Halloween Coming Out Short Story

   Every full moon if one listens hard enough, one can hear us howling our passion for the Hunt. The werewolves here in the southern Appalachian mountains take the traditions and rules of this ritual very seriously. Each clan gathers in the cave of their forewolves. I love seeing everyone in our family once a month, and I feel I have somewhere I belong, there's only one problem: I don't like to hunt.
   I can't tell anyone. I've heard horrible stories about cub's getting kicked out of their clans to wander the world alone because they didn't like the Hunt. In school the bullies call werewolves who don't like the Hunt and aren't "wolf" enough lame tames. It's unnatural for a werewolf to dislike the Hunt. I don't know how much longer I can pretend I enjoy it, I would much rather paint passionate sunsets and awe inducing sunrises.
   "Blaine, honey come to dinner, we need to get ready for the Hunt!" I hear Mom say from the kitchen.
   "Yes Mom, let me finish with this color!" I say slightly annoyed. I've been painting a fiery sunset, full of passionate reds, sharp oranges, flashing yellows, and energizing pinks. This is what I love. I finish with the last splash of pink, wash my brush out, and head to the kitchen.
   "Blaine," my dad says, "are you excited for the Hunt!? The piebald deer is my favorite Hunt of the year!"
   October is the Hunt of the piebald deer. The piebald is a deer that is speckled mostly white and very rare. Next month we will hunt the one eared bobcat. We do not kill the creatures, that is not the point. We do not need their meat for sustenance because we have human stomachs, but the Hunt brings us together. The Hunt fills most werewolves, and supposedly all, with the passion of pursuit. I however, do not feel this passion, and I mourn not having it.
   "Oh yes daddy, I can't wait." I try to say emphatically, but I sound so fake. I hope he doesn't notice.
   "Blair," he asks my twin sister, "will you stay by my side this time and not wander off?"
   "Yeah dad, sorry about that. I got stuck in the moment and thought I found the scent." she says apologetically.
   "I know honey, but our clan needs to stick together to succeed." dad says with pride.
   I sighed. I wish I could feel what my family feels: the passion for the Hunt, the excitement, the energy, but I can only find these in my painting. I try to play off my art as a silly hobby and a phase that will pass with time, but I love to paint. Painting makes me feel happy, whole, and myself.
   We finish our dinner, go to our respective rooms, take our human clothes off and put on our robes for the Hunt. Our clan's robe color is a russet orange. With robes on, our father takes the lead and we run into the sunset for our 3 hour trip to the cave. While they are focusing their hearts and minds for the Hunt, I lag behind a little to soak in the sunset. I imagine what colors I would need to mix to capture this last transformation from day to night. The climax of sunset has passed, and the mauve mixes with peach as the world starts to embrace the night.
    "Blaine! Get your head in the Hunt! Hurry up!" my dad hollers from twenty feet ahead.
 I curse myself for getting so far behind. I catch up and try to set my face like a serious hunter. We run on and on through the beautiful mountains, smelling the crisp autumnal air of changing leaves. We can hear the creatures of the night scurry, hoot, or flap leathery wings. Only a few cicadas sing their evening song now that fall has arrived. I sniff the air and I can smell our family of werewolves. We are almost to the cave now. A few minutes later we arrive. The cave's opening is about twenty feet wide and fifteen feet high in the middle of a mountain. The orange warmth of a fire reaches us at the entrance of the cave and we go in. The cave opens into a vast room. I cannot see the ceiling nor the walls opposite of the opening. The bon fire is built about a hundred feet across from the opening and keeps the space warm and well lit. There are warm embraces and catching up about the previous month before the ritual begins. Our clan has about 30 werewolves who gather each month for the Hunt. Jim Dobbs is our clan leader, and he is getting the Hunt alter set up. The alter is a simple five feet by five feet wooden table. Jim Dobbs sets a loaf of bread and a large goblet on top.
   After this, he asks us to get into a circle with the alter in the middle. He then takes the bread in his hands and says,
 "Welcome brothers and sisters to the Hunt of the piebald deer! Before we begin, may we remember our forewolves who have passed on and may we unite with our brother and sister Werewolves who are elsewhere joining in the Hunt." He pauses a moment, then continues.
  "With this bread, we are reminded that we are also human, and with this cup we are reminded that we are all one through the Great Wehr."
He passes the bread around until we each tear off a piece, then partake of the bread together. The he passes the cup, and we drink when he comes to us saying,  "With this cup, we are one in the Great Wehr."
   I love this part of the Hunt. I love the symbolism and the feeling of connection with my family, and all of the Werewolves through the Great Wehr. The Great Wehr was the first and strongest Werewolf whose blood runs through all of our veins.
   After he finishes sharing the cup of the Great Wehr, Jim Dobbs drinks of it himself and puts the cup back on the table. Then, he outstretches his arms and turns slowly as if to embrace us all and says, "Now brothers and sisters, face the world around you and embrace your Wolf!"
   At this command, we each turn so that we are facing away from the center of the circle. We take off our robes and transform into wolves. Jim Dobbs runs to the front of the cave, howls, the rest of the pack howls, and we take off into the now moonlit night.
