Everyone has secrets, things they want to keep to themselves fearing the truth may stain their immaculate persona. These can be small things, like admitting your special BBQ sauce is just some store-bought brand with a little bit of mayonnaise thrown into it. Others are bigger, like that time you were playing outside and accidentally busted a car’s windshield, running away while leaving the damage to an innocent person. Others however, are even bigger than that, too gruesome to even voice out.
Big or small, It is always dangerous to reveal a secret, as we are so dependent on how others perceive us. A false rumor can be deadly to one’s reputation but nothing is more fatal than the truth.
I know this is an odd introduction, perhaps even a pointless one, but what I wanted to express is simple. We all have secrets, the world we know off is full of lies and hidden truths, so please keep an open mind to what I am about to write and, please refrain from judging me or my sanity right away. First you must review your life and think about about the strange events you’ve experienced, then decide if what I am about to tell you is just a fable or a delusion from a broken mind.
It all began, 25 years ago when I witness a crime and not just any crime, a murder. During these 25 years, I haven’t spoken a single word about it, Keeping it in me as this terrible secret ate away my soul.
Images from the gruesome scene often came to me while I was asleep. Some nights the images were so strong I’d scream in terror, waking my parents who’d come rushing into my room with worried expressions on their faces. They were powerless to help me since they never knew what was happening in my head, this drove them mad with stress, while wasting a small fortune on treatments and therapy which never really worked. All because I was too afraid of the consequences of setting the truth free.
After a while, the images started to fade, but they were never truly gone. returning with force around the holidays, as I anticipated a visit from my only remaining relative, my grandfather, the murderer.
Up until I was 10, me and him were best friends, and I always longed for that summer period when I could go to his farm and stay until it was time to return to school.
We did everything together the 3 of us, me, him, and Hop, a pet crow that always refused to leave his side. From morning to sundown I was always behind him, helping feed the animals and plowing the fields while seeping in every piece of knowledge that his many years of experience had to offer. Even today I look back to those times with fondness, wishing I never saw it, or at least that I had revealed this secret sooner.
It happened near the end of the summer, September had already started and the weather was changing. It was my last week on the farm and I couldn’t sleep thinking that soon I would have to return home. It was a windy night, I remember the whistling of the air flushing through the crack of my bedroom window, sounding like a teapot whose water had reached its boiling point. The moon was big and full, shining enough light for me to see the entire field, a rare occurrence this time of the year, but a welcomed one. I always hated the dark, so the strong moonlight comforted me.
Still I was tossing and turning in bed, desperate to put my mind at rest and be taken by the sandman.
As my eyes finally started to grow heavy, I heard something being slammed hard outside. My drowsiness vanished in that second as I thought the wind had flung a rogue branch against something, the barn? my grandad’s Truck? I sprung out of bed, hurrying towards the window, when I heard my grandfather’s voice, he was outside and he was shouting.
Worried, I paused for a moment. It was not like him to walk around in the field at night, and even less likely was for him to be shouting about.
with curiosity taking the best of me, I approached the window and from behind the curtain, peeked outside.
In the distance were 2 beams of light pointing toward the sheep’s grazing field. This was almost at the properties edge, but thanks to the bright moonlight I could clearly see my grandfather’s red pickup, as well as him, dress in the same denim overalls and flannel white shirt he’d been earlier that day. this time however, instead of a pitchfork, he was holding what I was sure to be a rifle.
This baffled me, making me rub my eyes and squint to ensure the moonlight wasn’t tricking me. Up until that moment, I had no idea that he owned such a thing, nor had I ever heard any story about him using one.
Now, with the curtain behind me and my full, wide awake attention, I saw my grandad with a remarkable professional ease, placing the butt of the weapon against his shoulder, and taking aim.
It was such a strange image, that I felt compelled to pinch myself, just in case I was asleep and this was already a dream. It wasn’t.
pressing my finger against the glass, I traced the direction the barrel was pointing at and to my surprise I saw something.
