This was the short story written six years ago that inspired my newest novel. I always knew that there was more to it...The story has changed a tad...but I ended up using this as a dream sequence in the final book. Enjoy
The transformation was complete. Through weary eyes, he gazed upon the unforgiving, celestial summoner of evil orbiting ever higher in the midnight sky. He hated the moon. Its inevitable return caused a horrible hunger that wasn’t easily quenchable by standard methods. Those methods had relentlessly failed him long ago. He often thought that the local butcher could’ve purchased a new car by now with all of the business he had brought into his establishment. That mental chuckle rarely brought him any comfort now. Of course, a mental chuckle was all that he was capable of, for once the animalistic instincts subdued him, any and all characteristics were no longer recognizable or executable. The wolf had taken over, making any human-like emotion or rational thought subordinate to raw, natural desires. He must feed. It must be soon, it must be flesh, and it must be human, for every other alternative had been tested and failed long ago. It offered no challenge, no thrill, not to mention the sheer ecstasy that flooded his senses upon the partaking of his fallen prey.
What he referred to as ‘long ago’ was, in actuality, only a few weeks. Without the ability to track time or day by any conventional means, it felt like an eternity. Just for the sake of making pure irony the unlikely bed partner of coincidence, he was like any other average, law abiding citizen. He had once been the proud owner of a traditional life. A life that he was no longer sure awaited him, if ever the moment would occur that this murderous, reoccurring nightmare ceased to be. With all due respect to the blackouts that would take place; he hadn’t a clue to how long it had been since he’d been home.
He was never able to recall the events of the previous evenings; however, the remains of his victims were a constant, sickening reminder of his nocturnal prowling. Had anyone bothered to search for him, or was his sudden disappearance the disguised blessing that his wife and daughter so secretly yearned for? Father of the year, he had not been, not to mention his neglectful and violent behavioral history towards the one woman that he had eternally vowed to love and protect. He still loved her, undeniably, and by his current absence in her life, he was fulfilling his promise of protection towards her.
It was his charismatic way of handling precarious situations that had brought the wrath of hell upon him, a wrath that was currently recognized as his daily life now. His wife offered him the explanation of the other man being an old high school friend, and only that, but in his mind, this was a classic excuse. A desperate and poorly constructed gambit explaining an uninvited and unannounced male presence occupying his domicile. In all honesty, as a crimson flush of rage headed north towards his face, no concoction of any imaginable explanation would have been able to quell the jealous beast that had lay dormant just below the surface of his skin, when, in fact, the real beast lay below a grove of Oak trees in a dimly lit and vacant woods that barely pushed the boundaries of fifty yards beyond his front door. As he emerged from his home to vent his jealous frustrations to a non-judgmental darkness, he was overpowered almost instantaneously, and carried away into the chilled night air.
The pain, severe, the metamorphosis, instant, the hunger, growing. An opaque vale of darkness swallowed him. He awoke the following morning in the sanctuary of a storm drain that lay deep in the forest with no clothing, and without recollection of his whereabouts over the past hours. As his senses returned to a sort of normality, he realized he was not alone in his estranged solitude. Beside him lay another man, or better yet, the barely recognizable remains of one, scattered violently around his newly discovered lair. The terrified expression on the individuals face was more extreme than it was during their previous evenings encounter. Perhaps this gentleman came to apologize for the resulting drama of his presence. Whether this action was initiated upon by his own free will, or a deed that was forcibly bribed by his significant other, it had resulted in his demise. Regardless, his intentions would never entirely come to his knowledge. It had begun, and this gentleman had fatefully become the first of a possible many. Apology accepted. He could never return home.
The uninvited gentleman caller was the only victim he had chosen that had belonged to the male persuasion. Upon his return to consciousness and free will that occurred at the birth of every new day, he had begun to realize that his victims were predominantly female. In the ocean of confusion that had become his psyche, this detail was the simplest of all riddles to solve. The superficial characteristics of the human female, whether it was due to a lack of confidence, or an abundance of personality had inevitably caused them to be an easier hunt. The scent of perfume becomes an unlikely hitchhiker on a strong breeze when it comes to the nose of a predatory carnivore, not to mention the weakened resistance that would be offered up, should a situation arise that could possibly result in her death. Gullible, curious, gentle…a man’s most perfect food, but he was no longer a man, not by a traditional definition anyway. He began to impatiently desire his evening meal.
He gracefully raised his canine head, nostrils skyward, exploring for hints of a possible kill. Nothing. His ears perked with every rustle of the leaves on the heavily littered floor of the surrounding forest. The eerie creaking of the ancient branches came from overhead as the wind began to increase slightly in velocity. He could smell the rain before it even started falling. A deafening clap of thunder engulfed the wooded sanctuary, followed by a torrential downpour that danced frantically upon the fallen leaves. To most individuals, this sudden atmospheric chaos would be an unwelcome curse upon their spirits, but this was an unexpected and positive turn of events for the creature. The forest instantly came to life with the scent of Oak, sap, and millions of unrecognizable yet delectable scents unlike any other that had grazed the passages of his nasal cavities. The rain was his savior, and it was only a matter of time before his quest would come to a triumphant completion. Now the smell of prey would be delivered unto him. With anticipation building, he released a shrieking howl of pleasure that would send tremulous shivers down the spines of the most heroic and courageous of men.
Suddenly, it came. A faint prick in his instinctual consciousness at first, followed by a flood of satisfaction. He sprinted forward though the underbrush, speeding towards the direction of the wind, and the source of the scent that was the undeniable conclusion to the fiery hunger. As he approached a spacious clearing, his pace was slowed to a stalking, low crawl. Engulfed in an almost blinding luminescence of a porch light, sat the motionless silhouette of a small female. She was overcome and dragged away without as much as a whimper.
He awoke the next morning in what had recently become his usual fashion. As he turned to meet his latest conquest, a sickening, gut wrenching horror swept through his every tingling nerve. Through tear filled eyes he glared terrified at a synonymous reflection. His daughter stared lifelessly, blankly back into his own. An angel in grief, on the steps to the unrecognizable entry to his own home, weeping for the loss of her missing father in the solitude of a midnight rain. As tragedy began to fill his already troubled soul, he came to the realization that an unrelenting, fateful turn of events had granted him his most intimate and private of wishes. He, once again, had gotten a small taste of home.
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