This artefact details the personality of myself, both as a person and as a writer. Treating myself as the lonely wolf, I had lost my companion of writing years ago, when I made the decision to drop my pen and place writing at the back end of my priorities. As time passed on, I felt ashamed every time I wanted to pick up writing again, because I did not know where to start. This also helps in showing where I stood as writer at the beginning of this course, in compared to right now in Week 6 of the class.

For better or for worse, fear is a part of everyday life; while on one level it can be seen as a large source of trauma, it can also be viewed as a threshold that must be passed in order to better one’s self. However, seldom does it occur that the fears a person may possess are manifested into a physical being. However, in the case that I, myself, would be transformed into such a creature, I am certain that it would be done in the form of a wolf-like creature.

Until it was too late, nobody would be able to see it directly, but they would know it would be there; their heart would begin to beat faster, paranoia would begin to infect their mind, the strongest-willed of people would begin to become unsure of themselves as they slowly realized the inevitable truth: they were the prey. In the moments before their death, they would smell the nauseating odor of the countless victims that have had the ill luck to come across the ruthless beast. Armed with razor-sharp claws and fangs that could subdue the sturdiest of prey with ease, hunting had never been an issue for the beast. It did not matter whether its next target was human or animal, its work was never clean; its prey would always be found the next day in a bloody mess of mangled bones and innards scattered in nearby places.

Tarnished with scars and blood-stained that made it impossible to recognize as any being other than what people would consider a monster, it would prowl only through the night in search of its prey. While it did its gruesome work at night, it would always be careful and check its tracks to ensure that it was not being followed and hunted itself. This insecure tendency to do so was quite apparent, to the extent that it would have driven itself mad, had it not been for its passion of hunting that would keep itself in check. Around its neck it wore a ragged necklace that bore the fangs of past hunts that it regarded with a sense of pride, feeling satisfied that it was able to carry out such acts.

Strangely enough, its presence would vanish completely during the day. At this time, it would spend its time in solitude within a cave, away from where anybody would find it. With its head lowered, it would bear the look of an animal that has simply lost its will to live. As strong and lethal as the creature may be, it would continue to search for a companion that it would be able to share its passion during the night with. Believing in itself to be able to best any obstacle in its path, the loneliness that it began to encounter during its hunts was the one fiend that it could not overcome.

Despite the solitude that it was forced to combat, as well as the horror stories that would be spread about it, it would often take a liking to other beings that he came across in his hunts and would go out of its way to ensure their safety. However, this was always done from within the shadows, forever unknown to the creatures that it held dear.

Of course, its actions themselves would not go unnoticed.Thus, stories would be told and a legend would begin, of the night stalker who was more ferocious than any storyteller would imagine. As it would howl to the moon every night as its only company, the tale of the beast who would long for such a simple thing would continue.