What ever it was, it was fast as it ran through the field on all fours, “A wolf” I mumbled, but then I remember that there hadn’t been one here in over 50 years.
Again, I squinted, trying to focus my eyes on the creature, but even under the strong moonlight, at this distance it all I could see was a furry blur.
It was a strange beast though, the more I stared into it the more I noticed something human to it, perhaps a type of ape? I wondered as I tried to recollect the local fauna.
My trailing thoughts were quickly interrupted as a loud bang exploded on that silent night. making the the glass on my window tingle.
Frightened, my whole body trembled as well. it did so intensely I almost fell to my knees. Grabbing the window’s stool, I closed my eyes as I focused all my strength to quite myself.
I wish now I had kept them close, but part of me wanted, needed to see what the hell was happening, so I pushed through and opened them. Engraving in my mind what would be 25 years of misery.
Far away, I saw my grandfathers white shirt hurrying across the field. He was chasing the thing. Not an animal I suddenly realized, but a person.
She was now running upright, leaving behind a trail of long black hair in the air, like smoke that glistened under the moonlight. she moved quickly, much faster than my grandad, who realizing how pointless was to chase her, stopped to again placed the butt of the rifle in his shoulder, took aim and shot.
A lightning like flash exploded in the field, making me flinch, this time however my eyes were open and I saw it all. To this day I can clearly see the desperate woman’s terrified face as she went down into the grass.
I didn’t want to see anything else, I wanted to look away, but I was Petrified by the horror. I watched as my grandfather walked towards the woman, all the while keeping his rifle at the ready.
Once he reached the place she had fallen, 3 thunderous flashes flared up the night as he finished the deed.
As if the sound had released me from my fear induced binds, I ran back to bed, pulling the blankets over me as if they could offer any protection and there I forced my eyes shut while feeling my heart throbbing at my ears, making my head hurt.
“This couldn’t be happening, there had to be a reason for what I saw.” I thought as tears started to roll down my cheeks. “My grandad was a kind hearted, always smiling man. No way he would do such thing.”
The event replayed over and over again in my head, until dawn finally broke and even then I was unable to move, unsure of what to do next, “Should I tell I anyone?”
My trance was broken, as the once sweet voice of my grandfather rushed into the room followed by a sudden yet persistent knock, it rang in my ears making me shake harder than the saplings under last nights winds.
I heard him asking if I was alright, it was unusual for me to sleep up late. I said nothing for a while, what was I suppose to say? I was not alright. NOT AT ALL!
Probably worried by my silence, He banged again, this time harder, and I heard the knob creaking as it turn. This sent me into action as a new fear started to emerge in me.
“I’m fine!” My crackling voice assured him and said that I would get down soon.
He agreed from the corridor, closing the small creak he had opened and returned downstairs.
It took me a while for me to gather enough strength to leave the bed and more so to open the door to leave the room, but the fear of having him come inside, whilst leaving me cornered, was enough motivation for me to act.
Downstairs, the table was already set with homemade bread, cheese and butter, all placed in a neat fan like pattern as he’d always did.
I tried to match his affectious smile, but the concerned look on his face revealed my failure
As I sat, he dropped a jug of milk in front of me. “Just out of the tit” he said cheerfully as if trying to offset my mood. “Drink up, we have a busy day ahead.” he added with excitement.
“I’m not feeling well today…” I said while dropping my head, too afraid to look at him.
His hand bolted away from the milk jug to my forehead, making me jump as his sandpaper like skin touched mine.
“You don’t feel warm…“he said with concern in his voice. “but you are sweaty. perhaps we should call in Doctor Bacic.” he added warmly.
I nodded in agreement and asked if I could be excused to my room.
He agreed vehemently, offering his help to do anything I needed, saying that if I wasn’t feeling better he could bring up lunch to my room. I refused the offer immediately, the last thing I wanted was to be near him.
As I climbed upstairs, I heard him rotating the dial of his phone and before I was at my room’s door, I heard him calling for Doctor Bacic.
