Alfie the Werewolf 1: Birthday Surprise

by Paul van Loon

  8

  A Monster

  ‘What happened?’ Tim whispered. ‘You look terrible. Where have you been? Did you fall over or run into a lamppost or something?’

  Alfie didn’t answer. He was still lying flat on the floor, panting. He looked up with one eye. Tim saw that his eyes hadn’t changed. They were ordinary human eyes.

  Alfie whimpered softly. He started to paw the ground. His tail swished over the floor. Then his body started jerking.

  The room became brighter as dawn slipped into day, and in the light of morning Alfie started to change back.

  Tim watched open-mouthed as he saw Alfie’s muzzle shrink. The pointed ears shrank too. His wolf’s head became a human face and the white fur seemed to mysteriously dissolve. The sharp claws disappeared. Paws turned into hands and feet. Until finally Alfie was lying there on the floor. Alfie Span. Without a tail, in the nude.

  Alfie gazed up at Tim. Then he looked at his hands and legs and feet. ‘Tim, I’m me again!’ He gathered up his torn pyjamas and quickly pulled them on. ‘It’s over, isn’t it, Tim?’

  Tim nodded. ‘I think it is, thank goodness. But …’

  Alfie heard the strange tone in Tim’s voice.

  ‘What is it, Tim?’

  ‘Well,’ Tim hesitated. ‘What I’m worried about is the blood …’

  ‘Blood?’ whispered Alfie. ‘What blood?’

  ‘On your jaws - I mean, on your mouth. Where’s it from, Alfie?’

  Alfie wiped his chin and looked at the red stripe on his fingers. His eyes widened with horror.

  ‘And those feathers,’ Tim continued. ‘How’d you get those feathers in your hair?’

  He plucked a few white feathers out from behind Alfie’s ears.

  Alfie froze. ‘Oh, now I remember. There was a woman, Mrs Chalker, you know. She always wears a hat with feathers. Uh-oh …’ Alfie’s muscles turned to jelly. His knees buckled underneath him.

  Tim grabbed his arm.

  ‘What do you mean, Alfie? What’s wrong?’

  Alfie shook his head and collapsed on the bed. He started sobbing loudly. ‘I’m so ashamed. I’m a horrible monster, Tim. I ate her up. I’m a wild, ravenous beast …’

  He didn’t get a chance to say any more as there was a quiet knock on the door. Then someone pushed it open.

  ‘Alfie, happy birthday!’

  Tim’s mum and dad were standing there in their dressing gowns, with beaming faces.

  Mum had already put on her make-up. Dad had shaved. And they both had curlers in their hair.

  Alfie quickly wiped away his tears. He didn’t want them to see that he had been crying. He didn’t want them to know what had happened. What a disaster of a birthday!

  9

  A Ghost

  Mum spread her arms, walked over to Alfie, hugged him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

  Alfie didn’t move a muscle. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the blood on his chin.

  ‘Oh, look, silly me,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve smeared lipstick all over your face.’ She grabbed a tissue and wiped Alfie’s chin clean. ‘There, that’s better,’ she said.

  Dad gave Alfie a kiss, grabbed his hand, and shook it up and down so hard that Alfie’s torn pyjama top slid off his shoulders.

  ‘Happy birthday, Alfie. Wow, you’re really big now you’re seven. It’s high time you got some new pyjamas.’

  ‘Definitely,’ Mum said. ‘You’ve grown out of them overnight.’

  Dad nodded, making the curlers dance on his head. ‘Yes, Alfie, when you turn seven, everything changes.’

  Mum clapped her hands. ‘Come on downstairs, boys. First the present. Then the cake.’

  Mum and Dad walked out of the room.

  Behind their backs, Tim and Alfie looked at each other. It was incredible. They hadn’t noticed a thing.

  The living room was decorated with streamers.

  Mum and Dad sang ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of their voices - out of tune, but very lovingly.

  Now and then Alfie had to choke back a tear. Not because they were being so nice to him, but because he was so upset about what he had done.

  Mum and Dad had bought him roller blades, like he’d always wanted, but it didn’t cheer him up.

  How could you have a good time if you were a werewolf and had just eaten someone up whole?

