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Food is scarce.
Silence.
The mere rustling in the smoked bush that marinated in ash and lingering embers left from the works of an arsonist gave me that sensation of hope that I never felt, but I knew not to expect anything of it. Pain pierced my stomach, I was hungry. I was suffering, she was suffering. I knew that I shouldn’t give in to my blood lust. For it would ruin me. I had to seek out food, something, anything for her, she was extremely ill, and her time left was debatable; I couldn’t stand to watch her die as I felt I’d be guilty regarding my mother’s death if I wasn’t there for her. I knew I had to be by her side these days because of the trauma that still devastated me from my father’s murder when I was six years old. I was stunned, my mother and I were glued to the ground before she took me away, not even stopping to grieve my father.
I am now fifteen years old and we are living in an old abandoned home near the edge of a flame-touched forest. My mother has grown ill, and I have no clue as to how to treat her sickness, so she sends me to hunt for creatures with pure, warm blood she could feast upon since she wasn’t able to kill people for blood since she was too ill to go out, so she sent me on her typical outings and errands. As for me, she said it was far too dangerous to go near people, since I’ve never murdered anyone before, but truly it was because she thought I was too young to kill a humanoid being and bring it home for food. I fed sparingly, and suffered, fighting blood lust to make sure my mother fed properly, even if all I had was a rabbit the size of my palm to offer.
Then I caught a whiff of something.
Deer.
Injured and alone.
I stalked down the scent trail, and as I began to see a trail of blood I began to sprint, weaving through burnt and dead emotionally scarred trees and other vegetation that looked depressing, my feet effortlessly making no noise as they padded continuously in a hurried running motion to make sure I could get to my find before anyone else while making sure I didn’t have any company or someone trailing me.
Scared?
I’m not scared.
I drowned out the life of cowardice years ago after I learned to take care of myself and pull my weight with the situation regarding my mother. She took me under her wing, and now it was time for me to do the same to her.
I came up on the source of the blood trail, it was a frail fawn, bony and scrawny, quivering next to a tree stump. I felt no empathy for the pathetic little creature, rather I felt desire, hunger, greed. The thing looked like it had seen a ghost, or perhaps a vampire. That would explain why it seemed to be half drained of its blood in the first place, hence the bloody path I followed.
“Better than nothing,” Mother would always say; it was easy to feed off of her self esteem and optimism, while I envied those traits of hers as I did not possess them myself.
Part of me wanted to rip out that little fawn’s throat right then and there and drain it of every last drop of blood, that is how much hunger and pain I suffered for my ill mother.
Instead I blocked out the addicting scent of fresh, warm blood for a change, and snapped the fawn’s neck swiftly so that it wouldn’t struggle, or alert trouble on the journey back to my little wreck of a home. I scooped the deer into my arms, my mouth watering, but I knew that I had to resist if it meant life or death for my mother because she hadn’t eaten that night.
I managed to get to my home by past dusk
Shit.
I’m late.
I went to unlock the door of our home that I locked behind myself whenever I leave, meaning I carry the only key to it, however the door was already pried open; it looked like it had been forced.
That’s funny, I know I locked that door before I left, I always do, and even mother hollers at me to lock and secure it each time I make a departure from our crappy, yet durable shelter. I thought to myself as I came up towards my home, drawing nearer to the door, which made eerie creaking noises as it now flapped in the wind; the breeze was beginning to pick up. A storm was rolling in, so I rushed to get into the shelter.
At least the sky can do all the crying. I shrugged as I pulled the heavy barricaded door open from where it was flapping.
Something wasn’t right…
I walked into the main room where mother usually sat and fed on my offerings, but she wasn’t there. I thought maybe she had walked for the first time in two years, but it couldn’t be, she was too ill this morning to have recovered much.
I grew more suspicious and high alert as I heard the vase with the ashes of my father’s childhood home that was burnt to the ground shatter in my mother’s bedroom, which I slept on a ripped up sofa in; it was better than nothing. I knew it was that vase, because it was made of a special ceramic that makes a different sound upon impact unlike typical glass and ceramics.
I hurried to the other room, not looking up from the delicious, scrumptious smelling fawn, I was so hungry.
“Mother- I brought you this fawn, the forest if you would even call it that, was generous today. Licking my lips, I painfully looked away from the fawn.
“Flynn, run!” My mother’s panicked screams gave me a jolt of life for a second as I met eyes with the situation before me.
A Lycanthrope creature was in the house and had broken through the barricades that I had built. He was tall and monstrous looking, more than the typical werewolf. In fact, he wasn’t one. He was a savage. He'd kill my mother and there was yet again nothing I could do, but stand there and watch, horrified as the death of the last family member that I know exists in my bloodline is slaughtered and eaten in front of my own two eyes. The wolfl-ike creature pinned my mother’s wrists to her bed to tire her out and stop her weak struggling, so he could go in for the kill swiftly and easily. This Lycanthrope had only one working eye; the other looked to be clawed out. He was ragged and wore only ragged shorts with a visible utility pocket on his belt which held a dagger. His fur was outgrown and flea-bitten if I had to make a guess, but he was still somehow good looking for his condition and situation in this hellhole of a world. Nonetheless, I knew what was happening, and that I was horrible for thinking that.
That savage beast whipped his head around and snarled at me. Traumatized, I circled back and my eyes widened so wide, I thought they might pop like bubbles while my pupils dilated, covering nearly my entire iris, man did I feel real fear that day. First time in my life that I did since I was far too young to understand this kind of suffering and pain when my father was murdered and burnt to a crisp in his own childhood home.
My eyes widened even more as the wolf turned back to my mother and raised the hand that wasn’t holding my mother down, and protracted his outgrown, razor sharp claws. I watched in utter horror and devastation as that savage dug his claws aggressively into my mother’s chest and tore her heart from her body, feasting on it. He was too distracted to realize that I was glued to my spot and was watching him feast on the pale lifeless body of my dead mother.
I decided that I should probably run.
Good choice. Very good choice. But I knew I couldn’t run forever, that’s cowardice. I knew that this Lycanthrope was probably much stronger than I, however I was also a vampire, Lycanthrope hybrid, and I know that one day, just one day I’ll be stronger and superior to him and I would make it my life’s destiny to kill him.