The doctor came shortly, and saw nothing wrong with me of course. My grandpa eyes sunk deeper with concern as both men were baffled by my sudden discomfort.
It pained me to see worry in my grandpas eyes, but I couldn’t forget what I’d seen. At the doctors recommendation, my parents were called and late that afternoon I was on a bus back home. I never went back to my grandads after that, not without my parents and once I became old enough never at all.
The memories of our good times together were always with me, and I often recalled them, even longed for those times, but then the horrific memory would rush in, staining those feelings of longing, turning them into guilt.
My grandfather tried to reach me a few times after that, but I always refused talking with him, using what I now know were poor excuses.
He saw right through them, I’m sure, Perhaps even made the connection with what happened and not long after, he stopped trying to get in touch with me.
My parents noticed the shift, but attributed to an early onset of teenage rebellion, besides during this time the terrors were going high, so they had better things to be worried about.
When I graduated from Highschool, he came to see me. I remember seeing him sitting among the crowd, away from the rest of the family. In his face was pride, joy, but mostly sadness. Our eyes locked for a few moments and he waved at me. I pretended to have not seen it.
Despite the ever present memory of what I had witnessed that night, I couldn’t help feel my heart sinking as I glanced at his pain riddled expression, and to this day, waves of guilt come over me when I recall it.
I never saw him again after that, nor I will ever again. He died last week, and the funeral was 3 days ago. I skipped the whole thing, despite my parents protests.
“I have plans!” is what I told them, but the truth is that my heart was shattered and didn’t know what would happened if I went and saw him laying there, knowing that I never allowed him a chance to explain the truth.
Two days ago, I got a phone call from a lawyer, apparently my grandad had left me something. something meant only for me to see.
The lawyer called in the morning, asking me to meet him as soon as possible. I tried to push him away saying that I was uninterested in whatever came from him, and whatever it was, they had my full permission to donate it to charity. The lawyer insisted, pushing the emotional strings he knew I had, and eventually he got me into agreeing to meet him that afternoon.
After a 2h car ride, I arrived at his office. It was in a small town that I never had heard about. An old place, filled with Victorian era buildings that despite their apparent age, had been very well kept, making traversing through the streets feel like a stroll back in time.
The lawyers office was at downtown, in front of a large statue of an aristocrat holding a book with a strange looking cross, like an Ankh and a Celtic cross had been meshed into one. Weird as it was, it just wasn’t enough for me to bother with.
There were very few vehicles in town, most of them American made muscle cars that felt wrong in this place while at the same time fitting nicely. Their colors were limited, to dark blues, crimson reds and brilliant blacks. Like the statue there was something off about them, but still not weird enough for me to pay any real attention to it. Perhaps in another day I would have been more intrigued, but now, with the passing of my grandfather in my mind, everything felt irrelevant.
I parked my white sedan in the first vacant spot I found, this meant, next to a black 67 Chevy impala, and taking not even a second to stare at one of my all time favorite vehicles, I rushed inside as if I had something chasing me.
Inside, the reception was quite well lit, but all the bulbs were of a warm yellow tint that made the whole atrium look like had been covered by a sepia filter, mushing the colors together making it hard to differentiate things within it. It made the place look unique but also off like the rest of the town, and like it, the lobby too, was deserted, making it all feel even more ominous.
The hairs in my nape prickled as my instincts told me to flee this place, but there was also something else within me, an urge that kept rushing me forward, like there was some urgent matter I needed to attend.
I approached the abandoned reception, paying no mind to the velvet couches and the bright polished Carrara marble that covered the walls. All I wanted was to get this done and perhaps get a peaceful, restful night after all these years.
I called for service, but only silence replied. Next to me, on the counter, was one of those old timer bells. Shrugging, I pressed it for about 15 seconds until a face finally popped into existence. An old man, older than me at least, in his mid forties, wearing black suit pants and a purple vest with gold embroideries over a silky black shirt.
His hair was combed backwards, shining like oil and had a curly mustache that redirected the attention away from his unproportionable angular nose. In his face he wore a wide smile and greeted me with an excitement that I’ve never experienced before, using my own name to do so as if he was already expecting me.
