“The Rain Between My Bones”
The first time the change came, it was in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Elias had been running—barefoot, soaked, chased by something he couldn’t name. His skin burned, his breath came in snarls, and the world blurred into streaks of rain and streetlight. He collapsed behind the old train station, clutching his ribs as they cracked like dry branches.
Then silence. Then fire.
His eyes lit up like twin embers. His fingers split and reformed. Fur erupted from his skin like smoke. And when he screamed, it wasn’t human anymore.
The next morning, Elias woke in the woods, curled in a nest of wet leaves. His clothes were shredded. His body ached. But the worst pain was in his mind—memories of glowing eyes, of claws, of hunger.
He didn’t go home.
Instead, he wandered. Hid. Watched the moon like it owed him answers.
Weeks passed. The changes came again. Each time, he fought it—tied himself down, bit through belts, screamed into pillows. But the wolf didn’t care. It was ancient. It was patient. It whispered in his blood.
One night, Elias stood in front of a mirror and didn’t flinch. His eyes glowed. His teeth were sharp. But he was still him.
“I’m not broken,” he said aloud. “I’m becoming.”
The acceptance came slowly. In the way he ran faster than anyone else. In the way he could smell lies. In the way the forest felt like home.
He returned to school with a hood pulled low and a quiet confidence. People stared. Rumors spread. But Elias didn’t hide anymore.
He joined the track team. He aced biology. He wrote poetry about moons and monsters.
Someone asked why his eyes glowed in the dark. He smiled and said, “Because I see things differently now.”
Elias wasn’t cursed. He was chosen.
Not by fate. Not by magic.
But by the part of himself that had always been wild, waiting for rain to wake it.
If you’d like, I can expand this into a longer story or help you turn it into a graphic novella. Want to explore Elias’s pack, or maybe the myth behind his bloodline?
@pencilmagmen 