Can perfectly normal human beings turn into hideous, terrifying killer-creatures? History is full of stories of these kinds of transformations. Witches can supposedly transform themselves into black cats and back again. Other legends claim that people with certain evil connections can turn into giant birds or snarling dogs or even slithering snakes. Perhaps the most horrifying tale of all is the story of the werewolf. Human being by day, wolf by night, the werewolf is a vicious killer. In its wolf stage, it strikes without warning, biting the neck of its victim. Werewolf stories have been part of the folklore of England and Scotland for years. This story, however, comes to us from a place farther away, which proves that there's no escape from the terror of the werewolf.

Ever since Harold Young had arrived in Thailand, he had heard legends of the terrifying Taw. The natives said it was a wolf-like creature that hunted people down and then killed them by biting them in the neck. But the Taw was not a wolf all the time. Rumors indicated that the Taw was really a man-most of the time. But when evil forces overtook him, he transformed into the Taw. Then, after he had murdered a human being in his typical grisly fashion, he transformed himself back, once again, into a man. Harold scoffed at the stories. They sounded a bit like the stories he had heard back in his homeland, England. There, a similar man/wolf creature supposedly hunted down hapless victims and, after its bloody work was finished, it also turned back into a man. The British had their own name for the creature-a werewolf. Harold considered the tale to be absolute nonsense. He didn't know how the stories got started or where they would end. He only knew that he didn't believe them. Harold had originally come to Thailand as an ambassador, but after his post ended, he found that he couldn't leave. He loved the country-the deep green of the dark jungle, the misty gray of the night sky, and the wonderful rainbow of colors he saw in the marketplaces in the cities. Most of all, he loved to hunt the various creatures that inhabited the jungles. (It was the early 1960s, and laws protecting endangered species had not been passed yet.) Harold could hunt whatever he chose, and he was determined to bag a panther or two as a trophy for his home in London. Harold packed up his gear and headed for the Lahu Mountains, near the Thai border. Before he left Bangkok, he was told that a Taw had been terrorizing the area, but he paid the warning no mind. Silly nonsense, he thought. The Taw was nothing for him to worry about. When he arrived at the small village that was to serve as a base for his hunting expedition, the village was abuzz with more stories of the Taw. Reportedly, it had attacked two young women in the village just to the north. In each case, it had killed the woman by tearing out her throat. When villagers followed its footsteps, they were surprised to find that the wolf-like tracks became human footprints after just a few yards. Harold believed that the girls had been killed, but he figured it was probably just a wild animal that got them. The jungle was a cruel place, and sometimes human beings became victims of vicious animal attacks. The hunter had no luck on his first day in the jungle. In fact, he didn't see a single species of wild game. It was eerie, almost as if the creatures had left the jungle entirely. Even the noisy birds that usually screeched from above were silent. At dusk, he headed back to the village. He had just reached the edge of the small collection of huts when he heard a blood-curdling scream come from the shadows. He immediately dashed toward the sound. He stopped short to stare at what was before him. There, in the dimness, stood a wolf-like creature. It was covered with dark, matted fur. Its eyes glowed a hideous yellow in the darkness. Blood dripped from its long, sharp fangs. But it was the look on its face that sent fear to the depth of Harold's heart. It was the look of evil pleasure, as if the creature had been thoroughly enjoying some sort of wicked task. Then, in horror, Harold realized what that task had been. Beside the creature, a young woman lay in a bloody heap. His hands shaking, Harold pulled his rifle around from his back. Trying to steady himself, he aimed the gun directly at the creature's yellow eyes. The creature growled fiercely and then turned away. Harold held his breath and squeezed the trigger. The creature recoiled as if it had been hit in the left shoulder. Then it continued running toward the jungle. The villagers had heard the gunshot and ran from their huts toward Harold and the young girl. Under the light of a torch one of them carried, Harold could see that the girl was dead. Her screams had been silenced by the creature's bloody attack. Her throat had been completely torn out. "It is the work of the Taw!" one of the villagers cried. "Evil one!" another one yelled. Harold turned to the small crowd that had gathered. "It was a wolf, all right, but I don't believe there is such a creature as a Taw. It was a wolf, plain and simple. Tomorrow at sunup, I'll prove it," he said. "But how?" one asked "I will follow its tracks and find its lair. Then, if it is not dead already from my gunshot, I will kill it. It won't bother you again." The villagers murmured among themselves. "But it is evil-half man, half-wolf," one said. "I will find it," Harold answered forcefully. "Now it's best we tend to this body." The next day dawned warm and sunny. Harold checked his ammunition and prepared for the hunt of his lifetime. He would prove once and for all that the Taw didn't exist. The day was completely unlike the day before. The birds were screeching as they usually did. Scuffling sounds among the bushes meant that the jungle's inhabitants had returned and were startled by Harold's presence. The footprints of the creature were easy to distinguish in the early morning light. Here and there, small pools of dried blood appeared, The creature must have bled all the way to his lair. Just half a mile into the jungle, the tracks ended beside a huge boulder. Harold shook his head. Where could the creature have gone? His rifle at the ready, Harold quietly and slowly made his way around the boulder. He gasped when he saw what was on the other side. There, lying at his feet face-down, was a man. There was a brown circle of blood on the jungle floor just in front of the man. Harold looked closer at him. Perhaps he, too, had been the victim of some wild animal attack. Harold checked for signs of life. There were none. But the