When I was a kid, I had a teddy bear. That’s a pretty normals thing to say – most kids do. This teddy though, was called Howler, and came from a toy line called the were bears.
I’m pretty sure that gives away a huge chunk of this anecdote, but bear (hah!) With me.
Anyways most of the time were bears were meant to look like normal teddies. But the difference was that you could essentially turn their heads inside out, and they suddenly had scary faces of lyncanthropic teddies with fangs and claws. Most of the time that didn’t bother me – I used to think that Howlers transformed face was pretty cool.
However, as time went by, the fabric that made up my beloved werebears face began to, well, wear. And one night, when I woke up, the moon was shining through the window. I rolled over in bed, and looked at Howler.
And he was no longer in his cute teddy form. The bloody thing had changed on it’s own! The fanged face was staring at me, and it was only through the grace of god that I was no longer in my bedwetting phase, otherwise there might have been an accident!
Werewolves have been lodged in my subconcious ever since, a genuine source of fictional terror for me. But they also became a source of fascination. I began to read werewolf stories, and watch werewolf movies. And then finally a few years ago I began to write stories of my own.
Because what use are your fears if you can’t make them work for you?