Wayward Willie was warned—woods were worrisome.

“Whatever.”

Wayward Willie walks woodward, whistling.

***

Wilderness.

Werewolf wanders, weary.

Werewolf whiffs, wonders. “Whistling wimp, walking woodward? Wonderful!”

***

Werewolf whiffs.

Werewolf waits.

Werewolf wallops wayward Willie. Willie whimpers.

***

Werewolf Willie wakes.

Werewolf Willie whiffs.

***

Wilderness.

Werewolf wanders, weary.

Werewolf Willie wanders, whistling, wayward.

Maura Yzmore’s day job involves quantum mechanics, dry-erase markers, and bad puns. She lives with her family in the American Midwest. Maura’s short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in The Fiction Pool, Storyland, Microfiction Monday Magazine, The Dirty Pool, and 50-Word Stories. See more at maurayzmore.com.