The Werewolf of Gelieren

The feast was at its height when the groom took his bride by the arm and whispered that he needed to step away. «Behind the hedge,» he said with a wink. «Back in a moment.» He gave her his handkerchief — a white cloth with his initials embroidered on it — and said something strange: «Walk on ahead along the path. But if anything bothers you, strike it in the face with this handkerchief.»

The bride laughed, thinking it a joke. She took the handkerchief and set off down the dark path that led from one pub to the next, through the field behind the church.

Halfway along the path she heard something behind her — the sound of heavy paws on the damp ground. She turned and saw in the moonlight a shape that moved on four legs, larger than a dog, with eyes that shone yellow. The beast growled low and drew closer.

The bride stepped back, then remembered her husband’s words. She seized the handkerchief and when the beast stood right before her, she struck it full in the face. The creature shrieked — a sound that was half human — and leapt away. Then it turned and vanished into the darkness behind the hedge.

A few minutes later the groom came walking up the path as though nothing had happened. But the bride noticed that his shirt was askew, that mud clung to his hands and that a red welt ran across his cheek — precisely where she had struck the beast with the handkerchief.

She said nothing about it. Not that night, not the day after, not in the years that followed. But she kept the handkerchief, and sometimes, when her husband grew restless at night and slipped muttering from the bed in his sleep, she would unfold the cloth and lay it on the pillow beside her — like a weapon she hoped never to have to use again.