|Violet Drabbles and Furry Friends
Author: UnwrittenEntropy PM
Like a painting done with oversaturated colors and pinpricks of white.Rated: Fiction K - English - Fantasy - Words: 463 - Published: 01-30-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3096928
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White stars sat suspended in the deep violet sky, waiting patiently for the full moon to rise above the mountains and frolic with them. Beneath them, down in the valley between those towering pockmarks of the land, sat a quaint town, built of earth-toned bricks and amber-stained wood; a town sheltered away from reality like a long-forgotten dream.
It was here in this valley, cradled by the mountains and watched over by the stars, that an unsuspecting evil laid down its roots. Here, in a town bound to the hustle and bustle of "civilization" by a mere thread of a highway, that a forsaken curse began to spread like wildfire.
The man on the moon sat laughing amongst the stars as some of his light trickled through the curtains of a young boy's room, bathing him in his glory. With a cold sweat the boy awoke, instinctively running to his window to secure the coverings. It was too late, though; he had already drowned.
A low whine trickled from the boy's mouth as he began to quiver, his limbs going weak as feelings of nausea crept up his throat; he fell to the ground, clutching his stomach for but a mere moment before thrashing about violently as if trapped in the throes of a seizure. His eyes were stuck open in utter agony, lips frozen in a silent scream that would never be made.
He regretted nothing more now than going into the home of his new neighbor that fateful night one month ago, throwing away the warnings of his mother in favor of promises of video games. The old man was a liar, a filthy liar, and had given him horror and pain rather than the promised fun. He left with wisdom beyond his years and a canine bitemark on his left shoulder.
Out of fear, he told nobody.
The scar he sported on his shoulder burned like hellfire as he whimpered and convulsed, eyes darting back and forth as if he could find some way to escape from the agony. Rough tufts of mottled brown fur began to sprout and crawl from the mark, his nose and mouth beginning to contort into a foul muzzle as he once again tried to let out a scream.
He could find no words; all that came forth were the cries of a broken beast.
With a series of loud cracks, his spine began to lengthen and hunch, tendons and muscles stretching beyond their limits to fit his new form. Tears dripped down his snout as he clenched his canine teeth, realizing that words would do him no good now.
After one final shudder, the boy's body went limp.
He opened his lycan eyes tenatively
that he knew
what he needed