Burnt Blood: The Werewolf Within

Prologue

'Officer Reynolds - 20th September, 3 am

"Christ, my head is killing me,"

Glancing at the clock, it was 3 am; I woke with a pounding head—the feeling of a saucepan thumping between my ears. Sitting upright in bed, everything around me was dark, making it hard to see my hand in front of my face, with my eyes taking their time to adjust. Groggily shuffling off the bed and heading to the bathroom, I thought drowning my head in cold water would ease the throbbing before taking painkillers.

Reaching my doorway, something breezed across my bare feet. I see the floor changing, barely catching a raft of dirt coating my toes. The smell of burnt wood swam in the air, making me on edge and causing my throat to shrivel. Looking up, everything was different. My eyes gradually adjusted; I could see the outlines of pillars. The burning slowly changed, bringing the sickly stench of charred meat forward, like a BBQ but with a putrid edge.

I was in a dark and scary basement—the sound of chains rattling suddenly in the distance, loud, chilling clangs against the concrete floor. It was too dark to see anything clear; my nose inhaled everything—none good. The charred meat smell got stronger, turning my stomach; I realised what was drifting around my lungs—a dead body. Only I couldn't see it. My feet shuffled forward, dragging me through the dirt; my brain became curious. A glow appears in the distance; it's my bathroom, a section at least. Holding my hand to level with the light, my fingers were a silhouette. One, two, three, four, five... And six.

The light coats around me; I see symbols on the wall, dripping in red. A deep breath told me it was blood, yet no burnt body. I headed to the sink, hoping the water might wake me up, having gone on longer than usual. My heart raced. Spinning on the tap, I watched the cold-water stream down. My hands gripped the white curved sides. The longer I looked, the more lucid I felt. But no change; an eerie breeze rushed over my back.

My eyes lingered hypnotically on the stream; I must have been lost in the moment because I hadn't noticed the colour change. I could feel cold sprays against my thumb while the draining water turned a light crimson. Panicking and looking down, I got a sharp shock that cleared my haze. My fingers looked as though they'd torn through flesh, dripping blood. There were thick clumps that dried under my nails.

The more I looked, I noticed small, frayed pieces of material, possibly clothing. Rising in a frenzy, still seeing six fingers, forgetting where I was, wanting to be rid of the blood. I kept checking for hidden cuts as the blood cleared, feeling a little crazed, desperate to wake. The familiar chill swept through, icy, causing a wave of goose skin to wrap around my body. I spun the tap off; it had gone quiet, no wind, nothing. Only to be made to jump by a loud static buzzing noise, with the light flickering, causing flashes of worrying darkness.

Still facing the taps, my eyes towards the mirror; with every flash, I saw the glass steam drifting from the corner. A cold sheet of vapour spread across, and the temperature dropped. I was scared. The hairs on my neck danced to the chill with the light still strobing. I reached up to the mirror to wipe the glass clear; feeling the moisture on my palm, I caught a shadow in the reflection as the light broke the darkness. It wasn't mine. Blinking my eyes, the shadow loomed; my hackles were waving like fiery embers. I daren't breathe; I daren't look behind. My hand squeaked across the glass, cutting rainbow-like through the fogged moisture.

'What's the matter, Georgie? Seen a ghost?'

A chilling voice whips through the air. Every hair on my body becomes a bed of sharp, piercing needles. All Stood, loud and proud. The spooky whisper was Chris; the streak in the glass cleared, and my eyes strained to take between the flickering light. It finally went out, leaving me stranded in the burnt, tinged darkness, dripping in fear, surrounded by a whistling chill and the smell of death up my nose.