Steele looked at his watch, announcing, “It’s late and tomorrow may be busy since I’m certain you have a multitude of questions needing answers. I’d also like to take you on a tour of some of the countryside, perhaps, if time permits, show you where my first encounter with the big wolves occurred. I’ve laid out towels and washcloths if you wish to clean up tonight or in the morning.”
Ted made use of the bathroom but decided he’d shower in the morning, went to the bedroom Steele indicated he should use, shut the door, stripped to his usual sleeping attire, nothing but skin, crawled into bed, and lay back, tired, but not tired! The conversation with Steele rolled around in his head, tormenting his desire to sleep, keeping him awake.
He believed Steele truly believed he’d seen a wolf or wolves shift from wolf to human and back again. He also believed Steele witnessed a murder or, at the very least, the killing of a large wild wolf. Whether it shifted to human on death was dubious in Ted’s mind.
“What did Steele mean,” Ted pondered to himself, “when he said you’ll know a lot more before leaving here? What had Steele presented in the way of scientific, observable, empirical proof that would be so uncontestable I’d accept it as fact?”
The part confusing him the most however, was the statement Steele made concerning “his first encounter.” How often did it happen? If so, did it explain his statement concerning “good” werewolves and “bad” werewolves?
There was much to consider, but the sources, the main source, wasn’t all that reliable as far as Ted was concerned. At least, not yet. Ted finally dozed off, but his sleep was restless, strange dreams seemed to plague him off and all night. Visions of great wolves, shadows, flitting creatures, and soft giggles filled his mind. Once or twice during the night he thought he heard wolves howling along with muffled male voices. Once in while he thought he heard a soft moan, not from inside the house, but out.
The next morning, Ted showered and dressed for the day. The smell of fresh coffee led him to the kitchen where Steele was busy preparing breakfast.
“Waffles, sausage, orange juice, coffee, and maple syrup for your waffle,” Steele greeted Ted, followed by a “good morning.”
“Evidently,” Ted thought, “he slept better than I did.”
Steele plated a fresh waffle accompanied by a couple of link sausages, poured Ted a glass of juice, and indicated he should sit at the kitchen table and eat. Ted helped himself to the coffee and sat down to enjoy the meal. Steele joined him, explaining, as they ate, his theory the Lycanthrope in the area originated in France, migrated to Canada, and from there to the United States, with sizable groups throughout the States, moving to Northern States and eventually to the New Orleans area, but not limited to just those areas.
“There are small packs or pockets of the creatures in most states, depending on who you listen to or reports of sightings on social media or in the regular news media. I tend not to rely on those, but on a network I’ve created over the years of reliable young men who report directly to me. I often have one or two here to discuss their findings and enjoy their company.”
“Undoubtedly you’ve heard or read in mythology and science fiction, Werewolves or Lycanthropes have classic European roots with most legends or stories originating in France where the creature known is or was as “loup garou.”
The legend and stories gained further impetus through a poem by Marie de France, entitled “Bisclavet”, telling the story of an individual turning into a wolf three times per week. Various reports of such creatures or of unusual deaths by macabre means cropped up in many places. A man was hanged for killing a boy and eating him in one case. Steele speculated the man may have been fucking the boy and when the boy finally objected, threatening to spill the beans, he was killed and eaten, starting with the penis. There was no evidence of that what-so-ever, only the man was hanged for murder.
The Beast of Ge’vaudan came into the mix around 1760 to 1764 when the people of Lozere, France began reporting dead people mutilated and partially eaten. The attacks were attributed to a large wolf type creature. Legend speculated it was the “loup garou.” All-in-all some one hundred victims were identified and attributed to this creature. It supposedly was killed by the use of a silver bullet, adding further strength to the growing legends and establishment of “werewolves.” At one period of history, thirty thousand persons were labeled as werewolves or Lycanthropes.
“People love to be frightened,” Ted commiserated, listening to Steele’s tales of horror in Europe, particularly France. “Watch them at Halloween, marching around in costumes, visiting haunted houses, going to horror movies, and scaring other people. Every little boy and girl had the story about ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ read to them and fear wolves as a result. Perhaps it’s part of the human psyche, fearing not the inevitability of death, but in the manner of it when death is upon them.”
