Fool's Beginning, Fool's End (At The End, Everything is Okay: The 0th Story)

Section 5

As it so happened, over the course of the five or so mile stretch that the canal ran, Jone had unwittingly dug his trench through wereghoul territory.

For the uninitiated, the term wereghoul gives off the impression of nighttime terrors, of the average man transformed into a horrific being while the moon hangs in the sky, something to be feared. Almost all of that is true. Almost.

You see, wereghouls are not creatures to be feared. In the day they take on the appearance of the average human, albeit one that may perhaps be suffering from an acute case of insomnia. But as the day turns to night, and the Great Ring disappears from view, the so-called 'average man' begins to change.

Their hair rapidly withers and falls out. Muscle deteriorates, leaving only the impression of bone under their blemishing skin. Teeth begin to rot inside the skull and fall loose, almost like they have a mind of their own.

In addition – and of most importance to this story – the wereghoul, once 'transformed', will fall extremely ill, resulting in their bodies expelling as much fluid as possible.

And then the Great Ring rises once again, bringing about a new day. The withered bodies of the wereghouls begin to rapidly heal, muscle and fat returns, hair and teeth regrow. The illness falls away. The new day begins, and the cycle of the wereghoul starts again.

However terrible this may sound, all of this body-horror does not actually result in wereghouls acting hostile; In fact, they mostly live peacefully, opting to stick together in packs.

Very few humans have spent extended periods of time with wereghoul packs. Mostly because of the smell. Those that have spent such time with the wereghouls have reported that they are, in fact, "pretty chill" and "are really just a bunch of dudes that like to hang out."

Because when one's life revolves around a daily cycle of normalcy and horrific agony, it is a much better idea to try to get along with those around you rather than make life even more miserable for your fellow man. Or wereghoul.

This was something Jone never understood.

That night – the night after the day he completed the canal, the night he received an absurd amount of bodily fluids in his trench – Jone drank himself absolutely fucking stupid.