REALizing rage/2

Thlanthorn
14 min readAug 7, 2020

It was a comfortably cool night, perfect for wandering through the woods. As he padded along well-worn trails, he drew into himself, increasingly uncaring whether he was alone or with companions. In the dark, he felt alert, almost nervous, but for no reason he could yet detect. His senses seemed immensely heightened, yet he had little awareness of his surroundings. Reaching an edge of the forest, he was suddenly seared by bright light above him. He recoiled into the shadows, the light seeming to burn him. For a moment he knew it was just the full moon, but too late. He was turning, again. He could almost feel the bullet-shaped invaders in his brain, killing off socialized behavior, letting loose a deep, essential part of his being.

His muscles started to tense, aching to be released. He wanted to run. Run until running was the only thing. Without direction, his feet carried him to places he normally wouldn’t — shouldn’t — go. Out of the woods; to a fence. It was another’s domain, not his. Who dared to bar his way, demanding him give way! He sensed a presence on the other side; warm, full-blooded. A threat? Food? A yearning? It didn’t matter; it just had to be dealt with. So, he ran toward it, his emotions escalating into rage. He was aware of his change. He knew it was not him, but it was him. Fully turned now. Saliva foamed up, more than his mouth could contain. But it hurt so much to swallow — when had that started? He just had to let it slaver out, dripping from between his now bared teeth. His muscles, so taut, so energized, could leap in endless bounds — easily over the…

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