Shadows of a Silver Moon

Running. Grey. Running.

silver

grey

black

grey

white

grey

shadow

grey

darkness

grey

everything is

grey

I'm running. My dress--grey. My skin--grey. My bare feet pounding over cobbles--grey. I hike up my skirts and run, run...

I can hear him behind me; hear the breathing, the snarls that send puffs of hot moisture spiraling from his jaws. Hear his claws clicking on the stones behind me. Hear my death.

I loved him once. He was noble, charming, good. He loved me too, I think, I hope. Oh God...

He's catching up. I won't make it. He's going to catch me. If I'm lucky I'll die. More likely I won't.

Will he want me with him, expect me to share his curse? I'm so afraid. Does he know? Is he himself? Is my husband in there, guiding the beast?

I'm sobbing. Thorns tear at my skirt, my legs, my arms, my hair. I'm gasping. The cobbles cut my feet. I'm shaking. The mist rises on the moor, weaving shadows in my eyes and mind. I'm falling.

I tumble to the ground. Out of breath, out of hope. I'm bruised, dirty, bleeding. I don't care.

A silver form blurs over me, briefly obscuring the full moon. The moon. I hate the moon. She's the one who did this to him. To me. To us.

No. I cannot hate. II must not hate./I Hate will keep me alive.

The silver blur blows past again, and with it comes searing, tearing pain. I'm screaming, I know I'm screaming, but I don't hear anything. There's blood on the ground, Imy/I blood, everywhere. I'm drowning in it; it's in my mouth, my nose, my eyes.

It's grey. Why isn't it red? I'm screaming louder now, but I still hear nothing. Everything is grey, painful, horrible, awful, it should be red...but it's grey.

It doesn't hurt anymore. I think it never did. My eyes are open, clear, body whole and hale under flawless silver fur. I get to my feet. My claws click lightly on the stones. I see my mate. My mate. The need for him rushes through me. Mate. Yes. We will mate, and soon. But first--first I must feed.

The full moon shines high in the inky skies of Gaia. Somewhere on a desolate moor, a wolf howls to the silver night.

My first foray into writing horror. Normally I don't do this kind of thing at all, but...meh, I was inspired. I wanted to be surreal. Hopefully you all liked it...one of a very few short stories I've written. Although I'll probably be writing more--they're a lot easier than full-length novels. And a good way to get out your feelings. I was inspired to write this after talking on Gaia with a friend…hence the last paragraph. Do I have to do a disclaimer for Gaia?’Cause I don’t own it…