  I’ll never be happy again, thought Alfie. That’s my punishment.

  ‘Just pretend,’ Tim whispered. ‘Act like nothing’s wrong.’

  Alfie did his best to look cheerful, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs Chalker.

  Mum had made a big strawberry cream cake. They all got a piece on a plate with a silver fork. Alfie loved strawberry cream cake, but the thought of eating some now was more than he could bear. He imagined the pieces of cake going down his throat and landing on top of Mrs Chalker.

  Just looking at the blood-red strawberries on the cake made him feel sick.

  For some reason he didn’t even dare to pick up the silver fork.

  ‘Eat up, Alfie,’ Mum said. ‘Or don’t you feel like any of this super-scrumptious strawberry cream cake?’

  Dad winked at Alfie. ‘I’ll eat it if you don’t want it. I’m as hungry as a wolf.’

  Alfie went white and Tim choked.

  Fortunately the doorbell rang just at that moment.

  ‘You get it, Alfie,’ Dad said with his mouth full. ‘It’s probably for you.’

  Alfie jumped up. He walked into the hall and opened the front door.

  He leapt back.

  There was a ghost at the door.

  10

  Fearless

  Alfie screamed and ran back into the living room. He slammed the door shut.

  ‘What’s wrong, Alfie?’ Dad asked. ‘Who is it?’

  Alfie gasped for breath and pointed at the hall. He couldn’t speak. Tim gave him a strange look.

  Finally, Alfie managed to say, ‘G-g-ghost!’

  Tim gave him an even stranger look. Then he started to laugh.

  ‘A ghost?’ he said. ‘That I have to see.’ He walked to the hall.

  ‘No, Tim, don’t!’ Alfie shouted after him.

  But Tim was already out in the hall with the living-room door closed behind him.

  Alfie looked over to Mum and Dad, who were grinning as if it was an act the boys had planned in advance.

  Alfie didn’t know what to do. Out there, on the doorstep …

  The living-room door banged open, Tim rushed in and slammed it shut again.

  ‘A ghost,’ he squeaked with a deathly pale face.

  Mum and Dad exchanged a look.

  ‘I guess that makes it my turn to go and investigate,’ Dad said. ‘Maybe it’s a burglar.’

  ‘Burglars don’t usually ring the doorbell, sweetheart,’ Mum said.

  ‘Ah, that’s true,’ said Dad.

  He slid his chair back and stood up.

  But Tim and Alfie had blocked the door.

  ‘Don’t go, Dad,’ Tim said.

  ‘Please stay here,’ Alfie begged.

  ‘It’s a—’

  Dad nodded. ‘I know. There’s a grisly ghost out there.’

  He bent forward and whispered, ‘But I’m not scared. Watch this.’

  He walked over to the fireplace and took the iron poker off its hook.

  ‘See! Armed with this, Sir William the Fearless can take on any ghosts. Out of the way, you two.’

  Holding the poker in front of him like a sword, he pushed the boys out of the way and strode into the hall, closing the living-room door behind him.

  11

  Big Bad Wolf

  ‘What’s happening?’ whispered Alfie.

  He was listening with his ear pressed against the door. Tim was doing the same.

  ‘Don’t worry, boys,’ Mum said. ‘A ghost is no match for William the Fearless. I ought to know, I married him.’ She giggled.

  Tim and Alfie didn’t think there was anything to giggle about. They did the
ir very best to hear what was happening in the hall. Neither of them dared to go and have a look.

  It seemed to take for ever. Then they heard the front door slam. A horrible silence followed. Tim and Alfie swapped terrified glances. Suddenly they heard slow footsteps. Then hard knocks on the living-room door, followed by a hollow laugh. Tim and Alfie leapt back.

  Slowly the door swung open. It was Dad. He knocked on the door again with the poker and gave another hollow, ghostly laugh.

  ‘Sorry, just joking, I couldn’t resist,’ he said. ‘But you were right, it was a ghost.’

  ‘I told you!’ Tim blurted.

  ‘Well, almost right,’ Dad continued. ‘Mrs Chalker is as ugly as a grisly ghost and just as nasty. And she haunts my nightmares.’ He winked at Tim and Alfie.