With his, strange for someone his age excitement, he ushered me to the elevator where he hastily pressed the 4th floor button, and hurried to close the door between us.
I expected music, but the elevator ran silently, the only sound being the loud mechanical lock of the door being released as I reached the fourth floor.
The door opened immediately, giving me no time to react as I was suddenly greeted by another man, dressed in the same uniform as the latter, and to my surprise even sparring the same mustache and hair style.
He too, was strangely excited as he ushered me towards a pair massive oak doors where 2 golden plaques had been fixed. “F.L. Goodman attorney at law.”, they read.
The bubbling man knocked 3 times, but waited no answer, before pushing the doors open, and signaled me to go through them.
I did as asked and as soon as I was inside, the doors slammed heavily behind, making me flinch, while at the same time, I heard the voice from the phone, calling for me.
The lawyer was a young man, about my age, wearing thin aluminum glasses and a grey suit.
His hair was short, combed to one side and in his freshly shaven face was a nervous smirk that made me feel weary.
Felling the jitters rising with every passing second, I approached his desk slowly.
The man sprung from his seat jabbing his hand forward for me to shake it.
Instinctively I reached for it, clenching my hand tightly on his.
“If you squeeze a mans hand, make sure you squeeze tight enough for him to buckle his knees.” My grandad used to say, and despite all that had happened, I still kept those words true. Most man were phased by it, some even flinching, Mr. Goodman however looked pleased and, to my surprised, relieved!? Odd, like all the other things in this town, and like for all the others I cared little for it.
“You insisted for me to be here, what is so important that I have to see?” I snapped as soon as my cheeks touched the seat.
The lawyer chuckled. “Right to business Mr. Harvelle, I like that.” he said as he reached for a cabinet behind him from where he retrieved a cardboard box that he gently placed on the desk.
“Lets start with the easy ones.” he said while rummaging through it. “congratulations! you are a land owner, the entirety of the farm is now yours.”
“what!?” I spat instantly. “That thing is huge! perhaps even worth a small fortune. why in hell had he left it for me? not by generosity I reckon. the place must be filled with bodies,” I thought somberly.
Probably he left it to me as punishment for abandoning him, my mind deducted as bile started rising to my mouth.
“I don’t want it!” I snapped back and the lawyer chuckled again.
“I’m not asking you to take it, I informing you that it is yours. I give nothing but the truth. whatever you wish to do with it is up to you.” he said firmly.
“I’ll sell it then.” I replied and he simply shrugged.
“Do what you will, the property is yours, I don’t really care.” he replied flatly.
“Did you send me all this way just to tell me this, you could’ve done it over the phone.” I said bitterly making the lawyer face brighten with a smile.
“Of course not. I said we would start with the easy things first, but if you want to skip all that and go to the juicy stuff, by all means.” he said cheerfully as he fetched an old worn out book from the box placing it between us.
“I’m not much of a reader.” I said, unimpressed.
“My advice is for you to become one and to start with this one in particular.” he said placing a finger on top of it and sliding it over the desk towards me.
I recoiled instantly, as if the old book’s leathery cover was poisonous.
The lawyer smiled and I feeling embarrassed and not wanting to look any more foolish, forced my self to push it back.
As soon as my fingers touched the relic, I felt a pulse of electricity surging through me, making all the hairs in my body prickle.
Goodman’s, with his eyes fixed in me, he suddenly slammed his hand on the cover preventing the book to travel any further further. I jumped at the sudden action but to my surprise not away from Goodman, but at him with my fist already turned into a ball, ready to strike.
The lawyer eyes locked with mine and I could see in them clear satisfaction.
I fell back into my chair and brushed off my shirt, unsure of what just happened. The last fight I had been was when I was 10 and even then all I did was wrestle.
I don’t think I ever punched anything in my life, nor have I ever felt like doing so.
“This thing with my granddad, must really be screwing with my head”, I thought. “I must end it quickly and return to my normal life.”
