Cassandre in Hell (short story)

My writing method is fueled by Lego building. I build the character or setting, and then I can tell the story. Here’s a perfect example. Expect to see a short story on this character in days. That’s the turbo boost that my Fiction-bricks method gives me.

Without further delay, Cassandre.

A werewolf nearly completing its transformation. Cassandre.

Cassandre pleaded with loved ones that she wanted to die, needed to. She was paralysed from the neck down after a car accident in her young twenties. In her thirties, her prayers were answered to stand and walk and hold and touch again. But not by God. He is not the only maker of miracles in the marketplace, as we all know.

The Devil whispers in the night, when she is contemplating how she can suicide without being able to move. “Walk again, but be my creature evermore.”

She thought she was hearing the voice of God. Not so. The Devil granted her a verbal contract, formalized by an infernal scribe. Cassandre walked, but had lost her leg–it had vanished without scar to show her leg had been there, vanished overnight. She learned to walk and even run with an expensive prosthetic leg. The loss of her leg was like a deductible payment on an insurance claim. It also marked her as Satan’s agent.

Now, she works the jobs she can hold down with several transformations into her werewolf form a month without warning. Freelance work from home has been her solution. And her real work is making friends with desperate souls eager to sell their souls for a solution to a short term problem. Just as she was. She’s a recruiter. All werewolves are.

How do you feel about the pad, clonk, pad, clonk of her walking towards you for a last embrace before death, or far worse. Notice she is covering with cream-coloured fur over her flesh, dominating her left wolf arm/leg and her head. When the transformation is complete, both her arms will look like the furry right wolf paw/leg. She remains human from the neck down (though with fur on her belly), a reflection of the original injury the wolf curse healed at her neck.
I made her a shemale, of course. Werewolves have insatiable sex drives, and while all are female, all are endowed with penises once accepting the wolf curse of Satan. The cock is a brand new design.

But she’s got a conscience if not a soul, and doesn’t want to damn others to her fate. She winds up talking desperate people away from deals with the Devil for escape from short-term desperate situations. She becomes a support for people. That’s how she fights her condition. She also seeks destruction and hopes by defying her mandate to be annihilated by the Devil. Her story is one of saving people from themselves and from other infernal recruiters who are sent to work her assignments. I don’t know the ending yet, but I’m expecting an answer to emerge soon.

The transformation is agonizing. I consider it a metaphor for mental illness. It comes on like a sudden attack, you become monstrous, unable to function, paralysed. You can’t hold down a job because mental illness could paralyse you mid-shift. You call in sick. The werewolf can’t hold down a job because they transform into a wolf without warning, several times a month. She’s a character to sympathize with.
Well, have I succeeded? Do you read transforming werewolf amputee in this build?

It’s always a real pleasure using this blog and my Lego approach to fiction to develop and concentrate my writing work for you all. I really appreciate your reading and viewing my art. The art and the fiction are twinned processes.


Love that prosthetic.

Thank you for reading. Please read my fiction “Sex, Death, Art” and “Light.” They’re dark but uplifting too.

My art can be purchased here. I appreciate your passing my name and this site on to others. I need the audience! Thank you all.

Mark Stanski

Email me for custom work arrangements at

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