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Sisyphean Attempts at Self-Improvement #1100551 added October 31, 2025 at 3:11pm
Restrictions: None
The Animal Inside
Father Martinez had led the autumn prayer circle for eleven years without incident.
Every October, when the wolfsbane bloomed purple in the church garden, the most devout gathered for nightly prayers. They met at sunset, prayed through dusk, and departed before full dark. It was tradition. As old as the church itself.
This year felt different.
"We have a new member," Father Martinez announced. "Daniel Hartley, recently moved from upstate."
Daniel was everything a congregation could want. Punctual. Reverent. He knew every prayer by heart, his voice carrying the Latin responses with perfect pronunciation. During the day, he volunteered at the soup kitchen. In the evenings, he arrived first to prayer circle.
"Such a pure heart," Mrs. Connors whispered approvingly.
But something bothered Father Martinez. During prayers, Daniel's hands would tremble. Not with devotion, but with restraint. Like he was holding something back.
The October moon waxed toward full.
"Father," Daniel approached him after Tuesday's prayers. "The wolfsbane in your garden. Might I take some? For my mother's remedies."
"Of course." Father Martinez led him outside.
The purple flowers glowed in the moonlight. Daniel stood among them, breathing deeply, his whole body rigid.
"Beautiful," he said. "And terrible."
"They're just flowers, my son."
Daniel laughed, but it came out wrong. Too sharp. "Nothing is 'just' anything, Father. Everything has purpose. The wolfsbane blooms when it does for a reason. To mark the time. To serve as warning."
That night, Father Martinez found scratch marks on the church's heavy oak doors. Deep gouges, too high for any dog.
Wednesday's prayer circle was smaller. The Hendersons didn't come; their son had seen something in their backyard. The Morettis stayed home with a sick child. Even stalwart Mrs. Connors called with excuses.
Daniel arrived early, as always.
"Where is everyone?" His voice carried an edge.
"The full moon makes people nervous," Father Martinez said carefully.
"It should." Daniel knelt at the altar, hands clasped so tight his knuckles went white. "Father, do you believe evil can exist in good men?"
"We all struggle with sin."
"Not sin. Something older. Something that prayers can't touch." Daniel's breathing was labored. "Something that waits for the moon, no matter how pure the heart that carries it."
Father Martinez noticed Daniel's fingernails had grown long. Too long.
"My son, perhaps you should go home."
"Can't." Daniel's voice cracked. "If I leave consecrated ground now, before the moon sets..." He looked up, and his eyes reflected the candlelight like an animal's. "The prayers keep it quiet. Barely. But when the wolfsbane blooms and the moon is bright, even prayer isn't enough."
A howl echoed from outside. Then another. And another.
"They followed me here," Daniel whispered. "My family. We thought moving would break the pattern. Thought new prayers, new ground..." He doubled over in pain. "We were wrong. The autumn moon doesn't care where you are."
Father Martinez heard claws on stone as shapes circled the church.
Daniel's form began to shift.
"Run," he gasped, as his jaw elongated. "Lock yourself in. Sunrise is five hours away."
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509 words
PROMPT: “Even a man who is pure at heart and says his prayers at night, may become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.” — from The Wolf Man (1941)
Written for ""13" (2025 Ed) - CLOSED"  |
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