Rory is the host of Spin the Yarn. Rory says:
At the core of the game it is basically a fiction based writing prompt with a twist.
There will be naughty, risky or risqué if you prefer, downright odd and strange, unusual and weird and oft inappropriate questions posed. Naughty in the majority of our game means to bluff, to fib and to fabricate the truth as you, the writer, readers and challengers believe that to be.
Your role is to make your stories both incredible and credible, plausible and implausible flights of fancy – the most creative and imaginative inventiveness adventures you can muster up!
While growing up, our family took a vacation to the Upper Peninsula of MI every summer. It was an opportunity to explore woodlands where often the wildlife had not learned to be afraid of humans. My brothers and I would wander in the forest on trails our parents had walked with us so many times we knew them like the back of our hands.
I was 13 years old the summer my folks decided to take us on the ferry out to Isle Royale, which is a small island where the wolf and moose populations have a healthy balance with each other. As we landed on the island the ranger met us and gave us an orientation that included safety measures. We were handed a map that outlined the clearly marked trails.
As we walked through mature pine and beech trees it was like stepping into primeval times, where we humans were just part of the ecosystem. I began to dawdle along the path and soon the rest of my family was out of sight. I saw a beautiful patch of orange and pink mushrooms and knelt down to get a better look. Lost in examination, when I looked up, imagine my shock when I looked into the eyes of a wolf, standing not more than two feet from me.
Her eyes were deep yellow, and I swear there was a smile on her face. Without words a message came to me, from the wolf, that I was to join their tribe. The wolf stepped forward and bit my right shoulder, only hard enough to break the skin. Then she ran off, without a sound.
Just then I heard my father’s voice calling my name. We spent the rest of the afternoon at the island and took the ferry back as the sun was setting. A wolf’s howl echoed over the ripples of the water.
I didn’t tell any of my family about the bite, and it healed without incident. I’d forgotten about it until the day it was going to be a full moon, then I got very restless. I insisted my parents take us out to the steak house for dinner. A belly full of meat and I fell right to sleep by 9pm.
Around midnight, I woke with a lump in my throat and an urge to scream. I had been dreaming of running through the forest with wolves, chasing rabbits. I stumbled to the bathroom, to pee and because I felt nauseous. Leaning over the toilet, my head whipped backwards and I howled. Howled! Looking to my right, into the mirror, my blood stopped beating for a second. A werewolf stared back at me. The scar on my shoulder began to throb. I had an overwhelming urge to run and chase something down, which I was able to curb with great effort.
Life after that was about learning to live with my new condition. As long as I had fresh meat the day of the full moon, I was fine. The times I didn’t I ended up roaming the neighborhood for rabbits. A few times I climbed trees and nabbed sleeping squirrels. Being a werewolf was an honor from the wolves but it was damned inconvenient. I became tired of being a slave to my appetite.
That’s when I heard about heme. Heme is created from plants but contains the component that makes meat taste like meat. I remembered the old HBO series, “True Blood” and how the vampires were able to drink “Tru Blood” to keep themselves from becoming blood-sucking, soul-stealing maniacs. So far I had only killed a few rabbits and squirrels, but as I got older I could feel the urge to kill larger game growing. I refused to give in to my inconvenient condition.
I heard that Red Robin carried the “Impossible Burger,” which is the company that has engineered the heme from plant sources into “meat.” I asked my parents to take us kids there for dinner and I tried it. It was delicious!
The real test would come on the night of the full moon. As my parents were pushovers when it came to going out for dinner, once again we went to Red Robin. As midnight approached, there was only a small urge to howl, only half of the usual hair covered my face, and my canine teeth didn’t even descend. I knew then that I was the first teenage werewolf to become vegan!
“How Credible or Creative do you find my tale – please score me out of 10.”