Episode 75: Number of the Beast
Written By Karl White
As weeks passed, Thomas Crowley fought an unholy war inside of himself. Man and beast, squaring off, in a violent battle for control over a fragile mind. He openly conversed with his other half, Fenrir, who was growing stronger by the day. On the outside looking in, his father Richard, was witnessing Thomas’ very sharp, very rapid mental deterioration.
Richard praying for his son’s soul - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
Richard could see something in Thomas’ eyes that prayer could not quiet. It was a presence that felt invasive, staring back at him through familiar features. Richard carried the old guilt of his wife, Selma’s death, like a private sin. Convinced her suffering had been a test he failed to understand...an offense against God he’d never properly atoned for. And as the same fractures seemed to take shape in his son, the father could only believe the Devil had found a way back into their house. But this wasn’t a punishment, it was an inheritance. Still, Richard tried to intervene, praying, performing makeshift exorcisms, attempting to expel whatever evil was holding his son hostage.
RICHARD: Lord, I place my sweet Thomas in Your hands, for mine have failed him. If something unclean walks beside him, cast it out. If his mind is burdened, steady it. And if this suffering was born of my own blindness, grant me the strength to bear it, but do not let the punishment pass through him. Please, I beg of you...
But there was no answer from God. Thomas was spiraling. Fenrir stayed at his side while the hunger grew worse and worse. And the small part of Thomas that was fighting a losing battle against the coming beast, would try to warn Richard.
Thomas fighting the curse - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
THOMAS: Dad...something’s wrong with me.
RICHARD: You’re hearing voices, just like your mother. God turned a blind eye to her. But I won’t let that happen to you.
THOMAS: I’m scared...
As Richard prayed at his son’s side, Fenrir stood across the room, wearing a wolfish grin. He could feel the curse boiling below the surface, permeating into flesh and spirit. And so, that dark side of Thomas was becoming resolute and more defiant with each passing moment.
FENRIR: Are you finally gonna tell him about me, Tommy? Or maybe, just maybe, it’s time to show him.
THOMAS: There’s something inside me fighting to get out.
RICHARD: Son, it’s the work of Satan.
FENRIR: Oh, he has no idea. (evil laugh)
Even with the fear in Thomas’ eyes, Richard was steadfast in his faith.
RICHARD: You’ll be safe with the Lord by your side.
Thomas was doing all he could to deny the change.
THOMAS; Dad, you need to go…please!
But it was too late...and so, on a hot summer night in August of 1957, the curse reared its ugly head, revealing itself in violent fashion to both son and father.
RICHARD: Lord, please. I know him. I know his name. Do not let it be taken. If there’s still something of him left, hold it fast.
The beast surfaces - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
Thomas’ body transformed -- Silver hair sprouting, bones cracking, joints snapping, sharp fangs growing. And as the beast rose Richard continued...
RICHARD: Bring his mind, not despair. Slay the demons of flame and fire. Let him know not the number of the beast.
But even facing the terrifying monster, Richard was unwilling to abandon his son. He would tragically become Thomas’ first victim as a werewolf. The bloodthirsty lycanthrope tearing his father limb from limb.
Richard was a sacrificial lamb in what would become a prolific killing spree…Thomas faced a crisis. His rapidly worsening mental decline made it harder to separate himself from what was happening inside. A consequence of his illness, accelerated into horror.
He’d spend months covering up his father’s death, living within the oppressive walls of the farmhouse. As the curse found fertile ground in a splintered mind.
Thomas covering up his crimes - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
In human form, reality slipped and bent, Fenrir’s voice and other visions bled into waking life until nothing could be trusted, not memory, not mercy, not restraint. And with each new change, the divide between the man and the wolf thinned, as instinct and delusion fused into a single, relentless will. What emerged was not driven by hunger alone, but by certainty born of chaos. A creature unable to doubt, unable to hesitate, moving through the world with a terrible clarity that made it far more dangerous than any monster that knew what it was doing.
Eventually, the Fenrir side, the darker version of Thomas Crowley, became the dominant half. It did not question or fear the hunger, it welcomed it, sharpened it, saw it as necessary. Fenrir would guide Crowley as a full-time predator. Learning to move more patiently, to savor the hunt, until release was inevitable. Feeding not just on the blood, but on fear and ruin. Where a man once shattered under confusion, this other side was terrifyingly whole -- making Crowley surrender fully to carnage.
He was a beast unleashed upon the world. Taking victims whenever the hunger crept in. Terror taken shape. And soon, stories began to trickle out, of something roaming the countryside. Between 1957 and 1963, Thomas hunted and murdered scores of innocent people. He would kidnap his victims while in his human form, then slaughter them as a werewolf -- a real life and macabre Jekyll and Hyde.
Good samaritan - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
In 1961, outside of Hutchinson, Kansas, Thomas picked up a teenage couple who found themselves stranded on the side of the road after their car broke down.
THOMAS: Looks like you two could use some help.
TEENAGER: Geez mister, that’d be great.
THOMAS: Get in I can take you anywhere you need to go.
After delivering them to the boy’s house, Crowley was invited in by his parents, and asked to join them for dinner, as an appreciation for helping their son and his girlfriend in a time of need. It felt like a blessing, having a Good Samaritan returning two kids home safe while the area had been plagued by a rash of violent murders and disappearances.
But for their hospitality, Thomas drugged their food and proceeded to take the family back to his farm where he slowly slaughtered them one by one in his werewolf form.
With Fenrir guiding him, he'd act out fairy tales and other stories he recalled from his youth. They were sick and twisted adaptations, where in his versions, the Big Bad Wolf always had its fill of the humans. This was only a small glimpse into the terror Thomas Crowley would become.
TO BE CONTINUED…