The Werewolf Chronicles
The sound of your name grows closer you are now able to recognise your prey as a child, more specifically your nephew Ben. Your mouth begins to water at the thought of sinking your teeth into the 6 year old's tender flesh, his lack of muscle and his still soft bones tempt you to call out to him; although you cannot imitate human tones at this moment mimicking a puppy would be mere child's play.
You're faintly surprised at the amount of control you have over yourself despite the fact you're plotting the best way to lure you nephew towards you. The intense rage that you felt upon turning has reduced to a mix of frustration and some sort of emptiness. A growl of impatience escapes you as the small footsteps make their way towards your bedroom. You exhale sharply, anger that you thought was dissolved rapidly building along with the excitement of your target's nearness.
"Hello? Uncle Mike?" Ben's small voice is barely audible over the sound of your increasing pulse. Small beads of saliva dot your muzzle forming large silver pools on the floor in anticipation. It is taking every ounce of your control not to startle the boy; one wrong move and your prey will evade you. Using the little control you've got you contort your throat and let out a convincing whine .
"Uncle Mike? Since when did you get a puppy?" You make no further sound instead prepare to strike; manoeuvring yourself as quietly as possible to the darkest corner of the room. Your lips pull back into a semblance of a smile and the door handle begins to turn...
You're faintly surprised at the amount of control you have over yourself despite the fact you're plotting the best way to lure you nephew towards you. The intense rage that you felt upon turning has reduced to a mix of frustration and some sort of emptiness. A growl of impatience escapes you as the small footsteps make their way towards your bedroom. You exhale sharply, anger that you thought was dissolved rapidly building along with the excitement of your target's nearness.
"Hello? Uncle Mike?" Ben's small voice is barely audible over the sound of your increasing pulse. Small beads of saliva dot your muzzle forming large silver pools on the floor in anticipation. It is taking every ounce of your control not to startle the boy; one wrong move and your prey will evade you. Using the little control you've got you contort your throat and let out a convincing whine .
"Uncle Mike? Since when did you get a puppy?" You make no further sound instead prepare to strike; manoeuvring yourself as quietly as possible to the darkest corner of the room. Your lips pull back into a semblance of a smile and the door handle begins to turn...