I wake up groaning, spitting blood and phlegm and scramble to get off the floor in the pitch black of my
room. The hot fluid running down the sides of my face tell me my ears are bleeding, my heads aching
like it just got stomped repeatedly, and I’m so dizzy I can’t seem to focus on anything. The air is deathly
cold, and I scrape my hands around the dusty wooden floor to get my bearings. I’ve no idea what’s
happened, why there’s no light anymore, or why I’m so messed up, dazed, and confused and my body
aches badly.
The air is filled with noises so terrifying I freeze in utter fear as they filter through and I pick them apart,
stilled as I listen and try to make sense of what they are. My heart grippe din icy terror.
Screaming…. howling. Wails of despair, and sobbing. Something else too, a weird almost chatter like
taunting noise, that I swear is exactly how I would imagine the devil would sound laughing. It sends the
fear of god through me and I shudder violently, pulling myself up to huddle on my ass, aware I can
move again if a little slowly with great effort. My limbs are insanely heavy and I’m hazy and not all the
way here.
The air is filled with a metallic stench, so intense it makes me gag, completely vile in its density and
although I have no idea what’s going on, my internal instincts are warning me to be very, very afraid. I
shiver and curl up into a ball, trying to be small as childhood instincts take over, swallowing down the
urge to cry and struggle to not gasp as much, because it’s making me lightheaded. I screw up my eyes
to get them to adjust to the pitch blackness faster to make out all the forms and shapes of my room. My
sight adjusting quickly and letting me see some of my surroundings.
There’s a sudden thud, thud, thud, that piques my attention like a sixth sense and echoes my way
softly, my stomach turning with fear induced nausea as I zone into it. I hold my breath and freeze, as
still as a statue, as I tune in, trying to focus all my effort on what it is. It’s less imposing than the rest of
the noises, sort of dull, and heavy, and foreboding, but it’s slicing through and pulling my painful
hearing it’s way, demanding attention. Getting closer, I can feel it, almost like each thud syncs with my
heartbeat and my pain drops to my stomach with every bang of its intimidating noise. I tremble inside
with extreme terror, knowing that it’s coming my way.
The overwhelming stench of something familiar begins wafting my way as I focus my energy and it
distracts me from listening. I know the smell, it’s not metallic it’s a scent. A wolf scent, familiar …
someone I know.
I don’t know what’s happening, but instinct makes me push back, despite the world tilting and swaying
around me and I slide backwards under the nearest bed. Scrambling flat again and using my palms
and all the strength I can muster to force myself into the shadows of my only protection. I inhale sharply
and that scent forms a picture in my mind of the face it belongs to, so clear, now it’s almost upon me.
It’s Vanka’s. It’s her smell, her scent. Strong as though she’s afraid, or in wolf form. I don’t know.
I claw and pull myself under, breaking nails in the painful process as I scramble in panic. Something
telling me to hide. Until I’m concealed by the sheets she leaves hanging over with her refusal to make
her bed, and for once, I’m glad of their untidiness. Thankful her bed is always a mess, leaving chaos
around it which now conceals me, and I curl into my own body to fit in one corner. I peer out, gut telling
me that I should be quiet and stay hidden. I hold my breath and cover my mouth with my own hand as
tears begin to fall quietly down my cheeks. Fear trying to consume me, making me shake so badly I’m
sure it’ll give me away.
My door is still open, and as I start to become accustomed to the dark, my nocturnal eyes coming out
to play for the first time since my turning, I make out something passing by the open space and inhale
quickly to quiet myself into stillness. Heart bursting through my chest, pounding my ribs erratically as
tears drench my hand and wrist.
Something tall and dark swaggers by in the space out there, imposing, and blurry as I adjust, but it
pauses and stops, right outside. Almost like it senses me and I recoil some more, trying to make myself
as small as I can. I’m so scared. It turns slowly to peer my way, everything in me turns to ice as a
terrified feint drains me of all blood. I close my eyes, screw them shut tight and clench my fists in a bid
to become completely cut off and invisible as best I can. Praying to the fates that they don’t see me.
Whatever it is, I know it’s not a friend. It’s not one of us.
“Here puppy, puppy… where are you hiding? I know there’s at least one more up here….” The
bloodcurdling words make me scrunch my face up to combat hysterical tears, the voice alien to me,
almost satanic, low, and husky, with a heavy accent in the depths. Foreign, yet I don’t know what. I
don’t know this voice.
