#5 Her Heart - NAP
These Stories Can Come From Anyone And Anything. A Bird, A Tree, A Bumble Bee, A Deer, A Ghost, A Lake, A Person, A Hospital, A Graveyard, A Telephone, A Cell Phone, A Monkey, A Mail Men, A Dentist, A Dead Person, A Orc, A Raven, A Cloud, A Flower, And A Snowman! The Road, The Street, The Sidewalk, The Moon, The Sun and The Train! CHOO! CHOO! So Buckle Up Buckaroo's as I Welcome You To Short And CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPY!
Her eyes wide in the dark moonlit night, her body strong and muscular. She was not a normal girl. Her whole life had been spent locked in the basement of her grandma’s house, but she’d had enough.
She silently broke out of the basement when her grandma had told her goodnights. At 6ft2 she easily reached up to the window and climbed through, her grandmother had forgotten to chain her back up. She doubled back to her house, her prison for the last seventeen years. She crept up the stairs with exceptional agility for a girl her size. Her father’s old hunting axe in her hand She reached her grandma’s room, finally she could get her revenge. The gentle breathing, her grandma wrapped in silk white sheets, the beautiful swish of an axe splitting the fragile old woman’s skull, the top of her skull sliding off slowly and falling on the floor with a gentle thud. Her eye’s stretched open. The first killing, she felt alive. The brain exposed, she placed her finger on it, curious about how it felt, soft, squishy, blood gushing out, it leaked over the bed, spilling onto the floor as she imagined a waterfall would. Excitement surging through her body, the thrill of being free.
She had lived a life, well, you couldn't call what she did living nor a life. But she existed, for seventeen years, locked up in iron shackles down in the basement. Her bed spoiled, she was never toilet trained or taught how to feed. In fact she had never eaten human food, she was fed a diet of animal hearts and human blood. You see, she was not like us, her parents, both dead now, was werewolves. Her appetite never fully satisfied by the animal hearts, and blood which come from the blood bank from the nearest hospital. She remembered her parents comparing it with heroin, you can be a heroin addict and take cocaine, it will stop the withdrawals for a while, but your body will never be satisfied. You will always want it.
Her instincts kicked in, the animal in her finally unleashed as she pushed her pointed nails into her grandmother’s frail skin, the strength of her hands easily snapped open her ribs with a loud crack, the sound exciting her senses, her heart beating furiously against her own ribs, and finally she reached her heart, it was warm, not as soft as her brain, she ripped out it severing the tubes which connected it to her other internal organs. Much better than the frozen animal hearts, the smell of iron, metallically but somehow sweet. She took in a deep breath, enjoying the scent as she licked the blood off the heart. She sunk her jagged teeth into the moist heart; it was tough to chew, blood seeping from it and down her dry throat, within seconds she had finished, her stomach hungered for more, instinct told her to leave the house. She turned and opened the wardrobe, pulling out a light pink, tight dress. She pulled of her rags, which she had worn for years, sliding on the dress and bolted down the stairs, exiting her prison.
The night was dark and full of the laughter of children. The full moon hung high in the sky, a bright white orb floating on a black canvas. She glanced down the street, a small human dressed in a pointed hat. Her hair flowed down her back, a broomstick in hand.
“What you are?” was all she was able to mumble out, she had never learnt to talk. Although she did pick up a few words from when her mother and father were alive.
“A witch,” the little girl giggled her smile glowing. “What are you?”
“A werewolf.” she muttered. Her thirst and hunger kicking in.
Within seconds she had dug her teeth into the little girl’s throat, dragging her down the alleyway which led around the back of the house, the child's muffled screams getting quieter than her teeth cut into the child's vocal cords. Her hands tearing through the child’s chest and pulling out her heart. Warm blood falling to the floor as she dropped the child down, the lifeless body still and pale.She shifted her body with speed, moving back into the open her heart set on more, her thirst driving her down the street, passing children, for she could smell more. She could smell better.
She arrived at a large house, music blaring, teens of her age stood around dressed in costume. They stared as she ran down the garden, they stood open mouthed as she burst through the front door, and sadly they thought it was a prank as she started ripping out the throats of innocent party goers. Three were down when a man, wearing what looked like a surgeon’s outfit noticed the reality. He screamed, the fear in his eyes evident as she forced her fingers into his chest, the power causing blood to pop everywhere, the heart falling to the floor. The party goers flee, scream and cries echo through the Halloween night. But one figure stayed, dressed as a vampire, she stepped closer watching the werewolf feast on the heart.
“Luna, my child.” She cried into the night
The young wolf glancing up, her jaw hanging uselessly, someone knew her name. The woman dressed as a vampire stepped closer her hand in front of her, her voice quiet and calming.
“It’s me your mother, what has happened to you, my baby. You turn eighteen tomorrow, you would have turned human, forever. Your curse would have been lifted.” She said, her voice shaking, her eyebrows furrowed.
Luna looked up to her mother, her mother had beautiful long blonde hair, her eyes dark brown and her lips a rosy red. She noticed her mother’s trembling lips, the tear which dropped off her cheek, the knife which was raised high, ready to strike.
“My love, you can’t live a monster, you were born when I was 17, my curse was lifted when I turned 18. I fled, to work, to start a life. Your grandmother kept you hidden so you wouldn’t consume a human heart. My darling, I love you, I’m sorry. My Luna.” She said, tears now streaming down her face.
Luna was sure her mother wouldn’t kill her, she loved her mother. She’d never hurt her mother. She raised her arms, she wanted to be held, to be loved. But her mother’s eyes grew cold. And with the swish of a knife she knew no more, the blade slicing off her head, her brain had moments left,
“I love you mommy”