A blue moon, an extra full moon that randomly popped up on the astronomical calendar to make my life difficult, as if being a teenager wasn’t complicated enough. Lucky for me, the phrase, “once in a blue moon,” accurately described the frequency of my little, shall we say… condition? 

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Whatever you call it, it caused more trouble than a little for my parents and me. My parents discovered my condition when I was very young. If they hadn’t had a front-row seat on one such moon, I’d be in an asylum somewhere in Antarctica. There was just no way to explain it without sounding delusional. 

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Most nights of the year I was an average teenager. I had best friends, a secret crush, loved music and movies, and liked running. I spent my time hanging out with my friend’s or passing the hours studying at the library. 

But once in a blue moon, I was anything but normal.

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The story of my life is long and wrought with plot twists, deception and love, mystery and intrigue... 

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But if I’m to tell you the story, I must start the night everything changed. 

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The night I met him. 

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The last, normal night of my abnormal existence. After that night, things happened so quickly I’m not sure I was fully present and aware for every moment.

 

It began the second full moon of December, the thirteenth full moon of the year, fulfilling its definition as a blue moon in every way. My parents prepared a larger than usual dinner, having learned the more I ate before I shifted, the less destruction I caused later. They weren’t fond of finding the stripped carcasses of woodland animals in our backyard after a night of ravenous feasting.

 

“It’s dropping below freezing tonight, so dress warmly, Calla,” my mother said, forgetting again that I wouldn’t need clothing until morning.

 

I listened to her instructions to ease her mind. The shift was as stressful for them as it was for me, so I did what I could to make it easier.

 

“I will. Don’t worry, Mom.”

 

My father entered the kitchen with a rolled-up newspaper, and the wolf in me tensed. I’m not sure why, since neither of them had ever hit me in my life, but the sight of the rolled newspaper made the dog react every time. He tossed it on the counter, and it fell open, the headline glaring at me.

 

FARMERS ALL OVER TOWN PREPARE FOR FULL MOON.

 

The rest of the article described the measures local farmers and pet owners took to ensure their livestock and pets stayed safe overnight. I knew what my father implied, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not convince him I was not the culprit behind the savage slaughter of the local animals. He didn’t want to believe it was me, but the timing made it difficult not to assume.

 

“Dad, I’m telling you, it’s not me. It’s just a coincidence. You read about these things all the time. All kinds of animals get crazy on full moons.” I tried to reason with him once again, but he was one step away from locking me up in the basement until morning.

 

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