Night Terror
Yeah yeah yeah, I know it's not exactly the same title, but gimme a break, I hadn't finished it by them. This story has no yiff, so if you're lookin for that, you've come to the wrong place, the M/Solo tag was because it wouldn't let me post it without one of that nature. It is violent, but I'm not sure if it's just 'adult' or 'extreme' I could certainly make it 'extreme' if I felt so inclined, but at this point I'm just happy it's done. As usual, comment and critic.
Nighttime, a time for sleep, a time for rest, a time to kill. I'm sure you've all read those stories, you know, a guy goes to sleep at night, and when he wakes up the next morning, he has blood beneath his nails. That guy had it easy, at least he knew. I'm sure you all know what happens next, this is where the clichéd, 'let me start at the beginning' goes. Not for me, I don't know if it began when I think it did, I don't even know if it's true. All I have is a hunch.
Everyone has the feeling once in a while, the one that you've seen what you're looking at, been where you are; done this all before. That's the only clue I have, the feeling of Déjà vu, and not just an odd feeling of familiarity. I had the feeling I could describe every detail, everything that happened, as it happened, but the words stopped just short of being said. My friend, my best friend, lives next door; I was the one who found him, found his family... Or what was left of them.
It took the police an entire hour, even with my mom there, before I said anything except "Blood everywhere. Kyle everywhere. All of them, everywhere." I haven't gone back to school since. It's been a week though, so my first day back to school is tomorrow. I can still see it, all of it. It's like I'm looking at a picture, I can describe every detail, down to the smell.
The door is wide open, the part of the doorframe that was behind the deadbolt is in splinters on the carpet, the door's hinges are intact, but there's a visible dent in the door, the solid oak door. Looking around, nothing is out of the ordinary, their couch is a bit worn, but comfy, and their TV is in place. The hall, that's where it gets bad, real bad, but there's something to notice before then. A smell, a strong smell, very metallic, and so much you can almost taste it. Blood.
Mr. Haskel, Kyle's dad, was first. Lying in pieces next to him was a baseball bat, a Louisville Slugger. It was his lucky bat; he kept it next to his bed in case of burglars. Next to that was the body. I thought he was facedown at first, technically, I was right, his face was down, but his chest and the rest of him was up. Blood was pooling from his mouth, still wet when I got there, I know because I watched the puddle grow... His chest, well, there wasn't much left, just a bloody hole, the kind you see on animal planet after a lion, a wolf, or some other predator takes a meal. Blood was spattered on the wall from his mouth, presumably from when he was standing. Lower, there were... Chunks stuck to the walls, like whatever had gotten to his chest shook back and forth before...
I don't know why I kept going after that, but I did. I didn't recognize his mom; there just wasn't anyone else who could've been on her bed. The sheets were dark, dark crimson, soaked in her blood. Her face was gone, completely and totally gone, and her chest and stomach were like her husband. Her body lay in a heap at the head of her bed, and the sheets clutched in the rigor of her hands were torn in the middle, leaving her chest open to the air.
Kyle was the worst. His door was broken; he'd obviously locked it, trying to keep himself safe. He'd even had a knife, but he'd either been too slow or too scared to use it. This was where I got my hint, the small clue I have. I knew I had stood there, in the doorway, looking in on him before. In my mind's eye, I could see him standing defiantly as the door flew open, but then shrinking away as he got a better look, finally jumping onto his bed and screaming. There was no way he hadn't heard his parent's screams, and I knew it. All I found of him was the hand around his knife, his head and neck, a leg, and the bones. I don't know, and I don't want to know where the rest of him went, but I remember his room, there were little bloody pieces everywhere, on the floor, on his bed, on the walls, everywhere. Just like his mom. Just like his dad. Blood everywhere. Kyle everywhere. All of them, everywhere.
Keir Long
October 5, 2010
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Keir (Keer) woke to his ringing alarm clock. Groaning, he slapped his palm down on top of it, making it fall silent. Rolling over, he went back to sleep. Ten minutes later, his dad flung open his door with a yell, "You've got five minutes to be in the car, or I'm leaving you here!" Sitting bolt upright, Keir watched as the door began to close, starting to count down from five, in his head of course, as he did. Just as he reached zero, his father opened the door again to shoot off another remark. "Hurry up. Five minutes. Five." He closed the door again, and his footsteps faded down the hall. Shaking his head back and forth a bit and rolling his eyes, Keir tossed the covers off.
