tempted to ask, but he said he would tell me one day.
My father was a great martial artist, and great with weapons. Whoever taught him was a true master. I was learning to grapple and learning how to defend myself. I was doing push ups and sit ups.
It was exhausting, but as long as my father was with me that’s all that mattered to me. We trained day in and day out.
The only time we never trained was Sunday. My father believed Sunday should be a day of rest.
Days went by, and I was learning to kick and break wooden boards. I had small bruises at first, but I got used to the pain.
I was wrestling with my father, and he was teaching me how to kill. He taught me to use pressure points to hurt an opponent. A few more days of this, and my father was going to teach me how to use weapons.
My mother didn’t mind any more that my father was spending all this quality time with me. She just didn’t want me to get hurt.
Days later I was using a sword. My father would put up water melons for me, and I would slice them off, like someone’s head was there.
It was pure awesome! I was slicing apples flying in the air, and learning how to move, attack, and defend with a sword. I was actually a big Bruce Lee fan.
I loved watching him and Chuck Norris go at it.
It was so much fun and entertainment. My father took the sword from me, and demonstrated every technique there is to know.
Soon I was learning how to shoot a rifle properly. I would shoot empty cans placed by my father. I would have to shoot them down with limited supply of ammo, and a short time since my father was timed me.
I was actually a good aimer. I became faster, and faster at hitting the cans. This was cool! My father and I became like best friends.
My father and I set out into the forest on a Saturday to hunt a deer. It was up to me to hunt down, and kill a deer.
My father told me that he wasn’t going to help me.
After all the training I had received from him, I believed I was ready to take on the deer, and kill it. I found a place for my father and me to sit, and wait for the deer.
We waited for hours.
I finally asked my father about how he became a werewolf. He decided to tell me as we waited. “I was 16 years old, and in a gang, my father was an alcoholic, and my mother was cheating on my father.” he said.
My father continued to tell me how it all started. He was involved in a gang called “Rippers ” and that he didn’t have much of a choice back in his day. He was forced to join, so he could fit in, and not get bullied around.
One night he was by a camp fire with his gang members.
Some of them had to be initiated. They were to go out in the woods, and hunt a wolf, but not get bitten by it. They set out with spears.
They were all spread out in two’s. My father was determined not to get bitten, but little did he know what was to happen next.
He and his gang friend spotted the wolf, and began to chase it. They ended up getting separated. It was dark, and started to storm suddenly.
There were loud wolf cries all throughout the forest.
My father was nervous but held his ground searching for the wolf. He heard a noise nearby . The wolf was heading toward him.
My father got his spear ready. The wolf jumped, and grabbed the spear away with its sharp teeth. My father looked around to see where the wolf went, but he lost it.
As my father walked down the forest, he continued to hear the wolf cries in the forest. He heard another noise, and saw the wolf coming back at him.
He got his spear ready, and threw the spear at the wolf, but missed. The wolf sunk its teeth in my father’s leg and left a mark.
The gang regrouped to see my father on the ground, and tended to his injured leg. The wolf that bit him was next to him, and my father was terrified.
The wolf transformed into a wolf man and offered his hand to my injured father. My father accepted. The other gang members transformed into wolf men.
They showed my
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