Free George Washington Werewolf by Kevin Postupack

in a pool of moonlight, its bullet wound dripping blood but murder still in its eyes. And as it prepared to attack, Friedrich withdrew his sword. The beast lunged for his throat and he wheeled and swung the saber as the creature rushed past. Another cry as the blade tore through its shoulder. And as it reared again and leapt through the air, Friedrich swung his sword in a single arc that severed the beast’s head and left it before him on the ground. The monster was dead, but to make sure he kicked its head into the pond and watched as it sank. He then went over to Lil, to her body. He had seen this before. Her eyes still opened, frozen in this terrified expression of death.
    “Lil…” he said softly. “ Lil …”
    He had known her for less than a week but he loved her more than he had loved anyone. And there she was, dead on the ground, on the fresh summer grass next to some evening primrose (whose flowers bloom in the moonlight). And then he noticed the blood dripping from his hand, the gash on his arm. He had been bitten.
    An hour later, Lily’s father wept over her dead body, as Friedrich had carried it back for burial. And in the morning they went into the woods. They found the decapitated body of the werewolf, although now it was nothing more than a man.
    “Where is the head? ” the old man asked.
    “There…” Friedrich said, “at the bottom of the pond.”
    “That’s a shame,” he said. “I would like to have known who killed my daughter.
    “I’m… I’m sorry.”
    The old man looked past him at some dry brush, and a short time later he made a fire in which to burn the headless man’s body. And while they looked for more wood so that the fire would burn hot, Friedrich discovered what was left of Karl amidst some fallen limbs. Karl was only eight, the same age he had been. They waited before the fire for a long time, until only ashes were left, and then they brought Karl’s body back home. And after the two children were buried their father said a prayer.
    “May the Lord take you both and give you the peace that was stolen from you in this life…” And then he turned to Friedrich. “You must go now,” he said, “and never return. The moon will be full again tonight and you’ll become like that creature… that thing that murdered my daughter, that murdered my son.”
    “What are you talking about?” Friedrich asked.
    “You’ve been bitten ,” said the old man. “You’ll change .” And there was a pause as he looked at the three graves side by side, the third belonging to his wife. “I should kill you now,” he said, “before it happens. The forest had been peaceful all the years we lived here. But somehow you… you’ve brought this curse upon us!” He glanced at the musket atop the woodpile. “But because you loved my daughter and because she loved you… I can’t kill you. No… But you must go! You must be far away from here, far from anyone by nightfall before the moon rises. Do you understand?”
    “No, I...”
    “Well you must! ” he insisted. “You must! So go now, please , and never come back…”

 
13 March 1778
7:01 pm
Valley Forge
The second night of the full moon
     
    All this passed through Friedrich Von Steuben’s head as he felt the change coming on, as it had every month for the past twenty-eight years. And he looked into George Washington’s eyes and hoped with all his soul (if he still had one) to spare him from such a fate.
    “Please, General… you must go ,” he said in a voice so weak now as to barely be heard.
    And Washington looked on, still not comprehending. Von Steuben gripped the bars of the cage and started to shake as if in the grip of some uncontrollable spasm.
    “Please… go…” Von Steuben pleaded. “ PLEASE …”
    And then there was the terrible sound of bones cracking, of muscles tearing, of the Baron moaning in agony as fur grew from his skin, claws from his fingers, fangs from his teeth; as his entire body convulsed and