Bardolf hated the orphanage. He was there all but one minute when the other kids were sneering at him. It was like all the kids knew what had just happened. Bardolf felt he would be cursed to carry his stigma without a single soul ever understanding his pain and suffering. Not only were the kids unapproachable, but the building itself seemed like an unkempt bastard child that no one wanted.

The orphanage resided in a large run-down building. It looked more like an apartment building located in the slums than anything that should be used to protect and nurture little children. The outside façade was made of a light colored brick with a lot of jagged edges. If you were to make another kid angry while standing next to the outside wall, you would not survive. The building stood alone and was surrounded by a black wrought iron fence with spikes on the top of each post. There were several staggered windows that went up three stories high. None of the windows matched up. It was as if the city hired a child to be the architect. Inside, Bardolf’s room was a communal space shared with 29 other boys. There were 15 beds lined up on one wall and 15 beds lined up on the opposite side. The beds were simple. Metal framed with one wool blanket that was very scratchy and one pillow but no pillow case provided for each bed. The room had no windows and no carpet. Just tile with white walls with chipping paint. There was a stuffy smell in the air at all times with a slight hint of body odor that was given to the room as if it were a gift from the older boys. It was putrid.

Mealtime was a circus. Bardolf was always keeping his eyes down never to make eye contact with any of the other kids. He felt like they were lions looking to pounce and devour Bardolf at any time. He never wanted to talk to anyone there. The most engagement that he had was getting hit in the face with a spitball. The facility provided one meal a day that resembled mush. It was gray and had no color and less of taste. The food was the moldy cherry on top of the cake. There was nothing to appreciate in this facility.

Bardolf did not enjoy the recreational area outside. It lacked anything fun. There was dirt. A majority of the older boys were cruel and would spit in the dirt to make mud balls and throw it at the younger ones. There weren’t any rocks on the ground so that the little ones could not quickly defend themselves. When the kids were released outside to play whether rain or shine, all the big kids would antagonize the little ones. The little ones tried to hide behind each other hoping not to be the first kid that would get pelted with all the spit and dirt. Bardolf not only hated what the older kids would do but also hated that this was the most decent place in the whole orphanage.

Bardolf did not attempt to make friends with anyone while he was there. Many came and went, but he stayed. He was cordial to a very select few. He kept to himself for the most part and read. He formed alliances where needed to ensure he would not be the target of some bully in the play yard. You were only allowed a bath once a week, and you did not want to be stuck covered in filth and grim for one full week especially if you were assigned a bath that morning and pelted with mud that afternoon. Bardolf got in very few fights. The ones he was in he dominated, but that made him a target for the workers of the orphanage to take Bardolf off the books and mark him as un-adoptable.

The oldest of the boys went by the name John. He would taunt Bardolf. His beady brown eyes seemed always to be watching him. His hair was cut so short it looked as if he were bald. He had one eyebrow that went across the span of his forehead. All the boys knew Bardolf’s story. The kids were cruel about it. They would sass him. John especially was the worst. One afternoon Bardolf was walking across the dirt yard when John hollered at him. “Hey, freak.”

Bardolf did not stop. He heard him but did not respond.

“Hey, freak. Did you learn your lesson? Did you learn not to talk to strangers? Good, good monster. You are so dumb. How were you caught by those monsters? There are legends about them you know? They were well known as the abductors that sacrifice their victims. I heard they once cut a women’s head off right here in town. They ate the body and left the head for the townspeople to be taught a lesson.” John smirked and laughed a guttural laugh. His voice was always so whiny and nasally sounding that when he talked, it was almost a knee-jerk response to punch him in the face. But you knew that he would win. John then threw a mud ball missing Bardolf’s arm.

Bardolfs body was sweating. His hands were clenched into fists. His eyes did not blink. His tone was flat. “You liar. You horrible person. That does not even make any sense. Why would they leave the head? Why would they feel that would teach the townspeople a lesson? What lesson should have been taught? Why are they sacrificing people? Wouldn’t there be a legend on this family mythos on why they are doing this?” Bardolf was shouting now. His hands were flying all about as he was screaming at John.

Without thinking Bardolf leaped at John and knocked him off his feet. Bardolf hit John repeatedly on his head. He had to be pulled off by three workers.

Bardolf’s outburst has caused him to spend a majority of the days in the head officials office asked a series of questions. Who are you? Where did you come from? How old are you? How did you end up in the house of beasts? How did they kidnap you? Do you have any siblings? When did you see your family last?

Bardolf never spoke. He answered everything in his head. Bardolf. The Cottage in the woods. 7. I grew up there. What do you mean beasts? That was my family that you stole from me. You did. I had 3. The night you killed them.

Inside the head officials’ office, there was only one decorative item that hung on the wall. It was a needlepoint quote that was in an oak frame. Bardolf read it over and over as he was a test of this scripture. Every time he read this thought to himself, what a joke. “A man should love the unfortunate orphan of whom he is a guardian as if he were his child. He should be as careful and as diligent in the management of the orphan’s property as of his own or even more careful still.” The Catholic Encyclopedia, Volume XI Plato (Laws, 927) Other than that there was a simple brown desk with a few pieces of paper on it accompanied by a pen and the doctor’s nameplate that read Doctor Stalinberger. One desk chair and two chairs for the officials’ guests to sit in that were mismatched and run down. They appeared to be a timeworn wing back chairs. Bardolf thought every time he came into the office that all the furniture was probably stolen from innocent families’ homes after they got done killing the parents and taking one surviving child. He thought that this is how all the kids got here until he learned otherwise. The doctor’s features were as dull as his room.

Bardolf never felt the love once from the workers. He felt like he was not someone to take care of, but more of a nuisance to them. The workers would roll their eyes if he asked for more food. They would tell him to go away. His family scared him that night, but if they were beasts he would prefer to be a beast than an overworked official that had too much power. Actions are stronger than a quote on the wall.

The days went by, and soon they turned to years. As five and a half years finally came and went Bardolf noticed a change in him. As all the other boys were starting to see girls and the way they were, Bardolf saw how agitated he became during the moon cycle. At the peak of the moon, he would lose all control of his body and become furious at everyone around him.

One hot summer night Bardolf noticed his hands starting to change. There were little hairs on his knuckles. He saw his sense of smell starting to become cleaner. He could hear better. Bardolf was standing in the hallway on his way to his weekly meeting with Dr. Stalinberger. Bardolf’s skin felt like bugs were crawling all over him combined with a dry itch. He took his clothes off quickly. Before he could start scratching, his hands grew. His fingernails were getting long and sharp. His face changed. His nose became more pronounced with his nostrils lifted. Bardolf grew a mini beard. His ears came to a point. He never hunched over like his dad. His eyes glowed a blood red. His feet and toenails grew expediential. He noticed that he was witnessing his body morph and change the way his families did on that unfortunate night. Bardolf felt scared. He did not know what to do. He ran and hid behind a trash can in the hall, but urges were popping up.

Bardolf looked around. He saw John standing there with a look of fright. All the color had drained from John. He was paralyzed with fear. In one quick moment Bardolf leaped towards John and with one swift swipe from Bardolf’s razor sharp fingernails, he cut open John’s throat. Bardolf watched John gasp for air. He then took one big bite of his neck. He wanted more blood and felt he needed the sensation quenched. He knew that if anyone of the officials saw him, they would do to him as they did to his family. Bardolf knew he had to get out. He needed to leave now.

Next Chapter: The Change