You are not safe. I am not safe. No one is safe. The voices, they haunt me. They conflict my mind with fear, with doubt, and with an unnatural thirst for blood. I sleep, but unlike you, I hunt the night searching for naive prey, devouring them, ripping their flesh off their bones, limb by limb. The voices. They control me, consume me, transform me, change who I am. When I sleep, I become the werewolf.
My name is Thomas Blackford. The year is 1672. I live in England. I run a tavern, inside the town, giving a night’s stay for travelers, and drunken men who get thrown out their house, while providing a good drink and hot food as well. These are the questions I must answer when I wake up. When I wake up, my mouth is covered in blood, my clothes are gone. I’ll wake up, not knowing where I am. I’m usually not far, but still lost. No one knows its me. There’s been investigation around the town, people trying to find the cannibal who kills every night. Yes, every night. But if only they had the voices, causing chaos in their head! I’m so thirsty.... Give us some blood, yes? Feed us.... Rip the flesh right of their bones, and lick them clean! The voices! The voices! I hate them! No you don’’t You love the voices! The voices give you power! Yes, yes that is true. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!It’s even worse because, there’s more than one. But you love us....you love us all! I do, I do....NO I DON’T! You don’t understand. You could never understand.
I don’t remember anything during the sleep. Except months later, during the day, I’ll have flashbacks, of the horrors on my victim’s faces, their screaming, their begging....and their last words.
A man came into the shop. He said he could cure me. Said he knew what I was. Said that everything was ok. He told me to meet him at 5:00 at the church. I knew I would.
“Glad you decided to come, Thomas. My name is Jack Smith. I’m a monster hunter. Now, don’t worry, I’m not here to kill you. No, no. I’m here to cure you. See, I talked to the Father at a town south of here. He gave me the cure to your lycanthropy. Let’s go down to the mortuary under the church here to get started.
Now, don’t worry, but I’m going to have to chain you to the wall here. The cure can only happen when you’re in the form.” He chained me with two chains on each arm, each leg, and pulled a metal cage around my torso, which was secured to the wall. He put another metal cage around my head, with a sort of cylinder poking out. “When you turn, your mouth will fit right there, and work as a muzzle.” He said.
We waited about an hour. The darkness rose as night settled. “Tell me when you’re about to change. I’ll give you this potion, and it will keep your conscious, human mind, while you’re the beast.” Give us bloodshed master.... Feed us your kind..... We are thirsty, o servant......
“The voices! It’s happening! It’s happening!” I said with fear. He poured the sour tasting liquid down my throat, and as my clothes ripped, and the beast emerged. Kill this man for our hunger.... He will tell you lies!..... You can break these chains!
“Ok, Thomas. I hope you’re in there. The first part of the cure involves me cutting you, and taking your blood.” He took a glowing ceremonial knife from a bag, and slit my arm. I roared loud, but the muzzle suppressed my voice. “Now, I need one of your hairs.” He plucked one of my hairs, which didn’t bother me. “I’ve prepared an elixir, which will transfer the disease from you, to me.” He placed the hair in the liquid, then cut his own arm, and let some of the blood drip into the liquid. He poured the liquid down my throat, and then took blood from my other arm, and added it to the elixir. “After I drink this, I will turn into the beast. The voices I’ve heard about, the rage I’ve longed for, and the immortality will be all mine!” Jack poured the liquid down his throat, with a smile on his face.
His body grew, his clothes shed, and he roared with content. He came over to me, and said, “ The reason I hunted you magnificent beasts, was so that I may join your order. I’ve dreamed of this day. I added the potion I have you, to the cure, so now, I have control over the beast! You, however, will be human once again. But as ritual has it, the new werewolf must devour the old, in beast form, for a true transformation. There is no real cure. The only cure for lycanthropy is death!”
I did not want to die. I wanted to kill this man, and devour him to the soul for lying. Break the chains....They are old and weak, but you are young and strong!......Feed us his flesh!.......Give us his blood!.......We are thirsty.....You are thirsty......We are hungry......You are hungry........Give us pleasure, and reap the reward! I knew what I had to do. I succumbed to the voices, I let them control me, and I broke through the chains! I ripped them off my body, and charged at Jack. But he was ready for a fight. He grappled me, and bit down hard on my neck. As he was doing so, I clawed at his stomach, tearing his skin off. I received a yelp and I saw Jack stumble to the ground. My neck had healed, and so was his stomach. But not as fast as I, as I was more experienced! I grabbed a torch, and burned his stomach with it. Jack was roaring, but his screams were doing nothing. I threw the torch away, and went for the neck. I buried my jaws deep, and ripped out his aorta. He lay there, gasping. Soon, a pool of a blood formed around him. And I knew he was dead.
As the voices said, I devoured him. All that remains of the former Jack Smith is a pile of picked clean bones, and charred flesh. It was still night, but I wanted to change. You have served us well, master......We no longer thirst for blood.....We no longer need our hunger satisfied.....You control us now....We serve you.....We change on your command......
The cure. Succumb to the voices, and they succumb to you. Change when you want, where you want. If you even want to change at all. Become the beast on their terms, and they become the beast on your terms. Safety, security. It’s nice. I turned myself in as the murderer, but explained the unconsciousness that was involved. I serve my time as guardian of our little town. No longer do the voices haunt me. My mind is clear, open with freedom, clarity, and control. When I sleep, I sleep just as soundly as you. I even dream sometimes. I have a family, and fortunately, lycanthropy is not hereditary. My son will never face what I had to. I used to be the hunter in the night, but now, now I am the sleeper.
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