Blackhound: An Origin Story

Blackhound

Life isn’t always cotton candy and rainbows.

I have proof.

One day I heard a scratch on my bedroom window. I opened it, and a wolf leaped out of the bushes and scratched my hand! I ran to my mom, crying, but there was nothing she could do. The wolf was gone, and I started to change.

By the time I was 11, I grew wolf ears; by the time I was 12, wolf fangs. It didn’t take long to figure out I was a werewolf. As the rage grew in my veins, I grew stronger.

One morning, I put on a hoodie as usual and went to school. I sat in my seat, but behind me was a girl who hated me. In front of the class, she pulled off my hoodie!

The teacher saw my snout and called 9-1-1. The police arrived. They saw me, but I guess they were scared, because they called the military.

Five Years Later

I am trapped in a military weapon center. My blood is used for rocket fuel.

One day, a terrorist bombed the center where I have been imprisoned to take the military’s guns. In the process, the terrorist freed me.

I was never heard from again, or so people around the world thought.

One Year Later

Now I live under a tree in tunnels that include an over-sized computer, a kitchen, video games, and a hot tub. It’s pretty cool, even if it is a bit lonely at times. I visit my family at night under the cover of the moon. That way, the military doesn’t know we keep in touch and leaves them alone.

Recently, I was inside a convenience store buying Cheetos when I saw a bad guy waving a gun and yelling at the checkout clerk. The bad guy wanted the store’s money, but the clerk refused to give it.

Luckily, my fur camouflaged me with the wall.

The bad guy shot. I sprang from the wall and caught the bullet with my teeth.

I tripped the bad guy as he tried to run away.

While I pinned him to the ground, he looked up at me and asked, “Who are you?”

I didn’t want to give myself away, so I made up a name.

“I’m … Ms. Black.”

“Well … you don’t strike me as a miss … but you are dark … and besides, you look more like a hound,” he said —

I saw fear growing in his veins.

“You’re that werewolf!”

“I sure am, so call me Blackhound,” I said.

He swallowed.

“… yes … sir.”

Ever since then, I have gained respect from people around the world for helping them when they’re in trouble. Bad things might have happened to me, but I make sure better things happen to others.

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