Post by Winter on Apr 17, 2013 9:09:39 GMT -6
Moon Sick
The night was drenched in silver paint.
The forest sang to all his senses, but he could barely concentrate on any one thing as he weaved between the trees. Liquid fire rolled through his veins stronger than the oldest whiskey that ever touched his tongue. The burning pushed him on in near fever, like some unknown substance had intoxicated him without notice.
It was November, but winter had already hooked its claws and settled in. Snow draped itself across curled branches in a cloak of white, and mangled bushes had peppered tops. The light puff of his breath matched the aura of moonlight radiating off the frozen ground. White dust sunk under every step, but he wasn't cold even though his feet were bare. Instead, he felt like a living furnace. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and threatened to roll down his nose, but the cool breeze froze them in place and tried to soothe his symptoms.
What was he doing in the woods? He didn't know. He was still sporting the brown cut-offs and white tank top he had started the day in, but why had he even left the house? He remembered fragments of his own property, but now he didn't know where he was. His mind was swimming through a drunken fog. Drunk on moon shine.
The night called, so he answered. The moon beckoned from her lone perch high in the sky, calling from between the trees as an owl screeched in the distance. Framed in her wig of dark gnarls, those curly digits pulled him in as she whispered his name.
Christopher...
He felt like he was on a strong trip, though he hadn't smoked in years. His thoughts were muddled, but his eyes were sharp. The forest was tinted in a spectrum of gray like a filter was slipped over his vision, but every jagged leaf and branch was crisp, outlined as clear as an ink pen.
What was going on? His bare feet slipped silently through the snow as if in thrall, and he just couldn't will his body to stop. Every scent drowned his nose and sent shivers down his spine, making his senses scream. The feeling seized him and sent him staggering, every digit tingling all at once. He threw up a hand to catch himself and the rough bark scratched his skin just enough for the sensations to stop. Then, fur rolled across his palm and underneath the skin.
Almost tumbling over a fallen log he had glided over moments before, he recoiled back in shock. Desperate and panicking, he clutched at his wrist, but there was only smooth, unblemished skin where he thought rugged hair would've been. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He needed to get a grip. After a few seconds, the blood stopped roaring in his ears and the night became quiet again. Then, he heard.
Christopher...
Footsteps thrashed dead leaves and twigs snapped under a rhythmic pressure, harmonizing with frantic erratic breaths that spurred a synchronized beating of his heart. His ears perked and drew his head in the right direction, and though they woods were murky, he could picture exactly who it was. He just knew.
He envisioned the mahogany locks caressing the pale curve of her cheek, just like the spellbinding moon above. Her dancing form was painted against the shadows on the inside of his eyelids. He could see her perfectly, but he couldn't remember her name. What was it? And what was she doing here? Had she called him? Her melodic laughter weaved through his ears and seemed to taunt his lapse in memory, but she didn't sound like that now. She sounded scared.
She gasped, and his eyes snapped open, unaware that he had even kept them shut as he followed the noise. What the hell was he doing? He had been drawn into motion without knowing, smoothly twisting through the mangled forest like he owned it. Silently, he stalked.
God, he was prowling. His steps were light like a cat's, but with less caution and more purpose. Every muscle pulled him easily across the dark terrain, moonlight streaming his path before him. It didn't even occur to him to stop.
Was an animal in pursuit? Had they ventured out and been chased? He could faintly recall, among his muddled and scrambled thoughts, that a man had been recently killed by an animal, his body torn to ribbons. He didn't care about one man. What was someone he didn't know? But he cared about her. He had to help.
Christopher...
But he was so hungry. His stomach roiled and it was thick in his throat. That platinum tang sat in his jaw like he had ran for miles and miles. He needed to wash it down. Somehow the promising water in the chilled snow wasn't appetizing. He wanting something warm, something—
Cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the air, and his head appreciatively rolled to take in the scent. Her perfume tantalized his taste buds and made him growl in approval.
Suddenly, she cried out, and he came to a full stop. His heart sped as she crashed through the forest recklessly, her pace ascending to a frenzied dash. A shiver shook him from the top of his sweaty brow to the toes buried in the snow as he went impossibly still.
He felt an other slip over his eyes and knew she had made a mistake. One didn't run from predators. That just tempted their need to chase. She was going to draw the animal right to her. A branch snapped in her haste, and his limbs were subconsciously following fast. He growled again.
Then, she screamed, and that piercing fear snapped something inside him. As he threw back his head and howled, he came to a heart-stopping realization.
