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Diary of a Werewolf: The First Transformation

I still remember that first transformation. I had known for a while that I had been infected in some way by something, but I could not come to terms with it myself. It just seemed to me as tricks of my mind where it connected random incidents. I still remember that first transformation. How can I ever forget that! It all started with the moon.

I could feel something within my body growing, coming out to take over. The physical pain was excruciating. I had always had this way of dealing with pain where I would bite my finger or pinch myself hard enough to divert the attention of my mind from the existing pain somewhere else; but I did not know what to do here! I did not know which part of body was in pain or rather, which part was not. I could not feel anything else; throughout my body, every single inch of it; so much so that I could not breathe anymore. You can always tell how deep your wound is by the way it feels; I could not. It was like pain was the only thing that existed within me. I begged for it to stop, to whom did not matter, screaming, taking occasional breaths but nothing helped. I could feel my bones break one by one and I was in no state to count but I could tell it wasn’t just one. I was on all four of my limbs; I tried to lie down but I couldn’t move, except for the ways my body moved itself. I had lost count of time but it felt like eternity. I could feel my insides shift places, move within me and the broken bones moved under the skin, causing me a level of pain that I never knew existed. My jaws started to change shape and a redness covered my vision which slowly turned into black and that was the last of what I remember of the night.

I opened my eyes in the forest not far from where I live, under the shining sun which made it hard for me to lie there anymore and to figure out exactly where I was. It took me a few minutes to come to my senses completely and to even realise that I had nothing on me. I gathered some things, bits and pieces of a branch and leaves to cover myself and sneaked my way home. My whole body ached in a hollowness but I remembered nothing of the night.

Well that was only the first. It has happened so many times after that that I’ve lost count and become familiar with the pain. My body hasn’t yet gotten used to it; I don’t think it ever will. You can never get used to such torture. Atleast back then, this fear of transformation wasn’t there. The haunting has only been added to after my learning. The haunting, that it will happen again!

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Posted by on June 7, 2018 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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Diary of a werewolf: The Deaths

I was flung in the air as I pushed his body away with my legs and freed my claws from his chest. His claws left holes on either sides of my neck and I could feel myself weak from the bleeding from different parts of my body. My final vision was of a figure vanishing into the darkness of the woods but it wasn’t him I was worried about; it was me. I had been badly injured and my body had been pushing it till that moment when my foe was out of my sight. My eyes couldn’t stay open any longer and my body exhaled a final breath as I descended from the height of that hill into the water below. As my body hit the surface of the water, my body came to an almost halt but the descent continued. As I entered the water, I started to feel my wounds getting more painful. The deeper I sunk, the more pressure was exerted on my wounds and the more painful it became. My whole body was covered with wounds and consumed by exhaustion. I soon lost consciousness, even before reaching the bottom and I knew this was going to be the end.

I don’t know after how long or why or even how, but I woke up, gasping for air, suffering from pain which was unbearable, even for the beast. It felt like the water was piercing through every single wound I had on my body. The pain was piercing through my will to live. I tried, but I could not move; my limbs wouldn’t support me; my heart wouldn’t give up. I gasped for air and tried to move my limbs again but failed; again and again and finally gave up. It was futile to try. So I just lay there, waiting, gasping uselessly for breath till I died, which seemed better than the pain that I had to bear, better than the helplessness I had to bear.

But it wasn’t my time I guess, or maybe the beast wouldn’t give up, I woke up again, gasping for breath and yet again failing to breathe. I was wrong; this was worse than the pain. It felt like I was being denied the satisfaction of dying, over and over again. The same thing, again and again. I don’t know how many times it happened, I lost count nor was I in a state where I could keep count. What I remember is that it was painful, very painful, every single time, being denied the most basic need of even a monster, air. I remember my body settling for water instead of air before drowning every time. The darkness surrounded me and all I could feel was pain and Death. The pain is unimaginable when you see no escape, no relief, no hope. The pain is unimaginable when death comes to you over and over again. 

I must have died, because there is no other explanation for my body to have surfaced without being void of life. I woke up, again; this time, in my human form but I could recall the horror I had undergone. Even for a person as strong willed and with high tolerance as me, it was horrifying. I could swear I felt even the body of the beast shiver with pain. I felt it reaching me, the pain of the darkness and the death and the hopelessness and fear it caused the beast. It shivered before every death, fearing that it’ll wake up again and would have to undergo the same horror again. Chills ran through my spine as the visions came to me in flashes and I wrapped my arms around myself as I dragged myself towards home, thinking to myself that there was no way a man could’ve survived that. It was the beast who did that; coming back from the dead, fighting death and coming back to life, over and over again. But then again, a man only has to face death once, it was because of the cursed beast that I couldn’t even die in peace. It’s a curse after all.