“Perhaps,” Steele acknowledged, “but when the French travelers came to North America, they brought the legends and folklore with them. All of it strongly condemned by the Christian Church. Instead of decreasing fear by debunking or declaring the legends and rumors the work of the Devil, the churches only increased and perpetuated the legends and beliefs in the creatures. As far as I’m concerned, it was only a method of controlling or exercising power over uneducated, superstitious people, bringing them to church and increasing the coffers and power of the clergy.”
“Didn’t stop some from fucking the altar boys or stuffing their cocks up half the boy’s choir’s asses, though. Just seemed to increase the availability of fresh young asses to poke and prod or sweet cocks to suck. Really gave sincere boy lovers a bad name.”
He sighed, somewhat wistfully, Ted thought, before announcing, “Let’s go for a ride. I’d like to show you where I encountered werewolves for the first time.”
“There, he said it again,” Ted said to himself. “Evidently, he believes it happened more than one time.”
Steele placed bottled water, energy bars, and some protein drink in a day pack, and set a walking stick by the door. Strapping on a gun belt with the revolver holstered, he beckoned Ted to come with him to his office. Opening the desk, he removed a lead lined container and extracted several silver bracelets of different sizes.
“Find one that fits and put it on.”
Ted looked them over carefully, noting most were small and some medium. Steele noticed his scrutiny and by way of explanation, indicated most of his guests are small in stature and said no more. His remarks caused Ted to begin to sort out Dr. Steele’s peccadillos, other than the man’s academic background. He thought either his family has young children or possibly teenagers who visit or his companions or guests are young, small framed, or both.
As the drove north, Steele pointed out various homes or lanes leading to homes, of people who were permanent residents.
“It’s hard to remember the tourists or the seasonal people, so I don’t try,” Steele confessed. “I’ve lived here long enough to know almost all of the permanents and they know me.”
Pointing out one road, not a lane, “This road leads to several houses, all residents related in some way or another, mostly Granger’s. Used to be three homes there, now there are five. Nice people, stay to themselves, but have never failed to help me out when I needed something. Several years ago one of the younger boys left, along with a Flynn boy, another family east of here. I thought at the time they probably were lovers. Both handsome, good looking boys. Haven’t heard anything about them since they left.”
After driving down the logging road, Steele and Symthe stopped, walked to the rock outcropping, stood on it, and looked down into the ravine. It was somewhat overgrown, but it was easy to determine why Steele claimed what happened was visible. Standing there, Ted thought he noticed some movement not in the clearing, but in the direction where the truck was parked. He jumped when Steele declared loudly,
“No problems; just a friend visiting.”
Confused, Ted asked Steele why he made such an announcement.
“I heard a noise and thought it might be a hunter. People get jumpy when strangers are about. Besides, we’re in territory the Granger’s generally view as their own.”
Nothing more was said as they walked back to the truck. Ted almost stumbled when he spotted a large wolf print in the soft earth. He hesitated momentarily, making the excuse to pull up a sock on one leg so he could get a cleared look at the track.
“No doubt about it,” he thought. “Something was back here, a large wolf, a very large wolf.” He made no mention of it but stored it away along with Steele’s announcement.
Their light lunch was taken at a small roadside picnic table. During their meal, Steele reviewed the arrival of Lycanthropes in North America.
“We’ve already discussed their arrival, but the why, the what causing them to leave their native France, one small group in particular, and land in Canada. The French Revolution of 1789 was not only the turning point for France, but provided the backdrop and cover for an acrimonious fight for power and control among Lycanthropes.”
According to Steele, prior to the Revolution, there existed a Lord or Prince of the Lycanthropes, who, if legend is to be believed, was a benevolent monarch, but had the power to call forth others to help quell disturbances or bring into line Pack Alpha’s or rogue wolves who acted inappropriately. It didn’t mean there weren’t territorial fights since, after all they were part wolf and used to having their own territory, especially when one pack intruded into the territory of another. Fights would erupt and if not solvable between the fighting factions, the Prince would intervene and settle the issue.
