Double Edge // ONC 2024 Novella

Chapter Five

I tried to carry on as usual. My heightened senses grew more bearable. I'd even come to appreciate how vivid my vision had become. It allowed me to imprint images to my memory in crisp detail. I was able to match colours even more precisely than before.

Controlling my newfound strength proved to be more difficult. I ripped off doorknobs and cabinet handles. Worst of all, paintbrushes snapped in my hand.

I touched the end of the brush to the canvas with the lightest pressure. Still, the lines came out thick and dark. I thought it may be worse off than when I started.

There can be a point in picking at a project when an artist goes too far. Unfortunately, this line seemed to be invisible until it was crossed. Then it was only all too obvious.

There was no going back now. Whatever was happening to me, werewolf or not, I was not the same person I was when I started. It was time to accept the painting as it was or start over.

So start over I did.

Something about a blank canvas always set my heart racing. The intentionality of painting had fascinated me for as long as I could remember. Everything in the universe, real or imagined, existed simultaneously in the vast nothingness of a blank space - be it paper, parchment, canvas or a clear section of sidewalk. Infinity thrived in negative spaces.

The only difference between a flower and a tiger was a matter of where the lines ended up. How thick, or how thin. Like molecules and atoms coming together. It was all a matter of alignment. Everything had to be precise. Decisive. Intentional.

Even elements discovered in hindsight, the happy little accidents, belonged to the will of the subconscious.

At least now I could hold my brush steady. I marred the perfect emptiness with a streak of PBK 10 Natural Graphite. The depth of black and greys I could now perceive intensified, contrasting against the white and light grey.

I repainted the pasture scene, embracing the heavy lines and deep opaque shading. Now, I added a wolf crouched at the carcass, sinking his teeth into its shucked torso, muzzle coated in perylene red.

****

Hours turned into days. With atmospheric cello's blasting from my headphones, I fell into the painting. I saw it in fleeting moments of sleep, returning to me as a dream. The taste of rust lingered in my mouth well after opening my eyes.

As the days ticked by, Seff struggled to find credible sources to research. All he could come up with was general knowledge and a whole heap of contradictions. Through all of it, two things remained consistent; A potentially fatal allergy to silver, and a full moon transformation.

He sat on my couch. An elegant oak lockbox displayed on the coffee table. I took a seat in the arm chair, my hands still stained with black and red splotches.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked.

"What other choice do we have? It's the only way to know for sure."

"I dunno man, I don't feel too good about being a guinea pig."

"It sucks, but we don't have any other werewolves to try this on," said Seff. He used a small gold key to unlock the box, lifting the heavy lid. His mother's silverware was laid out in fitted velvet slots.

I looked at the inconspicuous cutlery with bile rising in my throat. My reflection appeared distorted and upside down in the round scoop of the spoon. 

I swallowed.

"I might not even be a werewolf. We could still be crazy. That's always an option," I said.