The Clock Strikes Fate

I am going to die on the 7th June, 1917, at 16:13. That’s today. I check my watch, 1 hour remains. It’s not a big deal, really. We are all going to see the fading light but just don’t have the privilege of knowing when. I am one of the lucky ones, I’m choosing my death date. It even brings a smile to my face. I sink my feet into the soil, as green weeds twine between my toes. A petite spider crawls across my foot and temporarily becomes entrapped in between the dense hairs. With a nudge, the creature is freed. My feet are the last-remaining normal part of me. Covered in olive-crested skin but the fur is growing between my toes. I pluck it out, to no avail. It grows back thick and frayed. 

Some say I am young, all too young to decide my fate. At nineteen, who am I to play God? But am I not in-charge of myself and of my own future? If nothing else, I should choose when I go. Age means nothing, it's your actions that fulfill a life. I have corrected all of my regrets, even knocked people off that I regretted. If you know what I mean. There are no more stones to turn or farewells to be had, before I go. Just one hour left. I can bring my death forward, but I stick by what I say.

The front door of the cottage opens and footsteps emit. It’s Ember and he sits alongside me. Hands hanging over his knees, we mirror the same position. Beneath a blonde fringe, he glares out at the prairie. His eyes track the landscape of nothingness.

“Well, it’s our last day together,” Ember sighs.

I clap a hand around his shoulder. “Don’t be upset, this is just the beginning for me.”

“Zeal, you don’t know what comes next. It’s the end.”

“Could be. Anything is better than this curse. You wouldn’t know it, you’re still human,” I say.

Ember turns to face me. We hardly look like brothers. He is human. But I am the unlucky brother, struck by the lupin curse. The wolf traits have all but overcome me. My fur is a dark ash. I’d even argue it grows longer by the day. My fingernails are claws and in-place of my nose is a snout. I was born a human-lupin hybrid but overtime, have become less and less human.

55 Minutes 58 Seconds

We venture inside. I look over the living room, where the crochet blanketed couches line the walls and the television sits atop a display unit. Cabinets are filled with glassware, passed down from generations and a television is crammed amongst framed family photos. Of Ember and I as children, our parents, cousins, distant relatives and aunties, who I don’t remember the name of. Then there is the black-and-white photograph of my paternal grandfather. By his mid-age he became a lupin and evidently so. He appeared like a wolf in human clothes. Some say he even lost his ability to talk and walked on all fours. But not in this photo, he stood on his legs and was dressed in a soldier uniform, with a gun poised on his elbow. He would have been handsome. I even look like him. The family cursed skipped a generation and I inherited the gene.

Ember passes a drink of whiskey - bitter and dry but I swing it back. “What was the point of no return for you, Zeal?”

“The day my nose grew out of its human state, and I realized that I could not kiss cute girls in my class,” I chuckle. 

“Without romance, what is life!”

“There is no going back on what this curse has taken. I am content with my decision.”

Ember drinks from the bottle. His mind whirring with questions and they roll off his tongue - “But don’t you want to travel first?”

“I’ve ventured beyond the town.”

“Finish school?”

“I’ve already left,” I reply.

“Feel love?”

“I had a girlfriend once.”

“A career?”

“Over-rated.”

“Sheesh…I don’t think there is any more to life for you to experience,” Ember says, nonchalantly.

“All that’s left is to find out what I will become, and I have seen the lupin take its form,” I reply.

Ember swings back another gulp of whiskey.

I check my watch.

40 Minutes 9 Seconds.

I stand to collect my satchel, not that I am going to be needing it for much longer, but I carry it everywhere. It makes me seem important and today more so than ever. Before the mirror, I fluff out my collar and comb over my hair. Teeth are brushed, even the canines. Then we head off into the prairie. Yards and yards of parched grass extend beyond us. The sun hides behind distant hills and I tilt my hat, to cut through the glare.

In a strange way, I feel as though I have lived until old age. Perhaps it is the curse that has crippled my body, the toll it has taken on my bones. The mental ache. None of that bothers me. I would much prefer to choose my end, then be surprised by it. That’s petrifying! Imagine anxiously waiting every day for it to come. Just like every other person. How can you live thinking - if this vehicle is going to run me over? Or is that tree going to fall on me? Whether it be an accident, disease, or something else. I don’t know how the world does it! To live without knowing if today is your last. It catches you off guard!

Ember appears from down the corridor with a washed coat and boots on. We head out the front door.

