Evans, I promise you that,” he grinned as he said it, making Gareth suspicious. “Hellington Manor was sold after the news of this tale got out to the village, it was 1789; the family were rich and owned most of the land around here. When a series of young children went missing a team of farmers and villagers went out to locate them. They found their bodies in the wood, mutated like they had been in a fight with a pack of wolves Mr Evans. After some time the lord of the manor was spotted out late at night, he was roaming the woods. A bunch of wolves were seen not long after that in the same location. Things as they were at the time led the villagers to believe that he was in fact a werewolf. Legend has it that many villagers noted this as fact, hunted him down and he fled the manor and was never seen again. The manor was later sold to the Cook family who still reside there today.”

“Really, werewolves huh?” uttered Gareth, now he really wanted to get out of here, “just tell me Mr Boyce, do you know the location of this Farnsworth bloke, I haven’t the time for ghost stories?”

“I do not know, however I can tell you that David was upset when I told him the tale, he said that it explains everything and he ran out of this house. I must have scared him somewhat but he seemed more than scared, as if he was suffering symptoms of some discomfort, which I likened to the beginning stages of a werewolf metamorphosis. I am doing some more research into the myth at the moment, I ermm…….”

“Honestly, Mr Boyce, are you suggesting that he is a werewolf?” Gareth put his hands over his face and let them go again, he made his way to the door, “if you have anything better than that I would like to hear it but for now I am very busy, like I said.”

“Please try the woods, but, be careful……”

With that Gareth left the house in an utter state of disbelief, he could have him arrested for wasting police time, but considered that he was just a crazy old man, not worth the effort.




Ten hours had pasted now since the boy had been abducted, Ginger had his team searching the entire area while Gareth had returned to the police station wondering what time he should start giving up hope that the boy might be found alive. There were three possible vans’ that matched the beginning part of the registration plate that were still unaccounted for, Sheri was making inquiries.

Gareth paced the his office, chewing his fingernail, “time is running out Sheri,”

“I know sir, I have located the second van, he is returning from work in Cambridge. The man was working early this morning but not in this area. The company, a Cambridge based logistics firm are sending me a detailed account of his route via his tracker. The third van is still mysterious, owned by a gardening company; Bob is making his way there.”

“Good stuff, I still need more on the whereabouts of this Farnsworth character, have you seen his report? The flat was overflowing with his family research and books on the legend of the werewolves……..”

“You are not suggesting that you believe that mad old man Gareth?” she asked concerned as she swung her swivel chair around to face him.

“Don’t be so stupid Sheri, werewolf shit indeed! However is it not possible that if this guy heard that his ancestors were thought of as being werewolves that he has not become obsessed by the idea and perhaps believes that he is a werewolf too?”

“Highly unlikely, but certainly possible,” she considered, “pretty fucked up thing to think though……”

“It’s a pretty fucked up thing to abduct a child, wouldn’t you say?”

Sheri did not answer it, she sat and thought about it then shrugged her shoulders and returned to her work. Gareth paced the room again, “Damn! I’m calling that ginger bastard!” He did and received only the same answer, no luck yet. Gareth bite his tongue, “I
know this sounds crazy sir but I’ve had a bizarre tip-off from a, well, he’s rather eccentric. I think we need to concentrate more effort on the woods….yeah…..yeah…..I know you have, I need the whole place….what? What do you mean you have no more labour? Find some!”

Gareth hung up, “bollocks!”

“What?” asked Sheri.

“He says they have reason to believe that this guy Farnsworth has him held hostage in one of the houses and suggests that they concentrate the majority of their efforts doing a house to house search.” Gareth flicked the blinds on the curtains, “fuck these winter evenings, it’s getting dark already!”

Just then they heard a thump at the door, “come in!” he yelled.

The father of the missing child, Leonard appeared, framed in doorway, backlit by the dim, yellow street light beyond, “Mr Evans, how are things going?” he asked sternly.

“As well as can be expected, I am so very sorry that we still have no news,” whimpered Gareth, there was something off-putting about Leonard’s stance and posture; he seemed much more powerful than he was before. Probably understandable, thought Gareth, the bloke has had a very hard day, he must be so agitated. “How is your wife taking the news?” he asked and then regretted it, what a fucking stupid thing to ask!

“She is still in shock, her sister is with her and so I am here now to help in any way I can,” again his tone was deeper than before, so much more serious.

“Leonard, I am always, in cases like this, overthrown by the forces that be; the city investigators have taken over the show and have got the idea from somewhere that your boy is being held captive in one of the houses in the village. I assure you that a full search is taking place. However, I have heard from, not the best of sources, but…well, that he may well have been taken him to the woods. I understand that as it is getting dark many of the volunteers from the village are giving up searching the woods. Perhaps if you would like to escort me for a little drive around the woods, see if we can’t come up with something. I mean, it’s a longshot……..”

“….but it is better than standing on our laurels….” added Leonard.

“I just don’t want you to raise your hopes, the source is rather confused, and, well, I have good reason to suspect he is, shall we say, not playing with a full deck of cards.”

