He didn’t see it as a curse. No, to him it was, or had once been, the Holy Grail. For years
he had sought out this life, searching one to turn him so that when the sun went down he
could let his bloodlust run rampage.
He was perfectly respectable during the day, working a perfectly respectable job with
a perfectly respectable firm, living a perfectly respectable life, keeping within all the
boundaries set up by the state. His night time lawlessness, however, knew no bounds. As
his flesh turned and he gained his animal muscles and will he fled his safe spot looking for
raw meat to feast upon.
All day he would sit in his office staring at the sky and the clock tapping his fingers,
his human heart beating steadily faster as he got his work done, sweat building on his
forehead, his mouth dry, his skin itching, his hair on end. Until the time came to go to
that spot, remove his clothes and wait for the change that should have hurt every time but
never did because of his excitement for the crimes he would be able to commit and never
be committed for.
Tearing through gardens, splintering doors, ripping flesh clean from bones, tasting blood.
And nothing could touch him in that form, he was virtually invincible- blades broke, bullets
deflected.
The rites performed nightly for himself and for his God of pure evil. His debt being paid off
in blood and never the very human feeling of remorse.
he had sought out this life, searching one to turn him so that when the sun went down he
could let his bloodlust run rampage.
He was perfectly respectable during the day, working a perfectly respectable job with
a perfectly respectable firm, living a perfectly respectable life, keeping within all the
boundaries set up by the state. His night time lawlessness, however, knew no bounds. As
his flesh turned and he gained his animal muscles and will he fled his safe spot looking for
raw meat to feast upon.
All day he would sit in his office staring at the sky and the clock tapping his fingers,
his human heart beating steadily faster as he got his work done, sweat building on his
forehead, his mouth dry, his skin itching, his hair on end. Until the time came to go to
that spot, remove his clothes and wait for the change that should have hurt every time but
never did because of his excitement for the crimes he would be able to commit and never
be committed for.
Tearing through gardens, splintering doors, ripping flesh clean from bones, tasting blood.
And nothing could touch him in that form, he was virtually invincible- blades broke, bullets
deflected.
The rites performed nightly for himself and for his God of pure evil. His debt being paid off
in blood and never the very human feeling of remorse.
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