Looking down, he gave his gray boxers a look of disdain. Apparently, he'd had a nice dream last night, but he couldn't remember a thing about it. It wasn't often he dreamt, so he was glad for the ones he did have, especially that kind, so he was more than a little disappointed he didn't remember it. Sighing, he pulled on a new pair of boxers, then jeans, and a random T-shirt from his closet. Noting it was it was a Disturbed shirt, and the one from the Asylum album at that, as he put his belt on, he stuffed his iPhone, headphones and the writing stuff he'd need for school into his pocket. He slipped on his shoes and grabbed his hoodie and backpack as he passed them, dropping them on the counter; he hurriedly brushed his teeth and drug his hands through his hair. Grabbing his hoodie and backpack again, and heading straight to his dad's car, a Red 2006 Acura TL, Keir yelled in passing that he was waiting outside. Checking his phone, he saw he still had another two minutes before his dad would 'leave' him there. A minute later, his dad stepped out of the house, closing and locking the door behind him. The drive to his high school was uneventful except for one jackass on the highway cutting them off. As Keir got out of the car, he had to hold back a snort of derision as his father said, "I love you, son." Slamming the door, Keir headed inside his school.
Checking the first clock inside he saw, he shook his head and put in his headphones, picking all songs, and then shaking his iPhone to get a random decision of who to listen to today. 'Symphony X,' he thought, 'Not bad.' Wondering what he'd do to kill the next half hour, he started walking in the general direction of the South Cafeteria. The high school he attended was massive, holding about 2200 juniors and seniors, so there were two cafeterias. Finding an appropriately clean table, he dropped his backpack onto it and pulled on his hoodie before sitting down.
Looking around, he saw barely anyone around, none of whom he knew. Since Keir didn't feel like staring at a wall and listening to music, and felt like doing any homework he hadn't already finished even less, he pulled his hood on and shut his eyes. With a reaching hand, he turned the volume on his phone down so the bell that started school would wake him up. Falling asleep quickly after that, the sixteen-year-old slipped away from consciousness.
Keir awoke to the din of students' conversations and the ringing of the electronic school bell. Shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs, he stood up and started walking, not even needing to think about which halls to take. 'Damn.' he thought, 'I didn't get that math finished.' glancing at the people in front of him, he sneered inwardly 'Oh great stoners, hopefully I don't get high off the residual smell.' he half-joked as he passed them. It was like he hit a wall, he'd smelled weed on people before, but never like this. 'So fucking yellow!' he thought; then he processed what had just crossed his mind, never stopping until he reached his class. 'Wait... Yellow? How the hell did I get that?' Perplexed, he dropped into his seat and awaited the usual boring lecture from his math teacher.
Keir found it all to be simple and wanted to move on almost immediately, but everyone else in the class was struggling along, so he had to wait. Solving the last problem of his homework with class time to spare, he glanced around idly for a bit, but quickly grew bored. Putting in his earbuds, he hit play, and almost fell out of his chair as the music blasted into his ears. Yanking the cord, he relieved himself of the noise, only to have it replaced with what was distinctly pencil scratching paper, only he could hear each individual pencil from every student in the room. Doing his best to ignore it, and failing miserably, he put his earbuds back in and turned the volume as low as he could before hitting play again. It was loud, but nothing like before. 'What the hell's goin on?' he asked himself, laying his head on his hoodie-covered arms as he tossed his hood over his head. Most people would have gotten in trouble at that point, as wearing hoods or hats in school wasn't allowed, however, his math teacher had graded enough of his tests to know that Keir was in no danger of falling behind in his understanding, he just needed to turn in his homework on a more regular basis. Keir glanced up at the clock and grimaced, if his music was loud, he dreaded to find out how loud the bell was. His song ended, leaving him in temporary lack of music, and thankfully, the entire symphony of pencils had stopped. His next song started, and he could barely hear it.
