Unthinkable

Unthinkable, that is what I call it. It is the first tattoo I had since I came from Mayonnaise. People think of sauce when they hear us say Mayonnaise but any survival of that bloody fight knows it’s nothing more than a horrific war against wolves. Though I hate thinking about my past, because you don’t believe me, I’ll tell you.

Ten years ago, the elected major of Jamestown was found dead in his house with half his head gone and two of his organs also stolen. His wife, a woman dismayed at the incident, informed us immediately she saw his body. Bonded by our duty to protect and serve, we showed up moments after.
“What good is your dick if you’re dead? “Derrick asked as if he didn't know we were studying the body of the mayor.
“…maybe rituals”, I suggested, joining him and the other soldiers in search of evidence our murder might have left behind.

“I don’t think she did it” Derrick insisted when he saw me interrogating the mayor’s wife.
“I know but don’t you…”
“No buts! For Christ sake the woman can’t walk. How is she going to kill?” Derrick argued, making me a laughing stock in the eyes of the others.  “I have a feeling our man is still in the building.” He said. “Let’s make sure he stays in.”
After hours of search, we found nothing. So we moved out where we found what we believed to be footprints from dogs.
“This was definitely a mayhem.” insisted Derrick. “The mayor must have been running from death only to meet it back at home “. How sad! I pitied the dead mayor.
After minutes of walk, guided by those ‘dog prints’ we saw, we finally found ourselves before a tomb. From it came a howl that challenged our bravery.
“No one is going anywhere” Derrick insisted.
Suddenly we saw a pack of wolves dashing from the tomb towards us. We fired as many as we could, but they were too fast, too furious and though we were armed, they outnumbered us. Most of us died in that incident before we even had a plan to retreat.
  Despite our injured legs, we managed to reach the mayor’s house, somewhere we assumed to be safe.
While asleep that night, I heard someone feeding in the kitchen. It was the woman who told us her husband was murdered. She had transformed into a wolf and was feeding on the body of two of our soldiers she had already killed.
“Were-wolf! I screamed, waking up the rest. Though Derrick and four others died trying to kill her, I lived. After four shots from my gun, she was dead.
The lesson that day is to one to be remembered. That is why I keep this on me.  Unthinkable, it’s not just a tattoo, but a story of about me.