The scent is nothing that I ‘ve ever encountered before and dampening over the one I vaguely
recognize. It’s not Vanka but I can smell her close which only confuses my fear addled brain. The
sadistic laugh that follows his bold verbal’s, turn my insides to mush, and I physically weaken with a
cold wave as whatever or whoever it is, steps inside the room with me.
“I can hear your heart beating little one……. Bumpity, bumpity, bump, bump, bump. You’re scared….
Why don’t you come out and play, like your friends are doing? I want to play with you too….” He laughs
again, a sound that curls my toes and sends shivers across my scalp and down my spine, so that I
shudder uncontrollably. The sound of someone truly deranged, and evil, and I almost lose control and
freak out. Tightening myself stiff and holding my breath to keep myself together.
I cover my mouth again, tighter, as the urge to break into a sobbing cry hits me harder and I shake,
holding my breath and praying to god he leaves me alone. I don’t know who he is, and I’m so
disoriented, the smell overpowering my senses, that I ‘m trying hard not to gag while keeping my focus
on this stranger. I can taste something foul in the air, hitting my tongue, invading my lungs, awful and
cloying. So metallic and potent that it makes my eyes sting and water with its toxicity.
He’s not one of us. I don’t know what he is, but his intentions aren’t good. I can almost taste his desire
for blood, and it renders me completely useless. Frozen and afraid. He ventures in further from the
doorway, dragging something heavy along behind him that identifies the thud, thud, I heard coming my
way.
I choke on instant bile as it rises up my throat and almost suffocates me in the process. My heart near
imploding as my body convulses at the sight of the lifeless and headless body, he’s dragging behind
him. Gagging on my own vomit, I can’t block out her scent…. Panic, hysteria, and the crumbling of my
mental state as I identify what and who he has with him. There is no mistaking who has fallen foul to
whatever this is, I can’t unsee or blot it out no matter how much I try and turn away, wash it out of my
eyes and mind with snottery tears.
It’s Vanka. She’s dead! She’s right there, feet in front of me, dragged by this monster and being used
as a toy for his sick twisted game.
“I know where you are, Puppy. Why don’t you come out and do me a favor…. I don’t want to have to
drag you out from under there. It’s not fun if I have to do that.” There’s a sneer of venomous hatred in
his voice, and I imagine the way his face curls into a sadistic grin, glaring my way through the
darkness. Enjoying every moment of this.
He drops her lifeless form on the floor fully, with a dull thud of weight, her body splaying her arms out in
a star shape and I recoil, tears blurring my vision as I try and get as small as I can back here.
Whimpering internally.
I don’t know what to do, I’m terrified, and if Vanka was no match for this thing, then I’m not either. I
don’t know how to fight; I’ve never had to. I’m not a warrior or even aggressive. I’m a nothing, a reject
from a farmer’s family who is worth nothing to no one.
I bite on my lip, fear paralyzing me, when suddenly, the entire bed is ripped from above me, the gust of
the action throwing my hair around my face and he sends it crashing into the other wall effortlessly,
displaying strength much like ours. I gasp and react with a shuddering splaying of arms, over my head
defensively as it flies and lands over on top of mine, dramatically. The crashing, splintering noise of a
wooden bed crumbling and shattering into chaos. I’m left exposed, fully accessible, prey huddled for
the taking. In the smallest of corners. He comes at me, with a flash of speed, that I see coming as if in
slow motion, and I gasp in horror, choking up and immobile for a second.
Move, Alora…move! Some strong inner voice hits me as I chant to myself, trying so hard to make my
body work with me, to command it somehow, but nothing is happening. It’s like my brain is on slow
motion, and my limbs are in hibernation. I shake my head, try to dislodge this overwhelming dizziness,
and focus on doing something. Anything….
It’s dark, it’s eerily still, and it’s like time has slowed so his movements are almost paused, as instinct
takes over, finally. Blood rushing and pumping at speed as he scrapes a step closer to me.
In a flash equal to his speed, if not more, I bolt from my flat-out position with a renewed lease of energy
from god knows where and aim for the door. Adrenaline spiking, survival instinct kicking in and praying
I turn without even knowing how to. Even though I’m stronger and faster like this in human form since
turning, our wolves are way more so. I need to turn, to survive and to heal, to fight. We only heal fast
when in form. We only have abilities of extreme strength, ferocious aggression and razor-sharp claws
and teeth, when we turn.
