Bloody Moon

Written by James McCann

Photograph by   Aron

Photograph by Aron

Time was against him, and he knew that on this night if he wasn't home by eight then all was lost. Last month he'd been lazy and almost got caught. That wasn't good. He knew that if his secret got out then there were only two possible outcomes; he'd either be shot on sight or, perhaps worse, he'd be taken to some facility to be prodded and poked and examined. He'd seen enough films to know nothing good ever happened in a science lab. It had crossed his mind that they might even eviscerate him in the name of Learning.

If he couldn't get home in time, then he was going to get himself as deeply into the woods as was possible, to get in past the paths and picnic areas, to get in to the furthest places where people didn't venture. When the turn came upon him he wanted to be away from civilisation. He couldn't take the risk of being around people, it was too dangerous for all involved. He hadn't killed before, that he was aware of, but he always had that lingering feeling once he returned to normal. Once he was back to himself, he had the feeling that you sometimes get after a particularly bad dream that you don't remember.

After the first few times he'd staggered around, lost and confused, naked. His palms and legs were scratched, a result from running around without clothing all night. He had decided that it would be better if he was locked in a safe room in his home.  No more hurting people (if he had at all), no more waking up naked, no more not knowing what happened the night before.

Night had almost completely fallen now, and he was worried. He could already feel his skin starting to stretch and itch as the millions of tiny coarse hairs started to sprout, piercing the skin from beneath and pushing their way out like a galaxy of spikes. He could feel jagged glass cutting through the centre of his bones as they began to elongate. A bolt of lightning slashed through his brain as his skull changed shape, the excruciating agony buckling his legs, bringing him to his knees mid-stride.

His torso stretched, bringing him to over seven feet on his hind legs. The teeth in his-


mouth had grown by several inches, the jaws became so incredibly strong. Strong enough to chomp through things like skin and flesh and muscle and bone.

The clothes had been torn from his body by its transformation. The man that had been there was replaced by a monstrous creature, more dog than man. It was free, fare enough away that no one would see it transform, but close enough to the city for it to salivate with the potential kill. The rational thoughts had ceased, in its place was pure instinct. The instinct now was to hunt, to eat.

Yes, this night was to be very bloody indeed.

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