This particular system of royalty existed for centuries, surviving under all types of circumstances, including the persecution by the church and those who hunted wolves. The Lycans lived in the shadows for the most part, trying to cause little notice by humans to their existence, except for Lycans who would cause mayhem and destruction.
“There was a group, a more sinister group, a power hungry group of Lycanthropes who’d be satisfied with no less than the destruction of the current Prince and install their own leadership and autocratic rule and precipitated all-out war on the Prince, his family, and his followers.”
The usurpers gathering enough strength and through deceit, subterfuge, and false promises, began a systematic campaign to either convert the followers of Lord Saulnier or kill them. They delighted in raping the prepubescent girls and boys and taking them captive. The older children, males, and non-receptive breeding females were killed.
Lord Saulnier, seeing the danger approaching for his family and the royal lineage, gave his oldest son, the heir apparent, the signet ring signifying the royal power and lineage, an abundance of gold, and a group of loyal followers (men, women, and children), and sent them to North America. None of the remaining family member of Lord Saulnier or followers survived the uprising. His oldest son, including the entourage, did survive and settled in North America, specifically Canada and Louisiana.
In Canada, the group began migrating south, forming new packs. Lord Saulnier married and began his own family, settling for a time in Maine, before heading on further south, hoping to link up with the group settling in Louisiana. By the time the usurpers realized the royal lineage survived and sent a group to North America to hunt down the royal family and destroy the lineage, the now Lord Saulnier, the successor to the throne, seemed to have disappeared. The line did not die out, the rebels haven’t ceased hunting, and the heir carries the ring.
“How do you know all of this, Dr. Steele,” Ted asked carefully.
“They told me!”
“Who told you?”
“Why, my young friend, the big wolves you so desperately seek!”
Ted was almost beside himself on the drive back to Steele’s house, flummoxed by Steele’s announcement the wolves spoke to him and, evidently, he spoke back to them. Ted wanted to ask why, but refrained from doing so, preferring to wait for a more opportune time. In late afternoon, during the cocktail hour, he had the opportunity.
Carefully nursing his drink, staring at the glass his hand held, speaking almost casually as if the question really had little importance to him except to make conversation, thinking he didn’t want to irritate the old gent questioning his sanity, but certainly the man must be delusional. Ted wanted to ask if little people flit in and out at night, keeping watch over him and whisper secrets in his head, but was afraid what the answer might be.
“Probably,” he muttered softly to himself.
“I beg your pardon, were you speaking to me?” Steele asked.
Quickly, Ted replied, “I was just wondering how the big wolves told you and why.”
“Well, they didn’t howl out the answer, while baying at the moon,” Steele laughed. “They came to trust me, that’s why because I rescued three of their young from attack by a trio of rival wolves!”
Several years before, maybe twenty or so according to Steele, he’d been out and about, prowling the woodlands for evidence of the large wolves he believed lived there. The incident with the fight between the two large wolves seeking to mate with the female, the death of one, and shifting of the mating couple into human form, was vivid in his memory. The sight of the dead wolf shifting to human form in death, perplexed and mesmerized him. It convinced him the mythical creature known as Lycanthrope existed, lived in these woods, and in time he’d find one or more, hence his continual exploratory jaunts into the forests.
One day, on public land not far from the Granger Enclave, he was near a small, clear lake the Grangers, especially the youngsters, and friends, used for swimming. It was a short distance, perhaps less than three blocks down a path from the main Granger home. Approaching the small, sand beach through the woods, he thought he heard a low growl and an admonition by a young voice declare, “keep away from us.” It didn’t sound good from the tone of the young voice.
Steele eased forward, slipping the sling holding the shotgun from his shoulder, and readied it, preparing for trouble. The pump shotgun was loaded with six shot shells, each containing a single, large sliver slug, capable of killing man or beast, specifically werewolves. With the wind in his face, there was little chance of detection by scent, unless he was seen or heard.
Remaining concealed by the thick forest trees and underbrush, he was able to see three very large wolves, hackles raised, teeth bared, facing three young children, two boys and one girl, naked from swimming, and clearly pre-pubescent. He recognized one boy and the girl as belonging to the Granger family, but the boy was a stranger to him.