Thoroughly shaken, he got up and hurried on to his next class, wondering if he was done with his psychotic episode yet or if there was more still to come. Keir received his answer not ten seconds later as first his arms, then his chest and then his legs began feeling like millions upon millions of tiny needles were forcing their way through his skin. Holding back an expletive of pain, he ducked into the nearest, and, luckily, less used bathroom. Knowing that if anyone found out he would be in serious trouble, but more afraid of what was happening, he turned the lock on the door with a trembling hand. The bathroom was seldom used not because of filth or location, but because vandals had removed all the stall doors and the school had yet to replace them. Peeling his hoodie off, Keir looked at his arms, trying to discern what could be going on. Moments later, he knew. Thick, reddish-brown and dark brown fur covered his arms, moving toward his shoulders like a tsunami in a rolling wave. Unable to look away, he watched in horrified fascination as the fur crept on, spreading down to his feet. Kicking his shoes and socks off, he stood on the uncomfortably cold tile in dumbstruck awe. Hesitantly at first, until he remembered the locked door, the confused teen pulled off his shirt, then his pants as well, marveling at his newfound fur. He winced suddenly as he felt pressure at the base of his spine, followed by what felt like growing pains at every joint he had, and, in some cases, where they didn't exist. He looked into the mirror of polished metal, past the graffiti, and watched as he grew to six, seven, eight, and finally nine feet tall. He could only see his legs and lower stomach after reaching seven feet due to the angle of the mirror. His head and ears brushed the ceiling... His ears?! His hand shot up to the top of his head, and he felt ears, like a dog. His heart sank, he'd read enough to know what was going on at this point, although, just like everyone in the books he read, disbelief stunned him. Keir couldn't help it, he put his hands 'paws' his mind corrected him, on the sink and leaned down to look in the mirror. Had the newly-transformed werewolf thought about what he was doing, he might have opted for putting his paw against the wall, unfortunately for his muzzle and nose, he didn't. Sinks are never meant to hold a lot of weight, and a 350 pound load definitely qualifies.
Just as Keir drew level with the mirror, the sink gave way with a terrific crash, rending the water line and dousing him with cold water. Although his new fur repelled the water, it did nothing to protect his muzzle and nose from the mirror. Yelping in pain, he held his nose with a paw as blood began to flow, turning off the water to the sink with his other. "Dammit." he said when he realized there were no paper towels he could use to stop the bleeding, or at least, that's what he tried to say, but it came out as an angry-sounding bark. With his next breath, he gained the lupine sense of smell, and immediately snorted to get the red, metallic smell of iron and blood out of his nose. Even as he did it, he tried to stop himself, but he couldn't, and he splattered the wall with crimson. As he raised his paw to his nose again, he realized the bleeding had stopped. Just then, his hearing returned as it had been in class, he could hear into the next room now. It was too much at once, overwhelmed with noises, the sigh of himself, and the new smell-color hybrid sense, he passed out, landing with a dull thump that shook the ground, causing more than one head to turn, in the surrounding rooms.
He had no idea how long he'd been out, and as he looked down at himself, he wondered if it hadn't all been a dream. 'Yes, I'm naked. Yes, I'm in a locked bathroom, but there aren't any signs of a werewolf.' He thought, as he pulled on his clothes, 'For all I know, I got high or something from those guys in the hall.' He went right on convincing himself of that up until he turned around. His jaw dropped, and he got closer. There it was; a huge pattern of blood spattered on the wall and mirror, right above a broken sink. He gulped and moved closer to the mirror. In almost every book he'd read, something was always different after the first time a werewolf transformed and the person remembered it. He looked at his face, he looked at his hands, he looked everywhere; nothing had changed. Moving closer, he examined his own eyes, looking for any odd colors. He saw nothing unusual for him. 'Although,' he mused, 'my eyes are odd enough.' Looking at his multi-toned eyes, a light greenish-brown near the outside, becoming browner nearer to his pupils, he wondered if maybe he'd always had the eyes of a werewolf.
Half afraid of what would happen if he suddenly transformed in the middle of class, he unlocked the door and stuck his head out checking the clock at the end of the hall. He'd been out cold for just over ten minutes. He went to his history class, looking pale enough that his teacher sent him to the nurse without a second glance. "Go to the nurse Keir, you look sick." He nodded mutely, remembering the bark he'd uttered in place of words earlier. "You want someone to go with you?" She asked, but he just shook his head and headed off toward the nurse's office. By the time he arrived, he felt a little better, but his mind remained a whirlwind of questions. Having tried speaking in the empty halls during his trip over, he trusted his voice to remain his own. Wanting very much to leave the crowded school behind, he easily lied his way through the nurse's questions, and his responses, coupled with his paled skin and trembling hands, were more than enough to convince the nurse that he should return home.
After a tense fifteen minutes, Keir's mother came and picked him up. He gave her a weak smile and went straight to his room when he got back to his house. To his disapproval, his parents believed locks on his door would only promote his making trouble, so as he closed the door and flicked his light on, he peeled off his clothes on the way to the connected bathroom, which did have a lock. Considering it more for the safety of others than his own, he locked the door behind him. With little else to do, he started the water for a shower and waited until it was steaming before stepping under the stream. Keir had no clue what he was doing, or what good could possibly come of it, but he concentrated on becoming a werewolf once again. After ten minutes, a dull headache and a troubled mind were the only rewards he received for his efforts. Sighing, he sat down and let the water wash over him.
