CV

Silver doesn't hurt us, you know.  Silver is inert and far less dangerous than lead, a poison.  Any metal bullet will kill, just as anything that cuts or smashes kills.  No one grows fur or changes shape or size, the moon has zip to do with the cravings, there are no five point stars on the palms of our hands.  The only thing the legends get right is the need for manflesh.  Naturally, this makes blending into society difficult, to say the least.  Most of us are caught after our first or second feeding, labeled insane or criminal, and in well managed country executed.  As one only needs human blood and meat twice a year the thoughtful were can flourish just fine if they plan carefully.
I have to move every 20 years or so and change my identity as I don't age and this causes questions.  I use numbered accounts that only require passwords so money is not a problem.  I used to claim I was my own son but in this day of computers and internet it's best to just use fictional identification, easy to pull off if one doesn't run afoul of the law in any manner.  I'm the most legalistic of men, I haven't so much as a traffic ticket on my record.  I really am the best possible citizen except for the one thing.  I've never married, have no sex drive or need of any type of friendship, no illegal addictions or desires, and I genuinely like to help my neighbors or those in need.  I smoke and drink but so what?  It doesn't hurt me in the slightest and I love tobacco and wine.
I was turned in 1941 when I was a private in our army.  The fascists had invaded us most treacherously and I was attached to the infantry, the 321st regiment assigned to the defense of Leningrad.  One night while we were returning from a routine patrol my unit was wiped out by a shellburst which may have been one of ours, our artillery commander had a love of alcohol and no competence to speak of, he would often fire blindly into the direction of the enemy without any knowledge of what he was shooting at.  As I lay dazed and bleeding a man knelt on my chest and bit my cheek.  He was snarling and wearing the remains of a uniform, whose I don't know.  I killed him with the knife I kept in my boot and made my way back to our lines.  My face hurt like hell and I lost much blood.  After the tricky bit of getting back through the lines I was sent to the medics, they thought I had lost part of my face to the blast.  I told them what happened but no one took me seriously, thank...I can't say that word or write it.  
The cravings grew stronger as the months went by.  The first time I crossed our lines and killed two Germans that were doing sentry go.  I tore out both of their throats and had the best meal of my life.  Then I took their papers and returned to my station where I gave them over to H.Q.  I was toasted and made much of.  Soon I ran recon missions of my own, as long as I kept bringing in vital intelligence no questions were asked.  The problem began in December as I was noticeably well fed and that was unusual to say the least.  Only cannibals ate well in Leningrad.  Anyone who was in good shape was eating humans, a phenomenon never eliminated during the siege.  As a soldier ate well compared to civilians I didn't attract that much attention, although my comrades began to avoid me.  I became know as the lone wolf, volk odinochka, and whenever something particularly dangerous was required I usually got the job.  After the siege was lifted I was in the advance on Berlin, right before the end I stole a civilian's ID and what money he had, then joined the river of refugees flowing to the West.  Later I did the same to a Frenchman, my mother was a French communist so I grew up speaking the language fluently.  I made my way to Marseilles and joined the Legion.  I ate well and often and was the best soldier in any unit I was in, although I was considered odd and aloof.  That meant nothing when the fighting was going on, people were glad I was there.  After the bloodbath that was Indochina I served in Algeria, I left a trail of mangled mujadin as my calling card and was much in demand by my officers.  But time went on, and before anyone noticed that I didn't grow older I deserted and joined up with 5 Commando in the Congo, that worked well for me and gave me time to map out my future.  The things I have seen.
But wars are not always available or convenient.  What works best for me now are the larger American cities.  I just make sure any bodies disappear, no one notices such vanishings and it's put down to poverty and crime.  Over the years my portfolio has grown to decent proportions and I move around a lot.  I donate to politicians, especially sheriffs, and to various charities.  I keep houses around the country and in Mexico should there ever be a need to change the scene very quickly.  I'm happier than most people I know and I live very well.
That's about it.  I'm telling you all this cause sometimes it's good to talk.  Of course you can't reply because of the gag, but I wanted you to know that's there's nothing personal about what's going to happen.  I like you and your family so I'm sorry they will miss their mother, but you have my assurance there will be no sign of struggle or blood, they'll think you have decided to start a new life somewhere.  And...in a way you will have.

Wolf photo property of explorebigsky.com.