I don’t get far, because he catches me by the back of my hair effortlessly, snares and tugs it, and
throws me backwards as though I’m a limp rag. Smashing me into the vanity with force, sending me
crashing through mirror and splintering wood into a heap on the floor, as heavy objects tumble on top of
me. Pain slicing at my body as I convulse at the assault and am rendered mute with the wind being
knocked out of me. Completely defenseless, weak and no match.
I submit to the pain, as I feel every single one of those slicing shards pierce my skin, writhing in agony
and bleeding out. I scream out loud. A blood curling wail of agony as I’m inflicted with a thousand tears
and cuts and the bone crunching, splintering, of my body snapping.
Adrenalin takes over, despite my body vibrating with the sheer effort and I get up, grinding my teeth,
against the crunching of broken bone and dull burning ache, clawing the walls in a bid to get purchase.
My hands start changing before me and relief washes over my mind at evidence of my beginning to
turn. This is what I need, but it’s not fast enough, or not progressing, and he has me from behind,
around my throat in an effortless maneuver before it takes effect. He throws me and sends me flying
forward with a thrust, straight through the window of our third-floor bedroom with another flinching of
unavoidable stabbing agony.
If I thought hitting furniture was painful, then the slicing assault of a thousand glass shards breaking on
your already torn and bleeding skin, as you fly through at speed, is so much worse. There’s a moment
of silent still as I hit air and my body changes direction, weightless for a second. A moment of ease
before realization sinks in that I’m three floors up and my stomach lurches as gravity takes hold and
yanks me downwards.
I hit the ground below with a stomach-churning thud, at crazy speed, that reverberates through my
every cell and pore and knocks life out of me as it shatters any unbroken pieces I may have left. It’s so
beyond painful, it almost doesn’t hurt at all for a second, stunned, until my lungs try to stir, to recover,
and I start choking on my own blood and bile. Gasping for breath, body convulsing as I try to move, but
I’m bleeding out profusely that the ground around me is turning dark with the evidence.
Slashed all over, from breaking through the glass, and shattered from my fall. I’m broken all over and
can literally feel my life flowing away from me, as I become woozy and useless. More so than I was. I’m
dying … I know it, I can feel it, and try as I might to cling on. I just can’t. I lie here like a useless piece of
discarded nothing, unable to move in any way, as my body fights for dregs of energy and
consciousness.
The kind of pain my turning inflicted, is the only way to describe how this feels and try as I might I don’t
know how to finish transforming. If I don’t, I’ll die for sure…we can’t heal the way we can as wolves and
I’m critical. Something keeping me weak enough that turning isn’t happening, no matter how desperate
my instincts, and the self-preservation function of my kind, seems absent. We’re meant to turn without
thought when we’re seriously messed up. To save ourselves. It’s so typical that I can’t even get that
right.
I can feel my human body giving up on me. I’m losing so much blood the grass around me is soaking
parts of my clothes that weren’t wet before, and the metallic stench of my own essence is dowsing out
everything else. I claw the grass around my hands, which are splayed out as I’m on my stomach, and
pull myself forward painfully. Refusing to just give up completely. Trying so hard to fight this and
sobbing out loud with each wincing attempt.
So slowly, painfully so, that I make little progress, only to shudder when a ground shaking thud beside
each side of my head signals the landing of two feet. The impending fate, falling over me like a heavy
dark cloud, and I know this is futile. He jumped from the window above, and yet landed perfectly by me,
in human form. This is no wolf. This is one of them …. coming back to end what they lost so many
years ago.
Standing over me, bearing down, he grabs me by the back of my neck and digs nails into my skin.
Long piercing claw like talons that bite with scorching pain and he drags me partially upright to hoarsely
snarl in my ear. My body flinching with the agony of being moved. I reach back, pathetically, grip his
hands on my flesh, the cold icy and clammy skin that’s alien to anything I’ve ever felt before and I know
what this is for certain…. we heard stories…. The ice-cold vile touch of the skin of the undead. This
lifeless cold monster’s a vampire. They’ve returned.
“Too easy. Call yourselves warriors. You’re all dropping like putrid flies and one snap, it’s all over for
you, puppy. I’m rather enjoying dragging it out though… why don’t you go on and beg like your little
friends did. Whine and cry some, make it worth my while.” His icy cold stinking breath, fans my cheek
and chokes me to quiet submission and I wretch, losing consciousness despite my fight. I have
nothing. My powers fail me, my words dead on my lips as I gasp for air my lungs can’t seem to take in
anymore and I choke on my own bodily fluids.
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