“They were in danger,” he said to Ted, “from the three large adult wolves. Those little boys, each probably eleven years old, skin silky smooth, hairless, three to four inch uncircumcised cocks above a hairless ball sac containing two marble-sized testicles snugged up tight to their crotch, bare, nicely rounded, firm boy butts almost bewitchingly available, were so brave standing there facing their tormentors. The girl was equally as hairless, her slit visible, and attractive to one of the wolves. I watched as he shifted into a sexually aroused human male, with a very large cock, dripping with anticipation, protruding out in front of him.
Steele overheard him announce viciously, “No, young man, we’re not going to keep away. I’m going to fuck you, little girl,” pointing at her, “while my friends fuck you two,” pointing at the boys.
“There was no way I was going to let that happen,” Steele recalled.
Stepping out of the woods, making himself visible, he shouldered the shotgun, and commanded sternly, “I don’t think so, not in my presence!”
The strange man pivoted, howled in surprise and anger his pleasure was being interrupted, and shifted to wolf, bounding toward Steele. Steele fired once, striking the attacker in the chest, dropping him, pumped another shell into the chamber, fired at the second wolf who was coming to the other’s aid, dropped him, pumped another shell in and killed the third wolf. It was over in less than ten seconds.
The little girl screamed once for help, while Steele watched the three wolves shift, in death, to human form. He quickly reloaded his shotgun, keeping it ready in case there were more marauders hiding in the woods. The one boy recognized Steele and was about to say something when a noise behind Steele caused him to swivel, shotgun at the shoulder. Four wolves, big ones, were racing toward him, coming to the defense of the youngsters.
“Don’t shoot, Dr. Steele,” the boy pleaded. “It’s Dad, my uncles, and brother.”
“I won’t, unless they decide to attack me,” Steele replied cautiously.
“They won’t,” the little girl said assuredly.
The four wolves stopped suddenly, aware of Steele’s silver bracelets and the silver in the shotgun shells, and stood patiently, in a non-threatening manner, until the youngsters joined them.
“Don’t go near the carcasses,” Steele cautioned with a wave of his shotgun toward the dead, “I killed them with silver slugs.”
“There was an unspoken understanding between the Lycans and me,” Steele explained at an astonished but still skeptical Symthe. “They knew now I knew and they also knew their secret was safe with me.”
“So,” Ted inquired, “why are you telling me?”
“Because they think you’ll do the same- keep their secrets.”
“How about your ‘guests’ and those who collect data for you? Do they know what you know?”
“Not a clue. Not one fucking clue!”
The conversation came to a halt as Steele fixed dinner and after dinner he picked up the discussion of the various pockets or packs of Lycans he’d identified through the efforts of his volunteers.
“Other than the reported sightings, mostly the figment of someone’s imagination or the discovery of a paw print every now and then by my volunteers, the other method I use to determine probable locations of a particular pack is or is not anymore is somewhat esoteric.”
Steele collects data concerning deaths or disappearances of rather large numbers of people, usually five or more, in a specific area where he’d suspected packs were located, as reported in the newspapers. Although appearing unrelated to each other by each other by authorities since in some cases forwarding addresses, non-existent addresses, were left as if a family or group moved. Auto accidents reported involving multiple family members or friends where the bodies were either cremated or burned beyond recognition, death from house fires, and other catastrophizes were duly recorded and mapped by Steele.
He pointed out several locations; on the west coast, upper New York State, and Louisiana, and others where he thought there was sufficient circumstantial evidence of accidents or disappearances to indicate a pack probably existed. It was his theory, since werewolves although able to shift to human form, were still wolves, formed packs and were territorial. Pack rivalry over the territory probably led to the destruction of the losing pack. He concluded it was probably easier to fake the deaths and dispose of the dead in an appropriate manner to disguise the real reasons.
“Odd,” Ted thought as he listened to Steele and observed the marks on the large map, “he’s made no mention of Northern Minnesota.”
“It also headed off the mass hysteria of previous centuries concerns over marauding wolves or werewolves wandering the countryside killing and eating people,” Steele speculated. “The most recent incident was a little over a year ago. A prominent lawyer and her husband and their daughter and son-in-law died in an accident and were buried at sea. There were no next of kin listed in the obituary. Several other families in the area seemed to either move or just drop out of sight. The lawyer’s husband, a Jean Le Compte, was related to the Saulnier’s somehow. I’ve not been able to determine how.”