 
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Posted by on November 29, 2017 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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The Graves

His 45th birthday! A day which mocked him yet again, reminded him of the time that he had wasted, all those years that he had not utilized. He sat up on his bed, resting back at the headrest, staring at that face of her’s, which was still beautiful. Oh! The love of his life! He had done everything right in his life. A decent job, a decent lifestyle, a decent income and a decent family. He had fulfilled all of her needs and of his sons. They respected him and loved him and so did his parents. They were proud of him. He had fulfilled all the promises he had made to them, and all of those promises he had made to her; but what of those that he had made to himself! He sat there, his eyes drifting towards the darkness, thinking the same that his eyes could see, nothing! When else was he going to be that bestselling writer that he had always promised himself he would be. Where is that fame that he always thought he would achieve. Where are the fans. Where, the luxury! And when he thought about it, he realized he had actually achieved nothing in life. He had merely wasted his life. Those big plans, had never materialized. Those dreams, never came true.

He got up, breaking his reverie and snailed across the room into the washroom. The sound of the water from the tap filled his ears. He collected as much water as he could in his palms and splashed the water on his face trying to break out of the negativity that was drowning him. He stared right into his eyes in the mirror. It was suffocating. This monotonous breathing of his. He moved away from the eyes and stared at the wrinkles on his face. The futility of experiences that he had gathered, locked among these wrinkles. He stood there blank, without a frown or a tear or a smile, for he did not know what to do nor what to think of himself. He had wasted it all. All his years; in achieving everything! In being one of the rest. He wasn’t any different. He wasn’t special. Bound to be forgotten. He couldn’t face himself anymore and so he turned and walked into the darkness of the room again; the darkness which resembled more the inside of his mind. He got into the bed as slowly as he could and stared at her face once more. His treasure. She opened her eyes slowly and looked right into his eyes. 

‘Something wrong?’, she asked.

‘Nothing at all!’, he smiled with all the strength he had left in him and kissed her forehead.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest, into that heavy heart of his. He held her close. The only fan, the only achievement of his life, his only treasure.

And then he went to sleep, with the love of his life and the graves of his dreams and desires.

 
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Posted by on March 14, 2017 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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The Wanderess

A laptop on the coffee table waited for her, along with the rest of her belongings. An old TV which was always there when she needed it, a bulky one seater sofa which resembled that she was all she had, a small wardrobe that held all of her moods and a laptop that she could never convince herself to switch off. It was a one bed room apartment in the outskirts of the city where the rent was cheap and which certainly cannot be called the most suitable place for a girl like her, young and beautiful. 

The doorknob turned and the door creaked open as she entered the apartment after a long day at work. That smile looked out of place on a tired face. She took off her coat and threw it at the wardrobe, probably expecting it to catch it. Her keys and her bag almost fell on the coffee table and she, on the sofa. She turned her face towards the laptop that had her list of mails on the screen and stared at the resignations she had sent over the years- all for one simple reason, because she was leaving the city; because she was moving.

She had changed occupations and workplaces more than a common man would have gone for vacations through out his lifetime. But it wasn’t about the occupation to her. It was about the life, a way of living, how you adjust to a given environment, in a given locality, in a given city, in a given state; in a given country. She had lived so many lives in that one lifetime of her’s; and this still wasn’t the end. She longed, for experiences, for novelty, for something that would be out of the ordinary, at least for her. She was like a tornado, blowing around, in a chaos, who didn’t want to come to rest. She wanted to get more from life than what it had to offer. She couldn’t think about staying, leading her life in a monotony, her whole life, in one place, with the same set of people, with the same routine, over and over and over for the rest of her monotonous life.

It was time again. She had stayed here for too long. Her last day at work, she had made it a point to say goodbyes to everyone she knew. Specially the ones who were closer to her; but she couldn’t stay back because of them: she loved herself a little more than she loved them.

She picked up her phone, took out the cover followed by the sim card and lay it gently on the coffee table. They’ll never get to see her again, she thought to herself. But she was used to it by now, all of it. The goodbyes, the pain of leaving, the memories of the people who cared about her; but she could never get enough of the excitement, of the anticipation, of the risks and the possibilities of the future. She touched the mousepad and reached for the inbox that showed a plus one. The first one was the appointment letter for her new job. She smiled, got up picked up her coat from the floor, her keys went inside the bag, and the bag on to her arm and she opened the door. A final glance she took, turning back at the apartment, which resembled the life she was leaving behind and closed the door after her. 

 
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Posted by on November 27, 2016 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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Madness

He had been standing there for quite a while now, unable to understand anything; unable to see anything, but white. Yes, when you think about it, you realise that black cannot be the only colour you can relate with blindness! When you are standing there surrounded by nothing else but one single colour, you tend to lose the sense of distance between you and the last point till which you can see. At times, they overpower you; so much so that the boundaries seem to close in on you and you have nowhere else to go. It plays with your mind and your eyes, the colour; it drives you crazy. And all you want to do is to get out of it.

