Reflections of Insanity

Name: Charles Roman Anderson

Age: 31

Race: Lycanthrope

Setting: Modern Alternate Universe

Brief history in Roman's own words:

I have it all. The good life. Steady job, secure income, relatively easy time of things. But there's just one little hitch. Every month or so, I get these strange urges.

For instance, the first clue is usually when I can hear people laughing and talking at the other end of the hallway and I notice that I can smell colors. Second, the craving for a bloody-rare steak, when I usually order meat blackened beyond belief. Thirdly, I start having five o'clock shadow at noon. And finally, as if all this wasn't bad enough, my teeth begin to itch. Bad enough that my gums bleed from brushing incessantly. Yeah, all this happens right about the time of the full moon. Just in case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm a werewolf.

I know, it's impossible, right? Apparently not, because every full moon night for a good long while now, I've "transformed" into this rather beastial thing with thick brown hair, wicked teeth and claws, and gone with my dad on a hunting spree up in the mountains. Yeah, it runs in my family. And we're not the only ones, either. Believe it or not, there are several others like us around. We just hide it very well. Nice people, they just have odd hobbies during these times. We don't operate in a "pack" mentality, if that's what you're thinking, but something akin to one. But lately, things are changing in our society. And not exactly for the better. I'm not really sure who'll be left alive by the time it's over, but my family's got a long proud history to defend, and I'm not about to let it down.