Sinner

Part 2 Taking over

The heavy full moon hangs low in the dark night sky. Drifting clouds occasionally obscure it. He can feel the urging of the moon singing to his blood enticing the wolf in him. He wills his body to change into a wolf. Bones creak, snapping and popping in his body, as it realigns its structure into that of a wolf. His jaw lengthens, forming a snout. Muscles pull and stretch. The white hot pain of bones shifting turns into unbearable bliss. Unrestrained liberation exhilarates him. Adrenaline rushes through his veins and he can hear the roar of blood coursing through his body. Excitement builds as he anticipates the hunting that is finally about to begin. He has come down on his haunches and prepares to go into the final stage of shape-shifting. A black mist swirls around him and he sees his nails sharpening and then shadowy claws unsheathing from his fingers. However, as quick as the change came, the reversal swiftly occurs. His skin darkens and ripples like water but it doesn't split and no fur spills forth. His bones realign back into human form. The dark mist dissipates and he is left in his human shell again. Frustrated, he thumps his fist into the ground angrily, leaving a gaping hole.

In the distant part of the forest, he can hear the baying and howling of his brothers and sisters. They are yelping for the others to join them in their hunt. He yearns to run freely and wild with his brethren as the cool wind whistles through the trees. He wants to experience the thrill of the hunt. He wants to feel the air ruffling his fur as he races across the leaf covered forest floor.

Goddess, why can't I? Dejected, he hangs his head low and lets out a human bellow.

As if the gods heard his mournful plea, his back arches back as the change comes upon him out of the blue. A sharp cry tears out of him as bones snap violently and shuffles to grant his wish. His canines elongate into fangs. The facial bones contort, stretching his skin as if an animal is prowling under the surface of his skin, waiting to be unleashed. But something feels wrong. The transformation seemingly stops halfway, stuck in transition between wolf and human form. He is surrounded by thick black mist which seems to stick cloyingly close to his skin. He can't control his transformation, continuously alternately shifting back and forth between human form and wolf. His helplessness mounting and his fury at his impotence spins out of control, his primal bloodlust comes to the fore. He wants to hunt preys, tear into warm flesh and sink his fangs into hot bloody meat.

Be careful what you wish for, a soft voice cautions, accompanied by a loud gleeful cackling in the wind.

Red rage fills his eyes and an insane craving for blood and flesh courses through him, blinding him to logic and reasoning. He becomes a black roiling mass of negative emotions, with bloodlust taking the lead. His inhuman nose scents the closest source of flesh and he sprints, heading unerringly towards it.

He catches up to his first prey, a grey wolf. Charging and ramming into the grey's mid-section, he hears its ribs crack. Taken by surprise the grey wolf yelps and growls in warning. The grey wolf's hackles rise as it crouches low, its haunches tightening, waiting to pounce on the thick black formless mass attacking it.

It howls loudly to warn the rest of the pack before springing towards its attacker.

He uses his razor sharp claw to swat at the grey wolf, opening up a deep gash in its belly. The grey wolf totters sideways as it lands and whines in pain. Seizing the opening and moment of weakness, he leaps at the grey wolf's neck, biting down viciously. He shakes the neck vigorously. A nauseating crack and the grey wolf's neck snaps. Spurts of blood rush into his mouth, exciting him further and working him into a frenzy. More. I want more warm blood. More hot flesh rending between my jaws.

Not satisfied with the grey wolf's death, he chomp down on the grey wolf's hind and tears off a huge hunk of flesh with his jaws. Still driven by bloodthirst, he hunts down the rest of his pack. He indiscriminately searches, kills and mutilates his prey, even his brothers and sisters. When he got full by gorging on the flesh of his pack brethren, he revels in the fun of toying with, maiming and torturing his prey before killing his prey. The sense of overwhelming power he feels when he takes a life rushes through his veins, making him crazier and further fueling his bloodlust.

When he comes to his senses, his face is caked with dried blood and flakes of flesh clung to his cheeks. Metallic smell of blood fills his nostrils. His hair is stiff with congealed blood. Pushing himself up from his prone position, he looks around him.

He is lying stark naked in a pool of cold blood and surrounded by bodies piled up high around him. Chewed-up dismembered arms and legs litter the ground. Sightless eyes from heads stare at him ceaselessly. Torn torsos are scattered all over like rag dolls, robbed of their life. The act resembles an angry child tearing the limbs from her toys...combined with a hungry depraved werewolf tearing into its prey.

Turning his head, he finds the lifeless limp body of his sister, her unblinking glassy eyes staring sight unseeing at him. Yvette. How? Why? What happened?

Tears roll down his cheeks unconsciously as he takes in the carnage.

Scant bits of memory flash through his mind. The sensation of tearing into hot flesh, surfaces. The euphoric rush of seeing the light leaving his prey's eyes, relives in his mind's eye. It barely brings him up to speed with the fact that he is the culprit of this massacre and bloodbath. Looking down at his hands smeared with blood, I killed them. I slaughtered them with my own hands. Shocked, he takes a step back and lets out bone-chilling cry.

Ravens caw and glare at him from the tall barren trees, as if accusing him with their red-eyed stares.

Unable to confront his shame and guilt, he runs through the body-ridden forest until he reaches civilization once more. Free from the horrifying scene and the acrid stench of blood-filled massacre.

Keenan wakes up from his nightmare in cold sweat. Panting heavily, he attempts to shut his memories. That is his cross to bear. Each time he closes his eyes, his act of blood lust surfaces to torment him. He committed a grave sin a long time ago,a millennium, in fact. And he has an eternity ahead to reflect on and repent his sin.