Monsters Under the Bed: A Draft

So, I’m trying to write 300+ words a day. Anything that comes to mind is fair game. Of course, an idea popped into my head last night for an urban fantasy novel. So I’ve sketched out the main voice here. Male antagonist POV, my favorite to write from, oddly.

If I get back in the habit of writing, and can get a hold on this one, maybe I’ll have another draft, soonish.

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Someone once told me that werewolves have long memories. They remember their mates, long after death. They remember every hurt done to them, every slight and snub.
I have to wonder if that someone ever met a werewolf, if he ever stared into their maw as they changed in his arms, lost their humanity and became a slavering beast.
Then again, I can’t remember a damn thing, unless something triggers it. My memory is shit. Just like my mind.
Ok, I admit it. I lost control. I was one of those wolves that gets on the news. “Rabid Wolf Kills 15 Schoolchildren, Hunt Underway. Story at 11.” “Official sources say an unidentified attacker brutalized three women, trashed house on Broad Street. Manhunt underway. We’re waiting for details, but in the meantime, stay inside, and keep your doors locked and lights off.”
Stupid, stupid people. Darkness won’t stop a raging wolf. I couldn’t be heard in the darkness.
More than sixty people died before they caught me, although most of those were never connected to me. I’d been killing for years, and only one person had ever known.
One person who tried to save me from myself.
Too bad she was wrong.
She said I had to give in. I couldn’t fight the wolf. I was the alpha, the leader of the pack. The strongest in the state, perhaps the region. She wanted me to give in to the evil, to submit and take my place as King Monster.
And then she walked away from me, and I lost it. At first, I was only hunting her. I wanted her back. But she wouldn’t be hunted.
She was the only person I knew who didn’t die. I couldn’t kill her. I tried, sure. But she knew I was coming. Hid herself in plain sight, where I didn’t dare reveal myself. Walked right past me, waved at me, once. When I did catch her alone, she refused to fear me. I tried everything to get her to run. She was in the hospital for months after I was done with her, but she just laughed in my face and called me an idiot.
It was her fault I went on the rampage, her fault all those people died. I told the doctors that, but they don’t care about her. She still looks normal, and it’s bad business to experiment on something that looks human.
But with silver seeping through my blood, holding the madness at bay, the monster in chains, they set me on her.
After all, I knew what she was.
The real monsters don’t hide under the bed.

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2 Responses to “Monsters Under the Bed: A Draft”

  1. Lovely hon. I hope to see this expanded soon. 🙂

  2. Please do keep working on this one. I would love to see this developed further and polished to a high, moonlit sheen.

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