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“Jessica! How lovely to see, so glad you could come!”

Velma embraced her friend and ushered her inside.

“I brought some snacks,” Jessica said, holding up an olive platter.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have! I think there’s still some space on the kitchen counter… help yourself to food and drink, oh, and I must introduce you to Harvey, you have so much in common!”

The party seemed to be going well. Drinks were flowing – down throats, not across the carpet – the music was loud enough to dance to but not loud enough to drown out conversation, and her guests had brought enough snacks to feed them all a thousand times over.

Velma steered Jessica towards her colleague Harvey, made introductions and exused herself to mingle with the other guests. She had thrown the party on a flimsy excuse, with the sole notion of getting to know people better. She was new in town, and well aware of the need to network in order to get ahead.

Aside from Harvey and Jessica, she didn’t know most of her guests that well, and she planned a careful route through the crowded room that would allow her to chat with the right people, spend most of her time with the most influential people, and just enough to make more than a passing acquaintance with those on the lower rungs.

She was in the living room, faking interest in a rather convoluted story being told by Marcus Equitaine – a rising politician, well worth having on her side – when the first screams rang out from the kitchen-diner.

Between those trying to escape the scene and those trying to see what was going on, she couldn’t get through. She cursed her ambitions – she’d invited too many people for the space, really.

“It’s Sam,” somebody gasped.

“Sam Woolsey? What’s happened?”

The crowd parted just enough for her to see into the kitchen diner. Plates and cups had been thrown everywhere, and Sam Woolsey stood in the middle of the mess, his shoulders hunched and his back to her.


He turned, and she gasped. His face had changed; his jaw jutted forward, sharp teeth all but cutting through his lips, and his eyes had taken on a feral stare.

“My god,” somebody said behind her.

Sam stared at her for a long moment, then turned and pounced on the stuffed turkey that somebody had brought. It took him only a couple of seconds to shred it into pieces and devour it, and Velma screamed as he threw the plate carelessly to the ground.

“Oh, good grief,” somebody muttered behind her. “Really. What a shambles.”

She heard the front door click. She turned and realised that her guests were leaving – not rushing away in horror, but gathering their coats with an air of disinterest and disappointment.

“Wait- what-”

She stuttered, and looked around for help, turning again just in time to see Jessica trying to avoid her gaze, her coat over her arm.

“I have to be going,” Jessica said awkwardly.

“But – what am I going to do about Sam? What’s going on?”

Jessica shrugged. “Really, dear, you ought to have thought that through before inviting an insatiable werewolf to a party on the full moon…”

She and the other guests left in a hurry, leaving Velma wondering how to deal with the werewolf in the kitchen.

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: The 3WW prompts this week are Feral, Shred and Insatiable – of course it’s a werewolf story…)