His mind starts to reel, with too much information, not enough information, too many random thoughts, nothing coherent. He cannot continue like this.
When he walked out the door for the last time, the most recent last time, that last time of all the last time's ever, maybe, he thought of nothing
else but, well just odd thoughts!
"Would Randolf marry Amelia, or Steve? Why are oranges not red? Why do I go on these walks at the latest hours of the night. Is it late night? Or is
it early morning? What's the difference? Why does the moon look so strange tonight? With the pale yellow of a very dim sunrise instead of it's usual
white/grey glow? Why do I feel so strange? Why am I walking down this godforsaken road? Where am I going to end up this time? Who will I run across?
Who will be hurt more, them or Me? Why did I carry this pistol this time knowing I will not use it. On
myself, or someone else. It seems a waste to even own it, knowing I become so useless, when the need is right for it, to even pull the trigger."
His hands are swollen. Larger than even a few minutes ago. Too large for his fingers to fit into the trigger guard. His shoes are too tight now, off
they will go. He kicks them into the weeds along side of the road. They are not needed anymore.
Far down the road he sees someone walking towards him. He feels elated!
"Maybe this is the one who can help me!?"
Now his arms have grown several inches longer tearing the jacket he wears. He tears it off and it goes into the weeds as well.
He has risen almost two feet taller than he was when he left his run down shack. His back swells with muscular growth. His mouth grows out from his
face forming a long muzzle filled with large canines!
He hates that his life has become this. A WereWolf!
He reaches his fur covered arms out and up to the night sky and emits a loud snarling shrieking Howl!!!!
The person down the road stops in their tracks! The Crack of a Rifle is heard from the distance. Pain seers through the chest of the gargantuan who
only wants to be normal.
Down he falls and strikes the dirt road full force. He knows no ordinary bullet will end his life. That is why he packed the pistol this time.
Somehow he knew it would finally earn it's keep. The Silver Bullets in it are the only salvation to his tormented life. He thinks he may be finally be
able to move on.....
The man nears and sees the outstreched arm of the beast in front of him. In it's flat palm is a pistol with the moon light shimmering on its
The beast looks at him and the man can see a tear coming from one eye. He reaches down for the pistol, takes it into his hand, and aims at the head
of the beast.
The WereWolf points to his heart with a shaking finger, and looks at the man while more tears stream down his face.
Understanding the meaning, the hunter aims at the chest of the beast. Pulling the trigger unleashes a blast so loud his ears ring!!
Rolling back from the impact in it's chest, the beast comes to a final stop on the edge of the road.
The bewildered hunter watches in wonder as the beast slowly returns to the shape of a human man.
It is his Brother! He has not seen him for years and thought him dead a long time ago!
Dropping to his knees besides his dead brother, the hunter begins to wail. Loudly he cries into the night air. He is so confused, and shaken to his
An hour later the hunter can be seen walking down the road with his brother over his shoulder. He walks to his cabin and lays the pistol on the
mantle above the stone fireplace.
After placing his brother into a shallow grave behind his cabin, the hunter walks to the front, and sits down on the porch.
He lights a camel and takes a deep draw.
"Dammit! I knew he would never need or use that pistol. Had I known he was the Beast of Walken County, I never would have given it to him so long
edit on 31-8-2014 by SyxPak because: (no reason given)