"Oh great." Thought Milo. "It was one of those nights. One of those nights where sleep would not come easy. One of those nights where the lights from the street lamps would be piercing through his curtains. One of those night where the bushes in his garden rustled. Wait that's not just the wind?"
Assuming the worst Milo climbed out of bed and walked downstairs, picking up a knife as he walked through his kitchen which was lit up by the moon. Milo briefly peered out of the kitchen windows, noticing how the full moon lit up his whole garden. The camellia bush he'd planted last summer had started flowering recently, but now he could see, the petals had fallen off of the flowers.
And there was something.
Something dark and ungodly.
And it was looking right at him.
Into his soul.
Milo blinked.
By the time he'd opened his eyes he was on the floor surrounded in blood and glass. A fresh wound was bleeding out from his forearm.
"Shit!" He said as he rushed upstairs to his bathroom desperately grabbing his first aid kit and lathering his arm in antibacterial gel.
He finally took a look at his injury.
3
Fresh
Claw
Marks.
A million folklore stories rushed through his mind before his vision went blurry and he passed out.