“Overall,” he continued, “the whole situation was unusual, it reeks of subterfuge, beyond the pale I should think. The relationship to the Saulnier’s makes me more than curious. If I were younger, I’d go down there to investigate, but my summer is going to be quite busy with visitors so I couldn’t take the time anyway.”
Ted was awakened from a restless sleep by a nudge of his shoulder.
“Wake up, Symthe, we have visitors.”
Ted opened his eyes and standing by his bed was a very naked Steele. The man, sans clothing, was slim, somewhat wrinkled with age, not as muscular as when young, a small paunch but not excessive, white body hair and pubic bush, but at the base of the bush was a much larger than average, thick, long, uncut penis hanging, wobbling over a loose ball sac containing nuts the size of chicken eggs.
“Who?” Ted asked, unconcerned he was equally as naked, but not hung like Steele.
“Those big wolves you’ve been wanting to see for so many years!”
Ted bounded from the bed and followed Steele to the living room. Steele, put Ted in front of him, pointed over Ted’s shoulder, and said, “There! Waiting to greet us.”
Sitting on their haunches at the edge of the clearing marking the front lawn were two large wolves, one smaller than the other; one an adult and the smaller one a juvenile. Ted was speechless, enthralled with the spectacle. Never would he have thought he could be this close to the almost mythical creatures. He could feel his heart beat rapidly in his excitement. He could also feel Steele’s fleshy appendage resting on his butt cheeks as the man leaned forward.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Steele said softly. “Take off your bracelet and we’ll go out to greet them.”
Ted was hesitant, but when Steele took his off, Ted did the same. They walked out to greet the wolves. The smaller of the two perked it’s ears up, stood on all fours, and with a soft “woof,” and a wag of its tail, ran toward the two men. Ted was hesitant in his forward motion, but was assured by Steele they were in no danger. The smaller wolf, now wagging its tail joyously, approached Steele, stuffed it’s nose into Steele’s crotch, pulled back, walked around behind, sniffed Steele’s ass, gave it a quick couple of licks, before jumping to Steele’s front and shifted into a handsome, almost hairless, dark-haired young man, clearly into adolescence if the size of his cock and the patch of pubic hair above it was any indication.
Steele reached forward, caressing the young man’s face softly with one hand while the other gently fondled the lad’s cock and balls.
“Beautiful, isn’t he?” Steele sighed.
Ted only nodded, more concerned about the reaction of the other wolf, which sat very still, watching him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the young man, kneel, inspect Steele’s now stiff cock, licked it several times as if to savor the flavor before taking the head and part of the shaft into his mouth, and begin bobbing up and down, giving Steele a blowjob.
“Remarkable, isn’t he?” Steele sighed again, but this time held the lad’s head between his hands, encouraging the lad’s ministrations to his cock.
Ted thought it even more remarkable a man Steele’s age could still get such an impressive erection and maintain it!
“There are those who love to fuck and those who loved to be fucked!” Steele said. “I love to fuck and he really, really loves to be fucked. Has ever since he was thirteen years old”
“How old is he now?” Ted wondered, since the boy still looked rather young.
“Oh, he’s sixteen now!” Steele responded, lifting the young man from his kneeling position, turned him around, bent him over, mounted him, and in one continuous thrust, filled the teen’s ass with his massive penis- clear to the pubic bush.
“Now that’s more than remarkable,” Ted said, in awe of the young teen’s ability to take the full length and girth of Steele’s shaft without splitting in half, “it’s more unbelievable!”
He looked at the lone wolf still sitting watching him. Paying little regard to Steele fucking the young man, trying to ignore the moans of pleasure and encouraging words to “fuck harder,” coming from behind him as he walked slowly, carefully toward the other wolf.
“Surely,” he thought, “I’ll wake up and discover all of this is just a dream, a fantasy of imagination from an overactive mind. This is so fucking surreal; something from a scene in a fiction movie viewed in a darkened theater or at home without the loud, dramatic spooky music wrapped around your head like in the surround sound at the theater.”