“Never-the-less,” Leonard said, gesturing him to the door, “we need to check, please Mr Evans.”

 “Please call me Gareth,” said Gareth as he nodded to Sheri, picked up his phone and opened the police station door.




The woods were eerily silent and as dusk set upon them, Gareth’s car churned up the mud as its wheels span slightly up the track, he was concerned about Leonard; he had been very quiet the whole journey. He finally spoke, “this looks like a good place to check….urgh!”

“What is wrong Leonard?” asked Garth alarmed.

“Nothing, I am fine, just a stitch, I have had no food today. I don’t think I would have been able to keep it down, what with the worry and all,” he answered, holding his stomach.

“Can’t see much up here,” pointed out Gareth, shining his full beam over the trees.

“We must find him soon,” said Leonard, his tone was getting much more agitated; Gareth was sympathetic to his grave concerns. If he did locate a body he had to consider how to get Leonard out of its way so he wasn’t too shocked.

Leonard looked up at the sky, a thin layer of moon was shining above the horizon, “we have to get to them soon, before midnight………”

“Why midnight?” asked Gareth.

“Because it is a full moon,” answered Leonard in all seriousness.

Gareth slowed the car and took it out of gear, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“It is a full moon tonight, I say. I have heard things about this village, stories…….”

“Who have you been talking to today Leonard?” asked Gareth, now very concerned that Boyce had made contact with him and planted some crazy notion in his mind, which was already weakened from the stress.

Leonard looked around at Gareth, he had a look of fear on his face, “please,” he went on, “I have heard from a man about, well, it’s silly really, but werewolves, do you believe in werewolves Gareth?”

“I certainly do not,” protested Gareth, “listen, Leonard; I don’t know who has put this notion in your head but I suggest that you forget it right now. It is not going to do this search any good, ok?”

Suddenly and without warning Gareth heard a thunderclap and a burst of rain fell upon the windscreen, he jumped out of his skin. He pulled the wiper lever up and at first it squeaked but as the rain fell harder it wiped droplets from the windscreen away in silence.

“There are things you don’t understand,” said Leonard, his tone was wry, drawn out and cold. It shook Gareth’s bones.

He looked at the man sitting next to him, “What are you telling me Leonard? If you know something that you are not telling me I suggest you spill the beans right now.”

“I cannot, for they are just rumours, village folklore….”

“I am getting suspicious of your actions Mr Humphries, very suspicious, there are no such things as werewolves, you realise that don’t you?” Gareth asked, he was indeed suspicious, was this man trying to hide something, trying to take him off the scent?

“Stop the car!” yelled Leonard looking down through the window at the grass verges below.

“What?” asked a very concerned Gareth, stopping the motion of the wheels.

Leonard opened the door and threw himself out, “look! Tyre tracks!”

Gareth grabbed his torch and got out hastily. Battling against the heavy rainfall he moved around to the other side of the vehicle joining Leonard. He looked down at where Leonard was pointing, he was right, “Quite fresh too,” commented Gareth in a low whisper, “they are lost here in the long grass though….”

“I suggest we look for footprints,” said Leonard.

“I cannot see any boots walking here,” replied Gareth, “we cannot be sure the vehicle that made these tracks actually stopped here, we must move up the track, get back in the car.”

“Not human prints, we need to look for animal footprints,” claimed Leonard.

“Get back in the car now Mr Humphries!” ordered Gareth, this has gone too far, he thought.

They got back in the car and Gareth moved over to Leonard’s side of the car, right over his body. Suddenly Leonard felt cold steel on his wrists as Gareth grappled with his arms. He slipped the other end of the handcuffs to the steering wheel, “unless you can tell me what you know or what you are really worried about Mr Humphries I can only deduce that your actions are trying to wavier me off the track from finding your son, therefore I am placing under arrest for the suspicion that you are somehow involved in the abduction of your son. Do you understand the reasons why I am doing this, what you have been arrested for Mr Humphries?” Gareth was sure being proactive but considered it the safest option for both himself and his passenger. Leonard was becoming uncontrollable, he resisted pulled and grunted, complaining about his discomfort.

“I am sorry to do this Leonard, but you have the right to remain silent. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court.… Right, I will continue investigating these tracks on foot, you will stay here. I will return and hopefully we can put this silliness to bed.” Gareth got out of the car and took one last look back at the distressed man tied to his steering wheel, considered it was for the best, flicked his torch on and made his way up the track.

The track was dark but the moonlight coming beaming through the trees was becoming stronger every step he strode up the path. It was barely a path now, overgrown with weeds and high grass. Gareth shone the torch to the ground and could clearly make out a line where the grass was flattened; a vehicle had driven this way not so long ago. With the hope that he may not be too late after all he picked up the pace. The moon now was fully up in the sky, brightening up the gaps even more.

Suddenly Gareth stopped dead in his tracks to the audible screech of a human in extreme pain; it rang out yards in front of him, a horrific scream which startled him beyond compare. He threw his torch’s beam ahead but could not make anything out, other than dense forestation. He changed his jog into a sprint, sweat dripping off him in anticipation and fear chilled him as it hit the cold midnight air.

