Nestled around the bar, a man sat on a rickety barstool, his hands surrounding a large mug of a coffee that was nearly empty. The rim of his cup was chipped, and he was staring inside the porcelain, seeing the bottom of the cup nearly made him remember why he was here. What he had heard. He lifted his head, and raised a hand, signaling the woman behind the bar for her attention.
"Another coffee sweetheart, if you please." The middle aged woman waddled over, and poured more of the brew into his mug, the steam from the drink making his glasses foggy.
"Do you want something to eat there darling, you look like you need something in your belly." The woman's thick southern accent didn't comfort him, it only reminded him once again he was far from home.
"No ma'am, I'm okay." He said, his voice gruff, and he ran a hand over his chin, his fingers scratching the stubble, one of his nails catching a scab from a healing scratch. He lifted the mug to his lips, not bothering to let it cool down or add any cream or sugar. He took a deep drink, letting the hot brew burn his tongue. It didn't bother him at all however. He couldn't forget why he was here, he had to have answers...
It was months ago, right after he was bitten while hiking in the woods. It was like a big dog, no, a huge dog that lunged at him from the brush, and it's jaws clamped on his forearm. It's teeth sank into his flesh, blood seeping into it's mouth, it's eyes full of rage. He didn't know how or why, but the huge ass dog didn't tear his arm off. Once it had bitten deep enough, it let him go. He fell onto his bottom, his feet kicking into the rocks, trying to give himself distance between him and the dog. It had a scruffy mange raddled coat, the dark patches of black fur interrupted by rings of scabby diseased skin. Foam and blood gathered at the corners of it's mouth, and it growled at him, but it did not come for him again.
He managed to get out of the woods, cradling the arm to his chest as he ran. He got it looked at at the nearest hospital, and they bandaged his arm and gave him a rabies shot, and animal control searched for the dog. But nothing was found. He was starting to believe he had made it up, the whole thing. Making himself believe that somehow there was no dog, and maybe something else had happened.
Then the full moon came.
His whole body was in screaming agony, it felt like his bones were splintering, and were going to snap at any minute. He rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. His eyes snapped open, bloodshot and bulging. The bite on his arm radiated heat, and all his limbs stiffened, sticking straight out like a horrible Charlie Horse. His jaw fell open and locked, his whole body locked in a silent scream as his fingernails scratched at the floorboard, gouging the wood and making his nails bend and crack, till eventually they fell off. His gums started to bleed as his teeth fell out, rattling onto the floor as large canines shoved past flesh, and his first scream escaped his throat. It was so intense, it rattled the windows in his camper van. Tufts of thick gingery russet fur started to sprout from his arms and legs, and he managed to roll himself over as his bones twisted and reformed themselves, his spine cracking and bending, repositioning his hips and shoulders. But even with all that, the heat was the worst of it. His whole body radiated like a furnace, like his skin was ablaze. It lasted for hours.
When he awoke the next morning, he was naked, laid out in the middle of pumpkin patch surrounded by the corpses of two chickens and a calf. He shot up, disoriented and nauseous. He high tailed it out of there as quick as he could, covering his bits with his hands, pale freckled ass streaking in the dim sunlight as his feet pounded against the earth, dodging pumpkins. When he made it back inside his camper van, he stood in shock of the destruction. Shredded mattress fluff littered the floor, feathers from his pillows torn in half. Cabinet doors swinging on their hinges, and milk? He sniffed the air. Yeah, the milk that had spoiled in his fridge was for certain on the ceiling. What the hell had happened to him last night?
That night and the many other nights that followed brought him here. Whispers and rumors brought him to this sleepy little town in southern Alabama, where he now sat, drinking burnt coffee and his stomach growling madly. He was hungry like the woman said, but he wasn't in the mood for pie. The full moon was tonight, and though the transformations have gotten less painful than the first, he was scared of the urges they brought. He didn't want to kill anyone. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He wasn't even sure what he was. All he had were the whispers he had heard.
"Honey, it's a full moon tonight." His head snapped up and he looked at the plump woman behind the bar, and this was the first time he noticed her eyes. They were a fierce yellow, nearly glowing. He stared at her in shock, and he looked around him. All around him were patrons with glowing yellow eyes. They stared him down, and as if on cue, they all started to stare out the large glass windows surrounding the diner. His eyes drifted there too, and just over the peak of the trees he could see it. The moon rising over the slow rising cacophony of low growls and snarls.
