Werewolf Stories to Tell in the Dark Read Free

as bigger than a wolf and covered in dark shaggy hair. Police are now making detailed searches of the area.’
    The TV screen showed the moor. It was autumn and the camera was picking out remote dew ponds and occasional clumps of small trees.
    Tina sat on the edge of her bed, crying, not wanting to go to school. She was dreading the thought of looking at her trainers, for each morning for the last week, ever since the dream had begun, she had found that they were covered in mud – and her tracksuit was sweaty and mud-covered too. But how could she tellher parents that she was afraid – desperately afraid – that the dream was no dream at all and that she had actually been running on the moor, attacking people, hungry for flesh. Once again, Tina tried to reason away her fears. It was ludicrous – Tina Browning, twelve-year-old school-girl, her mother the local postmistress and her father a farm manager. All her friends would laugh their heads off. But the terror in her mind refused to go away.
    Somehow Tina managed to get through school, but she seemed so exhausted that one of her teachers said, ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you, Tina. You look as if you’ve been up all night,’ and her closest friend, Liz, simply said, ‘Something wrong at home?’
    She could have replied, ‘No – wrong with me,’ but she couldn’t bring the words out. The only person she could possibly confide in was Ben, her cousin, who was a couple of years older. They were very close, but Tina still hung back from talking to him. Maybe the terrible nightmare would go away.
    It didn’t – and when she experienced the dream again, it had another dimension. Still she pounded over the moor, still the all-consuming hunger for flesh urged her on, but this time her path was blocked in the moonlight by someone she recognized – an elderly Eastern European man who lived alone on the other side of the village. His name was Jureg Kalinsky and he was holding a rifle.
    â€˜Silver bullets, my child,’ he said, and took aim. ‘It is the only way.’
    Tina snarled and leapt as Kalinsky fired, and she felt a searing pain in her right paw. But it was not bad enough to bring her down, and it soon faded as she raced on over the moor.
    *
    When she awoke next morning, Tina found dried blood on her duvet cover and a graze on her hand. She stared at it in horror, remembering the searing sensation she had felt. The silver bullet. What had silver to do with it? And why had the old man fired it at her? She had to find out. For a moment she hesitated, then quickly went to the end of her bed. Sure enough, the muddy tracksuit and trainers were there. A shuddering fear and revulsion filled her. What was she going to do? What
could
she do?
    After school, Tina was so anxious that she decided to summon up the courage to go and see Jureg Kalinsky. His cottage was on the outskirts of the village, on the very edge of the moor, built on rising ground with a dry stone wall surround which gave the building a fortress-like appearance.
    Tina knocked fearfully at the door. Supposing Jureg Kalinsky got his gun out again and shot her dead? She almost turned to run away, but Tina knew that somewhere on the night moor she changed, and she wondered if this elderly man could help her to understand – could even help her find a solution.
    When Mr Kalinsky opened the door, Tina was immediately reassured: he was completely unarmed and his hands were shaking nervously.
    â€˜You’ve come at last,’ he said softly.
    â€˜I had to see you.’
    â€˜And I know why,’ the old man replied.
    â€˜Sit down,’ he said. ‘I won’t harm you.’
    â€˜You tried to kill me.’
    His room was small and each wall was lined with shelves on which hundreds of books, mainly in foreign languages, were stacked untidily.
    â€˜You are suffering from an affliction,’ he replied slowly.