Christopher...
He was the animal.
The night was drenched in silver paint.
The forest sang to all his senses, but he could barely concentrate on any one thing as he weaved between the trees. Liquid fire rolled through his veins stronger than the oldest whiskey that ever touched his tongue. The burning pushed him on in near fever, like some unknown substance had intoxicated him without notice.
It was November, but winter had already hooked its claws and settled in. Snow draped itself across curled branches in a cloak of white, and mangled bushes had peppered tops. The light puff of his breath matched the aura of moonlight radiating off the frozen ground. White dust sunk under every step, but he wasn't cold even though his feet were bare. Instead, he felt like a living furnace. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and threatened to roll down his nose, but the cool breeze froze them in place and tried to soothe his symptoms.
What was he doing in the woods? He didn't know. He was still sporting the brown cut-offs and white tank top he had started the day in, but why had he even left the house? He remembered fragments of his own property, but now he didn't know where he was. His mind was swimming through a drunken fog. Drunk on moon shine.
The night called, so he answered. The moon beckoned from her lone perch high in the sky, calling from between the trees as an owl screeched in the distance. Framed in her wig of dark gnarls, those curly digits pulled him in as she whispered his name.
Christopher...
He felt like he was on a strong trip, though he hadn't smoked in years. His thoughts were muddled, but his eyes were sharp. The forest was tinted in a spectrum of gray like a filter was slipped over his vision, but every jagged leaf and branch was crisp, outlined as clear as an ink pen.
What was going on? His bare feet slipped silently through the snow as if in thrall, and he just couldn't will his body to stop. Every scent drowned his nose and sent shivers down his spine, making his senses scream. The feeling seized him and sent him staggering, every digit tingling all at once. He threw up a hand to catch himself and the rough bark scratched his skin just enough for the sensations to stop. Then, fur rolled across his palm and underneath the skin.
Almost tumbling over a fallen log he had glided over moments before, he recoiled back in shock. Desperate and panicking, he clutched at his wrist, but there was only smooth, unblemished skin where he thought rugged hair would've been. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He needed to get a grip. After a few seconds, the blood stopped roaring in his ears and the night became quiet again. Then, he heard.
Christopher...
Footsteps thrashed dead leaves and twigs snapped under a rhythmic pressure, harmonizing with frantic erratic breaths that spurred a synchronized beating of his heart. His ears perked and drew his head in the right direction, and though they woods were murky, he could picture exactly who it was. He just knew.
He envisioned the mahogany locks caressing the pale curve of her cheek, just like the spellbinding moon above. Her dancing form was painted against the shadows on the inside of his eyelids. He could see her perfectly, but he couldn't remember her name. What was it? And what was she doing here? Had she called him? Her melodic laughter weaved through his ears and seemed to taunt his lapse in memory, but she didn't sound like that now. She sounded scared.
She gasped, and his eyes snapped open, unaware that he had even kept them shut as he followed the noise. What the hell was he doing? He had been drawn into motion without knowing, smoothly twisting through the mangled forest like he owned it. Silently, he stalked.
God, he was prowling. His steps were light like a cat's, but with less caution and more purpose. Every muscle pulled him easily across the dark terrain, moonlight streaming his path before him. It didn't even occur to him to stop.
Was an animal in pursuit? Had they ventured out and been chased? He could faintly recall, among his muddled and scrambled thoughts, that a man had been recently killed by an animal, his body torn to ribbons. He didn't care about one man. What was someone he didn't know? But he cared about her. He had to help.
Christopher...
But he was so hungry. His stomach roiled and it was thick in his throat. That platinum tang sat in his jaw like he had ran for miles and miles. He needed to wash it down. Somehow the promising water in the chilled snow wasn't appetizing. He wanting something warm, something—
Cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the air, and his head appreciatively rolled to take in the scent. Her perfume tantalized his taste buds and made him growl in approval.
Suddenly, she cried out, and he came to a full stop. His heart sped as she crashed through the forest recklessly, her pace ascending to a frenzied dash. A shiver shook him from the top of his sweaty brow to the toes buried in the snow as he went impossibly still.
He felt an other slip over his eyes and knew she had made a mistake. One didn't run from predators. That just tempted their need to chase. She was going to draw the animal right to her. A branch snapped in her haste, and his limbs were subconsciously following fast. He growled again.
Then, she screamed, and that piercing fear snapped something inside him. As he threw back his head and howled, he came to a heart-stopping realization.
Christopher...
He was the animal.