Spit What You Hate

My family was cursed. Centuries ago, an ancestor of ours was cursed by one of the last Volkhvs around. Said ancestor was cursed to become a wolf if he ever dared consume human flesh again. That curse was laid upon him and his progeny. Anyone in the family who dared consume the flesh of a fellow human being would end up becoming a wolf, a werewolf. A beast controlled by its own hatred and contempt for human life. That story was passed down in my family from generation to generation until my grandfather told this story to my father and uncles and in turn, they’ve told it to me, my brother and our cousins.

To be clear, Volkhvs were a type of priest in the old Slavic faith.

None of us believed in the curse’s tale, I’m pretty sure neither did my father or grandfather for that matter. They kept the family tradition alive. Warning us about the dangers of cannibalism. Granted, by the time and Mstislav and I were born, cannibalism was scientifically proven to be a shitty idea. I’ll admit this much, as a kid, I did believe in the tale, Slava, he was different, though.

He seems to have been skeptical from the start. He was always more analytical and more distant than the other kids. He didn’t even like our cousins that much. In a way, I was his only friend, by choice. My brother grew up to be a spiteful and hateful man, some of which might’ve stemmed from his health problems.

He wasn’t all there in the head, to say the least. The anxieties, mood swings, and delusions came about early. He’d get himself in trouble by hurting others or himself all the time as a result. Being mentally ill didn’t help his social life, and he grew more and more hateful towards people, over time. Luckily, we were able to find a decent enough treatment by his early twenties and he stabilized, or so it seemed.

One day after the death of our father, he just got up and left. Just disappeared without leaving a single trace behind. I’ve looked for him for years but couldn’t find anything. It’s as if the earth had swallowed him whole. I was angry at him for a while. I probably hated him at some point, I was so angry and upset over being left alone with no family anywhere near me. Eventually, I’ve decided I should let go. If he decided to bail me, that’s on him. I couldn’t just waste my life being pissed off at my absentee brother. If he was gone then, he was gone, fuck him and be done with it.

Nearly ten years later, he showed up at my apartment. Just knocked on my door one evening a couple of months ago. I was watching TV that evening after work and didn’t expect any guests. When I heard the doorbell ring, I was a little surprised. I made my way to the door, and I remember almost losing my dinner when I opened the door.

Mstislav stood there, all happy and alive. He was smiling, he never smiled.

I hugged him with all of my strength, and he hugged back. I was at a loss for words. Before I could say anything, he pulled back and clearly said, "I’m sorry for leaving you like that, bro." My brother had never apologized. Even when he knew he was wrong. I just stood there shocked and confused. First, he comes back and then he apologizes for disappearing on me. This couldn’t be my brother.

"What did you say?" I questioned, genuinely confused.

He chuckled, "I said I’m sorry…"

"Oh, come on in, you tall bastard! It’s all good now" I pulled him into the apartment, noticing the limp he had acquired.

"How’ve you been?" I questioned, still slightly in awe of his presence.

"Ups and downs, ups and downs like always, Max. Now I’m doing well, though. How about you?"

I wanted to respond, but he had already heard the tv at the time and quipped, "turn that shit off…

Can’t stand those God damned liars…"

I went off to turn off the TV, telling him I am doing well myself too before asking him if he’d like to drink something.

His response was surprising too, "Yeah, how about some tea? I’ve gotten us a cake on the way here."

I made my way back to the kitchen, and he quipped, "what’s up with the confused look? Aren’t you happy to see me?"

"I am, but you’ve come back so different, not even drinking… Smiling, what has gotten into you? Are you even Slava?" I questioned.

He just laughed, reassuring me he was indeed my brother. We sat down and had our tea and cake. As we ate, we shared some stories, and he ended up reminding me about the old familial curse.

"I thought you didn’t believe in that."

"Well, turns out it’s true."

"Bullshit."

"I thought so too until I bit a chunk of a dude’s face and swallowed it."

"What?!"

"Yeah, Max, I was fucked up one night and got myself in a huge fight. Ended up straddling some dude after breaking his nose with my skull and tore a chunk of his cheek off."

"Jesus fuck..."

"I was so fucked up I ended up swallowing that and went back to throwing punches. A few moments later my body felt like it was on fire. The next thing I knew is that I have had a snout in front of my eyes and I can’t talk. All the bad motherfuckers around me pissing themselves, and I am a lot shorter than I should be.

"Instincts took over, and I ended up surrounded by a circle of mauled dead men with myself smelling like dog piss."

When he told me that story, I couldn’t believe him. I thought he was just making stuff up. So, I asked him how come he’s not a wolf now.

"I later figured out that this has to do with my anger, when I’m pissed, I can turn, when I’m calm, I stick to being human. Good thing I’m always pissed. I suppose I just calmed down, and the fursuit went away with my anger. It was fucking weird, but I came to live with it. Really useful when it comes to hunting wild life."

"So, what, are you like immortal or something now?" I questioned.

"Nah, if I were, I wouldn’t be a lame bastard now. Would I?" he answered.

"I don’t believe you, bro" I really didn’t.

"Let’s take a hike then, find someone I can tear apart and I’ll show you?"

"Who are you going to tear apart?" I questioned. I knew my brother was a huge misanthrope, but he’s never hurt anyone out of spite. If he got into fights, there would be reasons for that. He wouldn’t just hurt people for no good reason. He was never a psychopath, in spite of all of his issues and his terrible outlook. He was better than the monsters he hated so much.

He was better than them, at least.