30 Minutes 0 Seconds

Ember whistles a tune. Fatigue puffs his cheeks into red beets and he lowers his hood. He slips his fingers into my hand with a smirk. “Who says romance is dead?”

When I try to pull away, he holds on tighter. “I’m not going to let you do this alone, Zeal. This is the last time I’ll make you hold my hand.”

“Brothers till the end,” I reply. 

Ember wolf whistles and finds himself hilarious. Almost as if he is mimicking me yet I can’t help but join in. We imitate the howl of a wolf, ironic I know. The pair of our voices echo into the abyss of the landscape. I nearly hope the distant cottages can hear us. As our voices carry on, we never seem to tire. I inhale and whistle again, only this time it’s different. An authentic canine howl. Ember’s jaw drops open. “That’s so cool. Do it again!”

I stun myself. I didn’t even know I could do that. Again, I howl, easily. In the final moments, I embrace what I have become. A wolf.

15 Minutes 36 Seconds

A sharp pain agonizes from inside. As if someone is manually flipping my stomach inside out, I double over in pain. My fall is saved by Ember’s embrace. My howls turn to roars, as my jaw disjoints and my inners contort. I shift my gaze to the sky and see the faint outline of a moon. I timed my death before nightfall and still it haunts me. The starstruck light washes over me one last time. I fight the wrath of the curse, but it has a tight hold of me.

“How far are we?” I ask.

“The cave is over the hill,” Ember replies.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“Certain.”

As the pain intensifies, I resort to walking on all fours. Somehow, it evens out the internal fire and I feel relief. My hips and shoulders move rhythmically, rising and falling with each step. I conclude that my grandfather also walked on all fours, by the end of the transition.

4 Minutes 54 Seconds

The mouth of the cave is strewn with draping vines and angelic lilies that float along the mini ponds. The patter of trickling water emanates from inside. Deceiving as the serenity is, a dark presence lies in the cave. This is the home of Vortex. A dragon, famed by his size and named by his ancestors. He has an insatiable hunger and avenges the prairie as his own. I lay my satchel down on the ground and the sound awakens Vortex. For a split second, a scaled tail glistens from inside. Shades of magenta and turquoise. 

I turn to Ember and a gush of relief floods my mind. “It’s almost time to go,” I say. 

“You had to choose the most difficult way to go, Zeal. There were so many alternatives, but you choose to die by Vortex,” Ember replies.

“I have to make my death dramatic. I want to exist as a legend. As the last lupin of our bloodline and in decades to come, nobody will know if I truly existed or only as a story.”

“I never told you this, but our grandfather died the same way,” Ember replies.

My jaw drops open. There is an elegance in following the same fate. I blame it on genetics; how else can I explain dying the same way? There is a calm embrace in knowing this. It’s something I have wondered my entire life and now know the truth. “Ember, why did you never tell me?”

“I didn’t want to influence you. You really are his grandson, no doubt about that!”

We laugh for the last time. I check my watch, only minutes remain. I hate to admit, anxiety creeps inside my mind. I have calculated this day to the minute but now it has come, I am nervous. 

“This is the point of no return. Are you sure you want this?” Ember asks.

“There’s no going back now,” I reply. I check my watch and gulp.

16:13 Hrs.

I walk towards the entrance of the cave and inside is a shimmering mist of opaque white. I reach forward and it tickles my hand. The mist dances throughout the sky and is denser inside the trench. My bare feet step into the waters, trimmed with moss. The palms of my hands are thick with sweat and a lump forms inside my throat. I feel the hot breath of Vortex from nearby and his muscular legs stand before me. His ludicrous eyes blink and mouth gapes open. His tongue rolls out like the red carpet. Almost as if it is a staircase and I am expected to climb inside. 

I begin to pant, unsure of what happens next. I had this planned out in my end but now, I don't know what to do. Do I leap inside or wait for him to do as he will?

Suddenly, a hand grabs my shoulder. I turn around to see Ember. 

“Don’t stop me,” I attest.

“Zeal, I am going with you,” he responds. “Now, don’t you try and stop me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t live without my baby brother,” he grins. “If you go, so do I. This is our death day.”

“When did you decide this?”

“The moment I watched you walk into the cave of Vortex.”

Ember offers his hand and I take it. Knuckles press through my skin and blood thumps inside my head. Rows of colossal dragon teeth encircle us like a crown.