“Do you believe in the supernatural, Mr. Harvelle?” the lawyer asked suddenly, yet calmly.
“I can’t say I do…” I said as I started to feel uncomfortable again.
“Good!” he said decisively. “Most of it is baloney, tales meant to spike interest instead of spreading the truth. “
“The truth?” I asked pursing my lips, already seeing where this was going. “Mr. Goodman, I’m not interested in what you’re selling…” I said flatly. “I want to get this done and return to my life.”
“I told you already, I’m not here to sell anything. I’m just providing information.” the lawyer snapped.
“Either way, I don’t care.” I replied sharply. “I can see this is pointless, if there is anything else I need to know, you can email me about it.” I said as I started to rise from the chair.
“SIT DOWN!” Goodman barked, “please…” he added more gently, his eyes were lit with a fire I did not think it was a good idea to cross, so I did as I was told.
“I’ll keep it short, but there is a lot of it.” The lawyer said as he leaned back into the chair, lacing his fingers over his chest.
“Your grandfather left you more than the farm and this book, he left you a legacy. You, like him, are a Warden” the man said, is voice dry as ash.
I looked at him, confused, unsure if to laugh or cry at this nonsense. A Warden, what did that even meant?
“Mr. Goodman…” I started saying with as much calm as I could muster. “Me and my grandfather were estranged, there was an incident and since, we never spoke again. I don’t know what he was meddling with, or if he had join a cult or something, but I assure you I don’t want any of that. so if you excuse me.”
“I’m not giving you anything!” Goodman snapped. “I told you, my job is to inform, what I’m telling you is a fact.” he said raising his hand at me as I started to protest.
“Long, long ago, there was something lurking in the shadows that preyed on humanity. In those days we were far from the top of the food chain, and most of us lived, fearing the whispers that came from the dark. Our weapons were strong, but our bodies weak against those predators, so we had to evolve.
Using our own enemies, we engineered a new breed of men, a breed that could challenge the creatures of darkness. Science was much less of what it is now and there were very few successes. In truth the word few is an overstatement, the reality is that only one bloodline was ever created. Yours.”
“Look Mr. Goodman”
“They are not present in every generation, and even when present they need to be triggered.” The man continued, interrupting me as if I’d said nothing at all. “It had been our plan to awake you a long time ago, but like you said, you’d become estranged with your grandfather and he was adamant for us to leave you be. He was a valuable Warden that even in his old age he’d proved a valuable asset to us, so we left you alone.
You must understand though, the bloodline is becoming thinner, and the birth of Wardens is becoming a rare occurrence. On top of that, we were not the only ones who had evolved, they did too… Creating a new bloodline is beyond our grasp, which makes your skills quite valuable, not only to us, but to the whole humanity.”
“I have no skills! I didn’t even graduated college” I said, feeling tired from all this nonsense. The man smiled, shaking his head with amusement.
“Your awakening has already begun, and they will know about it. To them, it doesn’t matter if you go through with it or not, if they sense you nearby, they will mark you and sooner or later they will be coming for you.” Mr. Goodman said nonchalantly.
“Who are they!?” I shouted as the stress took over me. “ I’m sorry Mr. Goodman, but I have no time for this. Email me what I need, and mail me whatever needs signing.” I said as I got up. This time Goodman made no effort to keep me from standing, he even accompanied me.
“Take this.” the lawyer said shoving the book towards me. “It doesn’t have all the answers, but has enough to start with. It’s the foundation of your bloodline’s library, a treasure throve of information, built over decades by your ancestors.”
Hesitantly, I took the book, this time not feeling the jolt of electricity running through me, it felt heavy, but nothing more than a regular book.
With it in hand, I started towards the door, bidding Mr. Goodman goodbye, and as I was about to leave, his claw like finger closed around my wrist.
“You be careful, Mr. Harvelle. They will come for you very soon. We are always here and you’ll always be welcomed. Remember that!” he said somberly locking his eyes in mine.