He had followed the whispers to this diner.
And now he guessed he had the answers that he was searching for.
-The end-
"Another coffee sweetheart, if you please." The middle aged woman waddled over, and poured more of the brew into his mug, the steam from the drink making his glasses foggy.
"Do you want something to eat there darling, you look like you need something in your belly." The woman's thick southern accent didn't comfort him, it only reminded him once again he was far from home.
"No ma'am, I'm okay." He said, his voice gruff, and he ran a hand over his chin, his fingers scratching the stubble, one of his nails catching a scab from a healing scratch. He lifted the mug to his lips, not bothering to let it cool down or add any cream or sugar. He took a deep drink, letting the hot brew burn his tongue. It didn't bother him at all however. He couldn't forget why he was here, he had to have answers...
It was months ago, right after he was bitten while hiking in the woods. It was like a big dog, no, a huge dog that lunged at him from the brush, and it's jaws clamped on his forearm. It's teeth sank into his flesh, blood seeping into it's mouth, it's eyes full of rage. He didn't know how or why, but the huge ass dog didn't tear his arm off. Once it had bitten deep enough, it let him go. He fell onto his bottom, his feet kicking into the rocks, trying to give himself distance between him and the dog. It had a scruffy mange raddled coat, the dark patches of black fur interrupted by rings of scabby diseased skin. Foam and blood gathered at the corners of it's mouth, and it growled at him, but it did not come for him again.
He managed to get out of the woods, cradling the arm to his chest as he ran. He got it looked at at the nearest hospital, and they bandaged his arm and gave him a rabies shot, and animal control searched for the dog. But nothing was found. He was starting to believe he had made it up, the whole thing. Making himself believe that somehow there was no dog, and maybe something else had happened.
Then the full moon came.
His whole body was in screaming agony, it felt like his bones were splintering, and were going to snap at any minute. He rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. His eyes snapped open, bloodshot and bulging. The bite on his arm radiated heat, and all his limbs stiffened, sticking straight out like a horrible Charlie Horse. His jaw fell open and locked, his whole body locked in a silent scream as his fingernails scratched at the floorboard, gouging the wood and making his nails bend and crack, till eventually they fell off. His gums started to bleed as his teeth fell out, rattling onto the floor as large canines shoved past flesh, and his first scream escaped his throat. It was so intense, it rattled the windows in his camper van. Tufts of thick gingery russet fur started to sprout from his arms and legs, and he managed to roll himself over as his bones twisted and reformed themselves, his spine cracking and bending, repositioning his hips and shoulders. But even with all that, the heat was the worst of it. His whole body radiated like a furnace, like his skin was ablaze. It lasted for hours.
When he awoke the next morning, he was naked, laid out in the middle of pumpkin patch surrounded by the corpses of two chickens and a calf. He shot up, disoriented and nauseous. He high tailed it out of there as quick as he could, covering his bits with his hands, pale freckled ass streaking in the dim sunlight as his feet pounded against the earth, dodging pumpkins. When he made it back inside his camper van, he stood in shock of the destruction. Shredded mattress fluff littered the floor, feathers from his pillows torn in half. Cabinet doors swinging on their hinges, and milk? He sniffed the air. Yeah, the milk that had spoiled in his fridge was for certain on the ceiling. What the hell had happened to him last night?
That night and the many other nights that followed brought him here. Whispers and rumors brought him to this sleepy little town in southern Alabama, where he now sat, drinking burnt coffee and his stomach growling madly. He was hungry like the woman said, but he wasn't in the mood for pie. The full moon was tonight, and though the transformations have gotten less painful than the first, he was scared of the urges they brought. He didn't want to kill anyone. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He wasn't even sure what he was. All he had were the whispers he had heard.
"Honey, it's a full moon tonight." His head snapped up and he looked at the plump woman behind the bar, and this was the first time he noticed her eyes. They were a fierce yellow, nearly glowing. He stared at her in shock, and he looked around him. All around him were patrons with glowing yellow eyes. They stared him down, and as if on cue, they all started to stare out the large glass windows surrounding the diner. His eyes drifted there too, and just over the peak of the trees he could see it. The moon rising over the slow rising cacophony of low growls and snarls.
He had followed the whispers to this diner.
And now he guessed he had the answers that he was searching for.
-The end-