One minute, I was a passerby in some godforsaken town and the next minute I was the mayor of it. I don't know much about the area, but from what I gather it was inhabited by a group of fanatics that had rejected the world and decided to live in this commune. They seemed to be at a breaking point, and for the first couple of days... I couldn't even figure out why.
When I found out why, I almost burst out laughing. They actually believed that within their community there lived... of all things... Werewolves.
Then, it didn't take long for them to round up someone. They didn't seem to have any evidence that werewolves existed, let alone that this poor guy was one himself. It seemed that he was actually going to get a trial. But last night, a mob showed up outside and there would be no trial. The presiding mayor and local teacher, was taken from his cell and was taken out to the square. I got that sick feeling that you get when you are about to watch some innocent guy die, but he's not innocent, but rather guilty, and when it seems the right thing was done, it turns out something horrific occurred, something so horrific that it causes you write run-on sentences when you write about the the horrific events that followed that fateful night, the night I saw my first werewolf, in the flesh, or fur if you prefer.
Sycamore Ken was hung that night, from a rope tied to a tree, the same way I would hang someone if I had to. ROT IN HELL YOU WEREWOLF!
The next day, Toxic Avenger quickly emerged as the next candidate for mayor. He promised CHANGE! and HOPE!, and was even open to diplomacy with the werewolves. He was eaten by the wolves later that night.
When things couldn't get any worse, it did. I was elected mayor...
Today, the townspeople are going to vote on who they think the wolves are, and I'm the one who gets the final say as to who is going to get hung. Who's going to kill me first? The wolves or the Townsfolk?