I told him I would take it under consideration and hurried away from the office, out of the building and into my car. I threw the book over to the passenger side and quickly drove back home, not even realizing the Impala was gone.
The nonsensical words, spewed by that damned lawyer loomed in my mind as I drove home, that and the memories from that night. Memories that were now confirmed.
My grandfather had been a deranged man, living an illusion, thinking each of his kills were of some forgotten beast, when in reality he was killing people. I could blame it on the cult he’d fallen into, but the fact remains the same, it was his finger that had pulled the trigger that night, no one else’s.
I glanced at the book, sitting heavily in the passenger side, thinking if I wasn’t better off throwing it out the window, but something in me prevented me to part with it. I grabbed it as left the car, and ran inside my home. That night, for the first time since I’d moved in, I closed the lock behind me.
I rushed upstairs into bed, leaving the book on the entrance’s console next to my keys. It was still early, the sun had barely set, but all I wanted was to be done with this day, so I took off my clothes and jumped into bed.
Sleep came quickly, but it wasn’t a restful night. The nightmares returned to my mind, stronger than what they’ve been in decades. Gruesome images of foul creatures and scenes of torture, haunted my mind, sprinkled with the blasts of my granddads rifle as I was back to the night he had shot that innocent person.
I woke up, suddenly and violently, feeling the sheets as wet as if I’d pissed myself. My skin and hair felt like muck, and I could feel the stench of my own perspiration. The sun was already up, which surprised me, since it was hard from me to sleep a full nights length. I stumbled out of bed, cursing to the air around me as I crawled towards the bathroom, where I rinsed my self under a cold shower.
The first thing I saw when I reached the end of the stairs was the book, light shone upon it as if nature itself was signaling it. I started towards it, but then I hesitated, something felt wrong. The air was stale, different.
Like an animal, I sniffed around the room, something had been there, something that did not belong in my house. I shook my head franticly feeling dumbfounded by the places my mind was going.” What was happening to me!?,” I remember thinking before I heard something scratching the floor in the corridor.
My head snapped towards the sound, and again I gave the air a sniff. A jolt of energy surged through me as my mind became sure something was there. Fueled by an instinct that I never manifested before, I started towards the corridor.
I moved slowly, one feet after another, placed gently against the hardwood floor as I walked along the corridor.
I continued to sniff the air, feeling foolish as I did so, but also unable to prevent it. There was a trail, it smelled red and yellow. I followed it to the pantry door, seeing it ever so slightly ajar. I stopped quietly in front of it, feeling my heartbeat increasing its tempo, as another jolt of energy shivered through me. I felt scared, terrified, all I wanted was to flee, yet I stayed still, waiting.
That unknown electric feeling bubbled in me, growing stronger by the second until it was an unstoppable tempest. Then, violently like a lightning strike, I pulled the door open, feeling the hinges giving way as the door slammed against the wall and plummet towards the floor. I care little for the damage, all my mind cared for was to catch the invader.
I stared into the pantry, very little light shone inside it leaving it in a ominous darkness. I reached for the switch when something darted from the dark.
A blur of gray, black and white fur, passed by me with haste, but not fast enough. I contorted my body in a way I thought only years of gymnastic training could allow, and grabbed the furry beast. The creature squealed under my tight grip and trashed violently hoping to break free.
My eyes focused on the animal, and I saw what it was. A racoon, squealing like a piglet terrified for the slaughter.
I dropped the animal immediately and it darted away into somewhere within the kitchen. My knees buckled and I fell to the floor. Here, all I could do was laugh. An hysterical laughter of someone who had already lost his mind and didn’t know it yet. “What was happening to me.”
I forced my self up, not wanting to fall further into the impending madness that was coming over me. I stood there for while, mulling over all the strangeness of the past hour, until my stomach rumbled. It was upset for not having anything to eat for almost 24h. Following its instruction, I started towards the kitchen. By then my mind was already starting to forget the poor animal, and completely ignoring the busted door on the floor. At the kitchens doorway I was taken aback, the creature was not only still inside the house but it was sitting on the island, serving itself to some fruit.