"Almost anyone… you know I don’t like fucking monkeys."

I chuckled, getting up from my chair. "Well, let’s go then…"

Slava got up as well, and we got dressed and left for a walk around town. We walked around for a while without saying much, and I just told him I still didn't believe his crap. He warned me about him being right and told me to just keep walking. I told him it was nice having that walk with him in the open air, and he said it was likewise for him. He added it was even nicer since there weren’t any "fucking people" around in his words. He then went on a tangent that sounded like he was some kind of crazy environmentalist. The earth would’ve been paradise without shitty humans and all that. This went on for a while until he was cut off by the sound of a baby crying.

He smiled, "It’s showtime, brother. Promise me you won’t do anything about what I am about to do. Not run off and tell someone, not call the cops, not try to stop me, nothing. You can walk away but don’t fuck me over," He said.

I looked at him, almost disappointed, "a kid, really?"

"Yeah… It’s one less shithead this beautiful world has to worry about…" he retorted with a coldness in his voice, one unlike I have ever heard before. He was serious about this, and I knew I didn’t want to mess with my brother when he was like this. Something just felt wrong about the whole situation. He extended his hand and asked, "Remember our handshake?"

Of course, I remembered. We shook on it, and he started changing right in front of me. His body convulsed violently as he seemingly gasped for air while his body shook uncontrollably. His joints started popping and his bones started shifting in a disgusting display under his skin. I stumbled backward from the sight and stared in fear at what was becoming of my brother. His arms and legs turned long and disfigured. His face started taking the form of a muzzle and his jaw grew more pronounced. Long teeth sprouted from his mouth and a long tongue withered inside. In a matter of seconds, Slava looked like he was a crossbreed of a rat and a malnourished human. The sounds he made as he was transforming sounded like he was trying to throw up and scream at once. Like he was choking on a large object. The whole process felt incredibly painful and made my stomach turn. I turned away and grabbed at the back of my head. This whole thing was awfully surreal. It was unnerving to watch. By the time I managed to turn back to face him, he had turned fully lupine.

My brother was a massive brown maned wolf.

He stared me in the eye with his now golden doglike eyes, and I could see the rage bubbling inside. The crying suddenly sounded louder than it should’ve. The beast turned and ran into the darkness.

I just stood there, out of breath, out of words, unsure of what to think. My brother was in fact a monstrous wolf, and he was about to devour some baby. There was no right or wrong at that moment. My word to him had to be kept. I was paralyzed by my promise to my sibling.

The crying in the dark swiftly turned to screaming, panicked screaming. I couldn’t blame the woman who saw my brother charging at her, she was dressed in rags. I just stood there and stared, waiting for the worst to happen. She came out into the light, running towards me, clutching her crying baby. She was yelling something incoherent I know was about my brother.

Everything happened really fast. She was running. Then his massive canid shadow appeared from behind her. She missed a step; one leg went up – He grabbed it in his mouth and tossed her aside. There was a sickening crunch as the body flew aside. A shriek and the sounds of a dog biting through bone echoed. My head started spinning and my stomach twisted itself in knots. She landed in a cold splat and snap on the concrete, her remaining leg broke into an ugly angle. More screaming and a snarl that forced the woman into silence.

Slava stalked her broken body and occasionally glanced at me. He had grown far crueler than I had known him. He pressed his massive paw onto her arm and snatched away the baby. She begged and pleaded with all of her remaining strength.

He didn’t care, and I was too nauseous to do anything.

Something crunched twice before there was nothing but blood and gore flying out of his mouth. She screamed and wailed for her baby. She begged for her life to be taken, but Slava just turned away, stood upright, and opened his maw wide. The fur started receding into his mouth with a disgusting tearing sound accompanying the awful display.

He spat at the woman, “fucking disgusting, the worst piss bag I’ve ever had.” He remarked.“You’ll die in a few minutes, anyway. Good riddance, shithead!”. He wasn’t even done there. He turned to me, and with seething hatred yelled out, “this bitch was attending political rallies instead of securing a job! I did the little sucker a favor. Fucking bitch!”

I no longer doubted my brother on anything. He did indeed hate humans. He wanted them all dead, probably all of us, himself included. He did say he fucked up his leg in a car accident. I’m pretty sure it was a suicide attempt. I didn’t bother asking, though. Slava wasn’t done with the woman just yet. He looked down on her and said, "I’ve been through a lot of shit, I’ve done a lot of shit. I am not a proud human. I've learned one thing in life, though; you better spit what you hate." With that, he shoved two of his gloved fingers down his throat. It was his special talent, making himself throw up on a whim.

When I heard him making that gurgling sound as his fingers probed in his throat my body decided to do the same. My internal tubing turned on itself. Something snapped inside and a heavy load made its way up from my stomach to my throat. I fell to my knees at the same time Slava was spewing pieces of flesh and bone in a soup of blood all over the woman. The contents of my stomach followed suit, and I found myself throwing up all and coughing up puke.

I caught a glance of the woman covered in the remnants of her child. She looked like a corpse, the color faded from her skin and her eyes were glossed over. She didn’t even register the piece of meat sliding into her mouth. She forced a second wave of puke out of my mouth. I ended up falling on my back next to the pile of discarded stomach juice heaving for air. Slava stood looming over me, wiping the last remnants of gore off his face. Looking directly down at me struggling to breathe, he started laughing, "Spit what you hate!" he called while sitting beside me.

For a moment, all of this seemed hilarious, so I laughed along, I never knew hatred could be such a funny thing.