   The night is chilly, and I can feel the heat and passion radiating from my family as we hunt. I want to feel it too! I want to feel the thrill and excitement when one of us finds the scent but I just can't. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be normal! We run on and on into the night. The moon is full and we can see well although we do not use our eyes to hunt. Our noses and instincts guide us. I follow Blair and mimic her serious demeanor and quiet intensity as best I can. I am an empty actress playing my part so I don't have to be alone or unwanted. We sniff the ground, and the air. I hear Daddy howl in front, he has found the scent. We are swift and now silent. The Piebald Deer is near. I can sense that through their passionate seriousness. I am glad the Hunt is drawing to a close. We have been hunting for about four hours and the sun will begin to rise soon. The Piebald deer is spotted by another family member, Uncle Vine I think. Jim Dobbs and Uncle Vine corner the animal, and Jim Dobbs pounces. The Hunt is over. Once the Piebald is pinned down, Jim Dobbs licks the creatures face, then lets it go.
   We all howl the success of the Hunt, then run back to the cave. Every one else is thrilled, but exhausted. I am just exhausted. As wolves we get back into our outward facing circle, transform back into human, and put our robes back on. They all congratulate each other, and talk about highlights of the Hunt. I smile and stand next to Blair nodding and laughing when appropriate.
When the conversations die down, and some start to leave, Blair turns to me and says, "What a great Hunt huh Blaine?"
   "Yeah totally." I respond with what I had hoped would be excitement, but sounded more like a bored cheerleader. I'm such a lame tame.
   "You ok Blaine?" she asks.
   "Yeah, you know, just tired from the Hunt." I say, and add quickly, "I can't wait until the next Hunt!"
   "Oh same here!" she says with a smile. Then a flash of concern crosses her face before she looks away. Oh no, what if she knows?! Next month I will have to pretend to be more passionate about the Hunt.
   We run home while the sun rises. Wow, it is a beautiful one this morning! The pastels of soft pink, mellow yellow, and sherbet orange lift my spirits and make me feel whole again. We run home full of passion and wonder, them of the Hunt, and me for the anticipation of painting this inspiring sunrise. There will be no school or work today so we can all rest from the Hunt.
   We arrive home and Dad says, "Great Hunt girls! Let's get back into our human clothes and then have some breakfast." After changing, we sit at the kitchen table while Mom makes a hardy breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. Daddy opens Werewolf Weekly and I see a picture of Jim Dobbs on the cover with the headline, Werewolf Recovery Therapy Helps Tame Werewolves Enjoy the Hunt Again.
  "Daddy, can I read that after you're finished?" I ask as offhandedly as possible.
   "Sure honey! Nice to see my cubs interested in what's happening in our world! Here, go ahead, I'm finished with it anyway." He says and hands me the Weekly with a smile.
   I flip through it casually so I won't arouse suspicion. When I get to the article about Werewolf Recovery Therapy, my heart beats faster. I'm so nervous my family will know why I looked at it. I skim the article as quickly as I can. I gather that Werewolf Recovery Therapy is helping Tame Werewolves embrace their wolf side by a therapist leading visualization exercises of the Hunt. Through these visualizations, the therapist helps them embrace the passion and thrill of the Hunt. The Therapy also offers retreats in the middle of the forest to spend more time in wolf form while therapists teach how to be more wolf.
   I flip to the next page, and my eyes glaze over. I am not interested in the rest of the magazine, but I will slowly flip pages until I am done. I have learned again what I already knew about myself: I am not enough, and I am unnatural. How can I be loved?
   I flip the last page, then hand the Weekly back to daddy.
   "Thanks Daddy, very interesting stuff. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room. I'm tired. Thanks Mom for breakfast."
   "You're welcome honey, we'll wake you for dinner." Mom says with her sweet smile.
   "I'm tired too. Thanks Mom! Yummy as always!"  Blair says then follows me into  my room. She closes my door, and she sits on my bed with a concerned look on her face. She pats the bed next to her, and I sit. Oh Great Wehr, she knows. I should have read the magazine later when no one was paying attention!
   "What's wrong sis? You seem so down. You know you can talk to me about anything right?" she says and takes my hand. Yes, I can tell Blair anything.  But what if she tells Mom and Dad? What if she stops talking to me? She's my twin sister and my best friend. Surely she wouldn't judge me. Would she? I sigh heavily. Ok, I will tell her. My heart pounds with fear and tears fill my eyes. "Blair...I...I" I stammer, sniff, and wipe my eyes.
   "You can tell me Blaine, I'll always love you." She encourages.
   "I...I don't like to hunt. I want to! I really do! But I just can't!" and I cover my face with my hands and cry.    Blair moves closer, rubs my back and says, "I know, it's ok."
   "You know? How long have you known? Is it that obvious?" I say fearfully.
   "Oh I've always known, and no sis, it's not that obvious. I'm your twin sister, I just know you better." she says with a smile, then hugs me hard.
   "You still love me?" I ask sheepishly
   "Oh Blaine, of course I do! I will always love you!" She then gives me a squeeze. I cry with relief and a slight sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe love can be bigger than preferences.