Warning: mild drug reference, sexual tension, language.

I Thought I was a werewolf...really I did. It was a pure instinctual natural feeling that had swept over me. A Primal urge. The pull of the moon. I could feel it cover me, engulf me, it was a raw feeling that coursed through my veins. My body was trapped by my minds weakness and controls to be "normal". I say normal as it is dirty, with a disgust and vile that rises in the back of my throat. I want to scream with a fury that starts in my toes. I want to run through the night, as the clouds drift to show me what is coming. They drift to show me the milky orb that is the fury and desire I feel in these moments of lost control.

I want to run, strip naked, feel the earth beneath my feet, the wind upon my body. The overwhelming smell of the dirt, woods, the bark of the trees, the sweet scent of flowers, dogwood, the moisture that is the glisten of night. My primal urges grow stronger as I run, I want to mate, make love, fuck. I want to feel pain, desire, pleasure. I want to curl my toes as I come. I want to scream with passion, a raw desire, which comes when the moon is full. That comes with the wind and earthly needs throw themselves at me.

The silver orb controls and I run the night away, panting gasping for breath, at time I sense others around me, others that are the same as I. I run through the brush of the undergrowth, the vines and pine needles tare at my skin, blood whipped, cuts, bruises, my skin is purple, rises of impending scars shine upon my body. I'm crazed with my desire to be wild, who I naturally am. I have to release my mind, I need to Free my soul of the bitch that is life.

When I wake in the morning the needle is dangling from my arm as some crude piece of 21st jewelry. My arm is crusted with dried flakes of blood and what looks like come. I take the needle from my arm, wiping the goo on my jeans, I'm clutching a red bitter looking garden gnome. As I look across the living room, fragments of Gnomes are shattered across the room. White dust from the plaster litters the floor, walls, furniture. Chips of what was once a gnome, embedded in the carpeting.

The back door is open, a trail of last night leads me outside still clutching the only whole piece gnome. Outside, I see my entire yard is covered in gnomes, a sea, nay, an army of gnome's waits me. I wrinkle my brow. Gnomes*Gnomes*, was there something last night, did this happen. It comes back to me uneasily... I was a wolf searching, on a mission for something. Was this it, was this my grand mission? Was this all that my mind was capable of last night?

I sink to the floor ready to cry, I pull the gnome to my chest. The army of gnomes are in odd peculiar positions. Some are destroyed, some appear to be lecturing the others, as if they are planning a mutiny. Others are looking at me, others are shattered into a million pieces. My cat lies among them licking himself. I toe easily to him and pick him up. He howls his disapproval. I set the gnomes I was holding down in his place and back into the house. I lock the door.