But this is new to him. It wasn’t like this. There used to be demons around. It wasn’t so lonely. The demons used to talk to each other and laugh at his face; stare at him, all at once. The things around him glowed, of different colours; and at times, it was very difficult to differentiate between things. He did not understand the world around him. It was so strange. There were times when the fireball above would disappear and things would stop radiating the light which hurt his eyes. But then the strange beings of the night would cry at nights and scare him enough to take his sleep away. Sleep, yes; it had been very long since he slept.

And then these demons, they caught him; brought him here, to this place which had no limits; and left him there, alone. There was nothing there; no demons, no angels, no one, nothing else either; not even walls. He ran. In one direction. But everything was the same. It felt as if he wasn’t even moving. But it did get him tired after a while. It’s harder to reach a place when you can’t see your goal; or anything else for that matter; you tend to give up sooner. And so he stopped. And looked around, again; failed to understand anything at all and sat down. He cried, for as long as he could and then closed his eyes. He was tired, so tired. But he felt something; someone standing near him. He opened his eyes and looked around. No one, nothing. The white seemed to hurt his eyes now. He screamed; and screamed, and screamed but heard nothing back, not even the echo of his voice. So he banged his head on the floor, harder and harder. All he wanted was to see was those demons now; the radiation of the colours from things, if only there were any. He banged his head harder on the floor, to see the little bit of red. But all it did was hurt and not make him bleed. He tried to scratch his face with his nails but it did not help either. So he placed his tongue between his teeth and banged his chin on the floor and shrieked with pain and then opened his eyes to see his blood on the floor. Red! Finally, a colour other than white. Something that made him smile. And while he smiled, he saw that red spread around him and cover every single inch of the white that was there. He turned around to take a look in every direction.

There was nothing around him. He just stood there, unable to understand anything; unable to see anything, but red!

 
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Posted by on August 7, 2016 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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Diary of a werewolf: The Hunt

It was so powerful, that beast, when it overcame me. I remember the strength that I felt running through my veins, the gushing of the blood through my body; and with it, anger, fury; power and barbarity that knew no limits.

I did not have a choice. I had to let it go. I had to let it take over me. There’s only so much time for which you can subdue the monster inside of you. There’s only so much time for which you can bear the pain. You think it will become a part of you, the pain; that your body will ultimately accept it; that you will get used to it and it will not hurt anymore. You expect it to at the least become bearable; a pain that you can live with. But the monster does not let that happen. It does not give up trying to take over your body, your mind, you’re entity. It just does not let you be your own self. You cannot imagine the pain of experiencing the growling of the beast within you, a sound that is heard over the loudest of noises, the shrillest of your own screams when you shout your lungs out, screaming, begging it to stop. But it never gives up. How can it?!

You live your entire life learning to subdue your emotions, your desires, you needs; your wants. This monster, knows no limits. The amount of power that it takes to keep it from coming out and taking over me; the amount of power that it takes me to bear the pain and not give up; is inexplicable. They say that if you try, nothing is impossible. I don’t think they have ever gone through this pain; and so I failed; I let go!

I remember every single thought that came in it’s mind. I know every part of the only emotion that it felt; hunger. I don’t think it is possible to explain the hunger of this barbaric beast. It does not understand fear or good or bad. It longs for the flesh and that is what it craves for, every single moment. The visions of it’s hunt; they do not leave me alone. The fear in the eyes of that woman when she saw it flash out of the darkness and consume her in a moment. Those eyes will never stop haunting me. How soothing was the smell and taste of her blood and how beautiful the very emotion of that moment when the beast had done it’s deed. The feeling seemed to compensate for all the pain that I had bore in subduing it and the suffering that I went through during the transformation. How every single part of my body arched and how every single bone in my body made me scream as they changed their shape within me. How I screamed louder than the beast then. How powerful I felt; how unconquerable; how beastly.

One can surely imagine the guilt of having taken a life and the misery of living with it for the rest of his life.
One cannot imagine the guilt of having taken a life and enjoyed it; felt good about it and the misery of living with it for the rest of his life; especially when he knows, it wasn’t the last. It was just the beginning.

 
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Posted by on February 21, 2015 in short story

 

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Darkness

He opened his eyes to the light that shone directly above his face. He tried to move his head but he realized he was in bonds. The light above his face made it almost impossible for him to see anything around him; the darkness in the rest of the room made it completely so. All he did see were shapes, in the darkness; trying to figure out what the things were, where he was and how did he come there. His head hurt. He struggled to unbind himself but the bonds were too tight. He struggled to free himself after every few minutes and failed. How pleasing a vision it was to see him suffer like that. He stood there in the shadow like the rest of the things in the storage room except for that stretcher that held his prey under the influence of the only light that glowed right above his face.