Letting his mind wander, he found himself thinking over what happened. It'd started with smell, that strange color thing when he was in the hall, then it'd been hearing with the pencils and the music, last, it had been the needles, hairs, he realized. He could remember it distinctly, the feeling that innumerable amounts of needles were pushing on his skin from within. He could almost feel it the memory was so vivid. 'No,' he thought in horror, 'I can feel it. It's happening again.'
This time though, he was ready, and he was watching. With a mirror covering the entire wall above the sink opposite the shower, he stepped out and waited, watching for the changes he knew were coming. Once again, the fur sprouted from his pores in a wave, starting at his hands, which became paws before his eyes. His palms thickened, became black, and down his fingers, which grew sharp, dangerously curved claws as the fur washed over his face and chest. Paying close attention to his head, he watched as his ears sank into his head at the same time new ones sprouted from his scalp. As soon as he was completely fur-covered and his feet had shortened to be more like slightly elongated wolf paws, making it impossible to wear shoes. Quickly following that was the stretching of his joints, both the ones that existed and the ones that didn't exist yet. Turning sideways, he saw his tail sprout and his muzzle grow as his height shot up to nine feet tall and once again his ears brushed the ceiling.
Despite what he'd been expecting, it didn't feel odd to have a tail or ears he could turn, in fact, it felt right, like he was supposed to be this way. Flexing his paws, he noted that he was still quite dexterous, although with paws bigger than a dinner plate, fine work would be impossible no matter his level of dexterity. Crouching down, he moved close to the mirror and looked into his own eyes, the eyes of a werewolf; they looked the same as before, pale green changing to brown as it moved to the center. Opening his muzzle, he took a look at his canines, nearly three inches long, and very, very sharp. Giving a couple of experimental snaps of his jaws, he grinned and his tail began wagging.
Keir hunched over the marble sink and examined his new body for several minutes. Broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, he spent some time flattening his fur and feeling the steel-like muscles that lay beneath before flinching at a sudden growl, at first, he thought he'd accidentally tried to speak, but as if happened again, accompanied by a gnawing emptiness, he broke into a harsh, part-bark, part-laugh; his stomach had merely informed him that not eating the previous night or that morning left it with nothing to do but growl for food.
Keir was halfway down the stairs before his mind caught up with him and he froze mid-step. Acutely aware of just how much of a terror he looked, he stayed still, checking with hearing and smell for someone else at home. He was pleased that he could detect no one, and continued on to his kitchen. Ripping open the doors of his fridge, he stuck his massive head inside and sifted through the color-smells for something he wanted. Following his nose, he found his paw upon a cold and uncooked slab of steak intended for fajitas. Knowing that under normal circumstances be would have never even thought of it, he also knew that these were anything but normal circumstances. Sinking his teeth into the meat, he found himself smiling as the blood and juices rand down his chin and chest, soaking into his fur and filling his nostrils with the silvery red smell of blood and raw meat.
To Keir's utter surprise, he found he wanted more, he also realized the things he had thought would be odd-feeling, the tail, the muzzle, and the multi-directional ears, felt completely normal and that he was doing things by instinct he hadn't even really comprehended, understanding the color-scents and recognizing them for what they were, avoiding hitting things with his tail, and pinpointing both smells and sounds. Following what felt most natural, the werewolf sprinted off toward the woods between his neighborhood and the next. The woods were not simply a line of trees either; it was a quarter mile deep at the shortest point across, and a mile in the other direction, stretching from one major street to the next. Deer could often be seen, since discharging weapons in the city limits was illegal, except in cases of self defense, so the refuge of the trees was a safe haven for the animals, or it was. Keir felt like he wasn't really controlling his actions, merely watching and occasionally managing to ruin the rhythm his body seemed already to know.
Keir lost track of time completely, he roamed the woods for hours, noting everything's position, and, gradually, learning how his new body moved. As he understood more and more, he found himself actually moving his own limbs again, rather than simply watching, and by the time the sun touched the horizon, the new werewolf thought to himself 'I wonder if it wouldn't be odder to go back to being a human.' Then, shortly after, with slight horror, he wondered 'Can I go back to being human?!' Running straight for his house, a half-mile away, he found that even in his panic he continued his new routine of silence, swift movement, and noting every sight, sound, and smell he passed. As he caught the scent of a canine, he had to fight against his own body to keep moving and not attack the intruder. Coming upon his house he skidded to a halt, pulse racing. 'What if someone saw me? How can I explain myself to mom and dad when I can't even speak? Maybe I can now... I haven't tried for a while after all.' He spoke softly, managing only a hoarse whining growl, far deeper than his normal voice. 'Great, I sound like a dying animal.' He thought to himself.
