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View Full Version : untitled short story I found from a few yars ago



Duncan21
March 1st, 2012, 08:36 PM
I must make my way to the safe house. I stayed to long at dinner, not wanting to leave my families comforts. I can feel it coming on again, the soft seductive whispers humming in my ears. Some victims, although most do not call themselves that, say it feels like a building pressure that suddenly explodes with the setting of the sun. Others I have talked to call it more of a thirst that grows more unquenchable as the day wears on. Sweat runs in small rivers down my back and face as I pick up my pace heading deep into the woods where I built the safe house many years ago. The whispers grow louder as the sky turns more crimson with the setting sun. They tell me to stop running and sit. They whisper like sirens in the sea about the power I will soon be granted and how thirsty I must feel. They talk about my first hunt how good the flesh tasted how warm and sweet the blood felt running across my lips. I shake my head knowing fully well that I will not be rid of them until sunrise, knowing that until someone ends my misery I will never be rid of them.

I can see the safe house, the aged wood of the doors splintered after years of abuse by the weather. The rusted iron hinges made by blacksmiths so many years ago. I reach out for the handles and pull as the moon creeps into the trees. It is to late the voices say almost victoriously. Never I shout back and yank the doors open. I throw myself inside tumbling down the stairs. Any normal man would die from the fall but sadly I am not normal and sadly I do not die. I lift myself off the ground as the moon's rays inch down the stairs after me. I pull a frayed leather cord that hangs from the ceiling and with a loud crash silver chains fall from above me. They hang from the roof by silver hooks and dangle the 6 feet to the floor pooling at the bottom. The moon light inches towards the silver chains and I can feel the change begin in my body. As the light touches the chains it lets off a brilliant shine. Like the twinkling of thousands of stars in the sky. The moon light dances across the cave. The aches come as the light touches me. My bones snap and pop as they are twisted before my eyes. My legs bend in the wrong direction as my arms and hands are extended. Fingers stretch and ligaments snap apart only to be remade as they stretch out. My nails grow long and hard turning into claws with a razor edge. I feel new muscles grow and build under my skin stretching and ripping the skin open in places. As my skin itself erupts into a mass of blacken fur. My screams are muffled as my face is pulled out into a snarling muzzle. Human teeth are pushed out of my mouth and fall to the floor making a silent thud in the dirt. Behind them sharp fangs are forced thru my gums. All around the smell of blood fills the air as my body is torn and twisted into a new shape. My screams turn into a howl as the change is completed.

I try to push thru the silver chains. They burn my flesh, leaving smoking scars and filling the already coppery air with the scent of burnt hair and flesh. I howl my frustrations into the night. Gnashing my fangs at the air and clawing at the walls adding new grooves to the ones I have made over the hundreds of nights before.
Back at the farm in our living room, my wife loads an aged shotgun with pure silver buckshot. She does it methodically with the ease of a well-practiced hand. She looks up as my howls reach the small farm. The children stir in bed but do not wake. They have heard the sound of the wolf many times. She looks back at the old gun running her hand along the smooth stock and checking the safety off. Shadows dance at the edge of the lighted yard. Eyes glisten behind the black blanket of night but nothing moves into the pools of light. Part of her hopes tonight is the night I escape. Part of her hopes tonight is the night she puts me down. For as much as she loves me she knows too that it will never end. She knows too that this nightmare will only end when the monster is dead.

Outiboros
March 1st, 2012, 09:59 PM
Digitigrades such as wolves do not have knees that bend in the other direction than humans', actually. They just walk on their toes, and what appears to be their knees is actually the ankle.

Furthermore, you really, really need to work on your grammar. Thru and through, to and too, etcetera. Also, you don't have to refrain from changing 'They have' to 'They've', unless you do that deliberately for style.

Butch
March 3rd, 2012, 12:36 PM
Hi Duncan. The story itself intrigued me, there's some good writing there. Your use of similes is pleasing.

Outiboros hit the nail on the head though, your grammar needs much work. There are a lot of misused to's and too's that catch my eye. This however, can be easily rectified.

All the best, Butch :)

Notquitexena
March 5th, 2012, 05:05 PM
Very compelling story-telling. A few typos (to long should be too long), but very good rhythm to the writing.

felix
March 5th, 2012, 06:07 PM
There's definitely something in this, I got into it very quickly, despite its length, and I enjoyed myself.

As mentioned, there are some significant grammatical shortfalls, but this could be remedied with practice. First off start with basic spelling and more advanced punctuation placement, and in addition you should insert speech marks when the character is speaking. Also, your perspective seems to shift from third person to some form of third person omniscient/narrator, which you could consider locking down into something more familiar.

Good stuff, really quite gripping for such a small piece.

Druidus-Logos
March 10th, 2012, 03:53 PM
If I liked reading first person prose, then this would be something I liked. :p