“Why are you doing this?”, he yelled at the top of his voice. “Please! I beg you; please let me go!”, he almost cried.

He waited for a reply trying to look at the person who had abducted him from that lonely parking lot by turning his head towards him as much as the bonds allowed him to, which wasn’t enough. He could only see the shape of a head in the darkness of the storage room but that could be anything. It could be anything at all; maybe even one of those unclear shapes that we see, made up by my our minds, by our fear of darkness. He was scared. Drops of sweat trickled from his face to his ears. He could not figure out what was going on with him or even why he was there. His mind could not completely reason what had happened to him in the last 8 hours, but that was merely an approximation. He knew it was 9 pm when he got out of his office to go back home to his wife and son and he knew he was struck by something from behind when he was unlocking his car and the only other thing he knew was that he was unconscious; and that he woke up in a dark place bound to this stretcher and it had been long since he got back his consciousness completely. He had lost track of time and of anything else that could have been going on out there. He could not even tell if it was day or night. For him, it was a long dreadful night.

“Somebody please help me!!”, he shrieked at the highest intensity that his lungs and the remaining energy in him allowed him to.

“They can’t hear you. No one can.”, a voice came out from the shadows.

He tried to turn his face but the bonds wouldn’t allow him to, so he turned his sweaty face back to the bulb again that had started to hurt his eyes long back.

“Who are you?”

He gave no reply and stood there looking at him.

“Why are you doing this to me?”, he asked restless after a few seconds.

He got no reply this time either.

“Let me go!!”, he struggled with all his might trying to free himself of the bonds. One tends to never give up.

“It is useless!”, he finally spoke. “It is well tested. You cannot get away.” His voice was heavy and calm. A little too calm. So calm that it gave him a strange fear.

He lay there with his eyes closed. Hearing the footsteps of his abductor moving in circles around him and then away from him, which made him restless and he shouted, “Hey, hey, don’t you go away. Don’t you leave me here again. Please! I beg you! Please!”, tears of desperation finally came out!

“Oh no my friend! I’m not leaving. I’m here with you for as long as it takes. I’m not leaving until I’m completely through with you.”, his smile was almost visible in the darkness. His eyes reflected the light from the bulb. He came back to the stretcher with some kind of a container in his hand and kept it down and held the head of his victim between his palms. He looked up trying to see who it was but the light bulb behind the person’s head made it impossible for him to do so.

“It’ll be over soon. Don’t worry my friend. Just relax.”, he said with a smile on his face. He was clearly enjoying this.

He started with his work. He picked up the container.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He closed his eyes and waited for what was going to happen. A very familiar smell came to him with the sound of spilling of a liquid. Petrol, he realized at once.

“Hey! Hey! What the hell are you doing?! NO! Stop it! Stop it! Help! Help!”, he shouted and shouted and was stopped by a palm being placed on his mouth.

“You’ll wake up the neighbors!”, he smirked, “I’m just kidding. I told you no one can hear you! Now calm down; it’ll be over before you know it.”

Helpless, he lay down there; unable to move, unable to do anything to free himself, to save his life, to get away from this psychotic person. He closed his eyes and waited for whatever was going to happen; going over his whole life back again, remembering his family; his wife, his three year old son.

“Are you remembering you family?”

He opened his eyes and spoke feebly, “My wife and my son.”

“Oh! A family man. I had a family once, I remember. But then they sent me away; my father, my mother and my elder brother. My elder brother, I remember, he always picked on me.”, he stopped speaking for a while and continued his preparations.

“Sent you away? Where?”, he tried to speak.

“Keep your questions for the end of the class”, he said with a grin on his face.

“I keep having this vision you know,” he continued, pausing his work and looking into the darkness of the room, “of things burning, my room, my house, my toys; my parents.”, he stopped again and spoke after a pause without the calmness that was there in his voice the entire time. “But it did them good. They probably deserved it, for treating me the way they did; and for sending me away. They never did accept me in the first place.”

“Was it an accident?”, his eyes found their way back from the darkness to his face.

He searched for something in his pocket and took out a match box and lit a stick saying, “Oh no! Not remotely! I burnt them down!”, with a sense of pride in his voice.

His eyes widened and he lay there speechless.

He raised his hand to throw the burning matchstick in but stopped; and then blew out the stick.

“Oh! I completely forgot. You asked me where had they sent me, didn’t you?”, he paused and said, “I guess the class is over. You should get your answer.”, he smiled.

He took out another stick out from the match box and lit it, “To the asylum.” He laughed as he threw the burning matchstick in, relieving the entire room of darkness.

 
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Posted by on November 28, 2014 in short story, Uncategorized

 

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