He hadn’t kept the count. Too distracted by work, by his family visiting, by that hot new waitress at the cafe, he hadn’t remembered to track the cycle. By the time he realized what night it was it was almost too late—the clouds had parted and revealed the full moon just as he was ordering another round of drinks for his friends at the bar. Raising his glass in drunken revelry, his enthusiasm turned to terror as he saw the shaft of moonlight pierce through the window.
Glass shattered as he dropped his cup, dashing madly out the door and leaving behind bewildered friends and an unpaid bill. What was supposed to be an orderly, monthly affair had now become a frantic rush through the streets, desperately looking for a safe place. Not safe for him, though—safe for everyone else. Too much damage could be caused when he changed. He looked around, sweat dripping as he saw the innocents wandering about, unaware of the imminent danger they faced. None of them knew how close they were to being the next victims; the next crushed and broken bodies to be found in the morning—the next bloodstains on the walls. A convulsion wracked his spine and he doubled over in pain, eyes shut tight in a vain attempt to halt the changes already occurring within his skin.
There was only one place close enough, only one place where there was even a chance at avoiding more death. Half-running, half-staggering, he forced himself to stay human as he made his way to the construction site. It was empty-thank heavens, only machinery and girders. What surge of relief he might have felt was quickly subsumed by agony as the transformation escaped his restraint. Buckling over, he felt his innards squirm and shift. His skin darkened and his frame expanded. A rush of force smashed the girders and knocked a bulldozer into the street as the formerly diminutive man became over twice the size of an elephant within mere fractions of a second. An unearthly rumble rocked the earth as his form settled. Easing into the ground, what remained of the man’s mind shrunk into the singular existence of his new body. The same body he returned to every full moon—the body that would forever mark him, as a werehouse.
« Last Edit: May 05, 2010, 08:13:30 AM by Jonas »
"Technically speaking, phoenixes are actually pretty flammable." --Donnie
