Hiding From The Moon

Breathing hard he tore through the woods, in and out he cycled cool moist night air. Light from the silver glow of the full moon belched out upon the woodlands. Free. He felt free, felt as if he had not been alive in years. Strength and power surged through him, rushing through his veins as he let loose and ran though the underbrush, snatches of branches and brambles nipping at him, taking tufts of hair as he passed. He didn’t care about leaving traces, he was free.

Stopping at a stream he knelt and drank, long slow draws from the cold water, water that fed the earth, fed him. I am the night, I am the earth, I am the power he thought, all the power in the universe. He had forgotten just how good it felt to run, feeling his powerful muscles move him along. Feeling his lungs exercise and work for a change. He pushed his body hard, only to have it respond by wanting more. It felt good, so he ran.

***

The cold morning sun spilled lazily across his legs, entwined in the sheets of his bed. His body looked as if it had been wrenched from the night, twisted and mangled like so much of a rag doll tossed aside by a child outgrowing innocence. With the slow realization of morning creeping into his consciousness, Albert began to join the world of the living. As the sunlight that so gently played upon his face crept into his mind he sat up with a start; realizing he was late; he must have over slept.

He turned and looked about the room in a panic, wondering how he could have slept so late. He threw back the knotted sheets and swung his feet to the floor and it was then that true realization set in, a stark and rude awareness brought on by the sight of mud and dirt on his legs and feet. As he tore his eyes from his lower extremities, moving to his hands he saw more of the dark red clay filled mud.

Horror. He could feel the horror rise from the pit of his stomach, rising to the hard knot now forming in his throat. He could scarcely believe it had happened. He had let it out last night, had let loose the monster. How could it have happened? He had been so careful, what went wrong? He would have to figure out what mistakes he had made, after being so careful and proper. So long had he lived without making any mistakes. So long had the monster been caged; bound and gagged within his soul.

He could not dwell on this, not at this very moment, it was over. Morning was upon him and he was late for class. If he had any hope of keeping a semblance of his life, fortifying that normalized front that was oh so important to him, he had to get to the University. Showering at a breakneck pace, water pouring on him so hot it nearly burned the skin from his bones, as if he thought he could rid himself of his burden this way. His memories were ravaged by his brain trying to decipher the night before. He came up empty handed, with no clue as to what had transpired through the night. His only comfort was in the absence of blood on his person, sheets and clothing remnants. At least, he thought, maybe no one had died this time. Hastily Albert dressed, grabbed his bag and slammed the door behind him, rushing for his car.

Author: Laz | Category: Horror, Laz | Comments(0) February 2008