The “slap, slap, slap” on bare flesh as Steele fucked the teen only added to the unbelievability of the situation he found himself in.
“I must be losing my fucking mind,” he thought as he neared the adult wolf.
“I sure as hell hope you’re friendly,” he said to the wolf, “’cause I’m exposed as hell,” literally, since his cock and balls were wobbling freely in front of him, visible for inspection or feasting depending on the type of wolf it was or it’s disposition.
“I’m not about to hurt you,” he said addressing the wolf calmly, “so I don’t expect you to hurt me. I’ve waited so long to actually see you. No way in hell am I going to reveal to anyone what I know. Your secret is safe with me.”
He thought the wolf actually smiled and although he didn’t hear it, he thought it’d agreed he wouldn’t.
Symthe furrowed his eyebrows, shook his head several times to try to clear what he thought must be sleep cobwebs or depravation. The wolf appeared to speak to him, so he thought, but denied it in his mind since wolves only “woof” or “howl” didn’t they?
“Shouldn’t the wolf shift to human form before he spoke like people?” Ted spoke aloud in disbelief.
“Okay,” he said to the wolf, “Let me see if I understood what you said; you want me to go to New Orleans, right?”
“I’ve been around Steele too long,” he muttered, looked over his shoulder noticing Steele was still fully embedded and working the young lad like a piston on a steam engine.
“You think I’ll find some answers to questions, right? Well, I don’t have any more questions, since I know you exist!”
“Say what? What do you mean I will have since there was a surviving family member who is now missing? Who?
No response! At least from the wolf. Ted’s hearing focused on two loud “YES” from behind him, turned and saw Steele’s hips thrust forward, with his cock rammed in deep, raising the young man up on his toes shooting long strings of white semen onto the ground while Steele bred him.
Ted just shook his head, wondering if he really saw what he witnessed as the young lad shifted back to wolf and joined his companion. He followed the two wolves into the woods where they seemed to vanish into the wilderness. Steele, for his part, stood smiling his cock still about half erect and dripping the vestiges of his sexual intercourse with the young lad.
“Time to go back to the house,” Steele announced, turned toward the house, and walked inside.
Over breakfast, Ted announced he’d decided to go to New Orleans to do the investigating Steele wanted to do but was unable to do so.
“If you wanted to wait a couple of days,” Steele responded, “I have a couple of young volunteers coming to visit for a few days and enjoy the forests as well as my company.”
Ted shook his head no, but did request a copy of the material Steele accumulated in his own, somewhat limited investigation of New Orleans.
“Really, you should stay,” Steel pleaded, “One of the boys is seventeen and a virgin. Would be a delight to break in. I’m looking forward to it.”
Again, Ted begged off!
Five days later, Ted was standing in front of the abandoned Le Compte home south of New Orleans. He’d spent his nights, while not sleeping, in motels pouring over the folders full of material he’d obtained from Steele. Steele had not given him copies, but the folder full of originals, claiming he made copies and stored them on his computer, hence had no need of the originals. Walking up the overgrowing sidewalk, he fingered the newly purchased silver bracelet on his right wrist. Approaching the front door, he tested the lock with a twist of the doorknob and discovered the house was unlocked and stepped inside. Although still daylight, he turned on his flashlight to better see in the dark corners and rooms.
From all initial appearances the house was uninhabited and almost appeared as if no one ever lived here, at least in recent years. There wasn’t a stick of furniture, a curtain, or any visible sign of the previous inhabitants. The house was empty, but not empty! Ted knew he was alone, but he didn’t feel he was alone, wondering as if someone else was present. The very silence in the house was eerie, unnerving, “damned spooky,” he thought, as he continued cautiously in his progress through it.
His training as a DNR Warden kicked in, bringing forth the investigative skills he used at crime scenes or animal tracking. He found what he thought was the master bedroom and found it quite empty, almost too empty. There was nothing left, even in the closet, giving every indication the house had been “swept” by experts trying to eliminate all vestiges of previous inhabitants.
Across the hall was another bedroom and smaller. Ted walked in, stood a moment and thought, more felt, this room was a youngster’s bedroom. A very uneasy, apprehensive feeling creeped over him, casting some fear, a niggling sensation of disaster into his thoughts and a suspicion he wasn’t alone. Someone or a spirit was present in the room with him, yet he saw nothing or heard nothing.