Seconds passed into minutes as he haphazardly raced up the track, the forest getting denser as he went, tripping over shrubs and tree stumps. Finally when he thought he could take the pace no longer he stopped and shone his torch ahead, there, in a small clearing stood the shadowy figure of a van, it looked deserted, one back door hung open and after he ceased his panting from his breathless lungs he could hear the metallic and rusty creak as it swayed in the gentle wind. A puff of perspiration blew smoke into the night air and as it cleared he set his sights on the van, he had to get there.

Struggling now he completed his journey exhausted. Gareth could clearly see the front cab, there was no one in there, the headlights were off but the inside light was flickering as the driver’s door swayed too. He concluded that the driver had jumped out and ran to the rear of his van, he could see the way the grass around it had been trodden down. He crouched down behind the driver’s door and shuffled his way to the back of the van. Through the gap caused by the door on its hinges he could see blood, it was beginning to drip from the step of the van. He held tight to his breath, fear struck him as to what might be welcoming him from inside the van.  There was still no sound, no rustling of feet or human breath, Gareth estimated that no one alive remained in the van.

Quickening the pace he grabbed at the handle and yanked the door off its hinges, “Freeze!” he shouted just in case but as soon as he did so he could see that it was void of life. There was, however a bloody mess of human body parts, torn limb from limb. He pulled his face back from the horrific scene and looking down he spotted a severed arm clearly with pierced holes like the teeth marks of a wild animal. It looked as if the animal, whatever it was tore the victim limb from limb in a frenzied attack. That poor kid, thought Gareth as he turned his head away in disgust, what has happened to him for fucks sake?

As the thoughts flushed through his mind as to what exactly could have happened, the image behind him that he was hiding his face from formed in his mind and he felt his stomach in his mouth. He regurgitated and fell to his knees, vomit launching itself from his throat and wrenching his guts from the very pit of his stomach.

After the initial shock all was deadly quiet and cold once again save the swinging hinge of the driver’s door. Gareth took a moment to take in the silence and get a grip of his predicament. Abruptly the silence was broken by the incredibly shocking sound of a buzz in his pocket and the ringtone of a 1990s pop classic. It flooded a certain reality check back into Gareth and he fumbled for his phone. Without looking at the number ID he answered it cautiously, “hello?”

“Is that Mr Evans?” the phone caller asked, he recognised the voice but was so out of place himself he failed to identify it.     

“Y…Yes….who is this?” he quivered.

“Mr Evans, its Boyce. I have some new information from my research that may be of help to you…..”

Normally Gareth would have hung up on this time waster but under the circumstances he was just happy to hear the sound of another human being. The voice continued, “I’m sorry to call you so late like this Mr Evans; it’s just that, well, I have been to the manor and been allowed access to its extensive library. I found hidden, a diary from one of the butlers of
the manor, Jenkins, was his name; he worked at the time of the incident I mentioned. In it states this: Though I fear for my life I feel I must make it evident to anyone that finds this manuscript the truth behind the horrific goings on here of recent. The village have begun a witch-hunt for Lord Farnsworth; however I have seen the distress on his face, knowing what he knows as he shared his darkest thoughts before departing on that fateful day. For he, the accused is not possessed with evil at all, rather he is covering for a man in his employment that he fears so much that he knows he must confess to a crime and then flee to save himself and his family from their evil doing. I make my statement here with intentions to take myself far away from here also, in some hope of survival and if you read of this I suggest you do the same.  For the gardener is the true man-wolf and I have seen him in his altered state so I know it to be true, god help us…….”

“Right, ok,” said Gareth, now not knowing what to think, “Listen, Boyce; I am a bit wrapped up here at present but……”

 “I am sorry to press on with it; I know you are sceptical about all this Mr Evan’s I just thought you should know that I have found the name of the gardener in question….his name is Alfred, Alfred Humphries……”

“You mean…………..” Gareth couldn’t believe what he was hearing and he took a sudden flashback at the severed arm he examined for those brief seconds. He hung up the phone before he could hear the truth and leaned back to the van door and opened it. Just as he thought now, the arm was far too large to be that of a small boy, it clearly belonged to a man. He slowly put a finger to it, pressed at its raw flesh and wiped a finger mark of the blood away from it, clearly black hairs, that of a fully grown man. He jumped up inside the van and took one step closer to the body, crouch over to where the bulk of the body was, a head that was turned away from him was his target, he turned it by pulling the blood-drenched hair, the face of David Farnsworth confronted him and he threw his body back in horror.

He jumped clear of the van and back into the still night air, he peered over at the moon in its fullness and suddenly the silence was again broken, this time by the distant howl of a wolf. Then he heard another, not so far off and remembered the father still handcuffed in his car.

He ran as fast as he could back to the car but when he got back the man had gone, “Leonard, where the fuck are you?” he yelled and he heard a howl as a reply. He examined the cuffs, they were still attached to the steering wheel intact and he noticed that they had shreds of grey fur between the gaps in the chain. Gareth looked back up at the full moon, it was shining brightly.

Not that scary huh? Oh well, try this for size...........................





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