I am rolling down the street on my bicycle in north Oakland. The lights are glowing in the bungalows. The gardens are thick with wisteria and the year's first roses.
A voice leaps from the shadows along the sidewalk.
"Who stole the moon!?"
It is a woman's voice. And from the sound of it, a big woman. No frail creature made that sound. I Keep pedaling.
"Where's the moon?!" she shouts again as I glide by.
I come to the intersection and can still hear her behind me. She sounds maniacal.
"OH! THERE IS IS! THERE'S THE MOON!"
I look up and see a huge moon glowing orange above the hills.
"WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT! WHOOOAAAAH!
Two blocks later, it dawns on me. How close I came to being killed. To having my flesh left in tatters on the concrete. To having my body discovered with steam still rising from a bloody rib cage.
She was definitely turning into a werewolf.