  Tim and Alfie looked at each other. Dad didn’t get it. He didn’t realize that he had just seen Mrs Chalker’s ghost. Because Mrs Chalker was dead. She was inside Alfie’s stomach - and now she had come back to haunt them.

  ‘Chalker is worse than a ghost,’ Dad said. ‘She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that’s what she is. Throwing boots at cats in the night. Personally wringing her own chickens’ necks when they stop laying eggs. I’ve seen her.’

  Dad turned a bit red. He almost never got angry, but he couldn’t stand Mrs Chalker. ‘All she ever does is complain, the old witch. She just dropped by to tell me not to park my car in front of her house. It ruins her view. Bah!’

  ‘You didn’t hit her, did you, sweetheart?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Almost,’ Dad replied. ‘I came very close. I felt like giving her a whack with the poker. Yesterday she didn’t want the boys playing football in the street either.’ He shook his head. ‘Do you know what else she said?’

  ‘What?’ Mum asked.

  Dad suddenly burst out laughing. ‘She said that a wolf ate one of her chickens last night.’

  ‘What?’ Tim and Alfie shouted together.

  ‘A wolf!’ Dad said. ‘Here in town! That’s how crazy she is.’

  Alfie looked at Tim. Tim looked at Alfie.

  ‘And you know what else she said?’ Now Dad was hiccuping with laughter. ‘She said the wolf was wearing glasses!’ He slapped his knees with delight. His fit of anger was already over. ‘Can you picture it, Alfie? A wolf in glasses! A short-sighted wolf!’

  The lenses of Alfie’s glasses steamed over.

  Tim thumped him on the shoulder. ‘Yes!’ he whispered. ‘She’s alive! You didn’t eat her up. It was only a chicken.’

  It took a moment to sink in and then Alfie leapt up. He grabbed Tim and danced around the room.

  ‘She’s alive!’ they sang. ‘She’s alive!’

  Mum and Dad looked on in astonishment.

  ‘What’s got into those two?’ asked Mum.

  Dad shrugged.

  The letterbox rattled in the hall.

  ‘Birthday cards,’ said Mum.

  Alfie raced to the hall. There was a postcard lying on the doormat. Alfie picked it up and read: ‘Happy birthday, Alfie. It starts at seven.’

  It didn’t say who it was from. Who could have sent it? Maybe someone from my class at school, thought Alfie. He turned the card over to look at the picture on the other side.

  For a second he held his breath.

  It was a drawing of the Big Bad Wolf...

  12

  A Shadow

  ‘Coincidence,’ said Tim. ‘Pure coincidence.’

  ‘No such thing,’ said Alfie.

  He studied the postcard of the Big Bad Wolf with a gloomy expression.

  ‘Someone knows what I am. I mean, they know I’m a werewolf.’

  They were sitting in the square near their house with their roller blades on. The birthday celebrations were over. Some of Tim’s uncles and aunts had come to visit, but there hadn’t been any other kids. Besides Tim, Alfie didn’t have any friends. For some reason no one ever paid him any attention. Alfie was small and inconspicuous. Maybe the other kids didn’t even notice him.

  He was worried about the postcard. It was bad enough being a werewolf. True, he hadn’t eaten Mrs Chalker. That was a relief. But he still felt sorry for the chicken. And getting a mystery postcard from a mystery person didn’t make things any better.

  ‘I don’t understand what you’re so upset about,’ Tim said. ‘I wouldn’t mind being a werewolf. It’d be cool. I’d get my own back on all the bullies.’ He stared into space thoughtfully. ‘Nick Bragman, for one. I’d sink my teeth into him if I could.’ He rolled up his sleeve and rubbed a bruise on his upper arm. ‘He gave me this last week.’

  Suddenly he looked at Alfie. ‘Hey, Alfie, that gives me an idea. Next time Nick does something, why don’t you … I mean, you don’t have to bite him to death or anything. Just give him a good scare. When you’re … I mean, if you turn into a wolf again.’

  Alfie jumped up. ‘Are you crazy? I don’t want to change into a wolf again. I want to be normal like everyone else.’ He threw the postcard of the Big Bad Wolf down on the ground and sped off on his roller blades.

