Howling at the Moon

There’s nothing quite as beautiful as seeing the silvery light of the moon reflecting off the lake. Its lonely glow used to instill fear in me, now the idea of a full moon gets my blood pumping.

This night is no exception.

There will be excruciating pain for the first few minutes, but that will fade. In its place will be the clarity of the hunt. My vision will sharpen in the darkness and my nose will pick up scents I didn’t even know existed until now.

No drugs compare to the exhilaration one receives when on the heels of prey. I can hear it’s heart beating faster as the fear sets in. I look and see the shifting gaze of its eyes.

It thinks to run, but it doesn’t know that I was forged for the chase. This is the law of nature, the strong live and the weak die. I pull up right behind, then I fall away. The hunt is too short, so I like to draw it out.

It runs on two legs, how stupid. Does it not know it could move twice as fast on all fours. It’s quick for a human, much faster than me. The moon is shining bright tonight, which means I’m in my true form.

There is no hope for him.

He makes a wrong turn in the forest of stone. This forest is strange, not like any of the others. The trees touch the sky, and its bark is made of rock. It matters not, because there is plenty of food here.

The weak ones think they are safe in their nests of stone and metal. Sometimes they are, but this one made a mistake. He went between two of them and trapped himself in the alleyway.

Now he’s mine.

I look up to see the moon nearly hidden behind the sky trees and let out one more howl. Tonight, it’s the howl of victory, another night filled with meat and blood. I howl now because tomorrow I may not get the chance.

---

John Westrick

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