“Hey!” I shouted at the raccoon and he shouted back.
“HEY YOU!! You almost killed me!!” the creature said, while munching on an apple.
I jumped backwards as I heard the animals voice in my head.
“I must’ve gotten fully mad,” I thought. “This couldn’t be happening, I must be asleep still. I need to wake up.”
“WAKE UP!” I shouted out loud to myself
“What the hell are you talking about, you are awake you dumbass!” the racoon said with a snark. “Years waiting, and I get an unstable one. I can’t catch a break.” it added as if to himself.
“This can’t be real, all of this is in my mind, I’m hallucinating. YOU CAN’T TALK” I said pointing at the animal.
“You’re right about that, I can’t talk, but I can communicate.” the Racoon said using his little fingers to point at its head.
“You are a Raccoon! what is happening!?” I said pulling my own hair. “That freaking book must have been laced with something,” I deducted.
“Yes and no” the Raccoon said dropping the apple. “I’m a raccoon, but only in appearance. I’m what you’d call a… familiar, and I’m guessing you haven’t been prepped for any of this.” It concluded with some irritation.
“First I would like to be called by my name, Pheme.” he said taking a slight bow. “and regarding the book, it is not laced with anything, but the binding is made of lycanthrope skin. it is used to trigger you awakening.”
“it’s made of what!?” I asked feeling nauseated. “This isn’t happening it can’t b-“
“It is his happening.” Pheme said sharply, his voice sounding like a thunder in my mind. “Lycanthrope… werewolf, is what you guys call it now. you have a bit of it in your blood. That and Vampir, skroga, daemon, you name it. “ he said as a matter of fact as he inspected the discarded apple.
“This can’t be.” I said taking a sit in front of Pheme and plunging my head to the table. The raccoon laughed, amused by my torment.
“Look, it is what it is and it’s not going away. you either accepted or you’ll die.” he said somberly. “and if you want my advise, accept it quickly. there are things out there that want to take you out and they will come.”
“let’s say its real, what am I supposed to do?” I asked feeling defeated.
“Right now, getting you fully awake would be the best.” Pheme said, throwing away the apple, deciding for a banana instead.
“How do we do that…” I asked, fearing that I was succumbing to my own madness.
“Each awakening is different, lycanthropes are easy, you touched its skin and bang, there you go, others may be a bit more complicated. it is all in the book.” Pheme said.
I shook my head, not knowing what to do, my world was crumbling under my feet. It all felt real, but at the same time impossible. Only two possibilities were about, I was either gone mad, or I wasn’t.
Now, in front of me clear as day, munching on a banana was a racoon named Pheme, that was also speaking with me. I could see it, hear it and even touch it, was my mind fabricating all of this? and if so, why? I’ve always been normal, apart from the Nightmares, I have no stress in my life, nothing that would lead me to this.
“Fine!” I sighed. “I’ll get the book.”
I barely had enough time to turn when all the glass bursted into a cloud of razors. Still in my underwear, I was completely vulnerable to the onslaught of the thousand spears that exploded around me. Instinctively I raised my arms, shielding my face, but it was useless against the sandstorm of blades. I felt shards burrowing deep into my flesh as I felt the millions of cuts happening at the same time. There was no pain though, only a strange burning sensation, that soon turned into a tingling numbness. The lack of pain allow me enough clarity to look around, and see the large window over my sink now gone, as all the glass cabinet doors, gone too was the recently purchased six pack and all glasses and dishes that should be laying behind the destroyed doors.
All of it was now a multicolored coarse sand, that piled randomly around me.
“That bastard left me!” I mumbled with irritation, as I registered Pheme’s absence.
The shards inside me made my body stiff as I tried to move, and sent a wave of pain to shoot through the numbness making me wince. Blood had already started to pour, and was covering me whole, this sent to the forefront of my mind the realization of what was happening. Panic erupted in me as I looked down into the crimson floor, thinking that I was going to die.