“Spent too much time with Steele,” he muttered aloud, “yet, I saw what I saw, so I suppose there’s more mysterious sights around me I have yet to see.”
Even as he spoke, a small, brief, bright flash of light, similar to a firefly, beckoned his attention to closet. A cautious entry into the closet and a careful inspection, revealed nothing at first, until he closed the closet door and stood inside. Flashing his light around on the ceiling, on the sidewalls, and floor exposed nothing of importance, until the light illuminated, on the lower part of the door jam, carved crudely, but lightly, the small initials “HRH GWS.” The initials would’ve been unnoticed without careful inspection.
“Has to be a boy’s room,” Ted thought as he left the closet. Thought a moment longer, went back in and with his cellphone camera took a couple of pictures. “Might come in handy,” he said aloud.
Stepping back into the bedroom, camera at the ready, he decided to take a few more pictures of the room. As he did so, unnoticed by him, a small, brief light, flicked on again in one corner of the seemingly empty room.
Ted sat, nibbling on a chicken leg, part of the three-piece chicken dinner he’d purchased on his way back to the motel, from a supermarket deli. He discovered, although an occasional burger was fine from a fast food restaurant while he was traveling, he preferred salads, sandwiches, or dinners sold at the deli counters of supermarkets. By doing so, he ate healthier, could vary his diet more, and control his weight. Setting the chicken leg aside, Ted wiped his fingers, and closed the thick manila folder containing a stack of papers and documents concerning the Le Compte Family.
He’d looked through this particular folder several times on his journey to Louisiana, yet nothing seemed to “pop out” at him. Of course, he really didn’t know what he was looking for, but the wolf in Maine seemed to infer he’d make some sort of discovery by visiting here. It probably was in no position to make the trip, although in human form it could have.
With a resigned sigh, he decided to review the pictures he’d taken at the Le Compte house. Opening up the folder on his phone where the pictures were stored, he carefully scrolled through, giving close attention to each image. From the outside, the house looked like many other deserted houses in the area. Inside, again, the same; furniture gone, pictures gone from walls, even the occasional curtain was gone. It was, as he concluded before, as if no one ever lived there. The only indication was the initials he discovered carved into the door frame inside the closet in what he imagined was a child’s room. Looking at the initials, “HRH GWS” he was puzzled, wondering if someone else owned the home before the Le Compte’s since the information he had, the obituaries and news articles, indicated there were no surviving family members. Even their daughter and her husband, the Landry’s, seemed to have no children.
“Odd,” said Ted aloud. “You’d think the Landry’s would’ve had children unless one or both were infertile. Something just doesn’t add up here.”
He scrolled to the last images he’d taken in the bedroom, again scrutinizing each carefully. The very last picture caught his attention! There was a very small, bright white, almost fluorescent light, glowing in the picture, something he’d not noticed before. Once, entering the house or room, he could remember, a small bright light had flashed. At the time he thought it was sunlight reflecting on something.
Deciding he wanted a closer look, he downloaded the photo to his lap top, along with the rest of the Le Compte images. The image with the bright light, opened, he put it on full screen, and began enlarging it. With each step in the process, the image grew in size until the maximum enlargement possible on the computer was reached. The image was grainy, the pixels pretty well scattered, but still identifiable, to a point!
Ted concentrated on the white, glowing image. “Oh, my god!” he exclaimed, “it’s a young boy!”
Well, not exactly a “boy” boy, but definitely a male figure of some sort, identifiable by an uncircumcised penis and testicles. However, as amazing as that revelation was, even more so was this “boy” seemed to be floating about on wide, delicate, gossamer wings attached to his back and his body was adorned with a very translucent, sheer robe, quite open at the front. What little Ted could ascertain from the very poor image, the “boy” appeared to be almost angelic, quite beautiful, and almost fairy like.
“I must really be losing my mind,” he stated to no one in particular.
“I wouldn’t say that,” a soft, voice with a slight Cajun accent replied from behind him. “The picture really doesn’t show my better side.”
To be continued: