Believing Lies

Night

We’ve been here on this earth for about as long as humans. The longer I ponder over them and - for lack of a better term - us, the more everything blurs at the edges, and we’re suddenly all wearing the same faces. I find myself looking at another man, unknowing of what he might truly be, but I think for just a few instants that there is nothing between us. Sometimes, I really do think that we should be on top of the world, but that is not the case, and I really wouldn’t want to rule any world. Besides, who’s to say that we should?

Creatures like myself? Those blood suckers? Or the little green men?

God?

But I’ve done one goblin no justice. He is huge and awesome. Oh, to be green, and free. But to be free in the way that humans think is acceptable?

I would like to be free of everything. I’ll be getting that soon enough though, so I’ll say no more on the matter.

Izak is free, but in many ways he is still a slave. A ‘legal’ goblin of the Hunters. He will not be put to death in exchange for working for them.

And God. I know someone that believes in God. He told me that he had been saved by God. Every Sunday, he’s off in some church, and I think of him on Sundays. It’s not Sunday today, but when you are near to death, all days seem a bit more holy. He doesn’t go to the same church for too long. He’s not human, you all see. He believes in God though, loves him; all of that nonsense. He loves and believes in the God of the Roman Catholic Church despite the fact that he’s going to Hell. “It’s a sure thing,” he told me once,”‘we weren’t made in God’s image. We’re all going to Hell.”

He’s a good kid.

I’ve gone on about nothing for long enough, I think, and more important matters must be addressed.

I don’t know how our kinds came into being, but I heard that the humans have made many speculations. We’re here though, and my race is coming to an end by my own love even as I write and rot in this cell.

My name is Nox, and I am a werewolf. It is a dying race, as I have informed. We are dying; it is the punishment for wrongs we have not committed.

We’ve been here on this earth for as long as humans. From my understanding, we mostly wanted peace; a few rogues always ran off to cause mayhem, of course. It is merely the last struggle of our dying adolescence. We have better control over such delinquents now. One has to ask permission from their Alpha to bite a human.

Not anymore, I guess.

Since then, we’ve been living out our lives peacefully. Horace, our long time friend and guardian, snitching on us had not been anticipated. He’s pink, Horace. Perhaps he had been teased too much as a demon boy? I don’t know why he gave in. Likely something as debase as money. And you all wonder why I can look even at you and see nothing different between us?

The Hunters - No. You Hunters should be warned. If he turned on friends, he’ll just as easily betray all of you.

Horace became a traitor, and so you Hunters sent out XXXXXXXDiana. What a fitting name for someone going after werewolves. Diana, goddess of the hunt, and of the moon. XXX XXXXXX XXXXXXx XXX XXXXXXX XXXXXX X XXXXXXx XXX XXXX XXXXXXXXx She hates that name.

You all forced her to slaughter us, but I helped

I advise to skip this whole section of papers that I have thus labeled in red, and to continue in the paragraph that I have marked on page #6.

Sincerely,
Doctor Byron Egges

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Taken from the edited pages of ‘Vesanus’ by Nox the Roman

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