A sharp, high pitched screech, exploded inside my head, removing all the numbness in my body, making all the pain come rushing in. I raised my hands to my ears, squeezing them hard, trying to make the infernal screech go away. The howling however, was relentless.
It kept going and going until my lips started to go numb and knees became weak. I reached for the table, trying to avoid falling into the shard field below me, but my elbow buckled making me fall on my side. Millions of miniscule knifes pierced my skin making me howl like a wounded dog.
No, not a dog, a wolf. This sudden wave of pain, made the adrenalin start pumping through me as my heart raced furiously in my chest. My muscles grew stiffer and for some reason I found myself smiling and salivating with anticipation.
I jumped to my feet, ignoring the pain that was crippling me just seconds before and I raised my chin.
I sniffed the air as I was taken by this weird primordial instinct. I caught a very faint trail of yellow and green but enough for me to trace it. I followed it without thinking, and in seconds I was in the living room.
There, about 2m away from the window was a women, her hair long and platinum, wearing a green workout leggings and a dark blue tank top. she looked at me with fear in her eyes, green like Emeralds shining against the sun. Her face, angular but beautiful, shocked me, because it was a face I knew.
It was Irene, our towns early morning jogger.
Taking advantaged of my shock, she open her mouth letting out a shriek, that made the whole house shake, bringing me to my knees. with a proud smirk she approached me, her mouth slightly ajar. it was then that I noticed the change, Now instead of rows of pristine white teeth, were grayed fangs, coated with a thick muck. A surge of strength coming out of nowhere, allowed me to spring back up and I pounced at Irene. I didn’t get far, as another shriek came, slamming me to the ground like I’ve been hit by a concrete wall.
I tried to tap on the animalistic strength again, but Irene kept on shrieking, making me feel weaker and weaker.
The shrieking stopped suddenly and as I look up, I saw Pheme, franticly clawing at Irene’s face.
“Hurry! Do something!” the racoon shouted in desperation as he tried to avoid the clawed fingers of Irene.
I tapped into the animal inside me again, and again I felt myself grinning from ear to ear. I pounced at Irene, and this time she hadn’t got the chance to make a peep.
I threw my whole body against her, making her drop to the ground and plunged my maw in her throat. Blood entered my mouth. It felt bitter and disgusting, but I did it again, this time taking a chunk of her flesh and swallowing it whole. Irene jerked on the ground for a few seconds until she moved no more.
Her skin started to dry out quickly and in seconds she appeared completely mummified. The stench of decay flooded my nose and all I wanted was to vomit, but my stomach refused to let go of its contents.
I felt my body warm up rapidly until it felt like It had turned into a furnace, then just as quickly cooled into ice. An electric shiver surged through me and I was feeling like myself again.
“What the hell was that!” I asked pointing at Irene’s mummified body.
Pheme looked as startled as I felt, breathing heavily as he stared at Irene.
“I told you this was going to happen, we need to go to the council ASP!” the racoon shouted.
I concurred immediately and without waiting a second longer, I darted upstairs to get cleaned up and dressed. To my surprise my wounds where mostly healed, only the deepest ones still remained visible and even those appeared to be better by the second.
“Let’s go,” I said to Pheme as I returned downstairs, passing Irene’s body forcing myself not to look at it.
Pheme came running behind me as I snatched the book from the console and ran towards the car and he sat in passenger seat, his face looking worried, for a racoon.
“Where’s is the council?” I asked as I started the engine.
“You’ve been there, yesterday.” pheme said and I sunk my foot into the gas pedal and raced out the driveway.
Pheme explained me that Irene was a Banshee and that I was lucky to have taken her out. She was still young and careless, this had cost her life, but had she been experienced, I would have been the dead one.
As per Pheme instruction, I’m writing this as the start of my own journal. All wardens are expected to do this apparently. Hopefully this isn’t going to be my last entry. We are taking a slight detour before going to the council, should be there in a couple more hours.
I am a Warden and my job is to find and kill the secrets that darkness holds.