Who is Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?

"Outside, its tracks begin to fill up with snow, and the shriek of the wind seems savage with pleasure. There is nothing of God or Light in that heartless sound-it is all black winter and dark ice.

The cycle of the Werewolf has begun." (King)

Werewolf stories/movies are generally a hit or miss with me, and Stephen King's novella Cycle of the Werewolf was a good read, thus will be on the list of hits. The story provides illustrations by Berni Wrightson that I loved as well. Wrightson's black and white images set up an eerie mood for each section of the book (which is divided by each month for a year), and overall I just quite liked the way he used lines in his art work that showed great contrast for light and darkness.


And before I get into the monster of the tale, I have to highlight some quotes I really loved because King always some imagery/descriptions that stand out to me...and usually make me say damn you, Stephen King (and I say it with love). The whole February section spoke my language because anything with dark, twisted love has its own corner dug out in my writer's soul.

"'Lover,' she whispers, and closes her eyes. 

It falls upon her. 

Love is like dying." (King)

Another one of Wrighton's fantastic art
pieces for Cycle of the Werewolf.

There's also a line later (I've lost the page), where King compares the stars to chipped diamonds, and mentions the way the flags "rattled like old bones" on the cornerstones. Gorgeous, gorgeous language. Sometimes people outside of the genre aren't aware of how beautiful descriptions can be in horror works. There are so many of King's stories that grind that notion to dust. He's known for the horror, but damn the man can write some beautiful prose. 

Anyway.

Let's talk about the werewolf himself, the Rev. Lester Lowe. Throughout the story we are presented with a vicious killer of a werewolf -- he stands 7 feet tall, has sharp claws and teeth, frightening eyes, and seems to simply hunger for blood. Each full moon someone (or some livestock) die horrifically and there does not appear to be remorse in those deaths. And then it is revealed the Rev. Lowe (the man who had dreams of the Beast, dreams that scared the poor man) is the very thing he fears. He goes through the inner turmoil one would assume someone would have upon discovering they turn into a murderous werewolf every month, but his need for his own survival wins out, and though King brilliantly builds up some sympathy for this man who could not control (or remember) his killings, the Rev. Lowe gives into the monster under his skin. He finds out who the kid is who wrote him those notes ("why don't you kill yourself?", and he wants to "silence him. Forever."

But King gives us a hopeful ending and the kid, Marty, blasts Lowe away with a silver bullet like it's nobody's business. I loved the ending. I think I loved even more that the werewolf wasn't some chiseled, brooding creature of the night whom some female protagonist falls in love with (not to talk down to stories that *do* have those things because I will ship Angel and Buffy until the Earth explodes), but it was refreshing to have the werewolf be an older adult, a seemingly normal fella, who is a man of the church no less. And he wasn't even bitten! I thought that part was awesome -- that some strange flowers that died way too soon were the last odd incident our werewolf remembered in connection to his change. This was clever, but I mean it was King and I expect no less in terms of his shorter stories because those are always my favorite to read by him.

So thank you Stephen King for making me believe again in werewolf stories.