Sighing, he carefully opened the door and stuck his large head inside, hunching over to avoid the doorframe. Sniff. Sniff-sniff. 'Someone's home...' Sniff-sniff. Sniffff. 'Mom, probably in her bedroom.' Silently padding inside, he closed the door behind him, careful to move his tail away to avoid getting it caught in the door. 'Shit.' Keir cursed, hearing the scrabble of the family dog's toenails on the tile floor. Max came into view, a medium-sized dog of unknown lineage. They'd got him from the humane society, and named him Max because he was the spitting image of the Grinch's dog, Max. The tan dog took one look at the rust-colored giant and skittered the other direction, tail tucked between his legs. Keir shook his head and carefully went back to his room, closing the door before slipping into his bathroom again.
Sitting down cross-legged, he held his head in his paws and tried to think of anything he could do to return to his human self. As before, when he'd concentrated on becoming a werewolf, he was rewarded with nothing but a headache. Grunting, he relaxed and just let his mind wander, he was, to say the least, disturbed by the turn he found his thoughts taking, but even more by the fact that he found himself enjoying them. The voice in his head, his voice, wouldn't stop.
'What's so great about being a human, huh? It's not like you're a great asset to society. Come on, what isn't to like about being a werewolf? Great sense of smell, sight, hearing, everything really. No one believes I exist, what does it matter if they see me, who will they tell? Hell, even if I am seen, I can catch them and keep 'em quiet. If they won't keep quiet, I can rip 'em apart, tear them limb from limb, sink my teeth into them. What the hell? Am I insane? Insane? Maybe, but I know I want to know, I want to find out what it feels like for the blood running down my chin to be warm, I want to know what fresh meat tastes like. Deer, squirrels, humans. What the FUCK? Why did I think that? Because I want it, that's why. Or maybe, it's because I've had it before, and I want it again... Kyle? That was me. No. I'd never do that, why would I do that? His dad was the one who started it. I stumbled over there and leaned on his door, trying to knock on it, show him what I was. I wanted him to see, I'd figured out how to change, how to do it at will... Wait, am I remembering this? Yeah... I am... I leaned on it, but I didn't do it slow enough and it broke their door. Kyle's dad woke up, I could hear him whispering to his wife, telling her to stay put. I ran to the hallway and met him there, he was holding a bat. He swung, not even seeing what I was. When the bat broke on my arm, I just... snapped. I killed him. I batted his head with my paw and he collapsed like a ragdoll. Then I... HOW COULD I DO THAT?! I wanted to know, that's why, but I liked it, I wanted more. I should've left. I should've left it at one. No, I couldn't, I smelled her fear; it was a yellowish green, thick, like a fog. I-I went into the bedroom, she was still screaming when my teeth ripped out her throat. The blood, warm blood, I couldn't stop, I wanted more. I left her there; I knew I couldn't be found. I avoided getting anything on my feet... feetpaws... footpaws... whatever. Kyle... Why Kyle? Defiance. I smelled his challenge. He was brave, he challenged me, and I proved my dominance. That's why there wasn't much left... I-I'
Even his mind wouldn't continue at that, his memories had flooded back, and despite how much he wanted to throw up, to show he still had some humanity left, he liked it. He knew he'd enjoyed it... He never wanted it to end... 'It doesn't have to. The only thing keeping me coming back was my family. What good will they do me now? They don't even care. I can go and get rid of mom... she isn't that bad, but her and dad should be together, for her sake, and there's no way I'm gonna let dad keep living. Well, I guess it's settled then, time for a bit of patricide...' He thought, standing up and padding into the hall. Letting out a loud growl, a small smile spread across his lips as the yellowish-green smell of fear came on strong from the bedroom. Dragging his claws along the wall, Keir's smile broadened and his mouth began to water at the prospects awaiting him. 'Who says I have to stop with them, there's other nights, other houses, more people...'
Don't expect a sequel, I didn't plan one, but I'm sure if enough people band together, say... at least 10, I'll give it some thought. Otherwise, you'll just have to use your imaginations, that's not a problem is it?