man appeared to be unharmed. Then Harold saw it-a round bullet hole in the man's shoulder. The bullet hole was in the exact spot where he had shot the creature-the creature that the villagers called the Taw. There could be no other explanation. The legend of the Taw was true. The creature had bled its victim and then transformed back into its human form. But the wound Harold had inflicted while the creature was in his wolf form was too much for him to survive. Harold had indeed bagged the prey of his lifetime, but this one would not end up on his trophy wall. Harold would simply have to live with the memory. He was only glad to have rid this part of the world of an evil and hideous creature. And then, Harold heard a rustle in the bushes. He whipped around and aimed his gun. Out came a ferocious panther. It seems that I will get my trophy after all, he thought. He looked it in the eye and shot it. As it fell it revealed a small cave-like opening in the ground. Harold thought it was surely just a fox's den and nothing more so he took his panther to be stuffed and cleaned by the villagers. This will be the nicest mount of them all, thought Harold. But in the forest, all is not as peaceful as it seems. The, Taw, as it turned out had pups; so to speak. His mate, another Taw had been killed by hunters long ago, but she left behind two twin "pups" in her human stage. Papa Taw was, in fact, trying to feed his family of evil vicious killers. They are about a six years old now and ready to start preying upon the innocent villagers. Six years in human standards are not the same in wolf standards. The Taw pups are about three in wolf years and that is past the maturing stage, making them ready to leave home at any time. Since the children got no interaction from humans at all they are feral as wild animals. However, being Taws they are rare. Being twin Taws means they will mostly use their Taw form, not only to hunt but to get around as well because they never got formal training from their parents like speech or walking. The Taws set out for a hunt and headed in the direction of the village. The Taws' relationship was as unique as themselves: if one gets hurt the other can feel it. People in the village kept talking for months that the Taw would strike again, this time even more vengeful than the last. As it turns out, a cult of some kind came to the village spreading stories that the Taw had returned and will not stop until it has killed every last villager. This "cult" actually wanted the Taw to come back so they spread stories and in the end convinced a villager or two to leave the village before it was too late. Late in the night, they left and the Taws followed them everywhere they went eventually closing in for the kill. The villagers used stones to make one of the Taws bleed, thus making the other Taw bleed; however not as badly. They killed the villagers in their usual fashion and ate them, They then returned to their den and come morning the first Taw had died from its wound. When Harold had heard of the missing villagers the next morning, he went out and searched for them. He only found a small pile of bones and a blood trail. Harold told the people what had happened and they mourned their loss and were then convinced the Taw would kill them all. The cultists were very pleased that their "sacrifice" was enough payment to the beasts. The Taw lives again, they said. And now it was true. Harold then went and followed the blood trail after the cultists left suddenly out of nowhere even when they clearly had no place to go. No one knew where they had come from, but people said good riddance because they were a nuisance when they had to fear for their lives once again. Harold found the spot where the he had killed the panther a few days before. It had unearthed a hole in the ground revealing an animal's den, but Harold had assumed it was a mere fox's den and nothing more. Out of nowhere the cultists jump out demanding what Harold is doing out in the jungle with no excuse. He explains that it is not their jungle, but then they each draw knives and ask again why is in the jungle if he is not hunting. "You are going to ruin all of our beautiful plans.", one says. "What plans." Harold asks. They then tell him that they alone are going to remove him from existence and free the Taw from its imprisonment to enslave all the whiny villagers. Harold has his gun at the ready in an instant. They are too fast for him though and one comes at him with the knife while the other attempts to summon the Taw from their hiding places. What they don't know is that the Taws' power is greatly limited because the two villagers fought back before they were killed on that dreadful night. Harold takes a wound to the shoulder, but not before he silences his attacker with a quick shot to the chest region. The other is on the ground praying in some ancient language or something. Then all at once the Taw appears. The other cultist stands and stokes the Taw on its head. It growls to the man and then suddenly the man is so enraged that he strikes the Taw. "What do you mean the other was killed! You are a worthless excuse for a beast you hear me!" he yells. In the next instant he is attacked by the Taw himself. He is not killed by being bitten in the neck, but rather torn to shreds in a more gruesome way than the Taw is usually known for. Harold then looks the savage beast in the eye and with no remorse at all shoots it between its savage yellow eyes. He leaves it alone to writhe and change back into its human form and heads for the village. He explains that the people who came were cultists and tried to summon the Taw again. He told them they had not to fear the taw again for it and its masters were dead. He then travels by plane in the first class while his panther has already been shipped out for it is very precious to him and he did not want it damaged by careless airplane attendants. He then sits back and relaxes for what feels like the first time in his life since going to that retched country. When the plane lands he goes back to his estate and has the nicest stand for his panther that he can think of made for him so he can mount it on the wall as soon as possible so as to minimize damage to it. He then has his servants to put it on his wall and he stands aside watching making sure that nothing went wrong. After all that was done, he stood back to admire his beautiful cat he had shot. This was the only reason that he had a somewhat good time at Thailand. Everything else was a disaster. But it all came to a good end eventually. ....The End.