The Moon

I walk in the dark along the gravel path, feeling not so much as hearing my feet grind against dirt and uneven small rocks dampened by evening dew. Occasionally I wade through piles of fallen leaves dyed yellow, red or already brown by autumn`s chill. The brown ones crunch and crumble under my feet as I tread further down along the path. I can feel the moon growing fuller, demanding my attention, but it's invisible as yet, houses are blocking the view, but its light spills over the land anyway, shedding a barely visible light on everything within its reach, like a spider's web covered with morning dew, visible only in early morning sunlight.

I turn left and come upon a paved road, I hesitate to say street because it has that small-town feel to it that almost all roads have out here in the outskirts of the city. One-family houses lie side by side, painted red, yellow, maybe green or blue. The gardens are well structured to make the most of the small spaces. Forgotten children's toys are scattered about, perhaps winter will come and hide them away, to let their owners squeal with delight as they find them again next spring. But spring is far away, the first thin snowfall hasn't come yet. Because of the street lights the moonlight isn't that tangible yet, but the beauty of the moon itself is immense as it hangs in the sky, almost full and oh so powerful. I lose myself in reveries and don't come to until I have crossed a street and stepped out into a park. There are only a few lights here, and the moon strikes me full in the chest with its beauty and power.

The moonlight spills over the trees, grass and rocks, collecting in puddles in crevices and hollows. The already cold night turns even colder, because whatever moonlight is, it sure as hell isn't warm. I look skywards and see it hanging there, the moonlight I mean, and it feels like I could trace it right back to its mother if I could just grab hold of one of the beams and hang on. I stand there for a long time, trying to hold back the animalistic instincts that wash over me in great waves. I feel the urge to throw back my head, to raise my muzzle towards the sky and let loose a howl that would ice the blood of any human being within a vast distance. I want to feel the frosty grass under my paws, the wind ruffling my fur. I want to stalk road or forest, park or mountain, in search of prey. I want to watch with my yellow eyes without being watched, be the hunter, not the hunted. I want to make the prey aware of my presence, bask in its fear. Move closer as the prey is paralysed, be prepared for that moment when the paralysis ends and the hunt begins.

I want to feel my taut muscles respond as I move closer yet, follow the twitches of the prey, hear the forced breathing in the dark in front of me, breathing inhibited by deadly fear. I want to tear into the prey's left loin with my long white teeth, feel its hind legs give as the signals reach the brain. But one thought, one instinct is stronger than all the others, it's an urge so strong that for a moment everything and everybody else fade away so utterly that nothing else matters - I want to sink my muzzle into the flesh of my prey, animal or human, I don't care, to feel skin and flesh tear and blood flow into my mouth. I want to drag intestines out and shake them in triumph before I devour them, and I want to howl this triumph to the world.
Suddenly a bus passes behind me and wakes me from my thoughts, my yearnings. I smile, shrug and turn around to go home. It's late and I have school tomorrow.

Send comments to the author: Soul Sanctuary

(c)Copyright is held by the authors, used with permission. Sacrosanctum is not responsible for the opinions and ideas expressed within these texts. They are the sole right and property of the authors and we assume no responsibility for what is contained within. Read and enjoy at your own risk.

© 2004 Immortality, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Authors retain copyrite.

* This page was meant to be viewed in frames. If the navagation frames are missing, please click here to view the site in its proper form. Sacrosanctum.org and all site contents, graphics, and design © Immortality, Inc. 2003, except where noted.