  ‘Alfie, wait,’ Tim shouted. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  But Alfie had already disappeared around the corner. He was going as fast as he could. He was angry. Blazing with fury. But he was sad at the same time. Nobody understood him, not even Tim.

  Tim thought being a werewolf was fun. It wasn’t.

  Suddenly Alfie missed his parents terribly. Not Tim’s parents, but his real parents. They would have understood.

  He could still hear Tim’s voice from far behind but Alfie didn’t stop. His legs went faster and faster, kicking out furiously. Left - right, left - right.

  Around him the houses grew darker and darker. The streetlights flicked on. Under the lampposts Alfie’s shadow glided along beside him.

  Suddenly he jumped. His shadow was of a wolf. A wolf on roller blades. Horrified, Alfie looked down at his hands. Hairy white paws, with claws. It had happened again, without him even noticing. How was that possible?

  Above the rooftops, the moon emerged from behind a cloud. Alfie groaned. A boy rode past on a moped and looked back in horror. Hide - I have to hide, thought Alfie. Otherwise they’ll find out about me.

  He looked around for a place to hide and saw the entrance to Green Park. He turned off the road and shot into the park. There were benches around the pond and under the trees and lots of dark places where no one could see him. Exhausted, Alfie flopped down on a bench under a big oak tree. In front of him a lawn sloped down to the pond. Ducks were asleep at the edge. There wasn’t a single ripple and the water was as smooth as a window pane.

  Hanging in that window was the reflection of the moon.

  Alfie breathed heavily. Slowly he raised his head. He had to look at the moon, whether he wanted to or not. His mouth opened wide of its own accord.

  I don’t want this, he thought desperately. I don’t want to be different.

  Then that horrible howl came out of his throat again. In the distance a few dogs started to bark. The ducks woke with a start and looked up.

  Alfie hung his head, resting it on his paws. Tears glistened on his hairy white face. He was alone. Alone in the world.

  ‘It’s not easy at the start, is it?’ said a raspy voice.

  Behind the tree stood a dark figure, leaning on a walking stick.

  13

  Splash!

  Alfie hid his face in his hands.

  ‘Go away!’ he growled. ‘No one’s allowed to see me.’

  The grass rustled, leaves crackled.

  ‘You don’t have to be scared of me. I’ve seen plenty like you.’

  Cautiously, Alfie spread his fingers a little, keeping his hands in front of his face. Slowly he turned his head. He peered at the tree through his fingers.

  The man with the walking stick was standing there in the shadows without moving. He was wearing a hat with a very wide brim and a long coat that fell all the way down to the ground. Alfie could only see the gleam of his eyes.


  ‘What did you say?’ Alfie whispered, to conceal the growl in his voice.

  ‘Werewolves,’ the man said. ‘Do you think you’re the only one? No one is ever the only one. No one is the only one who’s blind, or poor. No one is the only one who’s fat, or skinny, or alone, or freckly, or with braces, or in a wheelchair. There are always other people who are the same. You’re never one of a kind!’

  Slowly, Alfie lowered his hands. ‘Do you mean … there are more like me?’

  ‘That’s what I’m telling you,’ the man said. ‘It’s not as awful as you think.’

  ‘I think it’s terrible. I don’t know any more when I’m normal and when I’m not. A minute ago I was just Alfie. And now suddenly I’m a werewolf again.’

  The man raised his arm and pointed at the dark sky with his stick. ‘It’s because of the moon,’ he said. ‘It’s very simple. All human beings have a wolf inside them. If they’re angry, they start to growl. If they’re sad, they start to howl. Only with some people, sometimes, the wolf really does comes out. That happens at full moon.’

  Alfie looked up. The moon was a perfect circle. It was even bigger than it had been yesterday.

  ‘That’s not right,’ he shouted. ‘It’s only a full moon now. But I turned into a hairball with claws yesterday too!’ His voice was so angry the ducks took off in fright.

  The dark figure behind the tree nodded in silence.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said finally. ‘For three nights every month you are able to turn into a werewolf. The full moon, the night before and the night after. Three nights in total.’

  ‘Able?’ shouted Alfie. ‘You make it sound as if I have a choice. But I don’t want it at all!’ He stamped his foot furiously and lost his balance. He’d forgotten that he was still wearing roller blades.